#and I know this is very annoying of me so just scroll by if it bothers u this is my diary blog akdhsjsj

[p1girlfriend]

dating a victoria’s secret model — f1 grid

🩷 Lando Norris

– posts grainy little iPhone pics of you backstage like “guess who’s the hottest girl in the world AND mine”

– jokingly calls himself your “supportive house husband”

– dies a little inside every time you walk the VS runway but plays it cool

“do you know how HARD it is to see everyone drooling over you and not jump on stage??” – 100% steals your robes to wear around the house – “how do I look babe? runway ready?” – actually watches you more than the races when you're in the crowd – fully your biggest fan (and might cry the first time he sees you in angel wings)

—

🖤 Oscar Piastri

– okay hear me out: lowkey protective boyfriend vibes

– “I’m not jealous, just... do they need to be that close to you backstage?”

– stares at your photo shoots in awe like you’re not the same girl currently sitting on him in a hoodie

– buys every magazine you’re in, quietly keeps them stacked in his drawer

– if someone says something rude about you? cue his dry clapback

“must be exhausting having that much free time and zero taste.” – acts chill in public, panics internally every time he sees you on a billboard “that’s literally my girlfriend. how is this my life.”

—

❤️ Charles Leclerc

– you walk into a room and he literally goes “mamma mia.”

– attends every show possible, front row, flowers in hand

– gets distracted during interviews because he saw a new photo of you on his phone

– brags to his brothers constantly

“did you see the photoshoot? mon dieu.” – you tease him by posing in lingerie around the house and he literally has to sit down – WILL post thirst traps of you with the caption “mine.” – very soft behind closed doors. always tracing your collarbones and whispering, “how did I get this lucky?”

—

💋 Carlos Sainz

– your #1 hype man. reposts everything. compliments everything.

– “this outfit? you’ll make the whole paddock faint.”

– pretends to get annoyed when photographers ask to take pictures of you, but secretly proud as hell

– gets way too into giving you massages after long shoot days

– tries to act like he’s not obsessed with your runway walk — fails every time

“i don’t care how many people saw it. i saw it first.”

—

🌈 Lewis Hamilton

– matches your fashion slay every step of the way

– probably introduces you to designers because he’s that proud

– whispers affirmations to you before big shows

“go shine. go kill it. you’re a queen, love.” – brings you backstage flowers, then kisses you like you're the only one there – makes sure no one talks over you in a room – genuinely in awe of your power and elegance “they think i’m the star, but i know who really is.”

—

💛 Daniel Ricciardo

– oh he’s OBSESSED OBSESSED

– will post the thirstiest thirst trap of you with the caption “the wife 🫡”

– calls you “my angel” every chance he gets

– definitely tries on your wings at least once and makes it a whole thing

– shows your photos to everyone

“this is her, guys. this is the legend. and she eats cereal in my bed.” – doesn’t get jealous, just clingy after shows “you were so hot out there. now come sit on my lap immediately.”

—

💙 Max Verstappen

– doesn’t say much online but is deeply ride-or-die behind the scenes

– stares at your pics for way too long and just goes,

“...wow.” – holds your hand so tightly at events – “I like when people know you’re with me.” – isn’t threatened by the attention, but gets extra soft with you after – lays in bed at 2am scrolling your VS TikToks and texting “can’t sleep, you’re too hot” – you: “i thought you were the serious one” – him: “not about you.”

—

💗 Lance Stroll

– quiet but SO supportive

– will cancel plans to attend your shows

– kisses your forehead before you walk and calls you “superstar”

– saves all your press clippings in a little folder like the sentimental cutie he is

– sometimes just watches you get ready like it’s a religious experience

– if a photographer gets too handsy? he steps in real fast

– “she’s got enough people staring. back off.”

—

🖤 Gabriel Bortoleto

– nervous the first time he comes to a show but now? LOVES it

– claps louder than anyone

– “THAT’S MY GIRL. LOOK AT HER.”

– tries to act cool about your lingerie campaigns but blushes like mad

– kisses the inside of your wrist like a gentleman always

– insists on taking pics of you himself because “no one captures you like I do”

—

💙 Franco Colapinto

– tells everyone you’re his lucky charm

– walks around paddocks with your photo as his lockscreen like it’s no big deal

– fumbles every time you show up in something sexy

– “I mean. yeah. okay. wow. hi.”

– literally speechless after your shows

– “how are you real?”

– loves when you wear his shirts backstage

– and you love watching his jaw drop every time

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[dark-night-hero]

「Heartbeat Protocol」 Zayne

       ↳ In which you're chaos wrapped in charm. He's quiet control in a white coat. So when a stolen phone sparks an unlikely connection, a soldier and a doctor find themselves drawn into something they didn't plan for. But in a world where warzones and trauma never sleep. Love doesn't always get to stay. No matter how loud the heartbeat is. (9.3k ish)

The hospital lobby reeks of antiseptic, burnt vending machine coffee, and exhaustion. It's the kind of place that never quite sleeps. Where emergencies hang in the air like static and the walls have seen more pain than peace.

And there you are leaning against one of those water stained corners, sipping the last of your iced coffee like it's all that's keeping you bind with patience. You've still got dried sweat on your brow, dust on your knees, and a tear on your windbreaker from where you clipped that parked scooter during the chase.

Leanne looks worse. She's slumped beside you like someone who fought a war and lost half a shoe in the process. Her cheeks already puffing up where it caught the thief's elbow, and there's a red line of a scrape down her collarbone. One of her Crocs is gone. Just gone. No one knows where.

"I got jumped by a dude with a flip phone." She mutters. Not for the first time. "With a fucking flip phone!" "I warned you not to chase him." "You encouraged me." "I believed in you." You say mildly. Raising your cup in toast. "Also, I panicked." She glares. "You shouted 'You got this, babe!' from across the street and then ran off with my sandwich." You grin. "It was delicious. I regret nothing."

Leanne groans and leans her head back against the wall. You scroll through your recent calls and tap her name. One ring. Two. Somewhere down the corridor, behind a pale blue hospital curtain. You could hear a familiar buzz of a phone. You pause and look at her. She looks at you. "No way." "Yes way."

You straighten, your boots dragging purposefully as you cross the corridor. You hook a finger in the curtain and tug. And there he is.

Dr. Zayne Li

He's crouched beside a hospital gurney, adjusting an ankle brace on what looks like your flower-cart-crashing thief.

His sleeves are pushed up over defined forearms, gloves still on, a faint streak of old blood dried near the collar of his scrubs. His surgical mask is tugged beneath his chin. There's an air of precision to everything he does. Even the way he straightens the bandage is focused, efficient.

He glances up. Not startled. Not annoyed. Just… observant. His eyes sweep over you with clinical neutrality. Quiet judgment, cool and unaffected.

The kind of look you've only ever gotten from two kinds of people. Experienced soldiers and overworked doctors. You decide immediately. He's both terrifying and attractive.

Between his fingers was Leanne’s cracked phone. "Looking for this?" He asked, tone flat. "That's mine." Leanne huffs, stepping into view like a feral cat who got kicked out of a bar fight. "It was found on a teenager under examination." He replies. "Until I verify ownership, I'm holding it."

You arch an eyebrow, strolling forward with the relaxed confidence of someone who had been shot at enough times to find civilian bureaucracy hilarious. "You always this possessive, Doc?" "Only when strangers burst into medical bays with bruises and entitlement." He says, adjusting the brace with expert care.

You lean against the IV stand beside him. Eyeing him with growing amusement. "We're not strangers. I'm Big—" You catch yourself. "(Nickname). And that's my very grumpy, very robbed teammate." "She chased my patient through a construction zone and put him through a flower stand." Zayne replies without even glancing up. "He stole my phone." Leanne snaps. "And possibly my last shred of dignity."

Zayne finally turns to look at you again. This time, it lingers. You hold his gaze and let a slow smile pull at the corner of your mouth. He doesn't blink. Doesn't smile. He's infuriatingly unaffected. But you're pretty sure he's cataloging you like a patient or a threat. And somehow that makes the tension more fun.

"You seem tense." You said cocking your head. "Want me to schedule you a massage?" "I'm a surgeon." He replies. "Not a tourist." There was a moment of silence. "Hey, just saying... But that phone's got more memes than state secrets." You say. "But if you're looking for tips on what not to do in close quarter combat, it's got some gold."

That earns you nothing. Not a twitch. Just a subtle sigh as he stands, turns and with a single, swift motion, draws the curtain shut in your face. The rings along the rail clatter coldly into place. The cloth flutters for a second, then settles.

You blink. Leanne stares. "Did he just medically ghost us?" You sip the last of your drink. "I think I'm gonna marry him."

You lean toward the curtain, dropping your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Doc. You can keep the phone if you're into collecting war trophies but just know she's got a lot of shirtless pictures of her ex on there. Not tasteful ones, either."

Silence. Then a soft breath. Not a sigh. A laugh. Short. Stifled. But unmistakable. You straighten, triumphant. "He laughed." "Oh my god." Leanne whispered wide eyed. "You cracked the Ice Surgeon. You absolute menace."

You grin, turning on your heel. "He can keep it for a bit. Gives me an excuse to come back." "You're into him." "Nah." You lie easily. Then reconsider. "Okay, maybe. He's mean in a fun way." "You’re impossible." "You're limping." You counter, holding the door for her. "Let me have this."

Behind you, the curtain is still drawn. But someone stands quietly on the other side watching your silhouette fade. Dr. Zayne Li exhales through his nose. And for the first time all day, his shoulders relax. Just a little.

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The curtain was still swaying when a nurse stepped into the hallway, a little out of breath. "Doctor Li?" Zayne looked up from the clipboard in his hands. "The kid from Exam Three? He's gone. Slipped out during shift change. We think he took the west exit."

Zayne's jaw tightened. He didn't curse, but the frustration was clear in the way he exhaled. He pulled off his gloves like they'd done something wrong. "Of course he did." He muttered. "Another patient walks out without paying a single credit."

He turned down the corridor without waiting for a response. The usual noise of the emergency wing surrounded him. The beeping machines, distant voices. But he walked through it like it didn't exist. Then behind him, the nurse spoke again. This time on the phone.

"Yeah, someone dropped off the phone. Belongs to a patient. Civilian, scraped up, no ID. They just left." Zayne stopped walking. The thief. That same figure crossed his mind again. And a moment later, the front doors of the ER slid open.

Colonel Caleb Xia stepped inside looking exactly like the kind of problem that never knocked. Boots loud on the tile, face tense, a phone gripped in one hand. He looked like he hadn't relaxed in hours.

He spotted Zayne immediately. No handshake. No smile. Just pressure in the air. "Zayne." Caleb said, flat. "Colonel." "I've been trying to reach someone. Their phone was recovered here." Zayne glanced at the nurse still holding the device he'd handed over earlier. Then at the phone in Caleb’s hand. Same model. Same scratches.

"They were here." Zayne said, tone steady. "Minor injuries. Nothing urgent." "And no one thought to notify command?" "Command?" Zayne raised an eyebrow slightly. "I'm afraid I don't follow. But if it helps, I can notify them. Considering the patient ran off. Again."

Caleb paused. "Ran off?" "Twice now. No ID. No record. Walked right out." "And you just let them?" Zayne didn't answer immediately. He didn't need to. "This is a civilian hospital, Colonel. Not a holding cell. We treated them. They left. That's as far as we go."

There was no anger in his voice, but no apology either. "If they're your responsibility, you might want to settle their bill before they run again." Caleb's jaw moved, but he didn't speak. "They're alright?" Caleb asked after a while, more quietly. "Was. Didn't stay long."

That gave Caleb pause. His voice shifted, quieter now, less formal. "She ran?" Zayne didn't correct him. "Left. No word. No payment." Caleb looked like he wanted to press further, but held it in. After a second, he looked away. "If she's still nearby… I'll find her." "That’s your call." Zayne replied, flipping open another chart. Caleb lingered. "If you see her again... Tell her I came." Zayne didn't look up. "Noted."

Caleb walked out without another word. The ER doors slid closed behind him. The hum of the hospital returned. Zayne stood there for a moment longer, clipboard open in his hands. Then the chart creaked slightly in his grip.

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The automatic doors of the ER slid open again. This time it was louder, less tense but far more chaotic. "Move, move, move-! Don't you dare pass out on me again, you little punk-!" "I wasn't passed out! I was resting! There's a difference- ow OW ow! Okay okay-!"

Leanne stumbled in first, dragging the bruised teenage thief by the collar and shoving him into the lobby like she was making a return at a very aggressive store. Her ponytail was crooked, one sleeve torn halfway down her arm, dust clinging to her shirt, and both her crocs were missing this time. Somehow. Looking for more worst than she was earlier.

You limped in right behind her. Just as beat up as her. A dirt on your face, bruises blooming under your collar, and a slight hitch in your step. But the grin on your face said you had fun. Like this was just another messed up Sunday morning jog.

The ER nurse looked up and immediately dropped her pen. "You again?!" "Us again." You said with a bright smile. "And this time with your missing patient. Ta-dah."

Leanne grunted and shoved the kid down into a wheelchair like she was planting a flag. The boy let out a pained sound and clutched his side. "I think something broke." He muttered. "Good." Leanne snapped. "Maybe you'll stay in the damn chair this time."

From down the corridor, footsteps approached, quick and precise. Just then Zayne Li emerged around the corner, drawn by the noise or maybe just some internal sense that something stupid was happening.

His eyes swept the scene instantly like a scan. You, Leanne, the bloodied teenager in the wheelchair. Then his gaze landed on you. For a second, he just stared. That same unreadable look in his eyes. Still calm. Still focused.

But there was a spark there now. A flicker of recognition. You caught it. And you gave him a lazy salute with two fingers and a grin. "You should see the other guy." You said.

Zayne blinked once. He was about to say something to Leanne, his body already half turned toward her, but someone else walked in behind you. Caleb. He entered like a shadow with boots, rigid posture, jacket in one hand, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes the second he saw her.

Leanne froze. Just for a breath. Then straightened and walked right past him without a word. Caleb didn't stop her. But he looked like he'd prepared something to said and forgot all of it in an instant. He hesitated, caught between following and staying, then eventually turned and went after her, quiet as the doors closed behind them.

Now it was just you, zayne, and the thief.

The kid looked between the two of you, shifting nervously in his seat like he had accidentally walked into a bad cop routine "It was them." He said quickly, pointing at you. "They helped me. I mean- they chased me, yeah but then they kinda... saved me? I think?"

Zayne’s attention snapped back to you. "Saved him?" He asked, tone flat. You gave a loose shrug, brushing some dirt off your jacket. "Well. There was some chasing. A little rescuing. He got roughed up by the guys he owed money to." "And I'm supposed to believe that?" "Wouldn't recommend it." You replied easily. "Belief's a dangerous thing."

Zayne's jaw shifted slightly. His eyes narrowed. Then he stepped toward the desk and picked up the landline. "I'm calling the police. They can sort this out." You stepped forward. "Come on. You're really going to call the cops on the people who just dragged your patient back through the front door?"

Zayne didn't flinch. "People who show up without ID, covered in bruises, dragging bleeding teenagers into my ER and asking for trust? Yes. Yes, I am." His finger hovered over the button.

You exhaled slowly. Not mad, just done playing around. "Fine." You said. "You want verification? I'll give you one." Zayne raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Is that so?" "Yeah." You said, tapping your phone screen. "Someone nearby can confirm exactly who I am."

He didn't say anything, but his hand lowered slightly from the receiver. "I'll give you five minutes." He said finally. "Not a second more." "You're generous." You said with a slight smile. "I like that in a man." Zayne gave you a look that could burn skin.

In the chair, the thief slowly raised his hand. "For what it's worth." The boy said nervously. "I think they're kinda cool." "Shut up." You and Zayne said at the same time. The kid blinked and sank back into the chair in silence.

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"Come on, Doctor McSuspicious." You said, already looping your fingers around his wrist. "Let's get you that verification you're dying for." "Don't touch me." He muttered. He resisted, just enough to be annoyed but not enough to pull away. Maybe you just happened to have a very strong grip.

You pushed through the ER doors together. The air outside cooler, quieter. Down the hall, just past the sliding entrance, Leanne and Caleb stood facing each other like two people who couldn't decide whether to speak or walk away. Leanne had her arms crossed, her stance sharp, jaw tight. Caleb was the opposite, rigid stillness, like he was holding back a crack in the armor.

You slowed slightly. Zayne's gaze followed yours. "Oof." You muttered under your breath. "Awkward ex energy. I love it." "Shut up." Zayne said flatly.

Leanne noticed you both and immediately stepped back from Caleb. Her eyes flicked to yours, a warning, maybe, but you ignored it and stepped closer to Caleb. "Colonel." You said, tilting your head toward Zayne. "Mind helping out with a little identity check?"

Caleb nodded, voice dry. "Not sure he's gonna believe me, but sure." Zayne stared at him, unimpressed. "An old colleague is still better than a potential assault suspect." He replied.

Caleb took a breath, glanced at you, and gave a tired smile. "One's a captain who flirts too much. The other's a runaway soldier." Your mouth opened, unbelievable. "Really?" He didn't answer. Instead, he look at Zayne.

"You've still got her phone, don't you?" He said to Zayne. "Return that. It should settle everything." Zayne studied the phone in his hand. Then, without a word, he handed it back to Leanne. Turning to you. "Captain." He said dryly. "Technically." You said arms cross. "But you can just call me Big Boss." "I won't."

Caleb gave Zayne a stiff nod. The tension between them was thick, but neither of them acknowledged it. "So." Caleb said after a moment, glancing toward Leanne, who was now scrolling through her phone like none of this mattered. "We good?"

"Fine." Zayne replied. "Your people saved a delinquent. After punching him half to death. We didn't even get to assess him before you dragged him in." Hey now, isn't that just some half accusation? Caleb looked to you. "You'll deal with it?" "Like a professional." You said, grinning. "Or a lawyer. Depends how the paperwork looks."

Without another word, Caleb turned and walked off, posture just as stiff and unreadable as when he arrived. Leanne sighed, already stepping away. "I'll go pay the damn hospital bill. Apparently heroism is not covered by insurance." She brushed past you, muttering something under her breath, and disappeared back into the lobby.

You and Zayne stood there for a moment. The thief was being wheeled inside as Leanne closely followed by, slouched in the chair but alive as Leanne closely followed by.

Zayne turned toward you slowly. "You and your deputy may be verified." He said coolly. "But you're still facing an assault accusation." You cracked your neck, still smiling. "Let me guess. You're thrilled." Zayne didn't even blink. "There's security footage. Come with me."

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The walk to the CCTV room was cold and quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. It smelled like hand sanitizer and burnt coffee.

You leaned against the wall while Zayne clicked through security footage on a grimy screen. Grainy footage lit up the monitor. Two older teens kicking the thief in a back alley, fists flying, boots slamming into ribs.

Then you and Leanne appeared out of nowhere. Pulling the attackers off, shoving them down, shouting. Zayne paused. Rewound. Played it again. Finally, he said, almost grudgingly, "Huh. You were telling the truth."

"Told you." You said with a smirk. "Heroism. Right before happy hour." "Don't flatter yourself." "Too late. You already looked at me like I was interesting." "That was disappointment." "That was eye contact." Zayne didn't look up. Didn't smile. Didn't blink. "You talk too much."

You grinned wider. "You're gonna love having me around, Doc." "I already don't." You stepped forward and held out your hand. "Captain (Your name)." Zayne stared at the hand, then walked past it like it didn't exist. "Doctor Zayne Li." "Pleasure's mine." "It isn't." Silence settled. The buzz of the screen filled the room.

"We're gonna be great friends." You said. Zayne stood and opened the door without looking at you. "Your report will clear you. Don't expect thanks." "Not unless it comes with coffee." He looked back once, just long enough to look vaguely exhausted. "Get out, Captain." You gave a lazy salute as you passed him. "With pleasure, Doc."

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The walk back to the ER would have been quiet if Zayne had been alone. Instead, you were beside him, clothes slightly crooked, blood pressure probably too high, and grinning like you hadn't just gotten accused of a crime twenty minutes ago.

"You know." You said casually, hands in your pockets. "This hospital floors are surprisingly clean. Either you’re meticulous or terrifying. Haven't figured out which yet." "It's basic hygiene protocol." Zayne said without looking at you.

"Right." You nodded. "That's what I tell people when I deep clean before a date too." Zayne gave you a sidelong stare. Flat. Dry. "This isn't a date." "Not yet." You replied, smile creeping in. "But you never know. Shared trauma? Classic setup for a slow burn." "Please stop talking."

"You say that." You said stepping in sync with him. "But you haven't actually kicked me out." "I'm reconsidering." Zayne pushed through the ER doors and made a beeline toward the nurse's station. You followed behind, your hand drifting subtly to your left side. The motion wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough to catch his eye.

"If you're fishing for a check up." He said still facing forward. "Try not to be so obvious." "Mm." You made a low sound, somewhere between amusement and discomfort. "It's just been feeling weird. Tight. Maybe I pulled something when I tackled that kid. Or maybe your voice is just that grating."

Zayne ignored the jab. But he did glance over again. You were still smiling, but not like before. Then you winced, your posture stiffening slightly. "...Okay. That doesn't feel like a bruise." You lifted your hand. Blood stained your palm. Zayne stopped cold. "Wait. Are you-?" You glanced down and then blinked. "...Oh. That's not good."

Blood had begun soaking through your shirt at the side. Not a little. And judging by the way your expression changed, it wasn't just superficial either. "You idiot." Zayne snapped, already stepping closer. "You're bleeding through your stitches." "Oh, so now I get pet names." "Sit down."

You barely managed two steps before your knees faltered and Zayne caught your arm. Guiding you firmly toward the nearest empty bay. "You didn't mention a knife wound earlier." He said, already pulling gloves from the dispenser. "Didn't think it was still open." You muttered. The adrenaline from earlier had faded. "It was stitched in the field."

"Clearly, poorly." He wasn't shouting but the edge in his voice was sharp. The kind people use when they’re angry but only because they're worried.

You grinned weakly, teeth gritted. "You sure this isn't just your way of getting my shirt off?" "You're bleeding on the floor." "So romantic." "You're not funny." "I'm bleeding very attractively though."

Zayne didn't answer. He snapped the curtain shut and gestured for you to lie back. You exhaled slowly and did as told, wincing as your back hit the table. The room smelled like antiseptic and leftover coffee. Your shirt was peeled up, just enough for him to see the torn edges of your field stitches, the fresh blood leaking around them.

"This will need to be redone." "Guess I'm not going anywhere tonight." You muttered. "No." He said, tone softer now, even if just barely. "You're not."

He cleaned the wound in silence. His hands were steady and efficient, but not cold. You watched the ceiling for a moment, trying not to react too much to the sting.

"You really don't talk much, huh?" You said eventually, voice low. "Most people talk to fill silence." Zayne replied. "I don't find it uncomfortable." "That's exactly the kind of thing people say when they are uncomfortable."

Zayne made a small noise, something halfway between a breath and a huff. The first stitch went in clean. You winced. "Ow. Be gentle, Doc." "This is me being gentle." "Can't wait to see you angry, then."

He paused, looked at you just long enough to make you pause too. Then he went back to work. "You're flirting. While bleeding." "Multitasking is a military skill." "It's annoying."

You smiled anyway. The pain was real, but it felt distant with him focused like this serious, careful. "You've got a good poker face." You said quieter now. "But You've been nicer to me than you want to be."

Zayne didn't look up. "That so?" "Yeah. You didn't let the cops take us. You helped. You didn't have to. I’m not stupid, you don't do that for everyone." Another stitch. Another beat of silence. "You're persistent." "That sounds like a compliment." "It’s an observation." "Observation leads to curiosity. Curiosity leads to dinner. Just saying."

Zayne finally looked up. Not annoyed, not exasperated. Just tired in a way that looked familiar. Like someone trying hard not to care more than they should. "You're not going to stop, are you?" You gave a lopsided shrug. "Something about emotionally-repressed men in sterile environments just works for me. And I’m not asking for a date. Yet."

He cleaned the last suture with methodical care. The gauze was warm against your skin. Then, finally, he said, voice almost too quiet to catch. "One coffee. Not a date. Not a promise." You grinned, but this time, you didn't push. "Coffee works. With someone who just happened to keep your floor clean."

Zayne gave a soft shake of his head and pressed the final bandage into place. "Try not to rip this one open. I don’t have time to stitch you up every time you chase someone down." "So you are planning to see me again." "...Shut up."

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut as the adrenaline ebbed. Not a date. But not nothing.

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The sliding glass doors of the ER parted with a soft hiss, letting in Captain (Your name). Known in the field as Big Boss but no one inside had any idea. There was no uniform today just like any other day. No stiff boots or medals. Just jeans, an old jacket, and two cups of coffee held carefully in your hands.

The air smelled exactly the same as it always did, sharp, sterile, and tired. Like everything had been scrubbed down too many times to hide what still lingered beneath. It wasn't war. But it felt close enough.

You didn't head straight in. Didn't speak. The front desk barely looked up, which suited you just fine. You weren't there for anyone else. You were there for him. Zayne Li.

At the far end of the corridor, there he was, sleeves rolled, coat half buttoned, mask tucked beneath his chin like it was forgotten in the blur of the emergency. His voice was steady and calm, guiding the trauma team like he had a metronome in his chest instead of a heart. No panic. No theatrics. Just clipped, exact orders and the kind of precision that came from too many close calls.

You stayed where you were, watching from a distance. One foot angled toward the exit, the other frozen. That always seemed to happen around him. A moment of stillness, hesitation, something close to uncertainty. Which was ridiculous, considering all the things you had faced down without flinching.

But Zayne Li wasn't a mission. He wasn't a battlefield. He was something far less predictable.

The coffee in your left hand was for him, the sugar heavy one. You had guessed how he might take it. Not because he ever told you, but because something in his eyes said he didn't allow himself sweetness unless someone else insisted.

He didn't notice you. Didn't even glance up. Still, you didn't leave. Not right away.

Across the ward, a nurse struggled to wrestle a wheeled cart free from where it had wedged between two beds. Without thinking, you stepped in. Sidestepped an intern. Slipped past a curtain. One hand gripped the cart’s handle.

"Mind if I drive?" You said flashing the kind of grin that usually got you out of trouble. The nurse chuckled, grateful. Together, you got the cart moving again.

And after that... You just didn't stop. You helped lift a dazed patient into a chair. Reorganized a scattered tray of IV bags. Calmed down a kid on the verge of tears with a few dumb jokes and a patient tone. It came easy. It always had.

No one stopped you. No one asked what you were doing or why you were doing it. You moved through the chaos like you belonged. The way soldiers always did when they slipped into the aftermath of disaster.

So by the time Zayne emerged from the OR, gloves off, shoulders stiff with fatigue, you were gone.

The two coffee cups. One black, one sweet sat abandoned on a windowsill, untouched. Condensation had formed rings around their bases, slow and quiet.

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Four hours passed.

Zayne was finishing his scrub out, water trickling over his fingers. His shoulders ached, muscles stiff after a long and bloody fight to keep someone breathing. Chest trauma. The kid had coded twice. He wasn’t sure if they'd make it through the night but they were alive. For now, that counted.

He was halfway through drying his hands when a nurse strolled past, flipping through a chart. She stopped just long enough to glance at him. "Oh. By the way. Your mystery visitor came back." Zayne blinked slowly. "Who?"

She smiled without looking up. "The military one. Civilian clothes. Jacket. Sharp eyes, sharp mouth. Brought you coffee. Helped with the mess in the north bay. Didn't sign in. Slipped out during your surgery." Zayne froze, water still dripping from his fingers. "They left?" He asked, too casually.

The nurse paused, smirking now. "Didn't want to interrupt. Said and I quote 'Doc looked like he was performing miracles.' Left about an hour and a half ago, I think." She moved on without waiting for a reply.

Zayne didn't say anything. Just stared at the tiled wall like it might explain something. You came back.

Even after everything. After being patched up like a broken rifle and sent off with cold words and stiff silences. After being kept at arm’s length by his clinical walls. You came back, not with demands or flirtation, but with coffee and quiet help. And he missed you.

He dried his hands slowly, mechanically. Tossed the towel in the bin and stepped out into the ER again. The same rhythm, same routine. But this time, his eyes drifted just briefly toward the front entrance. Toward the window where the coffee cups had sat. Only one remained.

He approached it. Picked it up. It was cold now. Condensation made the paper soft around the rim. Still sealed. Still sweet. The one you brought for him. He held it for a second. Then threw it out, not with anger, not even frustration. Just… A little regret.

Zayne Li doesn't make promises. Not to himself. Not to anyone. He didn't believe in what ifs, or let hope grow where it didn't belong. But as he walked back toward the ward, something tugged at him.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself wondering if you came back again... Would he let himself say anything at all? And would you stay long enough to hear it?

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The bar creaks above you as you finish your last pull up, muscles trembling with the effort. Sweat slides down your back, clinging to your shirt like heat itself. The gym around you buzzes with familiar sounds. Boots on rubber mats, barbells dropping, fellow soldiers shouting across rows of bodies, but it's all just background noise. You're focused. Tuned in. Breathing steady. Arms burning. Then your phone buzzes.

You drop from the bar, landing with a dull thud, and snag your towel off the bench. One hand wipes the sweat from your face while the other taps your phone. Unknown Number. Your brows rise. Great. Probably another idiot trying to sell you solar panels in the middle of deployment rotation.

You answer anyway, pressing the phone to your ear as you grab your water bottle. "If this is another telemarketer trying to sell me insurance." You say, already exhaling. "I'm already insured with PTSD, thanks."

A pause. Then. "It's not." You pause mid drinking from your water bottle. You blink, pulling the phone back slightly before pressing it to your ear again. That voice. Low. Composed. Just this side of cold. Zayne Li.

You grin before you can stop yourself. "Well, well. Didn't think you knew how to use a phone unless someone was flatlining." There's a short silence. Then. "You left coffee." He says, as if it's a fact on a chart. "Earlier. You didn't stay."

You laugh, tilting your head and taking a long drink. "You were busy saving liver. I figured hovering next to you with a paper cup wasn't really the vibe." "It was a heart. Not a liver." "Same difference." You tease. "You even saved my number. I didn’t know you were sentimental."

He doesn't respond right away. You can practically hear the internal sigh. The subtle calculation. "I needed to ID the source of my next migraine." Oof. That earns a soft whistle from you. "Wow. And here I thought we were bonding." "You were monologuing. I was working."

You smirk. "So what's this, then? Just returning the favor?" "Meeting." He says plainly. "Coffee. I'm off rotation tomorrow morning. Few hours." Still so careful. Still making it sound like it's purely logistical. You lean against the cool concrete wall, your tone dipping playfully. "Are you asking me out, Doctor?"

There's a pause. "I'm..." He exhales, slow and controlled. "...Inviting you to coffee. To repay the one I missed. That's it." "Sure it is." Your voice softens into something low and teasing. "It's a date then." Silence. Not uncomfortable. Just thick enough to be interesting.

Then finally, dry as ever. "Try not to show up bleeding this time." "No promises." You murmur, smiling. "But I'll make sure to wear something that shows off the stitches." You hang up before he can retort.

The phone lowers in your hand, but the smile lingers. You breathe in, slow and light, the ache of the workout still humming through your arms. Coffee with a surgeon who looks like he hasn't smiled in a decade and acts like caffeine is beneath him?

Sure. Why not. You've made worse calls. Besides... You already know exactly what you're going to wear.

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The sky was leaning toward gold when you got there. That soft stretch of time between afternoon and evening when the sun dips low and the world goes quiet for a second. Everything looked like it was waiting.

You spotted Zayne almost right away, sitting near the edge of the rooftop, a paper cup in front of him, one hand resting on the spine of a book. A book. Not a phone. Not a clipboard. An actual paperback. That alone made your chest tighten a little.

He looked good. Relaxed but not careless. His shirt was open at the collar, sleeves pushed to the elbows, the kind of rumpled that looked unintentional but lived in. The usual stiffness he wore like armor had taken a step back tonight, just enough to see the edges of someone real underneath.

And when he saw you, he smiled. It wasn't big. It wasn't dramatic. But it was warm, tired, yeah but not guarded. Like seeing you didn't ruin anything. You took that as a win.

"You're early." You said sliding into the seat across from him. "So are you." He replied. "Tactically early. Totally different." You grinned. "And here I thought you'd be elbows deep in someone's spleen by now." "I turned down a shift." He said it evenly, like it didn’t mean anything. But his eyes flicked away for just a second. You didn't press.

Conversation came easier than you expected. He didn't deflect as hard as usual. You talked about food, he really seemed to hate carrots. And apparently, apart from visiting some medical museum, he will go look at the river when he wants to relax. In return, you told him about a field exercise gone sideways, and while he tried to stay disapproving, you definitely saw him crack a smile once or twice.

You brought up the hot chocolate again. "I still don't believe you don't like marshmallows." You said leaning in. "I was being polite." "You had three." He gave you a flat look. "You licked the chocolate off your thumb." His ears went slightly pink. "You've got a sweet tooth." You said, smug. "It's okay. No one’s judging." "You are." "Constantly."

That made you laugh. And this time, he didn't fight the smile as hard. It felt nice. Low key. Like being two people instead of two jobs. You weren't expecting him to melt this quickly, but here he was, not completely open but not locked up either.

Then your phone buzzed. Once. Then again. Then it didn't stop. You checked the screen. No name. Just a restricted number. That told you everything. You answered anyway. "Yeah?" A short pause. A voice you recognized. Not your direct superior, which only confirmed it. "Understood." You said after a few clipped exchanges. "ETA twenty five minutes." You hung up.

Zayne was already watching you. Calm, quiet. Not irritated, just still.

"That was work." You said. "Sorry." He nodded. "Classified?" "Mostly." Another beat. "It's immediate." He didn't flinch. But something behind his eyes dimmed. Like a curtain being pulled partway closed. "Of course it is." He said. Even. Too even. "I didn't plan this-" "You don't have to explain." But you kind of wanted to.

The conversation had been easy. The space between you had felt real. Normal. Now it was gone again, and all that softness was draining fast. He didn't seem upset. Just... Resigned. And that stung more than anything else could've.

"I'll make it up to you." You said, trying to smile. "Same cafe, next time I'm not being dragged out by the alphabet agencies?" He looked at you for a long second. Then nodded. "Sure." "Really?" "You said it yourself. Tactically early." He said. "Now you can be tactically late." That made you grin. "See? That's borderline romantic. I knew you had it in you."

He rolled his eyes but he didn't argue. You stood, stepping back. Then paused. "So. It’s a date, then?" "If you say so." "I do." You gave him a half salute. He didn't return it, obviously, but you caught the way he watched you go. Not just with his eyes. Something else, too. Something he didn’t say out loud.

You walked away, boots quiet on the rooftop, heart already shifting gears. Zayne didn't move for a while after you left. And you? You told yourself he had agreed. That was enough. Even if something in the way he looked at you, just for a second, made you wonder what this would've felt like if the timing wasn't always pulling you apart.

But you were trained to move forward. So you did.

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You were early.

Technically off duty, mission cleared, and fully within your right to be anywhere else. But instead you found yourself outside the hospital like someone loitering without a reason. Arms crossed, back against your car, watching the sliding glass doors like they owed you an answer.

It wasn't a big deal. Just following through. Just keeping your word. That's what you told yourself.

Then the doors slid open and Zayne walked out. You saw him before he saw you, still in his scrubs, a disposable coffee cup in one hand, his steps slower than usual like the shift had wrung him dry. His hair was messier than normal, jaw dusted with the start of stubble. Exhausted. Real.

He glanced up. Spotted you. You were already smiling. He blinked once, then again, like he wasn't sure you were actually there. "You always wait outside ERs for people." He asked, stopping a few feet away. "Or am I just unlucky?" You scoff and tilted your head. "Only for overworked doctors with tragic sleep schedules and commitment issues."

There it was a flicker of a grin. Almost involuntary. He looked away briefly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "You didn't text." "You would've said no." "Probably." You stepped off the curb and jerked your chin toward your car. "Thought we'd cash in that date you said yes to."

Zayne hesitated like he was still trying to catch up to the moment. "I wasn't exactly prepared." "Welcome to real life." You said, already opening the passenger side door. "You coming or what?"

Another pause. Then he walked forward, tugging his ID badge from around his neck and tucking it into his coat pocket before getting in.

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The cafe you picked was a 24 hour hole in the wall with cheap booths, burnt coffee, and the exact kind of fried food people pretended not to crave. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, the walls lined with yellowing newspaper clippings and retro signs that hadn't been ironic in decades.

It smelled like syrup and grease and something warm you couldn't quite name. You slid into a booth near the window. Zayne sat across from you, scanning the menu like it required medical training.

"Relax." You said. "You're not in an OR. Just pick a breakfast that won't offend your arteries." He raised an eyebrow. "You're trying to kill me." "Technically I'm trying to reintroduce you to joy." He huffed under his breath but didn't argue.

You ordered something unapologetically sweet. Cinnamon roll, pancakes, chocolate syrup on everything. Zayne, after a pause, asked for a coffee and nothing else. "You're really gonna sit there and not eat?" "I'm fine." "You're gonna watch me eat?" "Apparently."

You didn't push further. But you caught the way his eyes lingered on your plate when the food arrived. You broke off a piece of the cinnamon roll and slid it across the table. "You're staring." "I'm not." "You are."

Another pause. He took it, careful, cautious, like the sugar might bite him back. He chewed once. Then again. You leaned back, satisfied. "See? Sweet tooth." "I don't." "You do." "I'm not arguing this with you." You grinned. "You already are. And you're losing." He rolled his eyes but took another bite slightly bigger this time.

You didn't ask for a big night. Just time. Time that wasn't rushed. Time that wasn't counted in the gaps between missions or the silences in briefings. Zayne didn't say much, but when he did, it felt deliberate. Weighted. Thought out.

You talked about your last assignment the chaos, the equipment failures, the part where you nearly had to patch up a guy with duct tape and a prayer. He didn't laugh, exactly, but he cracked a smile, one hand half covering it like he didn't want you to see. You asked if he'd ever taken a real vacation. He stared at you like the word confused him.

You told him about growing up around noise siblings, sirens, arguments down the hall. How silence used to make your skin itch. He stared at his coffee for a long second. Then said quietly. "Silence doesn't bother me. It's what comes after it."

You didn't ask what he meant. You just nodded and let the quiet settle between you. And when the check came, you noticed a second dessert box beside the coffee. Chocolate mousse cake. You glanced at it. Raised an eyebrow. Zayne didn't say anything. But he didn't meet your eyes either.

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The drive back was quiet, not awkward, just still. The city outside your window blurred past in soft reds and pale golds, everything slow and washed out. At a red light, you glanced over and noticed Zayne's head tilted toward the window. His arms were folded. His eyes closed. Asleep.

At first, you thought he was faking it. But his breathing was slow. Even. His face relaxed in a way you'd never seen before. None of the usual tension, none of the guarded weight he always seemed to carry. You turned the music down. He didn't stir.

You didn't know much about how he slept, just that he usually didn't. That the nights were long and filled with thinking he never voiced. You'd heard it in the pauses. Seen it in the way he never yawned, never looked rested, never answered messages before 3 a.m.

But here he was, out cold in the passenger seat of your beat up car like he trusted it. Like he trusted you. You drove slower. Just in case.

You parked outside his apartment and let the engine idle. You didn't wake him right away. You sat there for a second, watching the streetlight glow against the windshield. Watching him breathe.

Then you leaned over and gently tapped his shoulder. "Hey. Sleeping Beauty." Zayne stirred, blinking into the blur of the dashboard lights. "I fell asleep?" "Out cold." He shifted upright, running a hand over his face. "That... doesn't happen."

"You sure?" You said. "Because it sure looked like you were drooling on my seat." He looked at you and it wasn't annoyance on his face. Just something quieter. Softer. Then, after a second. "I don't fall asleep around people." You tilted your head. "Guess I'm just special."

There was a pause. Then, like he didn't mean to say it out loud, he murmured. "…Maybe." It landed in your chest harder than you expected.

But before you could say anything else, he opened the door and stepped out. The air rushed in, cool and sharp. He paused for a second outside, like he wanted to say more. Then the door shut.

You stayed parked for another minute. The seat beside you still carried the weight of him. No kiss. No long stares. No hand brushing yours across the center console.

But it had been a date. An actual, real moment between two people, no ranks, no code names, no waiting for someone to break.

And it lingered. You weren't in love. Not yet. But hell- you were coming back.

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You didn't mean to fall into a rhythm with Zayne. It just happened.

At first, it was small things. You dropped by the hospital after hours more than you needed to. Sometimes you had a reason a fake concern about healing bruises or an excuse about a follow up that could've easily waited.

Other times, you brought him coffee, always too sweet. He never corrected your order. You told yourself it didn't mean anything, but you noticed he always drank it anyway.

He never asked why you kept showing up. And you never explained. It was unspoken, the way both of you kept letting the moments happen.

Some days, you didn't even talk much. You'd find him on a bench or tucked away in some hallway during his break and you'd just sit with him. Quiet. Letting the silence fill the space without pressure.

Other times, he let you drag him into conversations he didn't ask for. About the dumbest things. Whether cereal counted as soup. If chocolate was an acceptable breakfast. The exact number of marshmallows it took before someone officially had a sugar addiction.

You teased him. He tolerated it. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he rolled his eyes in that way that told you he wasn't really annoyed. And every now and then, when the shift wasn't too brutal and the day hadn't broken him down too badly, you'd catch him almost smiling.

It was a slow thing, whatever was growing between you. Nothing loud. Nothing official. But you started to notice the little details. Like how he always walked you to the exit, no matter how tired he looked. Or how he stopped pretending not to see you when you showed up. You'd catch him looking first, just for a second, before going back to whatever he was doing.

He never say much. But when he did, it was steady and thoughtful. Never wasted. He listened, really listened, even when your stories had no point. And the more time you spent around him, the more you started to understand that his silence wasn't cold. It was cautious. Like he didn't quite know how to let people close, but was still trying.

You didn't push him. Not really. You just kept showing up.

Late night texts. Dumb photos of your bad food experiments. Unnecessary coffee runs. You weren't trying to fix him or figure him out. You just wanted to be around. And he let you. Not completely, not all the way, but enough to know it mattered.

He was still guarded. Still held something back. But there were moments when that wall cracked, even just a little. Like the time you leaned into his space to look at a file and he didn’t move away. Or when you made a joke that actually pulled a laugh out of him, a real one, soft and low, like it surprised even him.

You started thinking about asking him out. For real this time. No half jokes. No casual drop ins. Just a proper date, with actual seats and food that didn't come out of a cheap cafe or 24 hour restaurant.

So you made a plan. You were halfway through the sentence, something about taking him to that new place with the overhyped desserts when your phone buzzed. You checked it without thinking. The message flashed up in red.

Encrypted. Priority one. Immediate deployment.

Everything in your chest went still. Zayne noticed the shift in your face before you said a word. "What is it?" You locked your screen and slid the phone away. "Mission call." You said, trying to sound normal. "I have to cancel."

He didn't react much. Just nodded and looked off to the side. Like he'd expected it. Like he'd been waiting for it to happen eventually. "Understood." He said. But his hands were too still. And he didn't meet your eyes.

"You okay?" You asked. He looked back at you, face unreadable. "Why wouldn't I be?" You didn't have an answer for that. Or maybe you just didn't want to say it out loud. "You still owe me dessert." You said, trying to keep it light. He gave the faintest nod. "Rain check." He said.

That was it. No complaint. No goodbye. Just those two words, quiet and neutral.

You left the hospital that night with your gear already packed in your mind. You didn't know when you'd be back or if he'd still be in the same place when you returned.

But as you pushed through the doors and stepped outside, instinct made you glance back. He was still there, standing in the hallway. Not moving. Just watching.

And you couldn't help thinking he looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. And maybe that's what made it harder to walk away.

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You arrived ten minutes early.

Not by accident. Part of you just wanted to get there first. To sit, breathe, settle. But the other part, maybe the bigger part, didn't want to risk missing him.

Zayne wasn't the type to run late. He wasn't the type to leave things unplanned. And even though he never said it, you'd picked up on his soft spot for structure. He didn't mind quiet. He didn't mind serious. But being late? Being caught off guard? That wasn't his style.

You didn't know what that said about you. Someone who rarely planned anything unless the job demanded it. But it made you think a little.

Still, you showed up early. Picked a booth tucked in the corner, back to the wall. You always chose that spot. Something about having a clear view of the door helped settle you. The place wasn't all fancy. Not romantic in the traditional sense. But it was warm. Comfortable. The kind of place where they knew your name after a few visits, where the lights weren't too low and the soup always had too much pepper.

You thought Zayne would like it. Or at least not hate it.

You ordered him a coffee before he got there. The way he liked it, extra sugar, enough to be questionable. He always denied having a sweet tooth, but he never corrected your order. Never sent it back. Sometimes, when he thought you weren't looking, he even smiled after the first sip.

You sat and waited. Checked your phone out of habit. No calls. No alerts. No mission flags lighting up your screen. For once, nothing was pulling you away.

So when the door opened and Zayne walked in, you let yourself smile. Easy. Familiar. You raised a hand, ready with a joke. "Took you long enough, Doc. I was about to start diagnosing the waiter." But something in your smile faltered.

He didn't return it. No raised brow. No eye roll. Just… nothing. He walked over, calm and quiet, and sat across from you like he'd already made up his mind about something. His hands folded neatly on the table. His shoulders a little too still.

You watched him for a second. "You okay?" You asked, keeping your tone light. "Because you're giving off serious 'we need to talk' energy. I didn’t bring my emotional armor." He let out a small breath. Not a laugh. Not quite. But close. "I need to say something." He said. You didn't move. Just nodded. "Okay."

There was a pause. Not long, but heavy enough to fill the space between you. He tapped his finger once on the table, then stopped. "I used to be with someone." He said quietly. "She was military. Field unit. Same kind of work."

You didn't react. You didn't need to. This wasn't a story for jealousy. It felt like something else.

"She would disappear for missions. Sometimes days, sometimes weeks. No contact. No warning. She would come back like nothing happened. But it always felt different. Like the pieces never quite fit the same after." His voice was calm, but you heard something behind it. Something tired.

"We tried. Every time she came back, we tried. But it didn't last. I started shutting down. I didn't know how else to keep up. Caring about her started to feel like a risk I couldn't afford." You didn't say anything. Not yet. You could hear the honesty in his voice. This wasn't a story he told often.

Zayne finally looked at you. Really looked. And his eyes didn't hold anger. Just something close to caution. Like he wasn't sure if this would land right, but he needed to say it anyway. "I don't want that again." He said. "I can't do that again."

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb it. Trying to figure out where this was going. "So what does that mean?" You asked. "You're stepping back now? Just in case I vanish, too?" He didn't answer right away. Just glanced down at the table, then back up. "I think it's better if we stop before this turns into something it can't survive."

That hit harder than you thought it would. Your hand curled into a fist in your lap, just to give the feeling somewhere to go.

You forced a quiet breath. "Wow." You said. "Didn't even make it to dessert. You always this fast with your breakups?" His eyes flickered. He didn't smile. Didn't push back. That, more than anything, made your chest tighten.

"I've been trying." You said. "You know that, right? I've been showing up. I don't do that for everyone. But I did for you. I sent texts. I brought coffee. I sat in silence when you didn't want to talk. I didn't push." His jaw moved slightly, like he wanted to interrupt. But he didn't. "I've been careful. I didn't push. I gave you space. I thought... I thought maybe you wanted this too."

"I don't chase people." You added as if that would change anything. "But I chased you. Not for fun. Not out of curiosity. Because I like you. Because I wanted this. I still want this." The silence between you stretched. Not awkward. Just sharp. "But if you've already decided how this ends." You said, a little quieter now. "Then there's not much left for me to fight for, is there?"

Zayne's eyes dropped again. When he looked at you this time, his expression was unreadable. "I'm sorry." He said. And you believed him. That was the worst part. He meant it.

You looked at him for a long moment, just memorizing. His face. The way he held himself like he didn't want to hurt you, but didn't know how to stop it either.

"You're good at walking away, huh?" You said. He didn't answer. He just stood. Slowly. Like he didn't want to make it any worse than it already was. And then he left.

No big scene. No angry words. Just the sound of the door closing behind him.

The coffee you bought him untouched. The sugar packets still stacked in the little dish beside the napkins. Two cups. One seat empty. Outside, the street carried on like nothing happened. People walked past. Laughed. Lived.

But something in your chest felt off rhythm. Off balance.

You didn’t cry. Not there. You just sat and stared at the door, like he might come back and say he was wrong. He didn't.

You sat until the coffee went cold. Until the lights dimmed and the street outside blurred. Until the silence stretched so long, it felt like maybe it had always been there.

In the field, there's a term for it. Heartbeat protocol.

When all signs go quiet. When someone you've been tracking stops responding. When everything in you says something's off but you keep listening, hoping for a signal. Any signal.

You realized then, you had been listening for his heartbeat for weeks. But maybe Zayne had been quiet from the start. Maybe the silence had always been the only answer he was willing to give.

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Back at base, the world moved on. You did too, sort of.

The walls here didn't care if your heart got crushed in a quiet restaurant over cold coffee. They didn't pause for heartbreak. Didn't ask how it felt to be told, gently, that you were too much work. Too gone. Too late. They just hummed with fluorescent lights, damp uniforms, and orders barked through radios that didn't leave space for grief.

Routine didn't heal anything. But it filled the silence. Early runs. Drills. Gun checks. Paperwork. The usual blur of boots on gravel, adrenaline on standby, and exhaustion buried under sarcasm and standard issue gear.

You kept your head down. Kept moving. Kept breathing like that was enough. But Leanne noticed. Of course she did.

She toss a protein bar at your head during gear check the next morning, wearing that half smirk that made you want to duck and brace. "You look like a kicked puppy." She said tightening her vest. "What, your civilian doc not into combat boots and slow emotional unspooling?"

You didn't look up. Just adjusted your gloves. She narrowed her eyes. "Wait. No way. He dumped you?" You sighed, voice dry. "Say it louder, Wolf. I think the entire barracks didn't hear you."

She gave a low whistle. "Didn't know cardiac surgeons had it in them. Damn. That's cold. What'd he say?" You shrugged. "Past history. That it's exhausting dating someone from the military. That he needs someone who stays." Leanne's expression shifted, not smug, not quite pitying. Just quieter.

"Well." She said, grabbing her rifle. "He's not wrong. You do disappear mid-lunch like it's a hobby." "Yeah, but I thought he got it. At first." She gave a half hearted shrug. "They always think they can handle it. Until they can't." You swallowed. "I wanted him."

You didn't say loved. That would've cracked something in your chest. But she caught the weight of it anyway. "Yeah." She said, not meeting your eyes. "That part always sucks." You glanced at her. "What, no lecture about red flags? No 'told you so'?" She gave a short laugh. "Please. I'm in a cold war with a four star general and his wife over their golden boy. I'm not exactly relationship goals."

You raised a brow. "Caleb?" Leanne looked away. "We're not together." She said. "Not really. According to me, anyway." "And according to him?" "He says breakups need both parties to agree. Apparently walking out and not picking up his calls for a month doesn't count."

You leaned against the locker. "Did he show up after the thief thing?" "Yeah." She didn't look thrilled. "After someone told him I was in the hospital. Which I wasn't. The thief was. I just… didn't check in." "You were limping." "And I've had worse." "What did he say?"

She gave a humorless smile. "Asked if I was okay. I asked what he was doing there. It went about how you'd expect." You tried to lighten the mood. "You're still wearing his hoodie, by the way." Leanne immediately scowled and pulled it off her waist. "It's comfortable. Shut up." "Mm-hm." She looked like she wanted to throw the rifle at your face.

"Look." She muttered. "I love him. I really, really do." You blinked. She almost never said it out loud. "But his dad hates me." She continued, jaw tightening. "He messes with my orders just to make sure we're never in the same place. His mom won't even say my name. Last time I left, she staged his apartment like a damn brochure. Like I never existed."

"That's..." You exhaled. "Shit, Leanne." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Caleb says it doesn't matter. That he doesn't care what they think." You watched her closely. "But you do." You said quietly. She froze. Then. "Yeah. I do." And she looked like she hated herself for it.

"They don't think I'm good enough." She added. "And sometimes... sometimes I believe them." You didn't know what to say to that. So you didn't. "I just-" Her voice broke a little, but she cleared it. "I didn't leave because I stopped loving him. I left because I was starting to hate who I had to be to stay."

You swallowed hard. She glanced at you again, trying for a smirk. "So yeah. I'm not about to roast you for your bad choices." "Thanks." You said dryly. "That’s so comforting." She nudged your boot with hers. "We’re idiots. Just different kinds." You hesitated. "He said he couldn't fall for someone who disappears."

She was quiet for a long time. Then. "Then he didn’t fall for you. Just the version he made up in his head." The silence that followed pressed hard between your ribs. Then Leanne stood, slinging her pack on.

Her voice changed, more formal now. "Orders came in." You looked up. "Where?" She handed you the folder from god knows where. URUK. Your stomach dropped a little. You opened it slowly. Read your name. Your orders. Your return undated. Leanne waited. "You in or out?" You clicked your pen. "In."

Because if someone couldn't love you as you were out of reach, out of breath, half armor, half heart. Then you'd rather be somewhere no one expected to.

Somewhere that didn't ask for softness. Somewhere far from clean coffee shops and almosts. Somewhere where the only thing that mattered was surviving the day. Somewhere like Uruk.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

Taglist: @sylusgirlie7 @jcrml @lazypostfandomer @animegamerfox

: I rewatch the whole series for this and will do again for the next chap.

[fableforger]

The mind control ask gave me an idea for something more lighthearted (and straight out of a cartoon 😂).

How would the ROs react to an MC who not only gets hypnotized afer confidently declaring they can't be hypnotized, but then confesses their feelings for the RO?

For context: 👉🏻 Previous Mind Control Ask

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for the ask - even if it took me forever to respond. Shame on me 🙈

But now, finally:

Beware: Since this is a RO-related ask, there may be minor spoilers ahead. Please keep scrolling if you’d prefer to stay unspoiled.

..............................................................................................................................

You swore - loudly, confidently, possibly with crossed arms and a raised brow -

“I can’t be hypnotized.”

Not you. Never. Impossible.

Two seconds later:

Blank eyes. Slack jaw.

And then, in a voice sweet as honey:

“I think about your hands way more than I should.”

--

Theron / Thera

Covers their mouth. Not in shock, but in order not to laugh.

They are far too polite to interrupt - but the corners of their mouth are definitely shaking.

You’re lying in the grass, whispering about how their eyes look like moss in the rain.

They just nod. Calmly.

“Very interesting. Please continue.”

Normally, they wouldn’t listen to words drawn out by anything unnatural.

They don’t believe in forced truths.

But this time… they can’t help themselves.

Because you are just so unbearably adorable.

--

Dorian / Dione

Collapses. Laughs so hard they choke on air.

“I will never let you forget this.”

Pulls out a scroll. Starts writing. Title: ‘Things You Said While Hypnotized Vol. I’

You are now a one-person comedy show and they are the live audience you never asked for.

Gods help you.

---

Alexos / Alexa

Their soul visibly leaves their body.

They try to tell themselves:

“They’re hypnotized. They’re not themselves. This means nothing.”

This means everything and they know it.

They try to stop you. Not for your sake - for theirs.

Because they cannot handle you complimenting their hands the whole time.

They spend the next five minutes trying to unhypnotize you with sheer willpower. Doesn’t work. But looks very intimidating.

---

Zephiron / Zephyra

You have exactly one second of smug superiority:

“See? Hypnosis is just -”

Bam. You drop like a stone. Eyes glassy. Voice dreamy.

You start muttering something about how they “move like a snowflake… and… beautiful hair.”

They blink. Then they laugh. Slowly.

And lean in, clearly enjoying every second.

“And how do you think my lips taste, hmm?”

Ohhh, you are so deeply doomed.

“And what’s your favorite part of my body?”

Theron/Thera has to step in - not just to save you from them,

but from yourself.

--

Drakon

He stands there, arms crossed. Blank expression. Watches the disaster unfold in real time.

You, lovingly:

“You’re like a tragic sunset. I love that.”

Him, blinking once:

“What.”

And then - unexpectedly - he gets angry.

Not at you. At the spell.

Because how dare this ridiculous hypnosis make you say things you didn’t choose to.

He prefers you in your right state of mind.

Even if that mind is sometimes stubborn, annoying, or argumentative.

He strides over and just picks you up - either slinging you over his shoulder or tucking you under one arm, depending on your height and dignity.

Then, after a few steps, he pauses.

“Fine. I’m curious. …Explain the sunset.”

---

???

Gasps. Loudly.

“OH! Is it working?! IS IT ACTUALLY WORKING?!”

She crouches down in front of you like she’s watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon.

“What’s it like? What do you see? Do you feel warm on the inside? Say something cute!!”

You blink slowly. Murmur something emotional.

While you’re still under, mid-confession, she’s already raising her hand.

“I volunteer to go next!!”

Everyone else immediately agrees that this is a terrible idea.

She already says everything the moment she thinks it. She already blurts out her feelings mid-sentence without magical interference.

Hypnotizing her would be like trying to teach Poseidon how to swim. Pointless. Overkill. But she still wants to try.

--

Rhaelos / Rhaela

Stands perfectly still. Unmoving. Silent.

Watches as you, eyes glassy, begin your descent into hypnotized honesty.

At first, they bear it with dignified calm.

You: “Your face looks like it was carved to make people confess sins they'd never committed.”

Them: “...Noted.”

Then it gets worse.

“Your hands look like they could destroy me or cradle me. I’d let them do both.”

“You smell like cold steel and the kind of night you never forget.”

“Your entire existence is morally intimidating… and I love that.”

And then something… shifts.

A single vein at the side of their neck pulses slightly. Their jaw tightens.

A slow, creeping redness begins to climb from beneath the collar of their armor.

By the time you whisper:

“You’re the sexiest embodiment of accountability I’ve ever seen,”

they are visibly red.

They say nothing.

But they turn away.

Very slowly.

And do not look back for a long time.

[neiptune]

Hello 🥺 would you be willing to do Suna + hurt/comfort? Feeling angsty today 😭🩷

Suna stumbles into your shared apartment and you groan, kicking off your shoes while keeping him from dragging his feet all the way to the couch before taking off his own first.

“Shoes”, you order, and he just blinks at your hand around his wrist first, then a confused gaze settles on your face. He can sense you’re annoyed but can’t quite remember why.

“Sorry”, he murmurs before bending down to take his black sneakers off. You leave him there, by the door, and head to the kitchen to pour yourself some much needed cold water. You get a glass for Suna as well, although room temperature water is going to have to do for him.

He slowly trails behind you and steps into the kitchen barefoot.

“Thanks for picking me up”, Suna says. He eyes the glass that was left untouched, clearly for him, but decides that wrapping his arms around you is more urgent. However, when he goes to kiss your cheek, you avoid the touch of his lips with a sigh as you wriggle your way out of his embrace.

“Drink some water”.

He cocks his head to the side.

“You’re mad”.

With an incredulous chuckle, you shake your head in disbelief.

“Good observation”.

“Why?”.

God, you have been so good at keeping your irritation at bay and now he’s going to ruin everything.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning”, you push the glass towards him and some water spills onto the kitchen counter, “I’m going to bed”.

“I want to talk about it now”, he pushes, “tell me”.

“Just drink the water, Suna”, with that, you leave because it has been a long day, an even longer night, and frankly you’re done.

At first, you’re relieved that he doesn’t follow you upstairs. It gives you enough time to wind down, scroll on your phone for a while, until irritation dissolves to leave space for worry instead. Did he fall asleep on the couch? His back is going to hurt in the morning. He didn’t change into something comfortable either, probably didn’t wash his teeth yet.

You sigh. While you’re still feeling vaguely upset over the stupid argument you two had over something as trivial as dirty dishes, what really annoyed you was that he went out for drinks with his friends right after and soon got tipsy enough for you to be called to go and collect your boyfriend.

He was not drunk, it’s really hard for him to get really wasted, but you found Rintaro to be inebriated enough to welcome you with a big fat kiss on the lips and a lovesick grin.

He doesn’t even remember the argument you two had right before he abruptly left because he was gonna be late. And now, alone in your shared bed and still very much awake, painfully aware of the empty spot next to you, you’re about to go check on him downstairs when you notice the silent figure standing by, quietly observing you while leaning against the door frame.

“You scared me”, you bring a hand to your chest, “what are you doing? Come to bed”.

Unsure, he steps in and shuffles to where you’re sitting but instead of heading towards his side of the bed, Suna sits at your feet.

“I remember now”, he says, “I’m sorry. I should’ve washed the dishes before going out, like I promised. But…”, a pause, eyes hesitant as they search for your gaze, “you never call me Suna. Are we okay?”.

Something breaks in your chest under the weight of that timid stare and suddenly you feel like you made a mountain out of a molehill.

“What?”, you crawl closer to him, sit on your heels as you wrap your arms around his body and nuzzle your face into his neck, “yes, of course! I’m sorry. It was stupid and I was annoyed but you know I always love you, don’t you? Even when I’m annoyed”.

Rintaro exhales and you feel his relief, tangible as he wraps you in a solid, warm embrace. He buries a kiss into your hair with a hum.

“Yeah”, he murmurs, “and you know I always love you, even when I’m a dick?”.

“I know”, you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Good. Please don’t call me Suna again in the foreseeable future”.

You chuckle against him.

“Fine, you big baby”.

“Your big baby”.

[skitskatdacat63]

Ik two days gone isn't a huge deal to other people but it is to me, since I feel like I woke up in a completely different world. It felt wrong to come back and blog and act like nothing happened, re: current events. I still feel pretty numb and empty about it all, along with many other emotions. I couldn't bring myself to look at any social media bcs it was like rubbing salt in the wound, and it still feels like its take a bit before I'm gonna be able to truly enjoy all the things I enjoy again. I was gonna write some long post about my feelings about it all but, I feel like atp I'd rather just try to indulge in what makes me happy I guess. Thankfully the fomo of not getting to commentate on all the F1 things that have happened have brought me out of the anxious slump I was in(new driver?? GPDA??? Zhou out??? Send me posts???)

On a completely unrelated note. Anyone interested in adoption?

[icewindandboringhorror]

What is this design even meant to be?? The family on this supernanny episode looks like they just have random rorschach tests plastered on the wall lol

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[ibvix]

AH ... THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS KIND AND THOUGHTFUL CARING WORDS DURING A WEE TRYING BIT !!!

AND, YOU ARE BOTH APPRECIATED AND YOU ARE PURE IN YOUR TRUTH AND YOU ARE FILLED LIGHT AND YOU ARE INHERENTLY EMPATHETIC ...

AGAIN ... THANK YOU FOR YOUR EXTRAORDINARY LIFETIME OF GENIUS ART AND CREATIVE EXPRESSION ... UPON SETTING FIRST EYES UPON A PIECE OF YOURS MANY YEARS PASSED, TO THIS MOMENT WHEN MY EYES TOUCHED YOUR EXTRAORDINARY BRILLIANCE, SO VERY DEEPLY HAD I FALLEN IN LOVE WITH YOUR GENIUS MIND YOUR TRUTH AND I MUST ADMIT TO YOU THAT THE LOVE AND EMOTIONAL RESPONSES EVOKED WITHIN ME DURING THIS LATEST VIEWING, OPTIONALLY AND WITH NO RERET, THE CORE OF MY SOUL HAS BUT IMPLODED WITH THE MOST HOLY AND JOYUS FEELINGS THAT TRUE AND PURE AND INNOCENT DIVINE LOVE HEALS, PURRS AND TRULY LOVES YOU WITHOUT CONDITION

[foone]

There needs to be a word specifically for the kind of things that you've autisticly decided you Do Not Care About. Like a game or a show or band or whatever where you have nothing specifically against it, you don't hate it or anything, but you've done that thing where you decided you don't care about it at all.

So you get very mildly annoyed when it still manages to show up on your dash, as it's purely a waste of your time. Just something to scroll past.

(I have no idea if more neurotypical people do this, but I know (and am) several autistic people who've done the "THE COUNCIL HAS DECIDED WE DO NOT CARE EVEN SLIGHTLY ABOUT... HALO. ANYTHING WE LEARN ABOUT HALO (AGAINST OUR WILL) IS A WASTE OF MEMORY SPACE AND TIME. You can play and love it all you want though, we have nothing against it. It's just not for me.")

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[honeyhaeya]

(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원�� x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

[maruflix]

r/AmITheAsshole u/THEsajaboy • 17 hours ago

My manager said I’m “unprofessional” and all I can think about is how I want her all for myself. AITA?

feat. saja boys (jinu-centric)　　⎯⎯　wc. 1.5k

content: female reader, manager!reader, fluff, slight crack, gets kinda dark at the end, possessive jinu, no beta we die like me after finding out that lee byung-hun is the voice of gwi-ma

note. goofy ass...

I (400, M) have a really cute manager and I kinda like her. Sometimes I tease her to get her attention (you know, like all men do) but yesterday, she tells me that I’m unprofessional and I piss her off :(

“Jinu! What did I say about posting Instagram stories without going through me first?!”

Abby is quick to scramble away from the scene of the crime, taking his phone with him. Baby, who’s looking for something to drink, quietly closes the fridge and speed-walks to the living room.

No one wants to be in your line of sight when you’re angry, demon or not.

Meanwhile, the source of all your headache is slumped over the kitchen table lazily, scrolling his phone with one hand. His other hand is deep in a bowl of popcorn as he munches away without a care in the world.

“Jinu!” Slamming your hand on the table, Jinu finally angles his head to look at you.

“Oh, hey, manager.” He smiles dazzlingly. “What did I do now?”

You exhale in frustration, knowing that Jinu loves to press your buttons. “Who’s on your Close Friends list?”

Jinu tilts his head. “There’s only one person. Guess.”

“I’m really not in the mood to play games.”

“Aww, come on~”

Instead of trying to talk with a man with the personality of a seven year old, you opt to do this the easy way: you snatch Jinu’s phone and checks his Instagram settings, sighing in relief when you see only one person in his Close Friends list:

You.

“Very funny. As if you don’t annoy me enough in the real world already, you just had to insert yourself into my online life too.” Grumbling in annoyance, you deleted his dumb story as an extra measure before handing it back to him. “Why would you post a photo of me and caption it with ‘smash’?!”

“Because...” Jinu slings an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him with one swift motion, “I would...?”

That answer must’ve not been good enough because Jinu earns himself a hard smack on the arm.

“You’re the most unprofessional idol I’ve ever had the misfortune of working with! If you piss me off one more time, I swear—!”

She’s indeed very competent at her job and she takes things very seriously. That’s part of why I like her... and also why I like to tease her. I just want her to be able to let loose and take it easy instead of always worrying about numbers and charts and promos. For the record, we actually have a pretty good relationship.

“Damn it!”

The Saja Boys didn’t even look up from their telenovela, already used to your outbursts by now.

“What now?” Jinu deadpans, “Did they cancel the feature?”

“No, worse.” You sigh, “Golden is so damn catchy.”

The boys’ head slowly turns to your direction.

“You saved it on your Spotify playlist, didn’t you?!” Jinu points, gasping in horror.

“I-” Hiding your phone behind your back, you stand up under the critical eyes of the Saja Boys, “What I do in my free time is none of your concern!”

“Have you saved Soda Pop on your playlist, have you or have you not?” Jinu narrows his eyes, crawling from the sofa to the chair where you’re sitting.

You quickly turn your attention back to your phone and clicked the plus button.

“There! I have! Of course I have!”

“Traitor!”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

.

.

.

But it is, because the next time Jinu discovers your traitorous ways is when he catches you humming a ‘We're goin' up, up, up..’ in the living room sofa as you scroll that week’s stats.

“Traitor, stop humming that song now!”

Jinu’s tickling your sides mercilessly, making you scream.

“I can’t believe we have a traitor amongst our midst!” Your laughter is infectious because he’s also smiling now. However, what you did still annoyed him and so he will punish you for that.

You try to roll away and shove him but he quickly moves on top of you, holding you in a vice-like grip as he continues his assault on your sides. You and your little arms are no match for him.

“Jinu! Ahahaha! Sto-hahaha! Ji-ahahaha!”

Upon seeing tears running down your cheeks, Jinu finally decides to take pity on you and stop his tickling. The two of you are huffing now, trying to catch your breath. None of you are moving from your position.

“Asshole,” you huff, but your eyes are smiling. “You’re so annoying.”

Jinu leans down, “But you like me annoying.” he grins, savoring the way your cheeks glow scarlet and your eyebrows furrow at your inability to make a comeback.

When you’re no longer able to fight, you choose flight.

You break away from Jinu’s grasp to stand up but your leg gets tangled with his. “Crap!”

Jinu pulls you before your back hits the edge of the table and you crash, instead, on his sturdy chest. When you look up, Jinu is smirking down at you. He doesn’t say anything, yet he doesn’t let you go. It’s like there’s a magnetic pull between the two of you. The way Jinu looks at you intently has your breath hitching.

‘Is he going to..’

You know this is not right, but you can’t move when his grip on your body keeps tightening. You can practically smell his cologne now, his eyes never leaving you even when he angles his head and your lips part—

Abby and Baby burst through the door with pizza boxes and a big bag of energy drinks, unaware of what just went down in the living room sofa.

“What are you two doing?” Abby questions, eyeing the two of you in suspicion.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Jinu narrows his eyes when you scramble away from his lap. Damn it. And he was so close.

Lately I feel like I get jealous a lot. I even scare myself during those moments because I get so inexplicably angry when I see her with other men. I feel like I want to monopolize her.

“Abby, the shirt stays on!”

Jinu sighs quietly when the music comes to a screeching stop. Next to him, Mystery slumps to the ground. He doesn’t blame him; they’ve been trying to shoot a ‘dance practice’ video for over an hour now.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s a passive skill.” Abby grins sheepishly, walking over to you, who’s sitting crosslegged on the floor. “Are you sure, though? Surely the fans appreciate some.. service.” Abby squats down to your height and flexes proudly, the layer of sweat on his muscles glistening.

You look away, suddenly feeling flustered. “I swear..”

Jinu raises an eyebrow at this.

“Ha! I knew our manager also appreciates some of... this!”

His flexing only causes you to blush even more. Sure, you’ve also managed other boy groups before, but all of them are the cute, respectful type who calls you ‘noona’ and looks up to you with puppy-dog eyes.

The Saja Boys, though? They’re in a league of their own.

The ice cold water bottle to your burning cheek is a lifesaver. You turn to see Romance, looking at you unblinkingly.

His goofy face makes you laugh. “Thanks. Sure is hot in here.”

Before you can finish drinking, Jinu is already by your side, seizing your arm and dragging you with him.

“Whoa- wait!”

When the two of you is outside, Jinu stops. Truth be told, he also doesn’t know why he reacted like that.

“Jinu? What’s gotten into you?”

What has gotten into him, indeed? All he knows is when you look at someone else, his heart churns. When you get flustered and it’s not because of him, something dark writhes inside him.

The Saja Boys are his comrades, but if they get in his way, he’ll—

“Jinu! It hurts!”

Your yelp breaks his train of thoughts. He quickly lets go of your arm. “S-sorry.”

“What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!”

Jinu just stares at you, his jealousy growing even deeper when he remembers you smiling and laughing with the other members.

Someday, when you see his true colors, are you going to leave him?

“Jinu!”

Your grip on his shoulders is secure, anchoring him back down to reality. Jinu looks at you and smile. “I guess I feel left out when I see you getting along with everybody..”

“What? Jinu...”

“I know I’m a handful. You probably hate working with me, and—”

You pull him into a hug. Although you scold him a lot, you don’t want him to misunderstand your feelings: he’s a great guy and you like him. Sure, you think he’s an all-around cocky guy and that ego of his can be knocked down a notch, but... to think that someone like Jinu can also feel self-conscious...

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jinu. I can never hate you.”

Jinu smiles, slipping his arms around your waist to hug you back. Has he been approaching this with the wrong tactic? The gears in his brain are turning, thinking of ways to bind you to him.

All the while, his demon mark gleams silently.

I think she likes me but she wants to take things slow because she’s still unsure of her feelings. The problem is, I’m not a patient man and I want to have her all to myself ASAP. I can’t risk her having second thoughts. What can I say? I love her so much, so it should be normal, right? So what do you think?

[solarstranger]

a/n. based on the prompt "i want to go home to my wife” courtesy of @/creativepromptsforwriting (very bkg-coded, i know.) (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don't do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[manariee]

LOOKING AT ME

﹙脸红 ﹚───── confessions

엔하이픈 & fem!reader wc: 200 - 300 ish cw: none

MANA: can i have a jake and yes i know they are all basically the same @bambisnc

HEESEUNG

You were just lounging on the couch, legs tangled with Heeseung's, your phone in hand as you scrolled absentmindedly. Heeseung was next to you, focused on whatever game he was playing, brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

He looked unfairly good like that.

''You're so handsome,'' you said, not even realizing the words had slipped out until you heard the click of his controller stop.

Heeseung froze.

His fingers hovered above the buttons and then slowly, very slowly, he turned to look at you. His face was unreadable at first, then he coughed into his sleeve to hide the growing red creeping up the tips of his ears.

You grinned. ''I didn’t know a simple compliment could short-circuit Lee Heeseung.''

He scoffed, setting the controller down as he folded his arms, trying to look nonchalant. ''You can’t just drop stuff like that out of nowhere.''

''I meant it, though.'' You sat up a bit, facing him properly. ''You’re really handsome. Especially when you’re focused. Your eyes kinda squint a little, and your lips—''

''Okay!'' he interrupted, holding up a hand dramatically. ''I got the message!''

JAY

Jay’s always the one teasing you. Confident. Smooth. In control.

So when you caught him mid-laugh, cheeks crinkled and eyes glinting, you said without thinking, ''You have such a beautiful smile, Jay.''

He paused.

And then it happens.

The smooth composure flickered. He cleared his throat and glanced away, tugging at his collar like it’s suddenly too warm in the room. ''Yah… don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere.''

But you caught it. The flush blooming on his neck, creeping up toward his jaw.

You smiled. ''Why? Embarrassed?''

''No,'' he lied, straightening up. ''Just surprised. I mean, I already know I’m charming, but hearing it from you is... different.''

You leaned closer, fingers ghosting over the warmth of his neck. ''You sure? Feels like someone's overheating.''

Jay groaned, turning away. ''I hate you.''

You laugh. ''No you don’t.''

JAKE

You didn’t mean to make it a big deal, really.

He was just sitting on the couch, hair slightly tousled, wearing a plain white tee and shorts - but there’s something about him that makes you stop mid-step.

''You're glowing today,'' you say, tone soft. ''Like... unfairly handsome.''

Jake looked up, blinking. Then, in real time, you saw the red flood his entire face. From his cheeks to the bridge of his nose to even the tips of his eyebrows.

''Oh my God,'' he mumbled, grabbing the closest pillow and smashing it into his face. ''Why would you say that?''

You laughed, sitting next to him. ''Because it’s true?''

He peeked at you from behind the pillow, face still ridiculously red. ''I'm never going to recover from this.''

''You will,'' you assured him, pecking his cheek. ''Eventually.''

He giggled.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon wasn't easily flustered, at least not on the surface. But today was different.

You caught him mid-conversation, eyes bright and tone soft, ''You're really handsome, you know?''

He faltered.

The words hung in the air, and his smile dropped just enough for you to notice. His skin - usually pale and cool-toned - turned an unmistakable shade of rose.

''You always say that,'' he muttered, trying to hide behind his water bottle.

''Because it’s always true.''

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but his hand moved to his cheek as if he could calm the heat radiating there. ''You can’t just say that in public…''

You lean in. ''Guess what? I’m going to say it again.''

''Don’t you dare,'' he warns, but his flushed cheeks betray him.

SUNOO

Sunoo's always the king of reactions—dramatic, expressive, and loud. But when you softly whispered, ''You're handsome,'' while brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, something changed.

He blinked at you, speechless.

And then you saw it - right around his eyes, just beneath his lower lash line, a soft flush bloomed. A quiet kind of embarrassment.

''Wait - what?'' he finally squeaked, though stammering more.

''You heard me.''

His hands went to his face, but not to cover his cheeks. He pressed his palms to his temples, eyes wide. ''Why would you attack me emotionally like that?''

You giggled. ''Because you’re cute when you blush here.''

“Stop looking!'' he cried dramatically, curling up on the couch. ''This is illegal!''

But when you catch him peeking through his fingers, you know he secretly loves it.

JUNGWON

Jungwon was casually scrolling through his phone, lazily sprawled across the bed, when you whistled. ''You look good.''

And immediately, the tips of his ears twitched, but more noticeably, a warm flush began to crawl up the sides of his jawline, painting a soft pink.

''I-I do?''

''Yeah,'' you whisper, touching his jaw gently. ''Especially like this.''

He tries to smile, but his voice betrays him, his hand swatting yours away, gently. ''You're just saying that because I look chill.''

''No,'' you said simply, ''I'm saying it because it's true.''

He groaned softly and buries his face into a pillow. ''Why are you so nice to me?''

You grinned. ''Because I like watching your jaw turn red.''

RIKI

You caught Riki off-guard while he was stretching after dance practice. His back is turned, and you could see the slight strain in his shoulders, the curve of his spine under his oversized shirt.

''Even your posture is hot,'' you tease.

He pauses mid-stretch. ''Huh?''

''You’re just... really pretty. Even like this.''

He didn't respond right away, but you caught it—the slow creep of red rising from the base of his neck. The nape, usually hidden by his hair, was glowing.

''Y-you’re so weird sometimes,'' he muttered, keeping his back to you like it’ll shield his dignity.

''I like making you shy.''

''Well, stop,'' he said, voice soft.

But when he turned his head just slightly and you saw the ghost of a smile, you know he doesn’t really mean it.

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @fleurhoons @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine

[rjkooks]

i'm outside, let's talk. (m)

you finally give in and talk to your ex after numerous attempts of him trying to contact you. surely, nothing will go beyond mere communication, right?

. pairing: exbf!jungkook x afab!reader . wc: 1.3k . genre: porn with very little plot, exes to lovers . cw: just two exes that don't know how to be exes lmfao, car sex, penetration, unprotected sex (don't be like them), doggy, dirty talk, dom!jk, sub!reader, creampie, i think that's it lmk if i miss anything!

a/n: heh... long time no see. after two years of hiatus, i thought about posting smth rlly short to ease myself into writing again :) happy reading! feedback is highly appreciated!

jungkook: come down jungkook: im outside jungkook: we need to talk

what more should be there to talk about? scoffing, you dismiss the string of messages your ex sent, proceeding to go back to your previous activity of mindlessly scrolling through tiktok videos.

why should you talk to him? he had a decision — and the decision he ultimately chose was to disrespect your relationship and leave, much like perpendicular lines never to cross again: that’s the only closure you need.

however, jungkook is different.

you think of him as an insect — those annoying ones in particular. once it gets in your abode, it’ll suddenly forget its way out and invade your precious space as if living with you free of charge.

that’s what your ex is.

stubborn, incessant, and most notably, stupid.

so, it’s not much of a surprise when you see his name appear on the banner on top of your phone again, one text being sent after the other.

jungkook: don’t leave me on read jungkook: i’ll climb up ur window if i have to, ___ jungkook: please baby i wanna talk with u jungkook: istg if u block me jungkook: pls dont

you were about to block him actually, if it weren’t for the video that redirected your attention.

“no caption, no hashtag, you were meant to see this! you’re going to get back with your hot ex tonight and i mean it. he’s thinking about you right now and is thinking of ways on how to make up for his mistakes. go get him, girl! get your fine shyt back!”

you swore your eye twitches after watching an absolute stranger predict the next moments of your evening.

with your ex’s unceasing messages and a random video that is severely relevant to your current situation, is the universe really giving you all the telltale signs you need?

as olivia rodrigo said, you probably shouldn't, but seeing him tonight isn’t a bad idea, right?

after deliberately having an internal conflict, you finally made up your mind after careful consideration.

you’re just going to talk. what harm could there be in that?

so, you heave a deep breath before standing up from your bed, your legs bringing you outside the premises of your home to see his black mercedes parked right in front of your lawn.

you stride over to it in quick steps with the intention of holding a brief conversation with him before you bid your final farewells: that’s what you hopefully thought.

assuming he’s inside the vehicle, you tapped on the tinted window a couple of times before you hear his muffled voice, “get in.”

you do as he says, sitting next to him on the passenger seat, and you almost regret it. it was no surprise that it was dim inside, and the air conditioning of his car only made goosebumps prick your skin, and what’s worst of all is the familiar scent of his perfume permeating your senses again.

and that’s when the realization sinks in that you’re actually with your ex boyfriend right now.

you gaze at him silently. thankfully, you couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but his features are still there. you part your lips to break the awfully dead silence, yet your voice came out more meek than you’d like.

“you said you wanted to talk..?”

he lowers his gaze to where your hands are placed right on top of your thighs. he knows his presence was suffocating you, so he can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. “yeah, just wanted to clear some things between us.”

that’s the last thing you remember your ex saying before he has you bent over in the back of his car.

“ngghh… jungkook!” you gasp, a string of drool dribbling from the corner of your lip as you leave a faint handprint of yourself on the fogged window.

“oh, fuck,” he hisses feeling you clench down on his throbbing length. “missed this tight cunt so much,” he groans before landing a harsh spank on your ass, for sure leaving a red mark that will sting for days. “you missed this dick too, baby?” he pants through ragged breaths, and you could sense that damn cocky smirk plastered on his face despite being behind you.

he pulls out another cry from you when you feel his dick kissing your cervix. “y-yes..!” you sob, face buried in the leather seats.

a chuckle full of menace was heard from him as you feel his slender fingers wrap around the roots of your hair, forcefully tugging you until you’re eye-level with the window.

he rips sob after sob out of you, undoubtedly aroused from how your gummy walls were sucking him in so eagerly, a creamy ring of white making a mess out of his length.

“bet you couldn’t find someone who can fuck you like i do, huh?” he huffs against your ear, voice hot and heavy as a tattooed finger presses itself against your clit. “that’s why your slutty little cunt is making such a mess on my cock, right?”

you mewl, resting your head against his shoulder as you nod eagerly. your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, rendering you speechless from the way he’s perfectly molding the shape of his cock in your pussy right now.

seeing you like this—all hot and vulnerable beneath him, he couldn’t hold in the cocky grin on his face, his ego inflating to a size larger than the earth itself.

he lands a particularly harsh slap against your ass, making you yelp in pain before you fall face flat on the leather seats again.

and when he sets his pace to that of raw, primal need, you begin to tremble, sensing as if your legs are about to give in on you any moment.

“j-jungkook—hah… too much,” you whine, feeling your impending orgasm approaching rapidly.

“cum with me, baby,” he pants, pressing his solid chest against your back, leaving you no room for any escape.

the way the tip of his leaking cock kept kissing your soft spongy spot has you seeing stars. his car became way too humid from how long he’s been fucking you, and you could care less whether the car could be seen rocking back and forth in the middle of the neighborhood, or whether or not the obscene noises you and jungkook were making could be heard a block away.

“please… wanna cum s’bad!” your words come out slurred, brain turning into complete mush devoid of any thoughts aside from cumming.

“awww, my baby wants to cum?” he coos sweetly against your ear, turning absolutely feral seeing you all submissive for him, sobbing as you beg for some sort of mercy from him.

and of course he’s going to give it to you.

he feels your walls hugging him for dear life, as if never wanting him to pull out, and he swears he could die a happy man like this right now.

“go on, baby, let go. i got you,” he whispers hotly before swiping your clit three more times, giving you the most delicious orgasm you haven’t tasted in months.

you tremble violently beneath him, a long whine escaping you as he fucks you through it, soon cumming right after you did.

he groans, flooding your hole with his warm cum before finally pulling out a minute later.

exhausted, he plops himself right next to you, and neither of you have spoken for a few minutes, merely the sound of your mingling breaths could be heard in his dark mercedes.

however, when you look into his eyes, you can see the change of look from lust to determination. you notice him hesitating for a bit, and before you could ask your ex what’s wrong, he swiftly cuts you to the chase.

“give me one more chance, baby.”

[linoxpudding]

Inches In Between Us

summary: moment where you and him are caught too close for comfort… or maybe just close enough, tension simmers

pairing: skz x gn!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, forced proximity trope

a/n: this one’s been sitting in my drafts forever (based on this request) I took my time crafting each moment to really bring the tension and emotion to life! comment below and let me know which scene had your heart doing somersaults ♡

Masterlist

~°~

Bang Chan (established relationship)

You flew across two countries just to see him.

You told yourself it was worth it—the late-night packing, the long airport waits, the time off you had to beg your manager for. You missed him. You missed you and him, and those Facetimes squeezed between rehearsals weren’t enough.

But now, sitting stiffly on the plush leather seat of the tour bus, knees locked together and jaw tight with frustration, you weren’t sure why you bothered.

You had claimed the wide back row—meant to seat four or five—but you sat all the way in the corner, facing the window, hoping to be left alone.

Chan’s voice had barely left your ears since the fight earlier—sharp words you both didn’t mean, silence that hurt more than shouting. He’d said he needed space.

So, you decided to give it to him.

Now that the schedule was over, the members and staff had scattered across the bus, most of them slouched in the two-seaters lining either side of the aisle. Some had earbuds in, some quietly scrolled their phones, but no one said a word about the tension radiating from the very back.

Chan climbed in last.

For a second, you thought—hoped—he’d take one of the many empty two-seaters. Maybe even sit with Minho or Changbin, who were already half-asleep a few rows ahead.

But no. He walked straight to the back and slid into the long seat. Not just the seat—but right next to you. Right up against you.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

In response, he just leaned back with a soft exhale, gaze forward.

Annoyed, you got up and moved to a two-seater near the middle of the bus. You didn’t look at him.

Seconds later, the seat dipped beside you again.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. The quiet, stubborn presence. That familiar scent. The way your thigh brushed against his because the seat was narrow and neither of you budged.

You huffed, loud enough for only him to hear, but said nothing. You didn’t want to draw attention. Not to the fight. Not to how your heart still sped up when he was near—even now.

His thigh pressed against yours, his shoulder brushing yours. There wasn’t enough room not to touch unless you climbed out the window. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You refused to look at him, eyes glued to the streetlights racing by outside. Still, you felt him— his quiet sigh, his fidgeting fingers. The way he turned his body toward you, even if he didn’t say a word.

"You’re really not gonna say anything?" he finally whispered, voice low enough that no one in front could hear.

You shrugged.

"You were the one who said you needed space," you murmured bitterly, still not looking.

He was silent for a long second, then said, "Yeah. I was wrong."

"You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to go away, Chan."

"I know," he said. "That’s why I’m here. In your space. Because I don’t want it. I want you."

“You told me to fly out. You wanted me here. And then you barely looked at me all day.”

Chan’s jaw tensed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You think that makes it better?” Your voice cracked. “I cleared my schedule, booked time off, flew across countries just to watch you pull away from me every second. I know what dating an idol means, Chan, but this—this felt different.”

He looked like he’d been punched. “I know. I messed up.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. You let him, but didn’t squeeze back yet.

“I thought if I focused on the tour stuff first, I could make time for you later. But I just pushed you away, I’m sorry, baby.”

You turned to the window again, biting your lip.

“I was just excited to see you,” you whispered. “And you made me feel like an afterthought.”

Chan exhaled shakily. “You’re not. You’re the only part of this I don’t want to mess up.”

His voice was rough, edged with guilt.

“For the rest of today, I’m yours,” he said, gently pulling your intertwined hands to his chest. “No staff. No members. Just us. And I swear, I won’t let you feel like this again. Let me fix it.”

You hesitated. But you looked at him and there it was again: that open, vulnerable gaze only you ever got. He was looking at you— eyes glassy, sincere, scared.

So you nodded.

He leaned in, his voice even quieter.

"You can keep being mad at me. I’ll sit here the whole ride, touching your knee like a loser, until you’re ready to forgive me. I just… I don’t want this silence anymore."

Your anger crumbled a little at the edges. He was ridiculous. Dramatic. Stubborn. And yours.

You huffed, barely hiding the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re squishing me."

"Good," he said, bumping your shoulder gently. "I missed you."

You let your head drop onto his shoulder, just for a second. “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

He smirked. “Trust me. I know.”

Lee Know (frenemies)

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. A break from the city, from work, from stress.

A weekend camping trip with all your friends consisting of a bonfire, setting up tents, good food, and no cell service— sure, it sounded cute on paper. Until you found out Lee Minho was coming too.

Minho. The eye-roll king. Your arch nemesis in every group chat and game night. The one who always had something smug to say, who knew exactly how to push your buttons and enjoyed doing it.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of a forest clearing with an uneven patch of dirt under your shoes, mosquitoes humming in your ears, and Minho—a.k.a. your personal plague—stretching beside you like he owned the woods.

You didn’t even want to make eye contact.

“Alright!” Chan clapped his hands. “Everyone gets paired up in tents—but, to make things fun, we’re drawing sticks.”

Groans went up immediately, mostly from you and Jeongin.

“What is this? Summer camp?” you muttered.

“Exactly,” Felix grinned, holding out the small bundle of color-coded sticks. “Pick your destiny!”

One by one, your friends picked sticks, with excitement and curiosity filling the air.

You pulled yours last. It was red.

And then your heart sank.

“Red too,” Minho called casually, holding his up and locking eyes with you.

You blinked. “No. Nope. Pick again.”

He smirked. “Aw, are you scared of sharing a tent with me?”

“More like scared for my sanity.”

You whipped around to Han. “Please, just switch with me. I’ll give you my hoodie—the one you love. Or that extra brownie from earlier!”

Jisung burst out laughing, already dragging his guitar to a fancy-looking tent. “Can’t switch! I got the one with the LED light strip and padded floor. I’m not giving THAT up for your romantic tension!”

“There is no tension,” you barked. “Only rage!”

Minho was already walking toward your sad, lopsided tent, humming like he was enjoying every second of your meltdown. You shot pleading eyes at Chan, at Hyunjin, at anyone—but they were all pretending to be busy adjusting gear or unrolling mats.

Betrayal. Pure betrayal.

Sighing dramatically, you picked up your bag and trudged after Minho, muttering curses under your breath. Grumbling and defeated, you stomped into the tent, tossing your bag to the far corner. The inside was cozier than you expected, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. 

“Okay but seriously,” you said, peering into the tent, “why is there only one camping mattress?”

Minho, behind you, tsked. “You lost. I shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“You think I didn’t suffer the moment I saw your face and ‘red stick’ in the same moment?”

He didn’t answer, just ducked inside and threw his sleeping bag onto the narrow mattress—if you could even call it that. It was barely wider than your body, lumpy, and definitely not meant for two.

“Oh, hell no,” you snapped, following him in. “That’s not just yours.”

Minho raised an eyebrow as he flopped down and smirked. “You wanna sleep on the floor then?”

“No. You sleep on the floor.”

“I got here first.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. The unspoken war was real. 

“Fine. I’m not giving it up,” you stubbornly said and climbed in.

There was maybe—maybe—three inches of space between your bodies. Arms touching. Legs bumping. Shoulders pressed awkwardly side-by-side.

This was not ideal.

“Stop moving,” you hissed as he adjusted.

“You’re poking me with your elbow!”

“You’re hogging the blanket!”

“Your knee is in my spine!”

A moment passed.

Silence.

Then, somehow—inevitably—you both stilled. The night was quiet outside the tent, filled only with the distant crackling fire and soft murmurs from the others. Inside, the air was warm. Heavy.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Every little breath.

His eyes met yours. And you didn’t look away.

The bickering faded. The closeness became unbearable in a different way. His face was inches from yours, eyes flickering from your mouth to your gaze and back again.

Your heart pounded. Loud. Messy. Dangerous.

“Don’t snore,” you broke the silence.

“I don’t snore,” Minho piped up, rolling his eyes. “But I do talk in my sleep. Usually insults.”

“You’re really annoying,” you whispered.

“So are you,” he replied quietly.

But he didn’t move away. And neither did you. His hand brushed yours under the blanket. Barely touching. But enough to make your breath hitch.

You both leaned in—slow, tentative, until your noses almost touched—

“Yah! Who stole the marshmallows?!”

Han’s voice rang outside the tent and you both jerked away like you’d been electrocuted.

Minho cleared his throat, turning stiffly onto his side. “Sleep. Now.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing, facing the opposite direction.

But long after the outside voices faded, you stayed awake, replaying that moment—one breath away from disaster.

*************************************

The sun had barely risen over the quiet campsite, dew still clinging to the grass and birds chirping in the distance. Most tents were still zipped up, the fire pit long gone cold.

Han yawned dramatically as he and Hyunjin wandered toward your tent, both of them tasked with rounding people up for breakfast duty. "Let’s just yell and run," Han muttered. "Classic wake-up strategy."

Hyunjin shushed him. “No, I want to see their faces. Especially those two.”

Han smirked. “Ohhh right. Mortal enemies sharing a tent. Bet they killed each other in their sleep.”

They unzipped the tent slowly, careful not to wake any potential dragons.

But what they did see stopped them in their tracks.

Inside, the two of you were a complete mess of limbs—your arm flopped across Minho’s chest, his hand loosely resting on your waist, legs tangled beneath the thin blanket. One of his knees was even wedged between your thighs, and your face was tucked into the crook of his neck.

Utterly relaxed. Peaceful. Intimate.

Hyunjin let out a quiet gasp. “Oh my God.”

Han clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Dude. What… the hell?”

Hyunjin grinned. “So the tension finally melted.”

Han whispered, “Yeah. Into a puddle of cuddles and potential kisses? Do you think they kissed?”

Hyunjin smirked, “It might’ve happened.”

They slipped away without waking either of you—though Han did snap a silent photo on his phone, “just for documentation.”

However, the quiet rustling outside was just enough to stir you.

You blinked, stretching a little—only to freeze the second you realized something was very wrong.

Your cheek wasn’t against your pillow.

It was on someone's chest.

Warm. Steady. Rising and falling slowly beneath you.

You shifted just a little—and then you noticed it. Minho’s arm around your waist. One of your legs slung over his. His hand resting lightly on your back.

You nearly stopped breathing.

And just then, he stirred too—brow furrowing, eyes fluttering open. He blinked once. Twice. Then looked down.

Right at you.

There was a beat of silent realization. Eyes locking. Tension crackling in the small, stuffy tent.

Your breath caught. His hand twitched on your back.

“…You—”

“This isn’t—” you both started at once.

You scrambled back in a panic, elbowing the tent wall as you untangled your legs and rolled toward the exit. “I—I didn’t mean to—!”

“You’re the one who shoved me over in your sleep!” he whisper-hissed, equally flustered, hair a mess and voice rough from sleep.

You yanked the zipper open and practically ran out, heart pounding, cheeks burning.

The morning air slapped your face as you stumbled into the open, hoping no one saw. (Too late.)

From the campfire pit, Han and Hyunjin exchanged a look—and then burst into laughter.

Inside the tent, Minho sat up, running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself.

“…So dramatic.”

But even as he said it, a faint, undeniable smile pulled at his lips.

Because your warmth still lingered on his skin.

And that moment—however brief—was now burned into him.

*************************************

Back at the communal camp kitchen, Han was making scrambled eggs while Hyunjin cut fruit, both humming softly. Minho emerged from the trees a while later, hair a bit messy, lips pressed in a line as he poured water into the kettle like nothing happened.

“You sleep okay?” Han asked innocently.

Minho side-eyed him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Han shrugged. “You know. Considering the person you used to say you’d rather fight a bear than share a tent with.”

Minho didn’t look up. “Shut up. There’s nothing between us.”

But then he hesitated. Almost like something tugged at him.

And when he glanced over his shoulder, there you were—laughing at something Felix said, your cheeks squished adorably in the cool air, your hair a mess from sleep. You tossed your head back as you laughed, eyes sparkling while Minho was watching. And he smiled softly. Almost in a daze, like it bloomed out of his chest before he even knew it was there.

Han caught it, catching the way Minho lingered just a second too long before turning back around.

He didn’t say anything.

He just smiled too—watching his best friend quietly fall.

Seo Changbin (friends to lovers)

Changbin’s apartment smelled like buttered popcorn and clean laundry.

It was your favorite place to be lately—low lights, cozy blanket, a ridiculous action movie playing on the screen, and him beside you, warm and familiar. Your legs were tangled casually over his, a bowl of popcorn between you, laughter spilling out as some over-the-top fight scene played.

"This is the dumbest movie you’ve made me watch," you grinned, tossing a popcorn kernel at him.

Changbin caught it in his mouth effortlessly and winked. "Admit it. You love it."

"I love mocking it," you teased, nudging his thigh with your foot.

He caught your ankle before you could pull back, grinning wickedly. “You sure you want to start something?”

You wiggled your toes defiantly. “What, you’re gonna fight me?”

“I could win.”

“You wish, Seo Changbin.”

That’s all it took.

Suddenly, the popcorn bowl was tossed aside, and you were squealing, squirming, as Changbin tackled you onto the couch in a flurry of limbs and laughter.

It wasn’t serious—just a mess of soft slaps, blocked pokes, mock grunts. You wrestled, pushing at his shoulders, but he was strong and quick, playful growls leaving his throat as he countered every move with ease.

“Okay, okay, I take it back!” you laughed breathlessly, trying to twist away.

He caught your wrists.

One smooth motion, and you were pinned flat against the couch cushions, Changbin hovering above you—knees on either side of your hips, hands holding yours gently but firmly down beside your head.

The laughter stopped. Well everything… stopped.

His chest was rising and falling, breath just a little uneven. Your wrists burned under his fingers, not from pressure but from presence. The movie still played in the background, but it was a muffled hum now—nothing compared to the thunder of your heart.

He was close. Too close.

His face hovered just above yours, eyes flickering over every part of your expression—your parted lips, your wide eyes, the heat that was now unmistakably there in both of your gazes.

Neither of you moved.

You swallowed hard. “Are you gonna let me up?”

He didn’t blink. “Do you want me to?”

You couldn’t answer.

Because maybe you didn’t want him to.

Your silence stretched. His grip loosened ever so slightly, just enough that your hands could move if you wanted—but you didn’t pull away. Not yet.

Your fingers curled around his wrists instead, and his breath caught audibly.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered.

He leaned a little closer, voice low. “You bring it out in me.”

For a second—just a second—he dipped his head, your noses brushing, lips almost meeting. Almost.

But he hesitated. Like he needed permission. Like he didn’t want to cross a line unless you asked him to.

“Binnie…” you breathed, and that was all it took.

His forehead touched yours. Not a kiss, not yet—but his weight above you, his warmth, the want in his eyes was enough to melt you.

“You’re more than just a friend to me,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, but when you look at me like that—”

You surged up just enough to press your lips to his.

Soft. Careful. But charged like fire.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting forever.

Changbin’s lips lingered on yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You watched him in that small, quiet moment—his lashes brushing his cheeks, his hands still cradling your wrists. He looked… vulnerable. Not like the loud, confident Changbin who barked laughs and flexed his arms to annoy you. This was different.

He finally opened his eyes and met your gaze—softer now. Nervous, even.

“So…” he said, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Now what?”

Your heart flipped.

You smiled shyly and tugged your hands free, only to lace your fingers with his. “Now,” you whispered, “you help me up, because you’re crushing me.”

A breathless laugh escaped him, and he immediately rolled off to the side, reaching down to help you sit up. “Sorry,” he said, a little flushed. “Didn’t mean to KO you on the first date.”

You both paused.

You tilted your head. “So this is a date now?”

He looked a little caught, but the smile never left his face. “I mean… if you want it to be.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “Only if it ends with another kiss.”

Changbin turned bright red, chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re gonna make fun of me forever for this, aren’t you?”

You leaned in, close enough that your noses touched again, your voice barely a breath. “Probably.”

He kissed you again—quick, sweet, like he couldn’t help himself.

Then he got up, held out his hand, and pulled you to your feet. Still holding on. Still close.

“So,” he said again, this time with a grin, “sleepover rules still apply. I’m making ramen. You’re picking the next movie. And maybe later, we kiss again.”

You smirked, tugging him toward the kitchen. “We’ll see if you earn it.”

“Hey!” he whined playfully. “I pinned you! That’s gotta count for something!”

“It counts as me letting you win, obviously.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

And just like that, you were back to bickering—but now, between the sarcasm and the teasing, were shy glances, soft smiles, and the kind of tension that didn’t need words anymore.

You’d always been close. Now, you were closer than ever.

Hwang Hyunjin (crushing on seonbae)

It was your second week as a trainee for a new girl group under JYP Entertainment, and you had already learned that the training schedule was intense. You were still trying to find your rhythm in a world filled with highly talented idols, and it felt like everything was moving too fast. You spent most of your time in the practice rooms, working on vocal exercises, choreography, and dance routines.

One day, after a particularly long session, you found yourself taking a quick break to catch your breath. You'd never thought you'd meet Hyunjin from Stray Kids during your training, but here you were, sitting in the corner of the studio, trying to recover from a grueling dance practice. He was in the middle of a solo routine, and you couldn’t help but watch, captivated by his flawless movements. The way he danced was mesmerizing, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you. You did harbour a huge secret crush on him. 

When his practice ended, he caught you staring, a playful smirk appearing on his face. “Like what you see?” he asked with a teasing tone.

Caught off guard, you blushed, quickly looking away. “Oh! Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No need to apologize,” he interrupted, walking over to where you were sitting. “I saw you struggling with your choreography earlier. Need some help?”

You blinked, surprised by his offer. You had only been a trainee for a short time, and the idea of dancing with someone like Hyunjin made you nervous. But his smile was disarming, and you could tell he genuinely wanted to help.

"Actually, yes," you admitted, standing up. "I can't quite get the moves down for our routine. Maybe you could show me some tips?"

Hyunjin grinned, taking his place in front of you. "No problem. I'll teach you the basics, and we'll see if we can make it a little more fun."

He started by showing you the footwork, his body moving effortlessly to the beat. You mimicked his movements, but the steps felt awkward under your feet. Hyunjin noticed immediately and gave a little chuckle.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Relax. You’re supposed to feel the music, not stress about the steps.”

His hands lingered just a second too long, and you felt a heat rush to your cheeks. You took a deep breath, nodding. “I’ll try again.”

You continued practicing, and as the movements started to feel more natural, Hyunjin encouraged you with small comments here and there. The choreography was getting better, but you were still a little offbeat.

"Okay, how about this," Hyunjin suggested. "Let’s do the next part together. I'll guide you."

Before you could say anything, he stood close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your waist to help guide your movements. His proximity caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. The way his body was pressed against yours, his warmth radiating onto you, was almost overwhelming. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he leaned in to correct your posture.

“Here, just like this,” he said, adjusting your hips with his hands. The touch was gentle, but the closeness made it impossible to ignore the sudden tension in the air. You could feel your body growing tense, unsure of how to act with him so near.

His grip shifted slightly, and you found yourself in an almost perfect mirror of his stance. "See?" Hyunjin smiled, his voice low. "Much better."

The way his eyes locked onto yours made your breath catch in your throat. The dance had become less about learning the moves and more about the unspoken connection forming between you two in the space. His hands were still guiding you, his touch firm but soft, and every movement seemed to bring you closer together.

You both continued practicing, but it wasn’t long before the movements became more fluid, and you realized that it wasn’t just the choreography that was making you feel this way. Hyunjin’s presence, his proximity, was stirring something in you. Every time he adjusted your form, his hand would brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your heart beat faster, and the air between you felt heavier, charged with an unspoken tension.

At one point, you made a small mistake and spun the wrong way, causing your bodies to collide. For a brief second, you both froze, trapped in a moment of unintended intimacy. Hyunjin’s chest was pressed against your back, his arms still holding you in place as you both tried to steady yourselves. His breath hitched slightly, and you could feel his heartbeat racing against your skin.

You locked eyes, and for a second, everything else faded. The studio, the other trainees, the music—it was just the two of you, caught in this unexpectedly close moment. The space between you was nonexistent. The gentle brush of his fingers on your arm sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Well,” Hyunjin said, his voice now husky, as he reluctantly stepped back, breaking the tension. “I guess we got a little… carried away.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. “I—I didn’t expect that,” you murmured.

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, me neither. But hey, at least the moves are starting to look good, right?"

You nodded, though your thoughts were still a little scattered from the closeness you’d just shared. You both stood there for a moment, the silence between you filled with the lingering tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

“Well, if you ever need more help," Hyunjin said, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, "I’m just a call away.”

You gave a small, nervous smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he left the practice room, you stayed behind for a few moments longer, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the dance. There was a mix of excitement and confusion swirling inside you. What was that? Was it just the dance, or was there something more there?

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions because, as a trainee, there was always another routine to learn, another move to perfect. But as you left the studio later that day, your mind kept returning to the way Hyunjin had touched you, the way he’d held you close, and how in that one moment, you couldn’t tell if it was just dance… or something more.

Han Jisung (secretly dating)

It was game night, a regular gathering with the boys at their dorm, where laughter and playful competition filled the air. You'd been looking forward to this night, to unwind and enjoy their company, especially Han Jisung's. You were secretly dating him, keeping it low-key for the time being, but lately, it felt like a secret you wanted to shout from the rooftops. There was just one problem—you didn’t know how to tell the others without making things awkward.

Tonight, everyone was hyped up and playing a board game, the atmosphere light and buzzing with friendly rivalry. The stakes had gotten higher as the rounds went on, and the trash talk was flying. You and Felix had become a bit of an invincible duo—strategizing, making each other laugh, and working seamlessly together. 

But as Hyunjin leaned back in his chair with a smirk and exclaimed, “Oh my god, Felix and Y/N, you guys are totally an unbeatable duo!” the comment seemed to hit differently. Jisung, who had been quiet for a while, stiffened beside you, his eyes momentarily narrowing as he watched you laugh along with Felix.

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. A quiet jealousy simmered beneath his usual playful and easy-going attitude. You felt your stomach tighten with an instinctive pull toward him. Felix, oblivious to the shift, was still bantering with Hyunjin.

But Jisung was different. He was unusually quiet, and the energy in the room had shifted in a way that only you could sense. You could feel his gaze lingering on you for a little too long, and it made your heart race—nervous, excited. The tension between you two was palpable, something you both tried to keep under wraps.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but glance over at Jisung. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His playful vibe had shifted into something more guarded. It wasn’t like him to stay quiet for so long, and it made you feel uneasy, like you had inadvertently caused the shift in the air.

Felix was deep in conversation with Hyunjin, while the others were absorbed in the game, but you couldn’t focus anymore. You excused yourself from the table, slipping into the hallway in an attempt to get some space. You figured you could give Jisung a moment to cool down or maybe even talk about whatever had been bothering him.

But before you could walk further, Jisung was there. You didn’t even hear him approach, but suddenly his hand was on your wrist, and he was gently tugging you toward the hallway leading to his room. “Hey, where are you going?” you asked, trying to keep the casual tone.

He didn’t respond right away, his grip firm but gentle. There was a certain intensity to his gaze now—his eyes darkened slightly, and his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more serious. “I need to talk to you,” he muttered, his voice low.

You didn’t say anything. You knew this wasn’t just about the game anymore.

When you reached his room, Jisung quickly closed the door behind you, his hand resting on the handle for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. The two of you stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, the air thick with unspoken words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like the way you two were... getting so close. Felix and you, laughing together like that.” His eyes were intense, full of something you hadn’t seen before—something raw. “It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but… it makes me feel something I don’t know how to handle.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You stepped closer to him, instinctively. “Hannie…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“I want to tell them, baby. I want to tell everyone we’re together,” he said, his hand gripping yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently, though his voice was firm. “I’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends.” He took a step closer, his face inches from yours now. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching yours.

The proximity was overwhelming, intoxicating, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you—the noise of the game, the others in the house. It was just him, and the desire in his eyes. You couldn’t lie to yourself any longer; you felt the same way. You had been trying to ignore it, keeping your relationship under wraps for the sake of the group, but in that moment, it all felt like too much to keep inside.

You swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I want to tell them too, baby. I really do. But…” you hesitated. “Do you think they’ll understand?”

Jisung’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped your cheek with his free hand. “It’s not about them understanding,” he said, his voice tender now, the tension easing from his shoulders. “It’s about us. I want to be open with everyone, especially with you. You mean so much to me.”

The words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in vulnerability. You were quiet for a beat, the intensity of the moment consuming you. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s tell them. Together.”

He smiled, the usual playful glint returning to his eyes, but there was still an undercurrent of sincerity. Without another word, he closed the gap between you two and kissed you, soft and slow, as if savoring the moment that had been a long time coming. The kiss deepened, both of you letting go of the tension and unspoken feelings you’d been holding onto.

When you pulled away, your foreheads touched, breaths mingling. He whispered, “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

You smiled, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Me too,” you said softly.

From that moment on, there was no more hiding. You were his, and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

Lee Felix (colleagues to lovers)

The music video shoot had gone longer than expected, and most of the staff had either stepped out for a break or were busy resetting lights outside. The trailer where touch-ups usually happened—the one usually buzzing with stylists, cords, and brushes—was now completely empty.

You were the only one there, you were sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone when Felix popped in, flashing that signature grin and muttering, “Hyung said I need my hair re-gelled. Sorry,” like he was inconveniencing you, even though it was literally your job.

“Sit,” you said, trying to sound normal. Professional.

But nothing about Felix ever let you stay fully calm. Not the way he tugged off his jacket with one hand and tossed it lazily on the couch. Not the way his damp dark hair curled against his forehead, making him look more boyish, more human, than the stage idol version everyone else saw.

You stood behind him, gently combing through his roots. The gel hadn’t fully set, and you needed to rework it from the front.

"Can you tilt your head back?" you asked.

He did, but the angle was awkward. He sat too low in the chair, so you had to lean forward, your hips brushing the armrest. When you reached to push his fringe back, your chest nearly grazed his shoulder.

He stilled. You froze.

Then, in one ungraceful second, your foot slipped against the leg of the chair. Your balance tipped forward—too fast to catch. A small gasp escaped you as your knees bumped the edge, and suddenly you were no longer standing.

You landed on him.

Your hands flew to his shoulders to steady yourself, but it was too late—your body was already pressed against his, knees planted on either side of his lap, your faces just inches apart.

His breath ghosted across your cheek. Warm. Shaky.

Neither of you moved.

“Sorry—” you whispered, trying to push yourself back up.

But his hands had found your waist. Not tight, not holding, just there. Warm, grounding. And when your eyes met, something shifted.

“No—” he breathed, voice quieter than you’d ever heard. “Don’t move.”

Your breath caught.

“Felix—”

“I didn’t mind… I mean, it’s okay. I just…” His stammered.

You blinked at him, heart hammering, heat blooming across your chest and neck. You’d danced around this for weeks—maybe months.

The lingering stares, the way his smile always stretched wider when you were near. But this…

His hands were still on your waist. And for a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was the low hum of a distant monitor and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Then, slowly, his fingers reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch barely grazing your skin. The motion was so gentle, so intimate, that it made your breath hitch. And the moment his hand dropped, his eyes widened—like he hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was already done.

“I—I didn’t mean to—sorry, that was—” he breathed, voice shaky.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His cologne wrapped around you like a net, grounding and dizzying all at once.

“I just—” he went on, swallowing, “God, I’m sorry.”

You stared down at him.

His face was already flushed pink, his eyes still locked on yours like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you closer.

“I didn’t mind,” you said quietly.

He blinked.

“What?”

Your voice came out softer this time, more vulnerable. “I didn’t mind. That you touched my hair.”

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded.

He exhaled through a breathless laugh, like disbelief. “Because I’ve been trying not to do anything like that since you started.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you,” he said instantly. No hesitation. Just the truth.

“And I didn’t want to make things weird. But God, you’re always so close, and you’re so gentle, and I’m pretty sure I’ve started dreaming about the way you touch my hair—”

You kissed him.

Quick. Certain. Nothing intense, just a quiet yes to everything he’d just admitted.

His hands tightened on your hips, grounding himself. “Okay,” he whispered against your lips, dazed. “Yeah. That just happened.”

You laughed softly and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “It did.”

“I still need to finish your look,” you teased.

He grinned, pulling you even closer. “I think you just did.”

The silence was comforting this time. Not awkward but intimate.

Kim Seungmin (sunshine x grumpy)

When Chan invited you for a quiet weekend at his countryside farmhouse, you didn’t hesitate. It had been months since you last saw your best friend—too many midnight voice notes, too many “I miss you’s” with a sad emoji tacked on at the end. So you packed a bag and drove up that Friday evening, not even bothering to ask who else would be there. 

Chan had welcomed you in with the warmest hug and whispered, “Seungmin’s here. Try not to combust.”

You elbowed him, cheeks warm. “I don’t like him.”

“Sure,” he smirked.

Of course Seungmin was here. Still just as grumpy, still refusing to smile at your stupid jokes, still never calling you by your name—just “you” or “Chan’s friend.”

And yet, somehow, you still looked for him in every room.

By Saturday night, you were full of barbecue, three glasses into a fruity drink, and cozy in an oversized hoodie. Laughter buzzed through the warm-lit living room. Chan had pulled out board games and card decks, and Hyunjin tossed on a playlist. You and Seungmin had exchanged exactly four words since arriving: “Morning,” “Move” and “No, thanks”

After too many rounds of Mario Kart, Chan flopped onto the massive couch and clapped his hands. “Okay, new game. Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“Are we in high-school?” you and Seungmin said in perfect sync from opposite ends of the couch.

Everyone laughed, but Chan just wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on, you’re all cowards. It’ll be fun.”

Chan started spinning a bottle, and before you could sneak away, your name was called—followed by Seungmin’s.

The room howled.

You whipped around to Chan, whispering furiously, “You rigged that!”

“Did not,” he said with a very smug expression. “Enjoy.”

The closet—tucked in the corner of the master bedroom—was dim, a little too warm, and far too tight for two people. The door shut behind you with a soft click.

“I hate them,” Seungmin muttered, already looking up at the ceiling like it might offer a hatch out.

You nervously glanced around in the little space. You took a breath. “Wow. Cozy.”

“Not really,” he said flatly.

You smiled anyway. “I forgot how much fun you are at parties.”

His lips twitched. The smallest, smallest smirk.

Minutes passed. Maybe only one. Maybe ten. You didn’t know. The quiet between you felt heavier than the night sky outside.

Then—he spoke.

“You flew all this way just to see Chan?” he asked.

Your brows rose. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” he said immediately, then hesitated. “Just… wondering.”

You took a step closer, trying to read him. “Why do you always look at me like I annoy you, but then keep showing up in every room I’m in?”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t annoy me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He pushed off the wall now, standing straighter, closer. “You’re… too much sometimes.”

You blinked. “Too much?”

“Too much sunshine. Too much sweetness. It gets under my skin.”

You smirked. “Good.”

He gave you a flat look. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not.”

You grinned. “You are. It’s kind of cute.”

He glanced away, jaw tightening, but the pink in his cheeks betrayed him.

You leaned in just a little. “What’s wrong, Seungmin? Closet too small? Or is it just me that’s making you all flustered?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You wound me,” you gasped, hand over your chest. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Yeah, well… maybe tone it down a little.”

You tilted your head. “But I thought I was ‘too much sweetness’ and ‘gets under your skin’—don’t tell me I’m growing on you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m stuck in a closet with my longtime crush.”

Seungmin froze.

Your eyes widened. Crap. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“…What?” he said after a beat, voice lower.

You scrambled. “I mean—not crush crush. I mean like, maybe. Possibly. Okay, definitely. For a long time. Like years-long. But you were always so—”

He took a step forward. You stopped babbling.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you for a moment, then leaned in slightly, voice dry. “Chan told me you’d be here.”

“…Okay?”

“I’ve been trying to act normal since yesterday.”

“That was you acting normal?”

He smirked, just a little. “I don’t flirt like you do.”

“I don’t flirt—”

“Really?” he stepped closer, close enough that your breath caught. “Then what would you call this?”

You were backed against the shelf, heart in your throat, eyes flicking between his and his mouth. He braced one arm beside your head, gaze sharp.

“…Trouble,” you whispered.

He smirked again—wider this time. “Yeah. You’re trouble.”

And then, just before the timer outside buzzed, he kissed you.

Slow, deliberate, and nothing like the annoyed boy who always pretended you were too much.

When he pulled back, lips barely grazing yours, he whispered, “Next time, we skip the game.”

And when the door finally swung open to the cheering crowd, neither of you said a word—but the heat in your face said everything.

Yang Jeongin (brother's best friend)

You hadn’t seen Jeongin properly in almost a year—well you really haven’t seen him much since he’d debuted and got busy with his idol life. But when your brother casually mentioned, “Jeongin’s having a little dinner thing at his place. Just a few of us. You should come—it’s been forever.”  something fluttered in your chest that you tried very hard to ignore.

You’d crushed on him since you were probably twelve, back when he was just your brother’s slightly awkward best friend who always let you have the last slice of pizza. And now? Now he was I.N—idol, heartthrob, and the same boy who still texted your brother dumb memes at 2am.

You didn’t expect much when you arrived—just polite greetings, awkward small talk, maybe a few inside jokes that would go over your head. But when Jeongin opened the door…

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

He looked tired but beautiful, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the kind of soft glow that came from being around people he trusted. He looked mature now—fame-polished, confident, sharper around the edges—but you still saw glimpses of the boy who used to chase your brother through your backyard, who used to steal popsicles from your freezer and grin like he won the lottery.

“Hey,” he smiled, eyes flickering over your face for a second too long. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“My brother dragged me,” you said lightly.

Jeongin tilted his head, still holding the door open. “Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

The dinner was casual, cozy. Laughter echoed through the apartment, plates clinked, and stories flowed like old times. But something about the way Jeongin kept glancing at you when your brother wasn’t looking—when he refilled your drink before anyone else’s, when your knees accidentally touched under the table and he didn’t move away—it felt like you weren’t imagining it anymore.

It wasn’t until later—when everyone was a little too full and a little too tipsy and began playing loud music—that you slipped away to find some quiet. 

The bathroom was unlocked, thankfully, and you slipped in, locking the door behind you. Only to turn around and freeze.

“Oh?” you exhaled.

Jeongin stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he was startled to see you too.

You nodded, suddenly too aware of the small space, the way the air felt heavier between you two. You both stood there in silence, not quite looking at each other. You should leave, your mind said. Step out, apologise, pretend this didn’t feel like something.

But for some reason… you stayed.

His gaze flicked to you, then away. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… needed a break from all the noise,” you said softly. “Didn’t think I’d find you here too.”

He gave a half-smile. “Yeah, well. Guess we’re still in sync.” Then he shifted. “I didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your hands felt clammy. “Yeah, well. My brother can be pretty persuasive.”

Jeongin smiled, then glanced down, almost bashful. For a second, he looked like the boy you remembered—the one who got flustered when you caught him singing in your garage.

You stepped back, “I’ll find somewhere else—”

You were about to step toward the door when he suddenly reached out and caught your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned, startled by the contact. His hand was warm around your wrist, gentle but firm enough to make you pause.

His voice was quiet. Earnest. “How long are we gonna pretend we’re not dying to be with each other?”

Your stomach flipped.

You looked away, jaw tight. “My brother would never agree.”

He chuckled—soft, humorless. “Your brother doesn’t get to decide who I want.”

“Innie,” you warned.

He locked the door behind him.

“Innie?” he echoed, teasing. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

You froze. “Jeongin—”

“I know. Your brother would kill me.” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “But it’s driving me insane, pretending I don’t feel something every time you walk into a room.”

He stepped in. Close. Too close.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he said, finally looking at you. “But the way you look at me sometimes... it doesn’t feel one-sided.”

“It’s not,” you whispered.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, voice rough.

He pinned you to the counter so easily you couldn’t think straight.

He stepped even more closer before saying quietly. “If I kissed you right now, would you push me away?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the space between you, barely a breath apart. And whispered, “I should.”

“But you won’t,” he said, voice hoarse.

“No,” you breathed, “I won’t.”

And then he kissed you—soft, hesitant at first, like he knew the line he was crossing. But when your fingers curled into his hoodie and he pulled you closer, you both forgot everything but the feeling of finally, finally not pretending.

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