#Younghoon scenarios

[daisyvisions]

I Wanna Be Your Dog - (k.yh)

➺ Pairing: Rockstar!Younghoon x Assistant!Reader

➺ Summary: Your job as an assistant to the band is simple: handle their schedule, and do what they ask you to do. But how far are you willing to help one member out with a certain ask if it means keeping your job?

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampies, edging, male masturbation, guided masturbation, handjobs, slight fingering, riding, lots of making out, groping, sexual fantasies, mutual pining (?), younghoon is down bad for reader (sub!younghoon if you squint), marking, mentions of hookups, pet name used (baby)

➺ A/N: Finally, my birthday fic for Younghoon is up! I had planned to write for rockstar younghoon ever since this tiktok edit came out last year. This was not the original story I had in mind but I hated how the outline was going and decided to save it for another member and use this plot instead. Title is inspired from the song of the same name by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts because the lyrics fit so well with one particular scene of the fic (iykyk). Proofread once, enjoy 😉

➺ Network & Tag: @deoboyznet @snowflakewhispers @winterchimez @aimeecarreros (thank you for introducing me to the song 😈)

For as long as you could remember, you've always wanted to work in the music industry. There was something about that chaotic world that you thought was magical. You were so determined to become a part of that universe you didn't care where you would end up.

And that is how you became the assistant to one of the hottest acts to ever grace the stage.

At first, you were way too excited to be involved in the day-to-day of the band's schedule; you didn't even care if you had to run many blocks just to get the specific brand of coffee they wanted.

But soon enough, the rose-colored lenses you had on would crack. Not only did you have to take care of the band's schedule and be at their beck and call, but you were also in charge of cleaning up their mess.

Which is the reason you ended up sitting through a one-hour phone call with the band's manager as he practically yaps your ear off about the band's lead guitarist.

"Do you know how many NDAs I had to sign just so these groupies would keep their mouths shut about Younghoon?" Jacob exclaims.

"I know, I'm the one who prints and mails those documents for you." You sigh heavily.

"The board is getting pissed off. It's getting too much! He has a sex addiction at this point!"

"Well, it's not like we can make him wear a chastity belt or a purity ring to stop him! You know how he gets." You reply, trying to hold in your frustration from how long this call has been going.

"They are in the process of promoting their next album and going on tour. If Younghoon keeps this up and the press finally catches on, it will not be a good look for us all." Jacob takes a deep breath and pauses for a moment.

"I need you to keep him in line," Jacob says to you with a stern voice.

"What?! How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, you're the assistant. It's your job to take care of those guys. Do something about it or you can say goodbye to your job."

Jacob puts the phone down immediately without even waiting for your reply. You throw your phone to the side, your heart racing as you feel the frustration consuming you, and it's not even eight in the morning.

You can't afford to lose your job. Not after you've worked so hard to get where you are already. And you will definitely not lose your job just because Younghoon can't keep it in his goddamn pants.

No, you're going to do something about this no matter what it takes.

As you insert the spare key in the lock of Younghoon's apartment, you're instantly startled as a figure appears before you. Her disheveled appearance already tells you who or rather, why she's in his apartment. Great, another day of running into a groupie.

"Oh, Lin, isn't it?" You try to give her a smile. You introduce yourself as the band's assistant.

"Oh—hi," she responds, but her eyes were looking elsewhere. "Excuse me, I gotta go, late for… an appointment," she mumbles.

"Of course, it was nice meeting you!" You put on that people-pleasing voice. Lin nods in return before stumbling out the door. You make a mental note to track her address and send her an NDA later in the day.

You walk further into Younghoon's apartment, already listing out in your head the mess you have to clean up later as you quickly scan different areas of the living room. You find him still dead asleep in his bed, probably unaware that his latest conquest has left the building as you walk closer to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Younghoon? You awake?" You gently shake his shoulder. As you continue to wake him up, you're caught by surprise as he grabs your arm and pulls you into his embrace.

"Hey baby, up so early?" His deep morning voice rings in your ear as his face buries into your neck.

You try to keep yourself composed as you wriggle yourself free, but your eyes widen at the sudden realization that doing so was a mistake as you feel something hard digging between your ass.

"Younghoon, I—"

"So eager for round two, huh? Don't worry, baby, I'll let you take the lead this time." He kisses a sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder as his hands start drifting near your hips. Before anything escalates, you pull his hands away and reach behind to flick him in the forehead.

"Younghoon, it's me!" You shout, sitting upright once more and shaking off that fluttering feeling growing inside your stomach.

"Ow. What the— oh. Oh hey!" He smiles at you. "Where's—"

"Already left. Witnessed her walk of shame just as I was going in," you smirk. "I brought you breakfast; better see you outside in ten minutes, alright?" You slap his shoulder to wake him up.

"Alright, alright, I'll get up," he groans as he turns to his side.

"Aw, all this for me? You shouldn't have." Younghoon slings his arm over your shoulder as he watches you set all the food on the counter.

"Just sit down and eat. We need to talk about something." You shrug his arm off.

"To talk… What did I do this time?" He sarcastically replies as he sits across from you.

"It's not what you did this time; it's what you keep on doing, Younghoon." You grab his plate and fill it up with the food on the table.

"Look, Jacob called me this morning, and he's not happy with your—" You pause, trying to come up with a proper way to address the problem.

"With my… what?" Younghoon takes a big bite from his plate, his eyes trained on yours as he waits for you to finish.

"Your sex addiction." You decide to get straight to the point. "You fuck nearly every girl that bats her pretty eyelashes at you or even gives you a decent amount of attention."

"Hey, I can't help myself, you know? This is the rockstar's life, after all." He shrugs as he takes a sip from his glass.

"Yeah, well, if you don't get that controlled and continue thinking with your dick, it's not gonna look good for the press," you reply.

"Since when have we cared about what the press thought?" Younghoon asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Please, Younghoon, I need you to keep it together just until promotions and the tour are over. My job is on the line here." Your voice starts quivering. Younghoon sees your eyebrows scrunching and the tiny tear forming at the corner of your eye.

Oh, how he wishes he could kiss those worries away right now and keep you close to him. Seeing you like this whenever you're frustrated or upset makes his heart ache with a feeling he can't explain. It's probably because he has a soft spot for you, ever since you started working for them. And if he's the reason that you end up losing your job, he doesn't know how he'll be able to sleep at night.

"Please?" Your tiny voice calls him back to reality as your soft hands hold one of his. And how could he ever say no to you?

"Alright," Younghoon sighs out. "I'll do it. But it's not gonna look pretty." You chuckle at his response.

"I promise you can go back to doing whatever after the promotions. Deal?" You gently squeeze his hand for reassurance. Younghoon places his other hand on top of yours and squeezes in return.

"You got it, boss."

Much to your surprise, Younghoon does a fairly good job at keeping his word. At first, it was a bit difficult, but he somehow managed to pull through.

He couldn't forget that one time he was almost about to fuck the girl lying on his bed until he suddenly remembered your face and how upset you would've been if you found out what he was doing. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing you, so he just came up with a lousy excuse for the groupie to leave and fisted himself later in the night until he was satisfied enough.

And since then, that's what he had been doing to get by. He was either fucking his hand or fleshlight while imagining all the different one-night stands he had in the past. But as the days went by, it was getting harder for him to reach that sweet release. Not even watching porn would get him off the way it did before.

He needed to touch and be touched, a pair of lips kissing him everywhere, and moans of pleasure ringing in his ear… he couldn't wait till the tour was over until he could finally ravish someone and forget their name the next day. Sounds like a shitty way to live but hey, this is the kind of life he chose for himself.

Just two more months, Younghoon, what's the worst that can happen?

Sweat starts to form on Younghoon's forehead as he vigorously pumps his throbbing length. He had been trying to get off for a while now, but it seems nothing has been working. This was the worst case of blue balls he has ever had, and if he doesn't cum any second now, he might go insane.

Younghoon starts to dig deep into his memories of past hookups to see if there was one moment he can use to get himself off. There was one memory that seemed to pop into his mind, but not any of the hookups he had remembered. No, it was a memory of you. The day you came into the apartment to talk to him about his problem.

He recalls the smell of your perfume when he buried his face into your neck, the way your ass rubbed against his morning wood accidentally, and how soft your hands were when you held his hand during breakfast.

His cock throbbed in his hand remembering those small moments, playing an imaginary scenario in his mind wherein you didn't stop his hands from traveling to your hips. How he would've pressed himself into you further and continued kissing your neck. How his hands would’ve groped your breasts tenderly as he whispered filth into your ear and you would’ve moan his name in response.

"So pretty…" he murmurs to himself as he bucks his hips up, thinking how beautiful and kind you've always been to him even if he tends to be an asshole at times.

He moans at the thought of how soft your lips would feel against his own, remembering the time you drunkenly kissed him on the cheek during that one after-party a few days ago. He had to quickly turn away from you to hide his cheeks turning pink.

God, he knows his abstinence from sex has gotten so bad to the point that even the smallest gestures from you are enough to send the blood in his veins right down to his cock. He's never been this hard in his life, and he can't tell anymore if it's because he's blue-balled or because he's thinking about you.

Either way, Younghoon was all up in his head that he didn't even hear his front door being unlocked as you let yourself in.

Your visit to Younghoon's tonight was unplanned. He had forgotten his lucky leather jacket in the studio a week ago, and you took it upon yourself to get it dry-cleaned for him.

As soon as you got the call from the dry cleaners, you thought it would be nice to drop by his place and surprise him with his newly cleaned jacket and bring his favorite food for a late night snack. After all, you wanted to show him how grateful you were for keeping his word.

"Younghoon?" You call out his name. You knew he was home after spotting his keys and wallet on the console table. You try to call his name again but still no response. He must be asleep. I should go check on him, you think to yourself.

Younghoon? He hears your sweet voice ringing in his ear. God, he must be down so bad if he can start hearing you call out his name, as if you're right close by. He can already feel himself closer to the edge as he hears his name once again, pumping himself to the point of no return until his door suddenly swings open.

"Younghoon, I— Oh my god!"

"Shit!"

You both catch each other by surprise.

You tried to look elsewhere, but the image of Younghoon jerking himself off is now burned into your memory, and you don't know what to do. Younghoon, on the other hand, whimpers from the loss of his orgasm.

Had you been delayed by a second or two, he would've released his load onto his stomach, relieving himself of stress. But now, he's on the verge of crying as he feels himself getting incredibly pent up.

"I'm so sorry, I'll just go—" You turn around quickly.

"No, wait!" Younghoon's voice stops you from closing the door. You couldn't help but turn around and face him once more. He looked like he was in pain, his eyes becoming watery as he deeply breathes in and out.

"Help me…" He cries out to you.

"W-what?" Your eyes widen. He can't be serious, right?

"Please! I can't— been trying. I can't do it." A tear falls down his pale cheek.

"Please, it hurts so bad…" He whimpers once again.

"Younghoon, I can't—"

"Please! Just this once. We'll never speak of it again—" He pleads like his life depends on it. And with the way he's looking at you like you're the only one that can help him get out of this sticky situation, how could you say no to him?

"A-alright." Your feet move towards him even before you replied, your body already deciding for you on what you need to do next.

You sit beside him, placing your hand on his thigh as you glance over his hand gripping his cock. You feel your core pulsate at his pink tip peeking out from his fist. But you try your best to completely ignore whatever intrusive thought you have and place your hand on top of his, gently holding it as you look into his eyes.

"Just this once, okay?" You hover above his cock enough for your spit to fall onto the tip and move his hand slowly up and down as you guide him through his orgasm.

This wouldn't be the first time you've seen his cock. The first two times were by pure accident and from afar too. But nothing could've prepared you from seeing his member up close.

The way the veins are protruding from how rock hard he is at the moment, wondering what it must feel like to fill you up to the hilt. You try to think of anything deemed unsexy as you stare at his manhood, but that ends up failing as you start to feel your underwear slowly getting wet by the second.

While you're too caught up in your own thoughts, Younghoon couldn't help but stare at the way you looked at his cock, all slack-jawed and dreamy-eyed. It was like you wanted to do more than guide him, like you were ready to devour him any moment from now. As if a dark cloud of lust is slowly taking over you right before his very own eyes. And that was turning him on a lot.

He subconsciously reaches out for you with his free hand, his fingers holding onto the back of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips are even sweeter than he had imagined, making his heart beat so fast from how soft they feel on his own. Younghoon knows this moment won't last forever, so he decides to just enjoy it while it lasts.

You instantly moan from the feeling of his lips on yours, holding his wrist as you lean forward to press yourself against him. You pull his hand away from his cock and replace it with yours instead, the softness of your palm wrapped around his length making him hiss in pleasure. You start to grip him harder, controlling the pace of your hand jerking him off.

Younghoon groans into your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. His hands grabbing onto your hips before pulling you closer to him to straddle his lap. You continue to jerk him off as his hands start caressing the sides of your body.

"Please…" he whines into your mouth.

"Tell me what you need, Younghoon—" You kiss his cheek before moving down to his neck.

"Wanna touch you— fuck— Can I touch you? Please let me touch you." His eyebrows knit in pleasure as your lips suck a particularly sensitive part of his throat.

Too busy with lightly sucking on his skin, you grab one of his hands and guide him to the front button of your pants, signaling him to remove the article of clothing from you for better access. He wastes no time helping you out of your jeans and having you back on his lap.

His fingers slowly sliding beneath your underwear, groaning at the sensation of how wet your folds are. He's honestly amazed at how you're able to get this wet without being touched; it motivates him to slide his fingers between before finally circling around your sensitive bud.

You let out a soft whine as you feel your knees turn into jelly. All you could think about right now is to sink yourself down onto his member and ride him into the sunset. Somehow it was like he could read your mind as you feel his hand pull your underwear to the side and the other pull you by the hip to align your entrance right above his tip.

"This okay?" You look down at him.

"Y-yeah, more than okay." He stutters.

"C'mere." You lean down to kiss him, slowly letting yourself sink down to the base of his cock.

Both of you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding until you finally sat on his lap. The feeling of Younghoon being fully sheathed inside you already has you seeing stars, and you haven't even moved yet. He swallows your moans as he starts bucking his hips up, holding you in a tight embrace as he fucks himself into your tight hole.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He mumbles as he pulls his lips away from yours to get a good look at your face.

The way he looked at you as if you had a halo around you was making the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You knew the effect he had on you, especially when he would randomly flirt with you. But for some reason, the effect of his words felt different.

It was like he was confessing something he had locked up inside of him for a long time, making you blush like an idiot. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure as his thrusts start to become faster. Your walls are gripping him like a vice; he knows he's bound to reach his peak anytime soon.

"Let go for me, Younghoon, you can do it." You whisper in his ear.

As soon as you say these words, a sudden burst of warmth blooms inside you. His hips relax onto the mattress as he comes down from his high, but his hands guide your hips up and down his cock, helping you reach your own release.

He must've been so pent up, you think to yourself as you feel him still incredibly hard inside you. The tip of his manhood nudges that sweet spot deep inside you so good you feel yourself nearly falling over the edge.

"K-keep going, baby—" He breathes out. "Use me."

You take control of your own movement and bounce on him like there's no tomorrow. Your fingernails raking the sensitive skin on his chest as you chase your own high. Younghoon can feel himself reaching his own high too the more you keep this pace up.

Everything about this moment was making him absolutely dizzy. Your walls practically choke holding his dick, his first load already dripping out of you and coating his balls, and the way the squelching sounds echo in the room as you use him for your own pleasure?

He will never look at you the same way ever again. You've officially ruined him for anyone else after this.

"Younghoon, I'm gonna—"

"C'mon baby, cum on me. Fuck— make me yours." He mumbles as he feels close to the edge with you.

After a few more bounces, the rope inside you finally snaps, making you cum so hard you feel like you're going to faint. Younghoon's second release follows right after yours, but this time his load is more than the first. You both know for sure that as soon as he pulls out, a waterfall of your mixed juices is bound to rush out of your hole. So you just decide to keep him close longer as you both try to catch your breath.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing pattern slowly regulating as he rubs his hand up and down your back. You both bask in the silence a little longer, secretly savoring the moment before you have to part ways.

"Younghoon?" You lift your head to look up at him. He hums in response.

"If— if ever you need help with this at a different time…" You pause for a moment. "I'd be happy to volunteer." You feel your cheeks burn up at the thought of doing this with Younghoon again.

"Yeah? You wanna help me out?" His eyes widen, his heart beating faster again knowing this wouldn't be the last intimate moment with you.

"Yeah, just as long as you sign an NDA about it." You jokingly reply. He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

"Well, get ready to print a lot of those—" He grabs your ass and gives it a good slap, making you yelp in surprise.

"—because you have a lot of catching up to do."

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

���Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @sunramzi @deobi0412 @kflixnet

[miumura]

— ✦ OH MY ! - BERMUDA LINE SMAU

✦ SYNOPSIS : Despite being okay with being single, your friend Ningning can’t help but feel sad for you. So, as her job as a matchmaker, she sets you up for a blind date! Not being able to refuse, you got ready for this date … but why is there three men in front your house ?!

⤷ not one, not two, but three guys show up to your doorstep, claiming that they are your blind date.

➷ THE DATES! — model!younghoon , model!hyunjae , model!juyeon x fem!reader

ִ ۫ ₊ MATCH IN MAKING 📄 . . : social media au, non-idol au, blind date au, strangers 2 lovers, fluff, crack.

𝄞 DETAILS — possible random timestamps, use of kys + kms jokes, friends may jokingly bully each other, will add more if there’s anything else!

… INCLUDING . . : ningning from aespa, eric + chanhee from the boyz, sieun from stayc, serim from cravity, yeonjun from tomorrow x together.

☏ NOTE - you may be wondering , um soph don’t you already have oh my posted? well, after putting it onto hold, i wanted to to revamp it a little bit (well, a lot..)! had to do my first tbz smau right!! there will definitely be some changes in this smau!! there still will be the old ver up :) enjoyyyy sjjsjs

and obviously, this smau is dedicated to kayla (whose been asking for it since last year), sia (who was thinking abt stanning tbz bc of this , i am quite honored), sona (obv!!)

STATUS — ON HOLD | FEB 26 2024 TO ???

➷ AND THE MATCHING STARTS ⌞ CHAPTERS ⌝

ෆ PROFILES ! the lunatics [y/n] | the famous [bermuda]

DATE 001 — 0 hoes but 100% swag

DATE 002 — THE model trio

DATE 003 — some shady business

DATE 004 — errr is this the set…?

DATE 005 — truly embarrassing

DATE 006 — gut never lies

DATE 007 — living that #double life

to be added …

note : unpublished chapters may have their names changed!

🎧— dm, ask, or comment to be tagged!

TBZ PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @haruavrse @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ilovechanhee @ja4hyvn @vampcharxter

OH MY TAGLIST — @haknom @wonieleles @wvnkoi @tocupid @be0mlvr @nanadreamies @conwunder

[loserlvrss]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 k. younghoon ( 김영훈 )

synopsis | you were scared your boyfriend would be like the others, except he shows you the complete opposite when you bleed on his bed during the night.

pairing : kim younghoon x fem!reader genre : drabble, fluff warnings : tiny angst, language, period / blood mentioned a lot word count : 0.7k authors note : your man should not care, and if he does, then that’s not a man :/

panic set in. your lungs tightening as you lifted the blanket slightly and just saw red. 

“fuck,” you groaned quietly—so very quiet as to not wake your boyfriend sleeping next to you. “are you joking?” 

it wasn’t supposed to come for two more days. you’d barely ever been early nowadays, a much higher chance of being late. it just had to happen on the night you’d slept over at his place, didn’t it? 

what was this, a cruel joke on you? maybe it was all the stress finally catching up to you.

you quickly shifted out of the gray sheets, thanking god that he didn’t have white ones—you somehow thought that that would make you feel worse. but now the question was, how would you clean this up before he woke up? 

more panic, mixed with embarrassment clouded your brain. would he think you were nasty for staining his bed like this? would he make you feel terrible for bleeding, all while you cleaned it up yourself? this had never happened to you, unless you were sleeping alone, so you had no expectations really. 

you could wake him up and tell him to immediately close his eyes, but that would be a dead giveaway; and if you know anything about your boyfriend, it’s that he wouldn’t listen to you anyways. maybe you could convince him that you cut yourself in your sleep, like that would make it any better. 

“babe?” oh, but that made it worse, tears instantly springing to your eyes. “good mor—what’s up?”

“n-nothing!” you tried to play it off, unfolding the blanket frantically to cover the spot back up. “nothing’s wrong, good morning!” 

he studied your movements, looking you up and down, and then huffing. he got from the sheets, strategically keeping the comforter down for your peace of mind. he made his way around the bed, your body stiffening when he walked beside you and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“it’s okay, you know.” and suddenly you were hyper aware of the sticky feeling coating your thighs and lower abdomen. “let’s just—”

“i’m sorry!” you blurted, a loud—rather dramatic—sob ripping past your lips after. “i-i’ll buy you new ones, i swear. i thought it was supposed to come in two days, i-i didn’t know. i’m so sorry, younghoon, plea—”

“hey,” he cut your rant off, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, letting it travel down your arm, finally intertwining fingers. he brought your hand to his lips, kissing it gently before going on. “i’m not upset, at all.” 

through tear-filled eyes, you replied, “are you sure?” 

he smiles softly, “of course,” and if you knew anything about him, it was that he was always a million-percent genuine when it came to you. “go take a shower, and i’ll put some clean clothes on the sink, okay?” 

“b-but the sheets,” 

“i’ll take care of it, stop worrying and go.” 

and he did take care of everything, bringing you your purse, a hoodie of his and some sweatpants; he knew where you kept extra pairs of various clothing items in his dresser. he changed the sheets while you cleaned off, putting them in the washer. he then scoured his apartment until he found a heating pad he’d forgotten that he bought, hoping it still worked (it did, he tried it) and setting it on your side of the bed. he turned your favorite show on, prepared to binge it with you for the rest of the day. 

you came out of the bathroom, fighting back another couple apologies. well, that was until you saw him sat on his freshly-changed bedding, seemingly so nonchalant and careless. you could spend your whole life with him if this is how he was going to act around something your exes would’ve grimaced away from. 

“oh, hi!” he said as you finally caught his attention, “i made you some hot chocolate, because i know you don’t like tea.” you stared wide-eyed as he further explained, getting up and walking towards you. “i found this heating pad too, i don’t know where it came from, to be honest, it was probably an old injury of mine or something—c’mere, let’s watch a show for a bit and then have breakfast, okay?” 

“i think i…” he stopped in front of you as you tried to gather the right words. piecing together every feeling he’s already given you and every feeling you know he will. 

in the meantime, he took your hand within his, ready to drag you over to his bed and press play. then he stopped when you finally finished the sentence. “love you.” 

he pulled you into a hug, taken aback, but not enough to back down. his feelings were evidently the same. 

“i know i love you.” 

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[ericsprincess]

awake I love this

Your hot roommate is a bed dweller.

~~~

“Oh shit- Jesus, you scared me,” you stop in the kitchen doorway, caught off guard by the unexpected presence in the kitchen. It’s 6 a.m. and you just woke up, blearily wandering out of your bedroom to make breakfast and get ready for your shift at work. You’re barely awake and what you didn’t expect was your roommate being already there, making some toast. 

Younghoon, your roommate, standing in the kitchen, was a very unusual sight. Not only the “in the kitchen” part, but also the “standing” one. When you first moved in, you knew your roommate would be a man, and you were quite concerned about what the future cohabitation would look like. You didn’t know him, it was just a friend of a friend who gave you a tip about Younghoon looking for someone to rent his spare bedroom to. Therefore you were afraid about the endless possibilities of how everything could go wrong - he could be too messy, too loud, bring too many people home, or worse, perving on you. But you didn’t really have a choice, so you took the offer and moved in. Thankfully, none of your worries proved to be true - not only Younghoon appeared to be a completely chill guy, but it would be really easy to even forget you live with someone. 

The thing is, your roommate spends way too much time in his bed. First you thought he might be sick, but he didn’t look that way. But save for going to school and occasionally out for either necessary errands or rare outings with friends, he spends all his leisure time in bed. Everytime you feel bored and you go to his room just to chat about anything, he’s under the blankets, either scrolling on his phone or reading, or watching a movie. He plays computer games out of bed too, and you’ve seen him even study while laying down. Thankfully, he seems to be a clean person, so at least you don’t have to worry about him dwelling in some gross nest. It seems to be just an odd quirk of his otherwise normal and nice - as you were pleased to discover - personality. 

He also seems to be quite aware of this and doesn’t seem to care much. When you asked him once, why is he alway in bed, after a few weeks of living together, he just lazily turned his head to you and replied “Because I’m always ready, Y/N” and winked at you. 

So considering all that, you take a little bit of time to admire the rare sight of vertical Younghoon. 

He’s very tall and while he’s kinda skinny, his frame is broad. He’s dressed in black sweatpants and black t-shirt and you think no one should look this good, while spreading some butter on a toast, having just rolled out of bed. 

He looks over his shoulder at you, amused by your outcry. “Good morning Y/N. I’m making breakfast, do you want some? Coffee is over there,” he smiles at you, pointing at the full coffee pot. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down at the kitchen table, sipping at it and just observing Younghoon going about making more toast. You could really get used to the sight of a hot man making you breakfast every day, you dream a little. 

Speaking of men, you remember something. “By the way,” you say, “I’m going out with friends tonight so, you know..” you’re not sure how to finish the sentence and tell him that you might end up bringing someone home to fuck. But he gets it anyway.  

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’ll have my headphones on, don’t worry,” he teases you and you can feel your face getting red. It’s not that you’re that loud, because you know you’re not. But he might have caught on to it anyways, and you’re not sure how you feel about your nice roommate overhearing you having sex. It feels both embarrassing, but also kind of hot, seeing that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Does he perhaps like it? You wonder, but your train of thought gets interrupted by a plate full of toasts set in front of you. Younghoon sits across the table and you spend the morning just chatting about news, until you both realize you have to run to work and school respectively, and the whole topic of overhearing is forgotten. 

~~~

You come home from work and rush straight to your bedroom. You had to stay late at work to finish up something so now your time to get ready for going out is diminished and it’s barely enough to take a shower, throw on the skimpiest dress you own, fix your makeup and be out of the door. 

So you do exactly that. You take a shower and pick a tiny black dress with straps across the back. You know you look good and you want to wear something that gives a clear signal you don’t want to go home alone tonight, but at the same time, you’re not that used to being dressed this provocative and suddenly you feel insecure. You don't have time to take a photo and bother your friends and wait until they reply with their opinions so you take the only other option you have and march straight to Younghoon’s room. 

Thankfully - and as expected - he’s in his bed, just scrolling on his phone. 

“Hey, Hoonie, do you have a minute?” you ask, peeking through the opened door. 

“Yeah, sure, what do you need?” he replies, so you enter the room. 

“Do you think this dress is too much?” you ask. He looks at you, but doesn’t reply. Instead of that he just stares and you can see his eyes following down every part of your body. He’s blatantly checking you out, you realize. 

The awkward silence is getting more awkward by the second, until he just throws off-handedly “Yeah, you can go out like that. You look good,” and turns back to his phone. It feels like a dismissal a little, but you can see his ears are red. 

“Uh…okay thank you, I’ll get going then,” you beep and not waiting for his answer you rush out of his room. What the fuck was that?? Your brain screams, having just experienced this awkward moment, way too charged for how your interactions with your roommate usually went. You put on your heels and off you go. 

~~~

Well, this was a bust, you sigh while tapping code to your apartment door. Not only did you not see a single decently looking guy, but it felt like tonight was the night that every sleazebag in the city decided to crawl out. So you just stuck to your girlfriends, had a few shots and only went dancing together with them. It was fun enough, but the main point of the outing - to find someone to sleep with - completely fell through, so you came back home tipsy, frustrated and kinda horny. 

You don’t feel like sleeping yet so you head over to Younghoon’s room to see if he’s still up and maybe goad him into watching a movie together or something. You knock twice and don’t wait for a reply, just silently open the door in case he’s asleep already. 

But he isn’t. The room is dark and the only light there is coming from his laptop screen on the nightstand. There is some movie playing silently, but it doesn’t seem that he’s watching it. 

You can’t really see it well, but Younghoon’s eyes are closed and he’s squirming and sighing and his hand is moving under the blanket. Is he..masturbating? Is the first thought that comes up in your brain, but it’s just a split second until he notices your presence and sits up a little. “Hey, Y/N, you’re back already? How did it go? You came back alone?” he breathes out, trying to sound normal. 

“Uh yeah…it was tragic,” you reply but you’re not sure what to say next, your brain completely stuck on what you saw earlier and while you’re not drunk, the few shots you drank are suddenly giving you liquid courage to jump the gun. “Actually…Hoonie, remember when I asked you once….” you start. 

“Yeah?” he prompts you.

“Are you still…always ready?” you finish your question and you can see the moment he puts it all together and realizes what you are really asking. 

“Yeah..” he breathes out and you don’t waste a second and come to his bed, throw away his blanket, swing one leg over him and sit down. You can feel his hard cock under you and his hands immediately come up to rest on your hips. You’re looking at each other, both aroused but neither is sure what to do next. 

“S-sit on my face?” he suggests and you smile at him, because this is truly a fantastic idea.

You raise yourself just enough to take off your panties and then you turn and maneuver so that your pussy is hovering over his handsome face. Your dress is so short you don't even have to take it off. He grabs you by your hips and pulls down, so that you’re sitting with almost full weight on his face. But he doesn’t seem to mind, rather the opposite - he moans and gets to work. He eats you out like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, and his tongue seems heavenly and oddly huge, licking over your clit in broad strokes then moving to your dripping hole and pushing inside. His tongue is so big he can kinda fuck you with it and it feels so good you’re not sure how long you will last. You don’t want it to be over so soon, especially since you can see his hard cock tenting his pyjama pants and the size of it is also intriguing. 

“Younghoon, I’m getting close,” you moan and he just responds by flicking over your clit harder, but you’re already stopping him and easing off his face. He whines and tries to pull you back on his face, as if he hadn’t had enough of eating your pussy yet, but you laugh and drop off on the bed next to him. You look at him and he’s so aroused he looks almost feral, with his eyes glossy and the whole bottom part of his face glistening with your pussy juices. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask and he nods and reaches back to open his nightstand drawer to take out a silver packet. You look at each other. “Always ready,” you say in unison, and start laughing, you lean forwards to take off his shirt  and he fumbles with the straps on your dress until you together manage to take it off. He kicks off his sweatpants and now you’re both naked. You look at his cock and you’re pleased to see how pretty and long and thick it is and he’s already so wet, so you open the packet and roll the condom on him. 

“How do you want to…” he starts but you’re already pushing his chest down so he’s lying flat on his back. 

“Let me ride you,” you say and you’re already climbing over him. You’re not wasting any time, you take hold of his cock and put it inside you, sitting on his lap fully. You take a few seconds to get used to it, even though you’re so wet and relaxed it’s not an issue anymore, and then you start moving.��

It gets frantic all too quickly, you’re both too horny and close to try for any kind of finesse, you’re riding him like it’s the last thing you do in your life and he’s just holding you, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing your ass and tits, until he plants his feet over your bed and start thrusting against you. It’s so wild and both of you are moaning and getting out of breath, accompanied just by the slapping and squelching sound.

“Y/N, I’m coming,” he moans and you just nod quickly, because you’re coming too and you can’t even speak anymore. You lean forward to hug him tightly while you’re shaking and spasming and you can see his cock throb and pump inside you. Your ears are ringing and it almost feels like the whole room is spinning with how strong your orgasm was. 

You finally start coming to your senses so you just slump against him. You're both sweaty and sticky but it also feels kinda nice. He reaches for the blanket and pulls it over both of you so that you won't get cold and it somewhat warms your heart a little. You were already almost starting to get worried about things becoming awkward between you, but when you look up on his face, he’s smiling kindly at you and you know everything will be okay. Maybe even… 

“You know Y/N,” he chuckles. “I must say, I like living with you a lot more than I expected I would, but now that I have had you in my bed…It kinda feels like you belong here,” he says and snuggles you tighter to his chest. 

Yeah, you think. Maybe, indeed. 

[jinkoh]

'the way that you look tonight got me feeling like damn, i might be the luckiest man alive'

slow dancing

younghoon x gn!reader

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, comfort after a panic attack, fluff, yh is a sap, reader is implied to be shorter; SFW

wordcount: 712

a/n: this was supposed to be a songfic for pow's 'slow dancing' but it has somehow become a songfic to sinatra's 'the way you look tonight' instead--either way it's just a tiny little comfort drabble~

Masterlist

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled for the nth time that evening, curled up on the couch with your favorite blanket that Younghoon had wrapped you up in. 

He let out a little huff. “Why are you still apologizing? There’s nothing to apologize for in the first place.”

You pulled your knees closer to your body. “It’s just—we’ve been planning to go to that party since forever.”

“I’m sure there’s still a bunch of other parties we can go to. It’s fine.”

“Really?” You finally dared to raise your head and meet his gaze with your puffy red eyes. He was smiling softly and it made you tear up all over again. 

His eyes widened in surprise and he immediately reached out to you, using the sleeves of his hoodie to gently dab the tears away. 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” he almost begged and you heard the way his voice quivered and saw how his lower lip trembled. “You know if you cry, I’ll cry too.”

“Sorry,” you pressed out, the tears falling non stop now, “it’s just—I was really looking forward to this party, I really wanted to go, but now I ruined it all with my dumb panic attack and—I really wanted to go.”

“I know, I know,” he replied, still softly wiping away your tears, “but we can go to other parties.”

“But there’s not many fancy ones like that." You sniffed. "I wanted to slow dance with you."

That put a smile on his face. "Is that why you're so sad? Because you wanted to dance with me?"

You shrugged. Maybe it was a silly reason. But somehow that kind of thing just seemed so romantic to you. You'd never gotten to go to a prom with someone you'd liked or even dated during your schooldays, so attending this fancy party with Younghoon had somehow felt like a chance to make your little teenage dreams come true. Not that it still mattered now that you were staying home because you didn't feel stable enough to be in a crowd, not to mention the fact that you probably looked like a pufferfish from all the crying.

"We can dance here though," he grinned, already pulling out his phone and connecting it to your speakers. Frank Sinatra's The Way You Look Tonight started playing and it felt a little ironic with Younghoon still in his dress pants and white shirt, practically ready to go, while you had tousled hair and wore ratty pajamas. He reached for your hand that was hidden somewhere under the fuzzy blanket. "We'll have our own party."

"That's not the same," you complained but you let him pull you to your feet anyway.

"Because it's better," he said, resting his free hand on your back and moving to the jazzy music. You let him do as he pleased and when he playfully twirled you around you even found yourself smiling. Spurred on by your reaction he did it again and again, until you were a dizzy giggling mess, almost collapsing into his arms. He easily caught you, resting his hands on your lower back and pulling you a little closer. You looked up, your lungs still full of laughter, to find him already gazing at you with the fondest smile on his lips.

"What?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Mhm," he shook his head, "nothing. I was just thinking I might be the luckiest man alive."

You let out a chuckle. "What would make you think that?"

Younghoon shrugged. "Maybe it's the way you look tonight."

"Really?" You looked down at your sorry state. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he leaned down and left a small peck on the tip of your nose. "You're lovely with your smile so warm and cheeks so soft—"

You giggled, recognizing the lyrics even though the song was long over. "Are you stealing from Sinatra right now?" 

"Well, it's because he has a point. There is nothing for me but to love you and the way you look tonight."

You playfully nudged his shoulder, but you couldn't deny that his words made you feel warm and loved. "You're a sap."

"I'm your sap."

"Yeah," you got onto your tippy-toes to kiss him and you felt his smile against your lips. "All mine."

Masterlist

[firetextskpop]

YounghoonxJuyeonxReader

The TV played aloud but neither of you were actually watching it. Younghoon’s lips pressed against yours and your arm raised to press him in a bit closer. This progressed into a makeout with the man behind you, his hand slowly creeping up and lightly closing around your throat. You began to grind your ass against him and he tightened his grip just a bit and pulled away. “You’re so needy. What if we brought in Juyeon? Would you like that?” Immediately you nodded and Younghoon laughed before calling his fellow bandmate and your shared boyfriend. It barely even rung before Juyeon busted through the door. “What’s wr-” The newcomer began but then analyzed the situation before him and shut the door. The older member chuckled a bit and began explaining. “Our y/n was so needy and you know when they’re like this, it’s not a one man job.” Juyeon bit his lip thinking about how true it was and came closer. “I see. Well, I’m definitely here to help in any way I can.” He responds and pulls off your pants before kissing up your legs where you need him most. Your breath hitch as your sensed him pass over your groin and kiss up your belly, past your chest and on your lips. “Missed you.” You whisper and he pecks your lips again. “Missed you more.” His left hand grazed you down under and he went back down to pleasure you orally. Starting out with kisses, last kiss placed on your most sensitive part  before licking from the base, up. “He must be doing well. Look at how you’re squirming around and listen to your beautiful moans and groan,” Younghoon mentions and begins kissing you again. Juyeon’s nice strong hands begin working on you and that’s almost your breaking point. Younghoon can’t stop laughing, knowing how affected you are. I mean Juyeon had him the same way the previous night before. With his hand on the nape of your neck, the elder of your boyfriends whispers against your lips, “You gonna cum for us y/n?” Your head nods and legs tremble as you release against the younger’s mouth. This emits a moan from all three of you as well as a tighter grip from Juyeon. Soon enough you were begging for him to let up and it took Younghoon running a hand through Juyeons hair and a soft tug away for him to stop. Juyeon’s face covered in your juices did more to the both of you laying back than you’d like to admit. The taller of the two pulls the other in for a kiss before groaning. “Oh you two are in for it tonight. Juyeon, on your back, now. Y/n, ride him.” Younghoon commands and shifts himself whilst removing his clothes. And he’s right. You three definitely had a long night.

[wavesmp3]

[tbz] 8000 layers of inyun

younghoon x reader, jacob x reader - inspired by the movie past lives - wc: 6k - warnings: mentions of alcohol, like one curse i think - a/n: reader should be completely inclusive, i.e. not adhering to the background of the main character in the movie.

****

[first hello]

when you met jacob for the first time, it was in the grassy backyard of a house in long island one mile away from the beach. at a rickety, white table with spots of black showing up beneath the layers of paint. it was three glasses of red wine in, two hours after you had laid eyes on him, and one hour after everyone else had headed inside for sleep. 

when you met jacob for the first time, you had told him about inyun. how even brushing by someone’s shoulder on the street or locking eyes with a stranger on the metro meant there was something there between the two of you in a past life. he looked amazed at the notion. you thought he looked quite pretty. “that would mean we had something together in a past life, wouldn’t it?” he had asked. and even then, you could tell–he’s such a writer. there was a story already rising from the dark corners of his mind. you had just nodded. and told him about all the layers between two lovers, and about the 8000 it takes to take one’s hand and whole-heartedly decide you want to marry them. 

you don’t really remember jacob’s cheeks turning pink at the line. what you do remember is the sky changing colors. you remember how golden he looked under the string lights. you remember leaning into his face, almost falling forward, bracing yourself with a hand on his knee. 

you remember kissing him for the first time. 

*****

[younghoon’s coming] 

jacob is already cooking dinner by the time you come home. you stop in front of the gray door, noticing for the first time in a while the scratch in the top corner from the massive yellow armchair you stuffed through the door even when it refused to fit through. you smile at the scratch, stretch your arm out to finger over the light brown mark. how long ago was that now? was that before or after you got married? you inhale. the air smells like wet concrete and basil. jacob forgot to turn on the exhaust fan, didn’t he? 

you don’t remind him to do so once you finally find your keys. instead you slip off your old, faded sneakers, drop your keys on the counter in the lime green dish you made in a pottery class two years ago, and greet him in the kitchen, kissing the side of his chin and reaching over his head to turn the exhaust fan on. he kisses your forehead as an apology, or at least he tries but you’ve already moved and his lips end up catching on the corner of your left eye. you wash the day and the grime off you, washing away the train and the throbbing in your feet. you meet him again for dinner, at the table you call your dining table and your home office. he brings over two plates of the pasta. you bring the wine. 

“you know younghoon.” it doesn’t hit you then that that’s the first thing you’ve said to him since you left that morning.

jacob squints. his eyes, his eyes, his eyes. they were the first thing you noticed about him. the first thing you fell in love with. “yeah. your childhood sweetheart.” this he says with a teasing smile. you smile back. his smile was the second thing you fell in love with. 

“he, uh, emailed me earlier today.” you shift in your stool. “he moved out of his parents’ house, i think, and is between jobs. he said he’s going to be visiting new york soon.” 

there’s a stillness in the air, then. a shock beneath the table that’s curling around your calves and inching up your arms.

jacob, though, despite how well you know him, despite your knack to see through every emotion he feigns, still tries to nod it off. “oh. when is he coming?”

“in two weeks. “

“that’s soon.”

“i know.”

“are you going to see him?” there’s no mask of emotion here. everything in jacob’s mind and heart you can read in his eyes, except that reading doesn’t mean understanding and five years of marriage doesn’t mean you know someone’s every thought. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what he wants. you don’t even know what you want. all you know is younghoon’s email. you spent two hours staring at it this afternoon. younghoon, as you knew him, was a straightforward guy. he explicitly said in the email what he wants: to spend a day or two with you while he’s here, as much time as you can spare, show him the city you moved to when you turned 21. show him the country you moved to when you were 13. but beneath the straightforward request feels like a million subliminal ones. like he wants you to prove to him that you’ve made a life worth living here. like he wants to gallivant around new york telling you about a country that used to be home and asking you what would have happened if you didn’t go all those years ago. 

but younghoon isn’t like you and jacob, he doesn’t make reading into subtext and writing a 100 pages about it his job. so you tell jacob what you decided on the train ride back. 

“yeah, i think i will.” and with the way your stomach twists, it feels like a confession.

*****

[first goodbye]

your first goodbye with younghoon is when you’re young. it happens on the last day of school for you before your family’s big move to the states. even though you only found out a couple weeks ago, you knew this move was a long time coming. maybe that’s why you didn’t say anything when your parents told you it was happening. maybe that’s why you just went to your room and started packing. 

younghoon’s been in the same class as you your whole life. his whole life too. and for your entire lives you’ve been making the same walk back home from school together. today is no different. and yet, isn’t it? it’s the same roads, yes, the same stairs and the same shops on the way. but the air is different, it smells like home. it smells like you already miss it. and you haven’t even left yet. 

the walk is almost entirely silent. 

the roads diverge towards the end, into a smaller path that leads to your home and the main road that younghoon takes to get to his. you take one step into the path and stop. younghoon stops too. he stares. you stare back. 

(you don’t realize it then, but it’s the last time you’ll see him in person for almost 20 years. one of the last times you’ll even speak to him in around 7. it’s the last time you’ll ever stand on this street, and one of the last times you’ll breathe this air. most importantly, it’s the last time you’ll ever be this young.)

your first goodbye with younghoon isn’t much of a goodbye. it’s him asking when you leave. it’s you saying sometime tomorrow. it’s him frowning, patting your shoulder, and saying, “be well, and don’t cry over maths anymore.”

*****

[second hello]

you round the corner by the candy shop and walk inwards to the park. you used to live around here. but god, where haven’t you lived? you used to come into this park and watch people. the man towards the south entrance that always sat on the middle bench. the tourists walking up and down and around looking amazed and bored and helpless. tompkins square park used to be your favorite park in new york, but walking into it now, you can’t really remember why you liked it so much. you wonder why he chose this park specifically to meet in. did you mention it once on a skype call? does he think you still like it? or has he figured that you’ve already fallen out of love?

you see the back of his head before you see him. and for a moment you get an instantaneous rush of every feeling there is to feel from seeing him again, here, in a park you thought you loved. but it’s not the park and it’s not the city that makes your entire body go numb. it’s seeing him. younghoon. younghoon. younghoon. it’s seeing him for the first time in–you don’t even want to admit to yourself how long. 

but the instantaneous rush ends, and your body and blood come back to earth and back to this park you hate, when he turns around and faces you facing him. 

and there are no words to be said. 

there used to be oceans and countries and cultures and decades standing between you and him, but somehow now, all of that has compressed into four squares of broken concrete. you were never very good at maths. younghoon, the one who comforted you whenever you cried over it, knows that best. but even you know that there is no way 20 years can turn into 20 feet. so much has changed. more than could possibly be encompassed in any greeting. it’s indescribable and overwhelming. it’s you and him and the whole world. there are no words to be said. 

so you hug him instead. 

*****

[ferry]

it takes almost a full hour for the pure shock of seeing each other again to wear off. there’s so much joy and excitement between the two of you that for a couple minutes all you do is say ‘wow’, throwing the word back and forth like two kids playing catch. 

the first thing on your itinerary was already decided by younghoon over email: seeing the statue of liberty. so, you and him board the ferry together, asking how his family’s doing and telling him about yours. 

“your husband,” younghoon starts, turning slightly towards you in his seat on the ferry.

“jacob.” 

he nods, mouthing his name silently. “how did you guys meet?”

“we met at this writer's retreat thing. we were kind of… i don’t know–together–i guess, while we were there, and funnily enough, it was only on our second to last day there that we realized we both live in new york. and then, it was only when we got back that we started dating.”

younghoon’s lips make a small ‘o’. “he’s a writer too?”

you nod. then smile.

“is he good?” this he asks with a hint of mischief. 

you scoff. “you think i’d marry someone who isn’t any good?” 

he just shrugs and smirks. an action you’ve seen him do a million times before. when you were a kid, it pissed you off. when you were 21, it made your heart flutter. now, it makes you feel like a stranger. it reminds you that all he is is somebody you used to know. 

“what?” he laughs, covering his mouth embarrassedly. you didn’t even realize you were staring. 

“you’ve just been a kid in my head for so long.” you shake your head, a smile haunting your lips. “it’s so weird seeing you all grown up.” 

he hums. “i feel that too.”

“are you and-” you leave the space blank there. social media had told you a lot, but you don’t remember it ever telling you a name, “still together.”

he grimaces. you wish you didn’t ask. “no. we broke up some time ago.”

younghoon doesn’t say anything more about it, but honestly, it’d be more shocking if he did. even as a kid, he took things at face value, not going any deeper into contexts and double meanings. he isn’t too shy to ask what you mean, nor is he too shy to say it. that’s just who he is. 

“do you have pictures from your wedding?” younghoon asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. you fetch your phone out of your pocket and show him your favorite picture from the event. you and jacob didn’t really have much money at the time of your wedding. it was a small, courthouse wedding with a dinner afterwards with just your families. the picture comes from when you were walking out of the courthouse together. with the small bouquet, jacob had purchased that morning, and the simple white dress you had thrifted a couple weeks prior. you were so happy, walking out of that building hand in hand. you were so hopeful. 

“you look very nice.” younghoon tells you quietly, staring at the photo. you mutter a ‘thanks’. he then surprises you, bringing a hand up to the picture and wordlessly zooming in on your face. his gaze bounces between you and your picture. finally, looking up, he says, “you look so young.”

*****

the ferry stops for a bit near the statue, everyone rushes towards the corner nearest to the monument to take a photo. you offer to take his. he accepts, awkwardly smiling at first, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack, but then eventually, lightening up, posing cutely and requesting different angles. 

while the ferry heads back to manhattan, he carefully examines all the photos you took. it reminds you of when he told you about his photographer friend in college who took photos of him for fun. 

“why didn’t you want to keep talking then?” you ask abruptly. 

somehow, he knows exactly what you’re talking about. your second goodbye with him. the four minute skype call. 

he looks taken aback. he doesn’t look at you. “it didn’t really feel like you were giving me much of a choice.”

it’s not what you wanted to hear, but you don’t really think there’s anything he could’ve said to mend a ten year old wound born from a petty 21 year old desperate to love and be loved. 

“i held that over you for a long time. i was a bit mad.”

he responds immediately. “you said goodbye so quickly. i was a bit mad too.”

you frown. “should i be sorry?”

he half laughs at that, shrugging and finally looking at you. “we were kids.” 

and of course, that was all that really needed to be said. 

*****

[second goodbye]

your second goodbye with younghoon happened when you just moved to new york. it was a short period of time marked by running between 10th and 14th to catch your train and eating too many meals at the ukrainian place in the basement of 7th. 

the two of you had found each other again online. a friend request turned to messaging turned to skype calls every evening and sometimes even in the morning. and somehow, someway, despite the years between your last words with him, the two of you were able to pick up right where you left off. he told you about home and about all the classmates you hadn’t thought about since you left. you told him about america, about your new life, and about new york. but mainly you talked about how weird it was to see and talk to him again and about how alone you felt here.

the goodbye comes when your laptop crashes and it takes a week before you’re able to talk to him again. it comes after you spend the week devastated, crying in the middle of the street over a dropped bacon egg and cheese. it comes when your laptop is finally fixed, when you call him again, and when he doesn’t even seem worried. 

“do you plan on coming to new york?” it's the first thing you say when he answers the call, two days after your laptop was fixed. 

he looks like he just woke up, hair crumpled and bent in places it shouldn’t be. between a yawn he says, “what?” 

“i can’t leave new york right now. so if you don’t plan on coming here, there’s no point of this anymore.” 

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking off to the side of his camera. you stare into it. you had been practicing this conversation all day. you knew what you were going to say. and in your heart, you knew what he was going to say too. 

all he ends up doing is smiling awkwardly and patting down the back of his head. “do you want me to visit?” 

no, you think with a sigh, you just want more. 

“i think we should end this. i need to focus on becoming a writer, and you-“ 

you falter here. he what? 

he nods. you nod too, just as an excuse. 

“okay.” 

“okay.” 

and the call ends in 4 minutes. 

*****

[first confession] 

the bar you’ve chosen to take him to tonight, is a small, irish pub on the corner of a street you spent half your 20s in. you feel so much older than you are, when you get off the subway, point to an old red brick building, and tell younghoon that you used to go to school here. 

his gaze lingers at that building. you try not to notice, but you do. 

“remember inyun?” he says after you get your drinks. his martini, your beer. 

you laugh at him. “it’s actually how i got jacob.” a memory flashes in front of you: the golden glow of the string lights and jacob’s lips on yours for the first time. you can’t tell if it's the beer or the memory that makes your entire body flush with warmth. 

“that game we used to play as kids,” younghoon says, excited, “we should do that here.” 

you smile. how many days did you and younghoon spend sitting next to each other on the train and making up a past life for every two passengers?

“okay.” you point to the two girls sitting at the bar, one of them on their phone, the other resting her head atop the counter. “what about them?” 

younghoon turns to face them. “classmates.”

you make a noise of disapprovement. “sisters.”

he mimics the noise. “no way.”

“look.” you say, gesturing to the way the girl that was on her phone places her free hand on top of the other’s head. “it’s just so…” here you lose the words for it. the girl on her phone bends down and places the smallest kiss on her friend’s head. 

“familiar.” younghoon finishes. and when your gaze falls back to him, you find that he’s already looking at you. the game somehow feels different than it did when you were kids. 

younghoon inhales sharply and nods his head towards a boy and a girl playing billiards in the corner. “what about them?”

you take a moment to observe them. these two seem less familiar with each other. there’s a lot of extra laughing, a lot of awkward pauses between turns. “coworkers.” you finally say.

“strangers.” younghoon counters. “like she took his order at a food place that he left a bad review for.”

you give him a look. he shrugs. 

the game continues. you do the two bartenders which you both agree must have been lovers. you do the group of boys, in business casual sitting two tables over. younghoon says they were all dogs in the same shelter. you say they were in a band together. 

the game continues until the only two people in the pub who you haven’t made up a past life for are you and younghoon.

younghoon gives you a half smile. “what do you think we were in a past life?”

this was always how you and him ended the game. you wonder how many past lives the two of you have created for each other by now.

you think for a moment, eyes flicking between the bartenders who were lovers and the friends who were once family. “two people squished next to each other on the train.”

younghoon laughs at that one, knocking his head back and accidentally kicking your leg under the table. he shakes his head. “a bird and the branch it sits on.”

“a keychain and the ring it’s attached to.”

“a celebrity and their bodyguard.”

“enemies.”

“friends.” 

something snags on your throat at that. 

you laugh, not meaning for it to sound as forced as it does. “but we’re that now.” 

a silent question hangs in the air: are we?

“why’d you come to new york?” you ask him. you already said your goodbye to him. years ago, on a skype call that felt akin to a breakup. seeing him and facing him again was not something you had expected to ever have to do. and the thing is, it’s not just facing him. it’s facing your past, and it’s facing all the different ways he’s known you. 

younghoon doesn’t seem surprised that you asked, but his eyes do this…thing as he looks up from the glass. this fearless, shameless thing that makes you feel things you wish you didn’t feel. “i came to see you.” 

you don’t take your eyes off his. what is it they say about eyes again? windows to the soul?

“but you and jacob.”

you flinch. 

“you guys have those layers of inyun.”

“all 8000,” you whisper back to him, like the world might burst if you spoke any louder.

he nods solemnly, hopefully. “maybe you guys have even more.”

he looks at the bar. the warm light paints him in colors you’ve never seen him in before. he’s so much older than you remember. he’s so much more real than your last skype call. 

(your memory of this moment fails you. you can’t remember which one of you it was that asked)

“how many layers do we have?”

a number hangs off the tip of your tongue. but the world will burst if you say it outloud. so you don’t. for the world, for yourself, for jacob. 

*****

[you were right]

“you were right,” you tell jacob when you come home that night.

“about what?” he meets you in the kitchen, exhaust fan whirring in the background. 

“he came to see me.” 

and even just the admission of it, of the entire day you spent with younghoon, has you exhausted. 

you hug jacob. he sets the book that was in his hand down on the counter and lets you. he feels so warm next to your heart. he feels so at home. and you, in your apartment, in his arms, feel split in two. 

carefully, you ask him: “are you mad at me?”

“of course not.”

“do you want me to cancel tomorrow?”

“you haven’t seen him in forever. you should go.”

you exhale into his shoulder. 

“i mean, it’s not like you’re going to run away with him or anything, right?” he jokes. 

“please,” you scoff, “you know me.” 

“i know you.” he laughs, and you feel it throughout your entire body.

“i know you.” he repeats. 

you hug him tighter. 

“you’re it for me.” jacob tells you quietly. “you make my life so much bigger.”

you can’t tell if it’s the confession or the exhaustion or both that brings you close to tears. “what if something happens?”

he doesn’t ask what you mean; he just repeats himself. “it’s only you.”

*****

[not touching but almost]

you meet younghoon the next morning at the hoyt-schermorhorn street station. he asks how you slept. you say well. 

you stand in front of the sliding doors, holding onto the pole. he follows suit, his hand right under yours. staring at his face, you search for which features of his have stayed the same and which have changed. 

“your eyes.” you say at the same moment the train screeches. he leans forward, mostly to hear you better but also to stay upright as the train sways. his fingers inch towards yours. “your eyes are still the same.” 

he looks embarrassed for a moment. then smiles. you do too. 

the train stops. the signs outside read: ‘fulton st’. 

you look back at him. “i can’t stop smiling.” fuck the train, you’ll repeat it until he hears what you have to say. 

he doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself this time. he just laughs. “why?”

you shrug, smiling again, and feeling entirely, wholly like a kid. “just ‘cause.”

his fingers inch towards yours again. you don’t even think he means for it to. you look down at your hands. close but not touching. not touching but almost. 

the train stops again. ‘chambers st,’ it reads this time. you both get off.

*****

[a whole part of you i’ll never know]

there’s this memory that bounces around your head from time to time. it was before you and jacob had gotten married, in your old apartment, the one in hell’s kitchen above the thai place with the light up dragon that played pop music late into the night. 

so with an old miley cyrus song floating up through the air and in through the open window, jacob tells you that there’s a whole part of you he’ll never know. 

you don’t deny it at first. you turn in bed to face him, cup his cheek in your hand and flinch at the stubble growing in. you kiss him and tell him, “you know me better than anyone.” 

“but i-” he hesitates here, mouth opening and closing like he can’t decide what kind of conversation he wants this to be. “it’s like there’s this whole portion of your brain that will always be out of reach. like i can see it there in the distance, but i can’t get to it.” 

“just ask. i’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“it’s not that.”

“what is it then?”

“he knows that part.”

the song goes quiet. you can hear a drunk person vomiting. you can hear your heart beating. breathlessly, you say, “younghoon?” 

and jacob, jacob, jacob. he looks like he regrets it. “you, just, you always talk about how you reinvented yourself when you moved to new york and how different you used to be. but what if that wasn’t the first time?”

you shake your head. “i’m not a kid anymore.” 

“i know.” and against all odds, jacob smiles. “sometimes, i just wish i knew you when you were.”

*****

[second confession] 

the day, in all honesty, is some of the most fun you’ve had in a long while. you and younghoon get dumplings and rice noodles in chinatown and eat them in columbus park while watching people play ping pong. he wants to go shopping in soho and so you take him to your favorite spots. you wait with him in line at the famous bakery on lafayette only for him to hate the pastry he got. and in the evening, you and younghoon meet up with jacob to get dinner near your apartment. 

“so how do you like new york,” jacob asks while walking to the restaurant. 

younghoon nods slowly. “not bad.”

your husband’s eyes widen. he was born and raised in new york. it’s the only place he’s ever known. “not bad?”

younghoon shrugs. “it’s a little smelly.”

jacob just chuckles at that. “you get used to it. what have you seen so far?”

“yesterday i saw the rockefeller center, times square, and central park. and then,” younghoon looks at you, “we met in tompkins square park, and we took the ferry to see the statue of liberty.”

“you know i’ve never actually been to the statue of liberty.” jacob confesses, lightheartedly. 

“really?” younghoon asks dumbfounded.

“really?” you mutter to the ground. 

jacob shoves his hands in his pockets and nods. 

younghoon looks at you, disappointed, and jokingly says, “what are you doing? you should take your husband to see it.” 

younghoon doesn’t really wait for a response, but you still give him a half-hearted laugh before putting a hand on jacob’s elbow, and quietly, almost shamefully asking, “have we really not gone?”

the conversation has moved on without you it seems. while laughing at something else younghoon’s said, jacob shakes his head ‘no’.

the rest of the dinner goes well. the food is good, and the conversation flows. jacob heads back home once it’s over to get work done, and you and younghoon go to your favorite bar in the area, a posh sort of place with dim lighting and fancy cocktails. the two of you grab seats at the bar.

“what’d you think of jacob?” 

younghoon looks happy, a smile gracing his face for a moment. he tilts his head, and you almost miss the way his smile turns down. “i didn’t think liking your husband would hurt this much.” (almost). “i can tell he really loves you.”

“i love him too.” you say, just to fill the space. but what you really want is to beg him to take it back. beg him to say something else. anything else. say he hated him instead. 

“yesterday, you asked me why i didn’t try to keep talking back then.” younghoon continues. “the truth i learned here is that it wouldn’t have mattered how hard i tried even if i did. you were always going to leave because you’re you. and i liked you because you’re you. and who you are is someone who leaves.”

you start to refute, but stop yourself because… he’s right. the last two times you parted ways with him, it was because of you. you started the goodbye. you were the one who left. 

“but for jacob,” younghoon says, eyes scanning across the bar, staring at every bartender and every customer before finally, finally, landing on you, “you’re someone who stays.”

and it turns you fucking inside out. 

“i’m sorry if i hurt you in the past, younghoon.”

younghoon doesn’t falter. he never has. “i’m not.”

*****

[last confession, last goodbye, last hello]

you walk younghoon to the uber from your apartment. the address has always been a little finicky; the uber will only stop two blocks down. the long ones. not that that matters much. nonetheless, you and younghoon walk it slowly, pausing for a couple seconds each time the wheels of his suitcase get caught on a cellar door. 

“thank you for emailing me.” you tell him, lifting your chin up slightly. “i’m really glad that you did and we got to do this.

he nods. “i’m glad i did too, but i was actually a little unsure about it.” 

this surprises you. the sentiment yes, but also the way he says it. tucking his hair behind his ear, and squinting his eyes at a stop light, refusing to meet yours. younghoon is the surest person you’ve ever known. 

something catches in the back of your throat. something foul and hopeful. something that makes you feel young. “why?’ 

he shrugs, looks up at the second deli you’ve passed and mouths the name of it. like he’s practicing it, memorizing the name, the location, the guy sitting out front, and the cat that always lingers in the back. why does he care so much about the little things? 

“i didn’t know if you’d want to see me again.” he finally says. “the last time we spoke was so long ago. i wasn’t sure if you had left me in the past for good.” 

you hit the end of the second block where the uber will be picking him up soon, right under the ice pop shop that you always walk a little slower by on the hottest summer afternoons. across the block the walking signal is red–a memory comes back to you: your first summer in this new apartment, your first month being married too. you standing on this side of the block and jacob standing at the other. waiting for the cars to pass, waiting to greet each other in the middle of the road. you can feel that day in the bottom of your stomach. you remember exactly what jacob's hand felt like in yours. 

“i think i did.” you tell him. “but i don’t regret doing this with you. it was like meeting you again, and meeting the version of myself that last saw you too.” 

you turn away from the signal and look at him. he looks sad almost. “sometimes i still think of you as that kid i used to walk home from school with.” 

you remember what you used to tell jacob: how you reinvented yourself when you moved to new york. you remember what he used to say back: what if that wasn’t the first time. and so, you reach into your past and try to remember who you used to be before you moved to america. 

“i haven’t been that kid for a long time now,” you frown, watching younghoon’s pupils dart back and forth between yours, “but they still existed. they were still real.”

the uber pulls up. younghoon puts his suitcase in the trunk and opens the door to step inside. and with one foot in the car to the airport and one foot planted on the street you call home, he says, “what if this is just another past life and we’re already something else in another?”

the only thing you can manage to give him in response is a nod. you don’t like to think about what if.

he smiles. and you feel something break apart in your heart.

“i’ll see you then.”

in another life, younghoon is more than just a series of goodbyes. but in this one, he gets in the uber, and you don’t imagine seeing him again. you don’t think you will. because for the first time in this life, you're not the one that left–he was.  

you make it halfway back down the two blocks back to your apartment when you see jacob. it just so happens to be in front of the deli younghoon had committed to memory silently beside you. you inhale deeply; it feels like the first breath you’ve taken since younghoon landed in new york. jacob is 8 stoops away from you. 

at 5 you think about when you met, the writers retreat in long island, the most beautiful serene place you swear you’ve ever been and the stupid pick up line you said about inyun.

at 4, you think about his eyes, his eyes, his eyes, and the line he wrote about them in an essay that was published 3 years ago saying that they're the only part of the nervous system that's exposed, a direct line to someone's head and heart. was he right? did you look into younghoon’s mind tonight? have you been staring at jacob's heart? 

at 3, you think about all this talk about past lives. and you think what if it’s not about your past lives with younghoon or with jacob? what if it’s about all the past lives within you? 

at 2, you think about the kid you left in a country that doesn’t feel like yours anymore. 

and at 1, you think about younghoon. 

he stops right in front of you. staring at you staring at him. your whole world feels bigger than it ever has before, and your heart, in response, splits in half to fit him inside. you feel that something in your throat rise and boil. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, before falling into his arms. the sob that’s been waiting in the bottom of your soul for the past 20 years comes bursting out of your throat. you cry into your husband's shoulder. you feel the weight of all your past lives and all your future ones like they aren't in the past or in the future, like they're now beside you begging you to imagine what could’ve been and what was. 

jacob holds the back of your head. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t need to. it’s all been said before. instead he kisses the corner of your eye and takes you home. 

**********************************************************

a/n: originally posted as an svt fic, but i loved this movie and this story too much to not repost. i hope someone sees this and enjoys it. i hope this means something to someone. i hope i've convinced you to watch the movie cause it is truly one of the best pieces of media i've ever ever consumed.

[momhwa-agenda]

frosting the snowman

PAIRING: Younghoon/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of food, smut (18+ MINORS DNI!!), oral sex (m and f receiving), finger sucking, food play.

SUMMARY: Christmas is in the air and love is in bloom as your crush and friend, Kim Younghoon, joins in baking goodies with you. As the scent of holiday treats fill the kitchen, the question lingers: is it the sweetness of sugar that makes the moment special, or is it the tender kiss that finally reveals the unspoken feelings between you two?

A/N: I'm not a festive person ngnd but this idea popped in my head and I just had to write it. Suuuupeeer late I know, the ideas just weren't flowing until now :')

･:*.⋆❀⋆.*:･

Two weeks before Christmas day, the warmth of the oven filled the kitchen as you meticulously prepared treats for your loved ones. The scent of gingerbread and sugar lingered in the air, creating a sweet festive atmosphere. You were determined to make this holiday season special, but the stress of the task at hand was apparent.

Enter Younghoon, your long-time friend who had harbored an unspoken crush on you. He was a sweetheart, always ready to offer a helping hand. As you juggled mixing bowls and recipe cards, Younghoon eagerly volunteered to assist, drawn by the opportunity to be closer to you.

Though you adored him, your control-freak nature was well-known, even to Younghoon. Every step of the baking process was executed precisely as you directed. Younghoon, determined to make the treats perfect not just for your family and friends, but also to impress you, followed your orders diligently.

Amidst the flour and sugar, a sweet love story began to bloom. Younghoon, ever the gentleman, fed you a bit of batter mix, his eyes locked onto yours in hopes of approval. The tension between you two was palpable, a mix of unspoken feelings and the shared joy of creating something beautiful together. Every detail, no matter how small, became significant to both of you. For you it was the focused look on Younghoon’s face as he promptly executed each task you gave him, making your heart flutter. In his case, he was fascinated by your delicate touch as you prepared the pastries.

As the baking continued, you realized that perhaps it was time to loosen up a little. A playful smudging of sugar glaze on each other's faces led to a mini flour squabble, laughter echoing through the kitchen. Love was in the air, and the once stressful task became a delightful adventure shared between two souls on the brink of something more.

“Hoonie, my hands are tired, please help me mix the batter,” you place the bowl on the counter to fix the strands of hair that strayed away from your clip. 

“See. You have cute pixie arms that’s why” he teases while vigorously mixing the batter. You sneer at him and without looking he just knows the face you made, continuing his work on the batter. You’re about to leave and take care of the finished treats but stop to marvel at the muscles and veins on his hands as he beats the batter. And the forearms…Wonder what it would look like if he was shoving his fingers in my cunt. At the thought of your best friend fingering you, it was your cue to return to the batch of treats that were up for packing.

***

With the rest of the treats packed in their boxes, all that was left was putting icing and decorating the mini cakes. In a moment of closeness, you stood behind Younghoon, taking his hands in yours to guide him in creating perfect icing swirls. The proximity sparked an electric connection between you, and both of you were acutely aware of the subtle touches and shared warmth. Younghoon’s brain fought to focus on the detail you were showing to him, but his brain was in the gutter imagining your hands on his cock.

As your fingers rubbed on top of his, a magnetic pull seemed to urge you both to take that leap. The air between you thickened, and when you finally pulled apart, you found yourselves locked in a gaze that spoke volumes. The desire to bridge the gap and share a kiss, a sweet temptation neither of you could resist.

“There, just like that,” you whispered, the words hanging between you like a promise. You meant the pastry but even you don’t know if this was still about the cakes. Younghoon's mind was racing, and your lips…so close yet so far, became an irresistible temptation. The ache to feel the softness of your lips against his own was undeniable. 

You’re interrupted when your hand accidentally presses on the pastry bag, slightly coating your fingers with icing. “Oh my, oh my god” you’re about to wipe your hands on your apron but to your surprise, Younghoon takes your hand bringing it to his lips and licks the icing off.

Okay that does it. You tiptoe to grab his face, smashing your lips together. Tasting a bit of the icing on his lips, the tip of your tongue prods at his lips for entrance, and Younghoon opens his mouth, intertwining your tongues together.

God, your lips felt so good, Younghoon thought, sighing into the kiss. 

Time seemed to stand still as the warmth of the kitchen was replaced by the warmth of each other's embrace, and desperate moans as you made out. You’re both breathing heavily when you pull apart from each other. It takes a while until Younghoon huskily tells you “We need to finish…the sweets I mean” you giggle realizing how suggestive he sounded.

“Yeah I should…yes” you stammer.

***

“And we're done!” you happily exclaim, the pastries neatly packed in gift boxes, leaving only the cleanup ahead. “Ah, ah," Younghoon interjects, noticing your approach to the dishes. “You've worked enough. You should rest.” He takes your hands in his, and you can't help but yearn for the touch of his lips once more. Despite the kiss affirming the mutual feelings between you, initiating it again feels both new and intense, especially since this is your best friend.

“There's some leftovers if you want,” you casually mention, blissfully unaware of how sweet and seductive your voice sounds or the alluring look in your eyes. Younghoon, ablaze with desire, longs to kiss you and feel your warmth enveloping him.

As you indulge in the remaining treats, a palpable heat fills the room, both of your bodies silently yearning to melt into each other once again. “You're really talented at baking,” Younghoon compliments, his gaze lingering on your lips, now lightly tinted with sugar glaze. Your cheeks flush, and you divert your eyes.

“What? It's true!”

"You're not so bad yourself, either," you respond with a smile. "Thank you for helping me out."

“It's no trouble at all, Y/n. Anything for you,” he says, his eyes sincere and warm. As you contemplate introducing a new topic to break the silence, Younghoon beats you to it. Leaning closer, he runs his thumb near your lips, causing your heart to do a backflip. “So messy” he chuckles. Your toes curl in anticipation as he locks lips with you once more.

He licks the sugary tint on your lips before filling your mouth with his tongue. Your hands wander to his neck, moving down to tug at his shirt. With both hands, Younghoon takes you by the waist, placing you to sit on the table. He moves himself in between your legs, as you continue to kiss. You reach up to pull his hair, eliciting a pornographic moan from Younghoon. You pull away, staring into him with hooded eyes, while you take his hand and press it against the pool forming between your legs. When he feels the wetness on your nethers, he licks and sucks your neck and you start to moan when he slides his hands under your bottoms, tugging at your underwear.

“Mmmph, wait” you press on his chest, signaling him to stop. “Get the icing bag”

With the icing on hand, Younghoon understands what you desire when you hastily remove your top and bra, exposing your breasts to Younghoon. 

He takes your breath away when he draws a trail of icing above your breasts, then proceeds to lick it off of you. He relishes at your plump breasts and pert nipples; practically making out with them. You arch your back, giving him free access to suck and lick your sensitive nipples. Younghoon presses his palm on your stomach, gently pushing you to lie on your back on the table. He mouths sloppy wet kisses on your body, moving torturously slowly towards the place you want him to be. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you lift his head up, pulling him away for you to forcefully remove his shirt. Your lips collide as you both remove every article of clothing, groping each other’s bodies once your bodies were bare. Taking the icing bag, you draw some icing on top of Younghoon’s chest as he watches. His breath hitches when you spread the icing all over his torso, inching closer to his cock. You pause just to look up at him, smirking while you coat the head of his shaft with icing. As much as Younghoon felt his eyes closing from the electrifying feel of your tongue on his cock, and the sight of you on your knees, it felt wrong to look away from you. With your eyes glued on him, you swirl your tongue around his tip, down to his length and exploring every detail of his cock.

Younghoon whimpered, biting his lip. Tears pricked his eyes at the delicious sensation. 

“Don’t hold back. I want you to moan all you want, Hoonie” you say before lowering him deeper into your mouth. “Ahh fuck!” he exclaims, gripping your hair. 

It was insane how you both ended up like this. Dancing around each other, unsure of whether the feelings were mutual, to kissing while baking, and now you were hollowing out your cheeks, around Youngoon’s veiny cock. When Younghoon tugs at your hair, you moan with him still in your mouth, sending vibrations up his member. You start moving faster with his hand on your head, you start to feel dizzy. God he tastes so good.

Younghoon throws his head back, his moans growing erratic as you take him to his release. When he looks down his cock throbs at the sight. You’re in a daze with his cum trickling down your lips. “Younghoon,” you moan still on your knees, only your thighs are wide open and you’re rubbing your sopping cunt.

The sight itself possesses Younghoon to take you in his arms, and gently set you down on the table. “I want to return the favor” he whispers. Spreading your legs wide, he dives into your glistening pussy and my god did you taste sweet. A surge of electrifying pleasure made its way from your core spreading all over your body. You admit your best friend was the first thought on your mind when you masturbated. You grew obsessed with ideas on how he would eat you out, that now it felt so surreal. Both of your dreams turning into reality. Younghoon took his time lapping at your soaked pussy lips, satisfied in giving you pleasure the way you did with him earlier. At the same time, he was immersed with everything about your cunt. Out of curiosity and hunger, he drives his tongue down your hole causing you to close your thighs around him. 

“Younghoon, fuck! I…” you whined, pushing him closer to eat your cunt. You’re writhing and grabbing the end of the table, so overwhelmed with pleasure. A part of you thinks you can’t handle it anymore, but the way Younghoon was taking in all your juices and making you feel good, you thought you could stay like this forever.

“AH! YOUNGHOON FUCK PLEASE OH!” your orgasm takes you by surprise leaving you to scream a mess of words. You almost feel bad about Younghoon’s skull getting crushed, but the tight grip on his hair, urging him to drink up your release says otherwise.

When Younghoon lifts his head up, you’re both giggling. To think both of you just gave each other oral, and yet here you were giggling like teenagers. You couldn’t help it. His face was a mess, cum staining his mouth, while his hair stuck to his forehead soaking in sweat and your juices.

In the aftermath of the intense experience, you beckon him for another kiss. Both of you share smiles during the kiss, still processing how the situation escalated into the passionate encounter. After attending to each other's desires, both of you were thinking of having a conversation about what this meant for you two. Particularly when did these feelings develop.

“Could you stay a bit longer, Younghoon?” you murmur, your seductive tone making it hard for him to resist.

“Absolutely, Y/n. Plus, we're not done yet,” he smirks, catching you off guard as his hands find their way to your thighs, carrying you to the bedroom.

･:*.⋆❀⋆.*:･

@midnightfantasiez, @snowflakewhispers @daisyvisions i did it 😭💕

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 33 - Wildcard (Double Penetration)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Boyfriend!Hyunjae x afab!reader x Boyfriend!Younghoon

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.2K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), threesome, porn with minimal plot, mask kink, poly!am relationship, double penetration (vaginal and anal), oral (m! receiving), fingering, nipple sucking, rough sex, lots of teasing, pet names (princess, good girl, sweet thing, baby, slut), double creampie, slight manhandling, ass slapping, slight roleplay, implied foursome

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: I can officially say my kinktober list is complete! Sorry this took longer than it should’ve BUT as I’ve said before, kinktober ain’t over til I say it’s over. Had way too much fun writing this in the end hehe enjoy! Proofread once

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

You’ve always loved celebrating Halloween for as long as you could remember. From picking the treats that go inside the snack bowl at home to the movies that you planned to binge watch with your family.

But most importantly, every year you made it a point to always dress your best. From cute silly costumes as a child to more sexier options as you started becoming an adult.

So when your boyfriends Younghoon and Hyunjae said they’d give you the best trick or treat surprise for you this Halloween, you didn’t think it would end up like this.

“C’mon baby, can’t you tell who’s dick you're sucking right now? Thought it would be obvious.” The man wearing a ghost face costume teases as holds your face together, fucking his length inside your mouth.

The other ghost face behind you chuckles with him, giving you a hard smack on your ass as he continues to rut himself inside your wet cunt. The squelching noises coming from you turning him on with every thrust.

From a third person point of view and with no context whatsoever, anyone who might’ve been watching the scene happening in front of their eyes right now would’ve thought an incredibly kinky porn was being filmed.

But to you, it felt like you were in heavenly bliss.

Sure, this is the first time you're being fucked by both your boyfriends at the same time. But your hot boyfriends fucking you with ghost face masks on? And the fact they’re making you guess who’s who? Yes please…

You release the cock in your mouth with a pop, slowly jerking it off as you pause in between trying to catch your breath.

It would’ve been really easy to guess whose cock you were sucking by now. But these two were ten steps ahead by making the room incredibly dark, leaving you to guess based on feeling alone.

“C-can’t you give me a hint?” You try to hold back a moan as the ghost face behind continues to roughly pound you, pulling back your hips til his whole length is bottomed out inside you.

“Nuh-uh princess. Remember the rules-” The ghost face in front of you caresses your cheek. “If you guess wrong, you don’t get to cum.”

You suddenly yelp when the ghost face behind you delivers a particularly hard thrust before slowing his movements and snaking his hand between your thighs to rub your aching clit. His fingers start quickening their pace, trying to get you closer to the edge.

With the little window of time you have before you reach your high, you try to recall all the moments you had with each boyfriend to give you any sign of who is currently fucking you and whose cock you’re currently jerking off.

“Fuck baby. Keep doing that-” The ghost face in front of you hisses. “Such a pretty slut for us don't you think?”

“Only ours. Isn’t that right?” The ghost face behind you slaps your ass once more.

You try to see if you could guess by the tone of their voices, but they both sounded too similar since the ghost face masks they were both wearing had muffled their voices.

And suddenly, the clue to finding out who’s who hit you.

You look up at the ghost face in front of you, giving him the prettiest doe eyes you could give.

“Please Mr. Ghost Face, can I ride your cock?” You ask with the sweetest innocent voice while trying to somewhat play the role you’re currently in.

“Yeah? Wanna ride my cock sweet thing?” He rubs his thumb on your bottom lip. You nod in response.

The ghost face behind you give your ass one more slap before pulling out, while the ghost face in front plops down onto the bed and instantly manhandles you. Pulling you to straddle his lap before grabbing your hips and pushing it down onto his length.

He wraps his arms around your waist for a moment, holding you down as the other ghost face positions himself behind you, teasing the tip of his cock at your asshole before pushing his length completely inside.

You let out a desperate moan from feeling incredibly full from two cocks dragging in and out of you both inside your cunt and your ass. The overwhelming feeling of being this full pushing you closer to your orgasm.

You hold onto the edge of the headboard, trying to find balance from how hard both your boyfriends are going at it with you.

“Fuck- look at you. Those pretty tits.” The ghost face under you groaning as your breasts start to spill out from your bra. You tried to hide your smirk, knowing you’d be getting your answer in a few moments.

“W-want you to suck on them, please-” you beg.

“Yes please-” He groans as he slightly adjust his mask enough to free his mouth and take in your hardened nipple between his lips, sucking them like there’s no tomorrow. Swirling his tongue around and slightly nipping them, making his cock twitch inside you from the act.

Bingo.

“P-please. Wanna cum so bad-” you moan out, feeling your orgasm getting close to the edge and tipping off any second from now. You could also feel both of their thrusts starting to become a bit sloppy signaling their own highs nearing as well.

“Then what’s the answer princess? Who’s who?” The muffled voice of ghost face behind you whispering in your ear.

“Who’s fucking that little pretty cunt of yours?”

“H-Hyunjae, it’s Hyunjae! Please let me cum-” You whine.

“That’s a good girl. Now cum for us won’t you?”

The second the ghost face behind you says this, knot in your stomach snaps in two. Making you see stars as your cunt tightens around Hyunjae’s cock.

“H-holy shit, she’s gripping my cock. Gonna cu- fuck!” Hyunjae pushes your hips down, bottoming out his length in you as he fills you up to the brim.

Younghoon follows close as his hips stutter. His thrusts slowing down and becoming sloppy as he empties himself inside your ass.

All three of you take a breather for a moment before you lift Hyunjae’s mask off. His sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead while his cheeks glow a blushing pink.

“What gave it away sweetheart?” He smiles at you.

“Between the two of you, you’re the one who can’t resist sucking my tits whenever they’re in front of your face-” You chuckle.

“Wait, seriously?” Younghoon huffs as he lifts his mask.

“Can’t help myself-” Hyunjae replies. “Plus, our princess is way too smart.” He strokes your cheek before pulling you down for a kiss.

“Well, if that’s the case-” Younghoon pulls you back up, pressing your back against his chest as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck.

“Why don’t we blindfold you next time? Maybe even give you noise cancelling earphones? That way you can’t even tell who’s fucking you...”

He nips your earlobe making you moan. He moves his lips close to your ear, whispering something only the two of you could hear,

“…And maybe bring a friend of ours to join, hm? What do you say?”

[sungbeam]

𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 — teaser!

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, mentions of chemistry & physics

▷ projected release date. february 16th/17th hopefully!

▷ estimated wc. 24-26k ... maybe

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but there are multiple references to previous fics & i highly encourage u to read those; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: surprise 🦅 @justalildumpling approved btw

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's prevalent in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary

[miumura]

— ✦ OH MY ! - CHAPTER FOUR

⌞ CHAPTER 4 ⌝ — errr is this the set…?

( warnings ) nothing really but serim scheming 😈

previous ✶ next ✶ masterlist

💬: hanniluvi is so back 😛 (for now)

SYNOPSIS Despite being okay with being single, your friend Ningning can’t help but feel sad for you. So, as her job as a matchmaker, she sets you up for a blind date! Not being able to refuse, you got ready for this date … but why is there three men in front your house ?!

[sugarcherriess]

i’ve been wanting to ask this for so long SO .. who in tbz would be into belly piercings?? like who would find it hot if you’d have one yk AJHHHH

I know I’m guilty of bringing Sunwoo into every scenario but hear me out. SUNWOO. Sunwoo’s the type of bf to wait impatiently for it to heal so he can hug you while he’s sitting so his head is at the same level as your belly and he can put his head under your shirt to kiss the piercing to “be closer”. If he shoves his head lower to have his fill then who is stopping him?? Exactly, No one.

Also probably Younghoon because it feels like hes the kind of guy who likes experimental shit. Like he’d be so proud of you for getting one whether it’s a new one or an old one like you know that very smug look of his when he looks like he’s challenging you but is also very satisfied like “was there a deep purpose behind it or did you just want my cock hard?” Would be the first thing he says when he sees it (if it’s new ofc)

Eric too?? Eric gives me the “Oh my god you have a piercing that’s so cool you’re so cool I’m dating the hottest person every oh my god when did you get this and why didn’t you tell me sooner!!!” Ramble type of vibes. And then he’d bring it into everything. Every conversation will get interrupted by “Do you know y/n has a belly piercing? :D” and then he pops a boner every single time without fail if you show it to the person and he sees it

[yootaesowlwrites]

Forgive My Lips - Kim Younghoon

W/C: 3.6K

Note: Blank blogs will be blocked. I don’t trust y’all, so make sure you have your age in your bio/desc or something on your blog. Minors DNI.

Prompts: “You must forgive my lips... they find pleasure in the most unusual places.” + “I’d like to lick your pussy / cock. i'd like to hear you scream my name.” 

Warnings: Smut, nudism, explicit language, suggestive, nicknames, wet kisses, nipple sucking, oral(female receiving), cum tasting, hair pulling, fingering, kitchen sex, some humour, unprotected sex(reader’s on the pill), cockwarming, hint of aftercare.

Age Warning: I will not take responsibility because you wanted to read this, but if you’re under the age of 18+, DO NOT INTERACT OR READ. Do not take this as educational, this is fiction!

You watch as Younghoon push his fingers into his mouth and swirls his tongue around them, his eyes were dark as he watched you with intensity, you were supposed to be baking a cake, or decorating it since the cake was already made and had cooled down, but things had quickly gone south, and he had dipped two fingers into the icing before pushing it into his mouth, you could see some icing covering his chin from when he had pushed it into his mouth and some of it broke off, he pulls his fingers from his mouth and loudly licks his lips off.

“I… Hoon,” You whisper, you had felt your skin heat up and something grow inside you as you watched him. “The… cake,” He nods his head before you watch him dip his fingers back into the bowl of icing, you watch as he lifts his hand and icing drips from it before he pushed them against your lips.

“Taste how good it is,” He says, his voice was lower than usual, and you knew that decorating the cake had to be pushed to the bottom of your list. You open your lips and his digits slip into your mouth and pressed down against your tongue, making you suck on them instead of licking them clean. “I’d like to lick your pussy, I’d like to hear you scream my name,” You almost choke on your own saliva that had now become sweetened from the icing, he licks his lips before letting a smirk fall on them. “Should we move to the bedroom, or stay here?” You stare at him as he begins to slide his fingers in and out of your mouth, causing your saliva to begin dripping from the corners of your mouth. “Oh… your mouth is a little full right now, isn’t it…” He watches as your saliva rolls down your chin and as your chest begins moving faster. “Let’s stay right here,” And with that he pulls his fingers from your mouth and grabs onto your waist, turning you towards the counter and backing you up against it.

“Younghoon…” You sigh his name out with content, he grips your waist firmly and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, immediately moving himself between your legs to spread them, his fingers curl around the waistband of your pants, and you lift your hips to allow him to remove your pants and panties, you gasp as you lower your hips and your bare ass and the back of your thighs makes contact with the cold surface of the marble kitchen counter. “Fuck…” You hiss out, his hands quickly make their way to the top of your knees and slide along your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind on your skin as he does.

“You’re so irresistible,” He says in a husky tone, you swallow as you watch his face, it was hard, and his eyes were burning with lust. “With no matter what you do, be it cleaning, just laying there or baking,” His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head, once he had the fabric pulled from you, you immediately reach for his shirt and tug it upwards, barely giving him enough time to toss your shirt to the floor.

“I can say the same for you,” You say. You remove his shirt and drop it onto the floor on the clothes that were quickly pilling up, you reach for his shoulders and place your hands on top of them and slowly slide your hands down them, feeling how his muscles were shaping his arms.

“Yet, look at our position, sweetheart,” He says with a smirk on his lips. “You still wanted to finish decorating the cake, meanwhile I wanted you, I wanted to taste you, I want you to scream my name as I do…” You swallow at his words, that may have been true, he was the one that pulled the trigger on this intimate act.

“If I could, I would have lifted you onto this counter,” You say. You watch as he licks his lips as he thinks about it. “And pulled your pants down, I would like to lick your cock too, and have you scream for me,” You watch as his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows, your words cause his cock to twitch as it was already starting to harden.

“Next time… I’ll sit myself on this counter, and you can do exactly just that,” He says before leaning in closer, his lips make contact with your collarbone, and you feel an open-mouthed kiss being left behind as he leaves a trail of them downwards towards one of your breasts, his hands slide over your hips and over your lower back and leave a trail as they ascend towards your bra, it only took seconds for his fingers to curl around the fabric and lift it upwards, he briefly pulls back from your chest, and you briefly release his biceps and allow him to pull the bra off and drop it to the floor.

“Hoon, ohh…” You sigh out as you feel his teeth graze over your skin as his mouth was descending towards your nipple, you move one hand to the back of his head and twist your fingers into his locks while your other hand gripped onto his biceps, squeezing them softly. His lips wrap around your nipple, and you feel your hips buck slightly at the feeling that shot through your veins and went straight to your core, you feel his teeth gently graze over your nipple as it slowly becomes more sensitive to touch. “Hoon, gosh,” Your fingers press into his scalp as you feel wetness gathering around your slit. “Hmm…” His hands make contact with your thighs, and you feel him rubbing up and down along them, making sure to keep his hands in contact with you as he sucked on your nipple.

The feeling of his hands constantly rubbing your thighs and the feeling of his mouth sucking on your nipple was making your skin heat up even more and your mind to fall into a haze of blissful thoughts and feelings, a feeling you very much enjoyed floating through when you shared intimate moments like this with him. The tip of his tongue swirls around your nipple, and you tilt your head back and close your eyes at how good it felt.

“Younghoon…” You breathe out, you could feel your slickness spreading through your pussy, and it wouldn’t be long before it would leak onto the countertop. He tugs your nipple, and you swear it felt like he was tugging right at your core and at the ball of tension that had started to build up inside you. “Oh… fucking…” He releases your nipple with a loud pop, and you felt your clit twitch at how it felt. “Fuck, Hoon,” You lift your head to look down at him and saw him looking up at you before he was descending your stomach with his lips brushing along your skin.

“You know what…” He mutters before he pulls back, your grip on his hair and biceps fall, and you almost whimper at the warmth that disappeared from you. “Let me just…” You watch as he pulls one of the dining chairs closer to him before settling it right between your legs and sitting down on it, he grabs onto your ankles and lifts your legs, he turns his head and kisses the inside of your calf before he places your legs over his shoulders. “Much better.”

“Much better?” You ask. “You’re…” He was almost level with your pussy. “Younghoon…” You feel his cheeks brush against your inner thighs while his hands slide along your legs before gripping your outer thighs. “Oh, my fu…” Your words get caught in your throat as you feel his hot breath blow against your folds. You quickly grab onto the back of his head with your hand while putting your other hand behind you on the counter. “OH!” Something sparks inside you as his tongue flicks over your folds.

“Oh, fuck, you taste so good,” He mutters before you felt his lips partially engulf your pussy folds, you throw your head back as you feel him suck on your folds and lick along them.

“OH, fuck, Hoon, my fucking…” You moan out, your fingers grip his hair tighter as you feel your stomach muscles tightening. “Fuck, fucking… OH!” You squeeze your eyes shut as your breathing becomes deepen, and you could feel your skin dampening as sweat begins coating it. “Shit, Hoon, I…” You push your thighs against the side of his head as pleasure courses through your veins. “FUCK!” It felt like fire was going through your veins as he sucks on your pussy lips as if he was making out with them. “HOON!” You could feel your muscles tightening at a rapid pace, and you sucked in your stomach to try and slow it down, but to no avail. He pulls back, and you take in a deep breath as everything slowly unclenches, you open your eyes to look down at him and saw him licking his lips.

“Oh, my fucking… you must forgive my lips… they find pleasure in the most unusual places,” He says, he basically had a full-blown make-out session with your pussy lips, and now he was looking up at you almost angelic, but you could see the lust dancing in them.

“This isn’t the fucking first time you’ve done this, Hoon…” You say practically breathlessly. “And you always find pleasure there,” You watch as a smirk grows on his lips as his eyes move to look at your pussy that was glistening from your juices and now his saliva.

“All right, true, but they can’t help but be attached to your pussy, it’s just so good,” He says. “I can already feel them pulling me towards your pussy again,” You watch as he leans in before your eyes shut when you felt his tongue push past your lips and lick a stripe along your pussy.

“Fuck,” You hiss out, curling your fingers against the counter as you felt a hot pleasure go through your spine before exploding inside your mind, you could hear the wet sounds coming from between your licks as he licks along your pussy several times, making sure to lick slower once he reached your clit to add to the pleasure you were already going through. “Younghoon, oh, my fucking…” You pull at his hair as your head snaps back.

“Hmm,” He hums against you, the vibrations immediately go through your pussy and right the knot of tension building inside you, specs of dust begin floating behind your lids the more he licks.

“FUCK!” You scream as your back arches with pleasure, his lips had wrapped around your clit, and he was now sucking on the nub that had developed a heartbeat inside it. “YOUNGHOON!” It suddenly felt like your skin was set alight, and you could feel a warmth going up your legs at the speed of light, before your legs shake with pleasure and your toes curled. “SHIT, FUCK, HOON!” His tongue was rubbing flat against your clit before he sucks on it harshly. “Fuckfuckfuck,” You could feel tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. “Hooooon,” You whine as he suddenly released your clit and felt his tongue at your slit. You were out of breath, and you could feel your heart drumming inside your chest.

“Hmm-mmh,” He hums against your pussy, your hips buck as you felt the vibrations once again travel through you and go straight to the knot of tension inside you, one of his hands disappears from your thigh and moments later you felt his fingers replace the feeling of his tongue at your slit while his lips were back at your clit.

“Ohmyfucking…” You mutter and squeeze your eyes tighter together, you lean back on the counter, putting all your weight on your elbow instead of your wrist. “Younghoon…” Your muscles tighten as you feel two digits slipping into you and his lips wrap around your clit once more. “HOON!” You suck in your stomach as your walls clench around his digits, your thighs press down hard against the side of his head and the tension inside you snaps, the specs of dust behind your lids explode into stars that fly past you as it felt like your body was flying through the sky. “HOON!” You felt a third digit slip into you and curl against your walls amidst your high. “HOON, OH MY FUCKING!” You push your hand down against the back of his head, pushing his head more against your pussy as your hips buck repeatedly against his face, practically face fucking him. “Fuck… fuuuck,” His fingers were ruthless as they curled and uncurled inside you to get you through your high.

Your body shakes with pleasure and Younghoon could feel it as he was guiding you through your high, he knew your body like he knew the back of his hand, and he loved having you like this for him, he loved being in this position, and he got drunk knowing how he had you shaking like this just because of him, for him.

“Hoon…” Your voice is now lower than before, he pulls his fingers from you as he felt your body calming down and pulled his mouth from your clit, licking off his lips that were coated with your juices. He places his hand on top of your thigh and draws circles on your skin with his fingers that were just inside you as he waits for you to look up at him. “Hoon, gosh…” You lift your head and open your eyes, he could see satisfaction floating in them and smirks.

“I need to hear you scream some more,” He says and removes your legs from his shoulders before standing, he moves the chair out of the way before reaching for his sweatpants, he pushes them down along with his boxers, his cock slapping against his lower stomach to leave a splatter of pre-cum behind on his tone stomach, he steps out from his sweatpants and underwear and uses his foot to push them aside before he places his hands on the side of your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the counter.

“Hoooon,” You whine as you feel his cock push against your mound, you sit upright and wrap your hand around him and slowly stroke your hand along his length, you watch as he closes his eyes and take his bottom lip between his lips before releasing it.

“Put it in,” He mutters, you lift your legs and place your heels at the edge of the counter before guiding his cock through your folds and to your entrance, you watch as you coat him in your juices before pushing the tip into you. “Ga-fuck,” He stutters as he feels your walls wrap around him, you release his cock and move your hand to his shoulder to grab onto him as he pushes his forward, pushing himself into you, filling you and stretching your walls.

“Hoon, fuck… I…” You breathe out, you could feel your heels starting to slip from the countertop and quickly wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him against you and causing him to push into you quicker than he had intended to. “YOUNGHOON!”

“FUCK!” He groans loudly and squeezes your thighs. “Fucking…” His head falls back, and your eyes struggle to stay focused to watch his reaction, fuck, you needed to watch as he swallows and try to compose himself and bring his mind back down to earth, if that were possible. “Y/n… sweetheart…” You watch as he lifts his head and opens his eyes to stare at you, his jaw clenches and unclenches, making your walls clench around him. “Fuck…” Your fingers dig into his shoulder as you take in a shaky breath. “Scream my name when you cum for me,” He pulls his hips back, almost pulling out all the way before he slams back into you, the air gets stuck in your throat momentarily.

“Younghoon!” You gasp out, you could feel something inside of you twisting as a knot of pleasure begins to build again. His hair was damp from the sweat, and you could see his skin glistening with it also. “Hoon, fuck… Fuck,” Your other hand was pressing into the counter as you tried to keep yourself from slipping too much.

“Fuck, you… so good,” He groans out, you could see his neck veins appears and glance down at his arms, quickly finding that they were also covered in veins, you close your eyes and tilt your head back.

“Hoon, fuck,” You whimper, the sound of your juices squelching fills the kitchen and the sound of your groans and moans bounced off the walls. “HOON!” Your tits bounced with each thrust, and you could feel his eyes burning into your chest as he watched them. “Hoon, fuck, Younghoon,” Your mind spins with pleasure, and you could feel the knot inside you only growing and growing at the stimulation your walls were getting. “YOUNGHOON!” Your back arches as you feel the knot inside you suddenly come apart, your nails scratch at his shoulders as your grip slips. “YOUNGHOON!” Tears of pleasure were streaming down your cheeks. You manage to grab onto the back of his neck before your grip completely slips.

“Fuck, that’s it, scream my name as you make a mess on my cock,” He grunts, his eyes were now taking in your shaking body, a sense of pride growing inside him knowing it's him that has you feeling like this, knowing it's him that’s causing you pleasure. Your mind was a hazy blissful mess as you were going through your high, your legs were shaking, and your toes were curled from the ecstasy feeling coursing through you.

“YOUNGHOON!” You scream, the sound of you screaming for him was only motivation for him to thrust into you faster. “FUCK!” You were barely coming down from the high you just had when you already felt another about to wash over you. “HOON!” His hips were postponing into yours as he was now chasing after his own high.

“Fuck… yes, like that,” He grunts out, or growled, you weren’t sure. “Rub your clit for me,” Your grip on him tightens before you lift your hand from the counter and touched your clit, your walls clench around him at how cold your fingers felt to your warm wet pussy.

“Shit,” You gasp. Your walls were milking him to spill his load into you, and his body was complying with what your walls were asking from him. “Younghooooonn,” Your fingers rub over your sensitive throbbing nub, and you could feel your third high quickly approaching. “I’m…” You were right at the edge of that pleasurable drop. He thrusts harshly into you and that movement caused everything inside you to snap, your mind falls into a blank, and you cry out in pleasure, your legs shaking uncontrollably as they unhook from around him.

“I’m… close,” He grunts out, his movements flattering as he felt a heartbeat in the head of his cock, he was close, right at the edge, he could taste it. “Fuck…” Your walls clamp down around him hard, and he felt his mind fall into a pool of ecstasy, hot ropes of cum spilling into you, filling your hole with his load. “FUCK!” Tingles run up and down your spine from hearing him groan loudly and feeling his load filling you.

“Hoon,” You whimper, your grip on his neck loosens as he rocks his hips into yours to get himself through his high. “So good, Hoon,” You whisper, you could feel your body tingling with the aftershock feeling from what just happened. “Hmpf… fuck,” His grip on your thighs loosens, and you feel his hips slow down before his cock is buried inside you, his body presses flush against yours, and he drops his head into the crook of your neck to take a moment to let everything settle in his mind. His hands slide from your thighs to your hips before finally resting on your lower back to keep you in place.

“Hmm,” He softly hums into your neck, you pull your finger away from your clit and bring your hand to his arm, resting it on his arm. “Just an addicting feeling also,” He lifts his head and looks at you, the lust that once occupied his eyes now gone and replaced with adoration. “You… just you, all of you, fuck… I love you so much,” It’s not the first time he has said those words, but every time he does, you could feel your heart growing more and a warm feeling spreading through you. “Are you okay, though?” His eyes quickly switched from adoration to concern.

“Hmm, I am… more than okay, Hoon,” You say, his eyes carefully watch you, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort, but quickly found none. “And you, are you okay?” He nods his head. The temperature was starting to cool down and was starting to nip at your warm-sweat-coated skin.

“All good,” He says. “But I think we should go take a nice warm shower and then come and try to decorate the cake again,” You softly laugh and nod your head. “Hopefully it won’t end up like this again.”

[bermudas]

crimson clover

↳ summary: an act of service is an act of love—in which younghoon has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, even before he became your knight 

↳ pairing: knight!younghoon x royal!gender neutral reader

↳ genre: fluff, angst

↳ themes & tropes: fantasy au, royalty au, knight x royal, secret relationship, forbidden love

↳ warnings: fantasy-typical conflict (background information), allusions to infidelity (arranged marriage), brief mentions of violence, death, war, weapons, and assassination

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ notes: this is a very belated holiday exchange fic for @warmau! thank you for your patience and i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 also heavily inspired by taylor swift’s “the great war” and the story of tristan and iseult (with a hint of the princess bride). special thanks to @blushyeon​ & @sichengtual​​ for beta reading this piece for me!

Younghoon thinks the common clothing does nothing to hide your radiance. 

Sure, they’re rather plain compared to your usual royal finery, but, if anything, he only finds you even more beautiful. It occurs to him that your disguise may be too simple—you will surely draw more attention than the two of you hope to attract on your journey. He tells himself it’s only because it will make his job harder, and not because he wants to keep you all to himself.

Not that you were ever his to keep anyways.

“I don’t understand why we have to do all this, Sir Younghoon,” you say, fussing with the saddlebags. “Surely the other kingdom isn’t stupid enough to jeopardize the peace treaty, not after decades of bloodshed.” 

“It is only an extra precaution, Your Highness. While the Crown Prince has made his intentions clear, the same cannot be said for the rest of the kingdom.” He rests his hand on the hilt of the blade concealed underneath his cloak. “People will look twice at a royal procession or a carriage passing by, but they won’t think anything of a married couple traveling alone.” 

“Will we even make it in time for the coronation?” 

Younghoon lets out a sigh. “We must make haste, Your Highness.” He turns around to look you in the eyes, his gaze softening as he does so. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to see your betrothed before the wedding.” 

“I’m not used to traveling alone.” You pout, brow creased with worry.

“You won’t be alone, Your Highness. I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.” 

The sight of the small smile spreading across your face makes Younghoon feel like he’s floating. 

Never in his wildest dreams does Younghoon think he would ever kiss you. 

He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember—ever since he was a child following his father around the palace, as pathetic as that sounds. So when you plant your lips on his in a spectacular display of affection in front of the innkeeper, his mind goes blank. 

The second you pull away, he wants to cradle your face in his hands and say, “Kiss me again. Let me do it right this time,” but he doesn’t do that. He’s frozen in shock, incapable of moving his limbs, much less producing speech. 

You chatter on, oblivious to his reaction. “We just eloped! As you can see, I can barely keep my hands off my lovely husband. Do you happen to have a room available?” You laugh, sending a wink in the flustered innkeeper’s direction. 

Younghoon tries to ignore the way his heart does somersaults at the sound of the word. Husband.  

“Y-yes, yes. You two lovebirds can have the room there, furthest down the hall,” the innkeeper replies, a bright red flush spreading to the tips of his ears.

“Thank you, sir!” You slide a bag of coins across the counter as he hands you the keys.

It takes a few seconds for Younghoon to recompose himself before following you down the hall.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be proper, Your Highness,” Younghoon says, avoiding your gaze. Kissing you was one thing, but sharing a bed with you is an entirely separate issue. 

Crossing your arms over your robe, you roll your eyes, exasperated. “Sir Younghoon, you are pretending to be my husband, are you not? What will the innkeeper think if he finds out we slept separately?” 

“I don’t have to leave the room, Your Highness. I can keep watch here just fine.” He gestures to the chair sitting by the bed. “Besides, after the show you put on outside, I think the innkeeper will be avoiding this room for the night.” 

With a sigh, you make your way toward Younghoon, stopping mere inches in front of him. When he opens his mouth to protest, you cut him off. “I don’t care about what’s proper,” you whisper—as if you knew what he was going to say—eyes lingering on his lips. 

Your fingers deftly undo the strap attached to the sheath of his blade before placing it down on the bed. Curling his hands into fists by his side, he tries to ignore the heat of your skin through the fabric. Younghoon can feel his resolve eroding away slowly as the dam he built to protect himself from his feelings threatens to overflow. 

All it takes is the tilt of your head for him to close the distance between your lips. 

Despite the years of yearning and want, the kiss is surprisingly gentle. Younghoon savors the moment, committing the feel of your lips to memory. His breath hitches when you thread your fingers through his hair, and he can feel your lips curl up into a smile. 

He falls asleep that night with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other resting on the hilt of his blade, tucked underneath the pillow. 

Despite the joyous occasion, the mood is solemn as you walk down the aisle. Your parents sit stone-faced in the front row, your father clenching his jaw with steely determination in his eyes. His expression makes one thing clear: this wedding is no celebration, only a means to an end. 

Younghoon keeps his eyes trained on the floor, unable to look at you. He knows he’s being foolish. He knows you were never going to marry for love—he’s known it since the day he met you. In his mind, the two of you are still in the inn: limbs tangled together on the bed, laughter echoing throughout the room, soft kisses pressed into skin. But that illusion shattered once you arrived at the palace and were met with the grim faces of the royal party. 

There was an attack, someone says. He doesn’t quite know who they are. The King and Queen are safe, but we must move quickly in order to quell the growing unrest. The wedding will now take place immediately after the Crown Prince’s coronation. 

Only then does Younghoon recall hearing whispers of rebellion passing through the villages.

“We have come today to join these two kingdoms in matrimony,” the officiant declares, his voice ringing through Younghoon’s ears. 

With an ache in his chest, Younghoon watches as you slip through his fingers, and out of his reach, for good. 

Younghoon thinks you’ve assumed your role quite gracefully, despite the circumstances. Whenever you step foot outside the palace, the people flock to you with adoring eyes and outstretched arms, praises spilling off their lips. In fact, some may say that they prefer you to the King himself because you seem to genuinely care about your people.

(Some may also say Younghoon looks upon you as if he’s gazing at the sun itself, as if you’re the one who brings light into his world.)

They say that, while you reforge the bonds between the two kingdoms and repair decades worth of damage, your husband squanders the kingdom’s remaining resources to crush any signs of dissent. It’s strange, the people remark, that despite all his efforts, he still hasn’t been able to find the rebels that attacked your family all those months ago. 

The nobility dismisses the concerns and chatter as mere rumors. Younghoon thinks he’s gotten quite good at picking out the ones with some truth to them.

The stone walls of the palace are cool to the touch as Younghoon leads you down the servant hallways, clutching your hand in the darkness. No one should be awake at this hour, save for a few guards, but he doesn’t want to take any chances—not with your life on the line. Even with the rough clothing you have on, he does not doubt that the staff would recognize you immediately. 

As the two of you pass through the kitchen, Younghoon tucks away a few scraps of food, mostly bread and dried meat, for the journey ahead. It’s a much quicker trip from your chambers to the grounds than he expects, and he hopes Juyeon has reached the stables in time to saddle your horses. 

“Younghoon, can you explain what’s going on?” you ask, lowering the hood of your cloak. He hastily puts it back up, but not before he catches a glimpse of the moonlight cascading across your face, highlighting your features in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“The King is going to kill you, just like he tried to kill your parents before the coronation. He’s been planning this for months. He didn't want to marry you for the sake of peace, he married you to create an empire. He’ll use your death to assume more power and go after his enemies,” Younghoon says, ignoring your wide-eyed gaze as he steers you toward the stables. “I’ve sent Juyeon and Hyunjae ahead to secure our safe passage to Prince Sangyeon’s kingdom.” 

“How—” 

“I’ll answer all your questions later, Your Majesty, but we must leave before he notices you’re gone.” 

As the two of you ride away under the cover of the night, Younghoon wonders if his actions affected the King’s plans at all. After all, he’s stolen you away and taken you to another kingdom. 

But Younghoon knows he’s selfish when it comes to you. He would fight a war for you, as long as it means that you would live. 

The sun sinks beneath the horizon as the boat pulls away from the harbor. Younghoon knows the King’s men are not too far behind, but he feels strangely at peace with you by his side. 

“You would make a good King, Sir Younghoon,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers together. 

Blushing at the casual touch, Younghoon presses his forehead against yours, his gaze soft and tender. “As long as I’m yours, Your Majesty.”

© bermudas, 2023. all rights reserved.

[lovesick-boyz]

A Taste of Her Own Medicine

pairing: loser!younghoon x bully!reader synopsis: you made younghoon's life a living hell. it's only fair that you should be the one to show him heaven too. genre: smut (18+/mdni), high school!au (characters depicted are not minors), slight yandere, enemies to lovers(?) warnings: dubcon, obsessive behaviour, verbal and physical bullying, masturbation (m), manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing (f), penetrative sex (piv), unprotected sex, creampie, kinda public sex (they're at school but there's no one else in building), sex in a school setting, pet names (sweetheart, princess) word count: 3.1k+

"Oops! Sorry, Hoon~"

Every student turned their head towards the source of the loud bang that echoed through the hallway. Younghoon felt all their eyes on him; mortification crept up his neck, and you could see it clearly on his face. Here he was, lying at your feet after you violently slammed him sideways into the hard metal lockers. You were looking down at him with a menacing smile.

"Are you okay, Hoonie? I swear, I’m such a klutz! I didn’t even see you there at all. Did I hurt you? It was just a little bump, my bad!" You reached out and offered your hand to help pull him up.

Younghoon just stared at your outstretched arm with fear in his eyes and stuttered, "N-No, I’m alright, t-thanks!" He scrambled to his feet and stood before you, hunched over in embarrassment. Even though he could easily tower over you with his height, Younghoon felt small under your intense gaze. You always seemed to regard him with contempt whenever he was around you.

"You sure you’re okay, Hoonie? I can take you to the nurse’s office if you want?" You stared sweetly up at him, grabbing onto his arm. Goosebumps formed under his school shirt at the place where your fingers wrapped tightly around him. Younghoon could see right through the saccharinely sweet but fake smile plastered on your face and knew you didn't want to be anywhere near him.

"It’s fine. J-Just watch where you’re going next time…" he attempted to say coolly, pretending to be indifferent. You dramatically pouted but loosened your hold on him and turned to leave, not before offering him another small (smug) smile. Younghoon kept his eyes on you as you made your way down the hallway, watching your skirt swish until you turned a corner and disappeared from his line of sight.

Suddenly, a rough hand violently clapped him on the back, and he jumped in surprise. "You gotta stop letting her push you around, man. It’s getting kinda pathetic," Hyunjae offered with sympathy. "You can’t keep letting her get away with treating you like shit."

"I can take care of myself," Younghoon grumbled as he unceremoniously brushed Hyunjae’s hand from his shoulder. Hyunjae rolled his eyes at his friend’s stubbornness.

"I’m just looking out for you, man."

—

Younghoon wasn’t bad-looking at all. In fact, most people would say he was quite the opposite. He also got good grades in all of his classes. You would think that this would make him quite popular at school, but this wasn’t the case at all. He used to have a nagging feeling that someone was spreading distasteful rumours about him to tarnish his reputation. How else would you explain the weird looks he sometimes got from the student body? Though he’d dismissed that thought, worried that he was being overly paranoid. Maybe it was his constant hangouts with Juyeon and Sunwoo at the anime club that were doing more harm than good to his reputation. He was on his way there right now to unload his plight on the two of them.

"We heard about what happened this morning; Hyunjae told us. You good?" Juyeon asked delicately as soon as he saw Younghoon enter his peripheral. Anime club was held in the school’s computer room, and the two boys were in the middle of playing a game together.

"Yeah, it’s nothing new anyway."

‘GAME OVER’ flashed across the screen as the match ended. Juyeon and Sunwoo exchanged concerned glances with each other. Younghoon carelessly dropped his backpack on the floor and plopped down onto the empty chair next to Juyeon.

"Don’t you think you should do something?" Juyeon questioned him as he removed his headphones.

"You’re literally getting your ass beat." Sunwoo chimed in unhelpfully while wrapping his own headphones haphazardly around his neck.

Younghoon scoffed. "Like what? What am I supposed to do with Y/N?" he retorted.

"I don’t think she’d be so quick to give you trouble if you showed her you’re not messing around. Make her realise she can’t get away with it anymore. I mean, haven’t you had enough?" Juyeon shrugged.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what we mean," Sunwoo added. "You just need to give her a taste of her own medicine."

—

Younghoon’s day was off to a rocky start. He had nearly missed his bus, but thankfully he was able to chase it down before it turned out of his street. He managed to arrive at school just in time to hear the first bell ring, meaning he was about to be late for his first class. Whatever, he muttered in his head as he grabbed some books from his locker. It was just another regular Monday morning. Or so he thought.

Everything goes by too fast. Suddenly, the next thing he knows, he’s lying flat on the floor. A collective gasp floats through the hall. A nasty sense of déjà vu envelops him. The fluorescent ceiling lights are blinding him until a pair of legs attached to a school skirt shield his eyes from their glare. He blinks away the spots that are dancing in his vision to properly look at the person he’s currently under. Oh, my God, he thinks. They're your legs. You’re standing over him, feet placed on either side of his chest, leering down at him. It hits him just then that you came up behind him and tripped him up on purpose when he stepped back from his locker. And now he’s here. Lying between your legs.

Which means that he can see right up your skirt. Wait.

Oh. My. God. He thinks again. He can see right up your skirt! Your baby blue lace panties are perfectly visible to him right now. Younghoon thinks he’s going to disintegrate on the spot.

"You’re real clumsy, you know that?" You sneered at him. "Maybe I should put you on a leash and follow you around to make sure you don’t hurt yourself," you said, smirking when you finished your sentence. Younghoon gulped as the image of you doing exactly that popped into his head. He feels his dick twitch in his pants. He shoots up from underneath you and rushes to his feet. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. You just raise an eyebrow at him in confusion and wait. Younghoon wishes the ground would open and swallow him right now.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" you remark sarcastically. "You’re so useless, Hoon."

Younghoon gulps and his eyes flitter between you and the other students surrounding him. Should he try to respond with something witty in an attempt to lessen the embarrassment he’s feeling right now? Or should he just run and hide? He takes one last look at you before he makes his decision.

He bolts from the scene and heads straight to the men’s bathroom. After checking that none of the other stalls are occupied, he hurriedly enters a stall and locks it. Luckily, the bathroom is empty and class has started, which means it’s unlikely that anyone will come in. Good; at least he’ll have some privacy for what he’s about to do. He leans back against the stall door and hastily shoves his pants down. He can’t believe he got a boner just from seeing your panties. So pathetic, he thinks to himself. Hopefully, you didn’t see it before he ran out. As if you don’t already have enough material to embarrass him with.

He palms himself through his boxers and sighs at the relief it brings. He pulls his cock out and starts messily pumping it, not bothering to start slow and ease himself into the pleasure. The pressure builds up hard and fast, and he’s clenching his jaw to keep quiet as he chases his release. A hefty load of cum finally spurts out all over his fist and abdomen, making a mess.

He leans his head back on the door of the stall with a sigh. Well, that was a first, Younghoon thinks. He’s never jerked off at school before. Admittedly, it wasn’t his first time masturbating to the thought of you, though.

He thinks back to what Juyeon and Sunwoo said to him. They’re right; he has had enough.

—

The shrill chime of the bell signals the end of the school day. A thunder of footsteps echoes through the corridors as students rush out of the building, eager to get home and relax. Younghoon picks up the broom waiting for him in the corner of the classroom and sighs. He wishes he was on his way home right now, but unfortunately, it was his turn on cleaning duty. He gets to work immediately, diligently sweeping the floor. The quicker he gets this done, the sooner he can go home.

You’re walking out with your friends, giggling about a funny incident that happened at lunch, when you realise you forgot something important. Silly you, you forgot to bring your physics textbook! You have a major exam coming up in a few days, and you can’t afford to fail. You wave goodbye to your friends at the school gate, telling them to go ahead without you, and you make your way back into the school. You successfully locate the book in your locker, tuck it under your arm, and turn to head back out. On the way, you pass by Younghoon’s classroom and see him sweeping the floor. He doesn’t seem to notice you, so you stay silent and hidden in the shadows of the hall. After watching him sweep for a couple of minutes, he moves to the front of the room and starts to wipe down the blackboard. At this point, you simply can’t resist the opportunity to annoy him again, so you lean forward through the open door to catch his attention.

"Looks like you are useful for something, huh?"

Younghoon looks up from what he’s doing, momentarily confused after suddenly hearing your voice. You step through the doorway with your arms folded in front of your chest. "I was beginning to think you were hopeless."

He ignores your insult and continues dusting off the board. "What are you still doing here?" he questions.

"Just forgot something. You looked so natural holding a broom and cleaning the room earlier. Maybe I should bring you to my house and make you my personal maid," you snicker. "Get you a pretty little uniform to wear just for me."

Younghoon grits his teeth at your comment and slams the chalkboard eraser down. The abrupt noise startles you, and you take a step back. You drop your textbook in surprise, and it hits the ground with a dull thud. He turns and takes a step towards you, his eyes steely. You feel frozen in his gaze. "You just keep running your mouth, princess. I think you’re just begging for me to shut you up."

Your jaw drops at his unexpected words. What the fuck? This isn’t Younghoon, you think to yourself. What the hell is going on with him? You can’t help but feel a little excited by his words, though.

Each time you take a step back, Younghoon steps closer. Your back brushes up against the cold metal surface of the lockers, sending shivers up your spine as you realise you’re trapped. He’s towering over you now. He raises his arm and carefully wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and watching your eyes widen in shock.

"Not so chatty now, huh? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?" he retorts, repeating the phrase you had told him earlier with a wicked grin. "Not gonna say anything?"

You pout, feigning innocence. "How can I when your hand is on my neck?" you say in a bratty tone. He tuts in disapproval at your cheekiness.

His hand quickly moves to the top of your head to push you down. Your knees vibrate with pain as they hit the hard linoleum. He looks down at you, expecting to see your face riddled with fear. Instead, you’re still pouting at him and giving him puppy-dog eyes. He thinks it’s because you’re trying to make him feel guilty so he’ll stop what he’s doing; in reality, you’re just contemplating the possibility of your knees being bruised.

With his hand still grabbing the crown of your head, he shoves your cheek against the very prominent bulge in his pants.

"Let’s put that smart mouth of yours to good use."

You scramble to unzip his pants and pull his dick out of his underwear. His cock slaps against your cheek, and you shift to grab it before stopping your hands in mid-air to look up at him for permission. Younghoon smiles down at you, pleased with how obedient you’re being. "Get on with it then," he says.

You lick a fat stripe on the underside of his cock from base to tip, the whole time keeping eye contact. You continue sucking on the tip while using the saliva you left behind as lube to jerk him off with both hands. Your mouth replaces your hands until he’s hitting the back of your throat, and your fingers move to massage his balls. Younghoon tries to be as quiet as he can, but the groans he lets slip has your cunt throbbing intensely.

"I’m gonna cum in your pretty little mouth, princess. You can take it, right?"

You hum in agreement, nodding as best as you can with his dick still in your mouth. He pulls your hair into a tight grip and roughly pistons his hips. You struggle not to choke as his cock abuses the back of your throat. He cums with a low moan, and his salty essence floods your mouth. You try to swallow as much of it as possible, but some spills past your mouth and down your chin. Younghoon wipes it with his thumb and places it in your still-open mouth. You suck it clean and look up at him for approval. "Good girl," he remarks, and you preen at his praise.

If they weren’t before, then your knees are definitely bruised now.

He stands you up and leans you against the lockers for support. You’re practically dripping through your panties. Younghoon reaches under your skirt and discovers the wetness seeping through the thin cotton. "I haven’t even touched you yet, sweetheart," he says in a mocking tone. You just whine in slight embarrassment. He pulls the obstructing fabric down and helps you step out of it.

Younghoon lifts you by the hips and presses you against the lockers. You lock your legs around his waist and grasp his shoulders for extra stability.

"I hope you’re ready."

Unbeknownst to him, this had been your plan all along. You had only acted out for so long to try to get his attention. Tripping him up in front of other people and spreading baseless rumours about him throughout the student population, all so that no one else would go near him. Yes, it was a very juvenile kindergarten-boy-pulling-girl’s-pigtails kind of method, but you didn’t know how else to approach him. Honestly, you were starting to worry that you’d pushed him too far in the opposite direction. Who knew that it would actually work out the way you wanted it to? And even better than planned.

"Use me, Hoon."

He grins at your response. He lowers you onto his cock, and even the feeling of just the tip spreading your folds open already has your legs shaking. He enters you slowly, wanting to help you adjust easily to the sudden intrusion. When he bottoms out, you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven.

It’s too much and too good. It’s overwhelming, and all you can do is grip Younghoon’s shoulders tighter to try to keep a tether to reality. You’ve never felt so full before. You’re panting heavily, trying to calm your racing heart down, and Younghoon stays still so you can get used to the feeling. But the stillness is just even more torture for you. You can’t take it anymore. "Move, please, Hoon," you whine.

Younghoon’s smile turns wicked. "As you wish, princess." He pulls back until only the tip of his cock is still in you and abruptly slams his hips forward. The sudden movement forces a groan out of you. His smile grows wider at the sound, making it his mission to get you as loud as possible. He sets a brutal pace with his hips, and you can only sit there caged in his arms and take the abuse he’s dealing to your pussy. Your back slams hard against the cold metal surface of the lockers at each thrust but the pleasure Younghoon's giving you overtakes any pain. He’s constantly hitting your sweet spot, which makes broken moans spill out of your mouth uncontrollably. Between garbled sounds of his name and sharp gasps, you try to warn Younghoon that you’re about to reach your peak.

"Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to," he spits.

"Please, Hoon! I can’t!" you cry.

"Wait. Tell me where you want it first, princess."

"Inside! Cum inside me, please!" you scream.

He groans at your answer. "Fuck, alright." He delivers a few more harsh thrusts before putting you out of your misery. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

You succumb to the feeling and let go. Your jaw slacks open, and you claw at Younghoon’s shoulders, trying to find purchase on your sanity. The pleasure hits you in waves, and it feels like you’re drowning in bliss.

Younghoon follows right after, his body flooding with a sense of relief. He slows down his thrusts to guide you both through your orgasms. His warm seed fills you up, and you worry that you’ll get addicted to the feeling.

You both try to catch your breath and get your heart rates back to normal. You slowly unwrap your legs from their crushing grip around his waist, and he lets you down gently. Your legs are jelly, and Younghoon’s arms around you are the only thing keeping you up. He helps pull your panties back up, and the both of you attempt to straighten your uniforms up to look presentable. He cards his fingers through your hair to tame it while you fix his tie. When you’re done, you drop your arms to your sides, and there’s silence for a few seconds, but surprisingly, it’s not uncomfortable. You fidget with your hands for a bit and wonder what Younghoon is thinking about. You’re avoiding his gaze, suddenly feeling a little shy. His hand comes up to gently grasp your jaw.

Younghoon tilts your chin up and looks you right in the eye with a smile. "From now on, you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?"

Warmth spreads through your chest, and you blush at his query. You mirror his expression and give him a big, toothy grin in response.

—

"You jerked off in the bathroom after seeing my panties?"

"Shut up."

"You should’ve invited me."

author’s note: my first fic on tumblr! i hope you enjoyed reading! let me know if you guys have any thoughts or feedback for me :D