#ateez date au

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

003 》 KIM MINGYU

maybe boys your age just weren’t your thing. after a sudden lunch date, you were already half convinced the search was over— had you found the man you were bringing to your family’s thanksgiving? how will chan take the news?

wc ~10k | mentions of death, age gap, mingyu is hot, smut mdni, fingering, dirty talk

you’d thought about yunho’s words all the way until your head hit the pillow saturday night. no one’s ever said anything like that to you before– no one’s ever needed to. 

you knew yunho only cared for you the way your family, san and yeosang cared for you, but you couldn’t shake it. maybe it was just your brain on overdrive after the previous forty eight hours, maybe you were making something out of nothing. 

yunho’s always been nothing but honest with you, he wouldn’t say something without saying it. he had no reason to beat around the bush, if there was any bush to begin with. 

so— you shook it off and texted mingyu. at approximately nine forty eight in the morning on a sunday, feeling like you hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. 

you: hey this is tiny from last night :) 

— incoming call from kim mingyu…

you shot up in bed, your soul nearly leaving your body as you pressed the little green circle, your tired voice stumbling out a meek “h-hello?” 

“hey, it’s mingyu,” he sounded chipper, as if he’d been awake for hours already. you shot a hand through your hair, hopping out of bed as if he could see you through the phone. 

“i know who you are, i texted you,” you said, then shook your head, eyes screwed tight. you didn’t know if he’d hear the humor in your voice or if you sounded rude over the phone, you tried to play it off with “what’s up?” as you paced around your bedroom. 

“just finished up a meeting, heading home now. did you just wake up?” you could almost see his face over the phone, hear his smile. you threw your head back, all worries forgotten, knees bending to sit back on your mattress– he’s so hot. 

“maybe,” you bit your lip, fighting a smile. the little balls of cotton that had pilled up on your comforter were suddenly the most interesting thing ever, mindlessly rolling them between your fingers as he spoke. 

he laughed through the phone, a hearty chuckle that was music to your ears, “you think after you have a cup of coffee to wake your pretty head up, you’d be free to meet me for lunch?”

your eyes shot open, jaw falling open, “today?!” 

“yes today, silly girl, are you free?” you glanced around your room frantically as if something in there would give you the answer, but as you looked at your calendar hung on the wall and there was nothing but blank space under today’s date, there was zero reason to say no. 

you nodded as your words came out, “i- um, yeah i’m free.” your voice had become quieter, more coy— you couldn’t believe your own decision. 

“perfect, i have a place in mind, do you want me to pick you up or would you prefer to meet me there?” oh, your mind was in shambles. too many questions, too many decisions, far too soon after opening your eyes. 

“i wouldn’t want you to come all the way to get me, i can meet you,” you reassured him, a nervous chuckle following your words. 

“it’s no problem sweetheart, whatever you’re comfortable with. i’ll text you where and you let me know, yeah? i’m thinking two, does that work for you?” his voice was saccharine— you swooned over how sweetheart danced off his lips all the way through the speaker of your phone. you laid back, flat against your mattress, massive smile on your face. 

all you could respond was a breathy “that’s perfect.” 

you’d never gotten in the shower so fast in your life. with your hair still wet, a robe wrapped around your body, you raced down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, smiling to yourself because mingyu was the one who mentioned coffee in the first place. 

ace was sat on the counter of the island, your sister’s head in the refrigerator, both chatting before you padded into the kitchen. 

“vi, grab me the oat milk please?” you asked as you poured your coffee into your mug. sixteen and in her sassy phase, vivi was an enigma, you swore she assumed the world revolved around her. 

she handed you the flavored oat milk with a lifted top lip, “gross.”

“first of all, it’s good. second of all, you say that every time as if i drink nut milk out of choice. i don’t want to be glued to the toilet all day,” you poured your milk into your cup, giving it a swirl before taking a sip. so good. 

she cracks a smile, “crazy how a wee sip of milk can take you down. weak shit.”

you roll your eyes then look to ace for help, who just throws his hands up in defense with an amused smile. him and vivi must be friends today. 

as you make your way out of the kitchen, vivi calls after you, “tiny, can you take me to work later?” 

“i won’t be home!” you yell back from the stairs, making your way back to your room. 

you had barely even started doing your hair before vivi was on your bed, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. “what are you doing that you won’t be home? all the boys are coming here.” 

“i know more people than just them, you know,” you rolled your eyes, your hands in your hair. 

a sarcastic chuckle fled her lips like she was waiting for that answer, “like who? karina, sakura?”

your jaw locks, as if hanging out with your cousins was embarrassing. it was true that you didn’t bring your friends from school around, or hung out with any of them much outside of classes. the boys had met some of them, the few times you’d brought them to the frats with you over the years — that quickly ended when ace hooked up with one too many of your friends. 

“i’m going on a lunch date,” you pointed your gaze at her through the reflection of the mirror, “can you leave so i can get ready?” 

with raised eyebrows she stood, “dad says you’ve been going on a lot of dates lately.”

your entire body tensed, “matt should mind his own business.”

“i don’t think it was an insult,” she shrugged, “i think it’s good you’re finally getting some.” 

you turned your entire body around to face her and snapped, “i think everyone should stop talking about what i’m doing, especially matt who has no fucking business talking to my little sister about who i’m seeing.” 

mascara coated lashes blinked at you, not an ounce of sincerity in her voice as she plainly said, “you really need to talk to someone, tiny.”

“get out of my room, vi,” you turned back around, fighting every ounce of anger in your body, only taking a deep breath as you watched her blue hair bounce out of your room. hearing her refer to matt as dad always made you see red, something you couldn’t let go of, you weren’t sure if you ever would. 

you got ready with a scowl on your face, waiting until the last second to put on mascara just in case tears decided to show themselves– in situations like this, they always seemed to.

you decided you’d meet mingyu, the restaurant he chose for lunch was only thirty minutes into the city and you didn’t want to risk repeating what happened with chan. when you briefly looked at the menu online before choosing an outfit, you nearly choked on air when you saw the selection of food and the prices. 

this was not a chill lunch date— this was a lunch date. 

you panicked the entire car ride, realizing you didn’t know shit about mingyu. you didn’t think meeting hyunjin was sketchy because you knew so much about him already, you spent days talking to him and learning about him before you went out, it was the exact opposite with mingyu. you’ve met him, but you didn’t know him. 

on top of that, no one knew where you were going, no one knew who you were meeting, which was a first — if your armpits weren’t dampening at a rapid pace you could probably convince yourself it was exciting. 

mingyu is older, that much you know. the owner of a distillery, absolutely. wealthy enough to take you on an expensive lunch date, that was new information. your heart only pounded harder against your chest when you pulled into a parking space. 

“hey, sweetheart,” and just like that, your heart calmed in your chest, your breathing became normal. he wore black denim jeans, a light gray shirt that clung to every inch of his chest, the light band of skin around his wrist where his watch sat yesterday told you he was sporting a tan. golden, muscular, kim mingyu was anatomically perfect. 

he had to lean down to kiss your cheek and you burst into flames where his lips met your skin. fingers fidgeting with your sleeve, the toes of your shoes touching, you felt so small under his gaze it was electrifying. 

“mister kim, right this way,” the hostess approached you, two menus in her hand, the other pointed in the direction of your table. she sat you at a window table, a four top, you and mingyu sat across from each other closest to the window. you placed your purse on the chair next to you, your armpits beginning to dampen all over again. you needed to relax. 

“how are you?” he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips. you cracked, you must’ve been radiating nerves, a smile breaking out on your own cheeks. 

“good, slightly nervous, but good,” you nodded through a laugh, getting the words out with enough life to hopefully hide the real amount of nerves you were feeling. this was all so new. 

“nervous? no,” he gasped as if that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard, “how’s the little drunk blondie? did you get him home safe?”

“tucked him into bed and everything,” you nodded before you realized how that sounded, your eyes widening. “then i left– i just tucked him into bed. he was really drunk.”

“you don’t have to do that,” he pulled the menu into his hands, “i scouted you while you were on a date already, i’m well aware.”

your cheeks flushed as you grabbed your menu, grateful to have something to occupy your hands. your mouth pulled to one side, top lip swallowing your lower one. there was so much you wanted to know about him. 

your waitress came over and got your drink orders, mingyu also ordered a couple of his favorite appetizers, which you were grateful for, you hadn’t deciphered a single word off the menu yet. 

“speaking of blondie, you said he’s a friend from class, right?” mingyu met your gaze over his menu, “what are you studying?”

“education, i wanna be an elementary school teacher,” you nodded, “i’ve wanted to be a teacher ever since i can remember.”

you caught a glimpse of his canines in a smile, “are your students gonna call you miss tiny?”

you lifted your eyebrows, “that’s not a bad idea, actually. easy to pronounce, good for when i’m teaching phonics, too.”

he releases amusement through his nose, “you sound like a teacher already.”

“i should, i’m graduating this year,” you rack your eyes over the menu again, you almost wished they had a kids menu– there were too many options. 

“are you getting your bachelors degree?” he asks, settling himself into his chair, leaning into the back of it. you wished the table wasn’t between you– you wanted to see him leaned back, manspreading in all his glory. 

you nod in response and he points his eyes, “so that makes you… twenty one?”

“twenty two,” you correct, holding up two fingers. he shakes his head, smiling in disbelief, and all you can conjure up is “what?”

“i knew you were young, i was just thinking like twenty five young,” you think all the blood drained from your face as you stared at him, you must of had your question written all over your face. he holds up three fingers on one hand and makes a zero with the other, looking uneasy behind his hands. 

mingyu is… thirty. oh. you knew he was older from the jump. 

you lifted an eyebrow, “so?” 

he smiles. “i figured that would be a deal breaker.”

“it’s not every day the owner of a distillery hands you his business card and also happens to be under the age of thirty,” you shrug, “i don’t see why it would even be a concern, i’m an adult.”

he purses his lips, “your nickname is fitting, miss tiny.”

you roll your eyes again, “okay, your turn, thirty-year-old-distillery-owner kim mingyu.”

you didn’t know when you got comfortable, when words started freely flowing from your lips without a second thought, but you didn’t want it to stop. mingyu was too easy to talk to, the walls you had just put back up had come crumbling down within minutes— it was as if yunho didn’t say anything at all. 

the waitress drops off your drinks and appetizers then takes your entree order, you ordered whatever was least intimidating, the menu was so vast you couldn’t focus enough to even read the whole thing.  

“i’ll start with the distillery,” he says after a sip of his drink, he ordered his own brand of whiskey— neat. “i think it’s obvious i inherited it, the company was established in 1917, hence its name, by one of my ancestors back in the day. it trickled down the family tree until my dad inherited it in the seventies, then it became mine a few years ago.”

“so you’re a nepo baby?” you gave him a cocky smile as you picked at one of the appetizers, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

he tried to frown through a very clear smile, his lips scrunched together, “technically, yes, but i did go to college, i double majored in business and marketing with a minor in finance.”

“the fuck?” your eyebrows flew to your hairline, a hand covering the food in your mouth. “how the hell did you have the time? the energy? the brain?”

he laughed, “like you, i knew what i wanted from a very young age, what was waiting for me in the future. seventeen’s been alive for over a century, i’ll be damned if it dies with me.”

you sat back in your seat, letting a breath out, processing the insanity that is a double major and a minor in those fields. “you’re fucking crazy.”

“i did it, though,” he cocked his head to the side, pointing a finger at you, “look at me now, seventeen is sold in over one hundred countries, in thousands of stores, distributed through retail outlets, liquor stores, and major chains. it’s insane to me that i can get it in places like this,” he looks around you, “we’ve had to expand production capacity twice in four different countries since i’ve been CEO.”

“damn,” you blink, “you’re like, kind of an important person.” 

he chuckles, “no, i’m just a guy that fucking loves whiskey. the first time i can remember trying it was when i was fourteen, my old man told me to ‘take a sip and be a man about it’.”

“my dad let me try red wine when i was probably eleven,” you shrug, “i did not like it, i spit it on the floor and cried. still to this day it’s not my favorite.”

“red wine is easy work,” he raised a brow, “be a man about it.”

you smiled, “trust me, i’ve tried.”

the rest of lunch came and went with constant conversation, you talked with full mouths and a competition of who’s voice could be louder, the both of you having stories that reminded the other of another story, the cycle beginning and never ending. after your plates were cleared and your drinks were empty, the talk still flowed, so deep down a rabbit hole you couldn’t remember where the conversation began. 

mingyu reminded you of someone– you couldn’t put a finger on it, there was something about the tone of his voice, how he teased you, how he spoke with such a maturity yet accompanied by a silliness, it was almost nostalgic with how comfortable you felt with him. it was like you’d known each other forever the way you spat stories back and forth, it was like talking with yunho, yeosang or san– except your memories weren’t shared. refreshing couldn’t even begin to describe it. 

the lunch began with you soaking through your shirt and a heart pounding against your chest, but ended with sadness, clear disappointment that it was over. you didn’t hide it, you couldn’t if you tried with the way mingyu hugged you goodbye. 

“what’s your schedule look like for the rest of the week?” he asked as you stood beside your car, your back leaned against the driver’s side door and mingyu towering above you. 

“classes wednesday, thursday, friday. they all finish around three,” you nodded, “but other than that, i’m totally free.” 

he turned his head to the side, looking at you through lowered brows and pointed peripherals, “no job?”

you playfully smacked his arm, giggling, “i am very blessed and grateful for the life i live.”

“i’d hope so,” he smiled, “i’m free most nights, i’m super free wednesday night, my meetings end early that day. come over to my place and i’ll cook for us?”

you gave him a look that said be for real, “you just want to show off your supposed super awesome and amazing cooking skills.”

“what’s wrong with that?” he smirked and you nearly jumped him, “if i were you, i’d be jumping in excitement to feast on my super awesome and amazing cooking skills.”

“i guess,” you sighed as if you had no other option, “depends what you’re making.”

“i guess you’ll have to find out,” he mimicked you with a wink and you were transported to less than twenty four hours ago, when he stood behind the bar, his bar, and winked for the first time. you think you might be the luckiest human on earth. “i’ll call you after my work dinner.”

“work dinner still sounds wrong, you need to come up with a better name for that,” you leaned up off your car to give yourself space to open the door, a part of you hoping he’d kiss you goodbye. 

“now it will never get a new name simply because it bothers you,” he doesn’t step back, instead he closes the distance, before you know it his hand is under your chin and his lips press to your cheek, his other hand reaching behind you to open your car door. 

your cheeks flush, eyes focused on the lips that just touched your cheek as he pulled away. he noticed, of course he did, a cocky smirk growing, “come and see me on wednesday for the rest.”

you’d make a noise of disgust if it didn’t completely work on you, your abdomen clenched at his words. you needed him more than you’ve needed anything else in your entire life, there was no question about whether or not you were seeing him on wednesday. from the moment you saw him you were wrapped around his finger— hopefully you really would be on wednesday. 

“goodbye, mingyu,” your cheeks flushed, trying to sound normal, ignoring how your entire fucking body went hot as you climbed into your car, “thank you again for lunch.”

“bye, miss tiny, talk to you later,” he closed your car door with a smile, and then he was off to his own. when he was out of view you took a deep breath, then squealed. you couldn’t wait to tell everyone about him.

he did call you sunday night, but also monday morning, monday night, tuesday morning, tuesday afternoon and tuesday night. even wednesday morning when he knew you were walking up to your first class, kim mingyu couldn’t leave you alone. you talked about anything and everything, he told you about his day, you told him about yours, you even let yeosang yell hello into the speaker once (it was actually against your will). 

you didn’t give anyone any details— what you shared with yunho you kept with only yunho, you came home sunday with a big dumb smile on your face, sitting on your couch with your mind still standing outside your car with mingyu. the boys had asked, nosy as they are, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share any details or even tell them what you had done. maybe that was your problem, maybe hyunjin would’ve worked out if you never said anything in the first place. 

you shook your head at the thought, hyunjin had a one track mind when it came to you. maybe a part of you wanted to keep mingyu all to yourself, you wanted to share your excitement only with him, or at least wait it out until there was more to tell. you’re optimistic, you could see something blooming with mingyu, you could see yourself being with him long term— you knew your family would eat him up. but one question sat at the pit of your stomach, one you tried to keep buried, one you shouldn’t worry about because no one else’s opinion of mingyu should matter except yours. 

standing outside the double doors to your class, you took a deep breath. chan hasn’t texted you since saturday other than ‘thanks for taking me home’ on sunday, you haven’t texted him other than responding to that one singular message. tuesday night you’d prepared everything you were going to say to him after class, how to let him down easy. 

“hey!” his smile was as bright as it usually is, shaggy blonde hair cascading down his forehead, oversized hoodie hugging his frame. 

“hey chan,” you returned the smile, setting up your laptop and books around you. you were nervous, palms slightly sweaty, hands not fully stable as you prepared your deskspace. 

“so, i have a proposition for you,” he starts, body turned fully towards you. oh no, is he asking you out again?

“proposition?” you quirked a brow, still not giving him your full attention as you logged into your computer, pulling up today’s lecture. 

“my roommate won’t stop talking about you,” he says so casually it catches you off guard. you stare at him with a blank look, he has your full attention now, fingers stilling on your keyboard. 

“…roommate?” you ask, face contorted into something of confusion and surprise, until you remember the chipmunk that you fed a wave in chan’s kitchen. “oh, brown hair, glasses?” 

“yes! his name is han jisung, he keeps begging me to set you guys up,” chan shakes his head, still wearing a smile, “he keeps calling you an angel sent from above. we don’t have girls in the apartment very often.” 

“chan, i’m confused,” your eyebrows are furrowed now, you turn your body to face him as your fingers reach your temple. “i took you home after our date, and now you’re trying to set me up with your roommate who i only caught a glimpse of in your kitchen?” 

he pulls his lips together, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head, “i didn’t know how to tell you because it sounds mean no matter how you put it, but i think we’d probably be better as friends.” 

you blinked at him, jaw slack, you thought he was going to say the exact opposite of the words that left his lips. you didn’t know if it was worse or better that you were going to say the same thing to him, but for him to beat you to it? sickening. 

“i’m sorry! please don’t hate me,” he pouted, grabbing your hands with his own, “i had a really good time, i’ve been dying to go to that distillery for ages, i’m eternally grateful you went with me.”

“i just… don’t think there’s anything between us romantically,” his cheeks were bright pink, a weak smile on his face, “but there could be between you and jisung.” 

“i– i don’t know what to say,” you felt dumbfounded, you were sure your face reflected that. “i’m flattered your roommate is interested in me, but i don’t think i’m interested in him. at least not right now.” 

chan lets go of your hands, his pout turning into a frown. “that’s okay, let me know if you change your mind. he goes to school here, he’s getting his bachelors in music composition. he’s really funny, super cool and ridiculously smart.” 

you nod, “i’ll let you know.” bringing your attention back to your laptop, all you could think was how much you wanted to tell mingyu— he’d find the entire situation hilarious. you could see him throwing his head back in laughter, teasing you for taking care of the little drunk blondie for an entire night just for him to break things off with you. 

the more you thought about it, the more that very thing began to irritate you. you barely heard a word out of your professor’s mouth, the lecture falling on deaf ears, only contemplating why chan broke it off with you first. you were pleasant, caring, let him do what he wanted without complaint, even cleaned up after him— and he had the nerve to say you weren’t compatible? irritating. 

as class ended, you packed your things up in record speed, hustling out of your lecture hall, but chan was quick to follow you. you didn’t necessarily hide the shift in your behavior, head in your laptop all class, not even looking at him once, even when he asked you questions you gave him curt answers and zero eye contact. 

“wait! what the hell,” he called after you just as you made it outside, wind whipping at your skin, blowing your hair in every direction. 

you stopped in your tracks, snapping your neck to look at him, “what else can i do for you?” 

chan looked confused now, his eyebrows knitted in such an adorable way it irritated you more. he sounded surprised as he asked, “are you mad at me?” 

“can i ask you something?” you didn’t wait for his answer, “why did you say there’s nothing between us romantically? you basically said we’re incompatible.” 

his lips flattened, he sighed as he looked down before saying. “i did not say we’re incompatible, i said we’d be better off as friends.” 

“i agree with you, but i want to know why you think that,” you stood your ground, arms crossed, probably with steam shooting from your ears into the chilly october air, your frustration was clear.

“fine. i was drunk, not blind,” he threw his hands up, “you didn’t seem to be into the date we were on at all, your head was somewhere else the second you got into my car. which was fine, i figured maybe you were having an off day, but then we got to the class and all you looked at was mingyu. i knew then that you just weren’t into me.” 

you purse your lips, cheeks flushing, it was embarrassing how quickly your anger turned to regret. you had no reason to be irritated in the first place, chan made his decision based on how you made him feel. 

“i’m not angry at you,” he shrugged, “and it didn’t really hurt my feelings. i think you’re cool and i want to be friends with you, going to the distillery was still a really fun experience.” 

“chan, i’m so sorry,” your palms hit your forehead, voice going weak. “that wasn’t fair to you at all.” 

“don’t get all sad, i said it didn’t hurt my feelings,” when you looked back at him he was smiling, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “thanks for apologizing, if you wanna make it up to me you can go out with my roommate so he’ll leave me alone.” 

a smile broke out across your face, sniffing from how unusually cold it was. “i’ll think about it— just to make it up to you, though.” 

he rolled his eyes playfully, “i think you’ll really like him.”

you ran a hand through your hair, “i do need a boyfriend before thanksgiving.” 

your hand clasped over your mouth— you couldn’t believe you let that slip. chan looked at you like he was lost, “what do you mean by that?”

you sighed, defeated, thinking maybe chan was a good person to talk to about it. he wasn’t in your circle, wasn’t biased to anyone— plus he was no longer a contender. “let’s go get coffee or something, i’ll explain it all to you.” 

you and chan sat at the coffee shop on campus for an hour, you got everything off your chest. from how your cousins treated you, your sister, your entire family at this point to how you quickly came up with a lie to get them off your back. you told him about hyunjin, about mingyu, you told him everything and he listened to every word. 

you talked not only about the other men, but about your date with him, too. you talked everything out together down to the last detail, chan’s humor made you feel better, as if you had no worries in the world and your date with him was just two friends hanging out in the first place. you felt relieved after talking it out with him, he understood you, your feelings, even your thought process, giving you advice as much as he eased your worries. 

you didn’t think it was possible for you two to be friends after going on an entire date together, you didn’t think it’d be possible for anyone to. but with the person chan is kind, understanding, empathetic, he was more human than most people you’ve encountered at your university— you were relieved to know you could stay friends and keep him in your life. your boys would like him. 

then mingyu called, disrupting your coffee friend date entirely. chan was wiggling his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, picking up your phone. 

“hey sweetheart, how was class?” 

all of your worries seemed to flee. 

mingyu texted you his address, telling you to come over around six thirty. being after four already and he lived thirty minutes away, you panicked. you rushed home, nearly hitting four other cars on the way there, not even stopping to say hello to your family before you were taking an everything shower. 

knowing everyone was home, you were grateful no one stopped in your room to talk to you as you got ready, your lack of time to properly prepare had begun stressing you out before you walked in your front door. by six you were actually ready, a shock to everyone who would hear that sentence, and proud of yourself. 

your plan was to sneakily leave through the front door, quiet as a mouse. you didn’t want to be asked any questions, divulge any answers, no one needed to know anything about your whereabouts for the night. 

your twin and your friends sat in your living room, vivi on the farthest corner of the couch, all eyes pointed at the flat screen tv hung on the wall. you stayed close to the wall as you snuck around the corner, tip toeing through the entryway to the front door. as your fingers reached for the knob, you peered over your shoulder, only catching yunho’s eye before you slipped through the heavy slab of wood. you didn’t give him time to make a sound before you were gone. 

getting to mingyu’s house was hard, you hated driving in the city, but getting up to his place was even harder. he told you to tell the man working the desk your name and he’d guide you the rest of the way, but his instructions seemed too plain to get there, considering there were only two steps: get in the elevator and press ‘P’.

there was a special elevator off to the side of the lobby in his building, which seemed more like a hotel than anything, and the man working the desk had to swipe a card to let you in. you did as you were told, confused as ever, pressing P as soon as he swiped the card– the button all the way at the top of the operating panel. only as you moved upward in the elevator and you passed the top floor did everything begin to click– mingyu lived in the penthouse of his building. the penthouse. 

your nerves seemed to wake up as the elevator opened up, met with a full living room, all cream furniture and floor to ceiling windows. you were floored, not wanting to take a step forward until you sniffed. like a dog, your nose pulled you forward, the smell of whatever the hell mingyu was cooking completely entracing you. 

stood at the stove, his back to you, your nerves were so overwhelming you nearly turned around and got back in the elevator. old jazz music played through his apartment, the smell of dinner and mingyu flooding your nose as you looked around for a moment before greeting him — you needed to process. 

white marble countertops accented by a deep, ebony wood in the kitchen, cream tiled floors, a navy sectional in the living room accompanied by a matching ebony coffee table, a massive flat screen tv on the wall– you should’ve seen this coming. you knew he was wealthy, but this was more than anything you could’ve imagined. the place was so clean you were sure you could slide your finger across every surface and there would be no residue, you were willing to bet that not even a speck of dust sat on the ceiling fan that hung at least twelve feet above you. you were in heaven. 

“you scared the shit out of me,” mingyu called from the kitchen, taking his apron off as he rounded the corner of his kitchen island, “quiet girl.”

he snapped you out of your shock, ease consuming your now cold-sweating body, looking at him with a smile as you slipped off your boots by the elevator door, sock-covered feet padding along the cold tiled floor all the way to where he stood. he wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he said, “i’m happy you came.”

“me too, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing,” you say as you look up to him, arms still hooked around his waist, it was concerning how quickly his embrace could snap you out of a spiral. “this place is fucking incredible.”

“thank you,” his smile is infectious, so wide you couldn’t possibly wipe your own off your face. “hope you like steak– cooked with dairy free butter.”

“you remembered!” you exclaim, following him around the corner of the island, eyes looking from dish to dish laid out across the island. he really went all out, vegetables and sides and even a small charcuterie plate full of cheese and fruits. you looked up to him again, “all these, too?”

“come on,” he shook his head as if you were silly for even asking that question, “wouldn’t want to upset the tiny tummy.” 

your face flushed, you couldn’t believe your eyes, ears or nose– you told him once in quick conversation on sunday that you were lactose intolerant and he remembered, he made an entire dinner based around your restriction. you looked up at him with stars in your eyes, and he knew it, too. 

“i can’t believe this,” you shook your head as you stared the charcuterie board down, you were starving and the plate was calling your name. 

“sit and eat, we still have some time before dinner’s ready,” he slipped the apron back on over his head and you stifled a giggle at the sight before planting yourself down on a barstool on the opposite side of the island, picking at the plate of fruits and cheese. you took it easy on the cheese, just in case —you couldn’t help it— the fruit was more than enough for an appetizer. 

your head nodded along to the jazz music as he stood at the stove, cooking the steak, bouncing over to you every few minutes to steal a grape or plant a kiss on your forehead. it was oddly domestic, as if you’d been here before, meant to be in this exact situation. he asked you about class, you asked about his meetings, you went back and forth until he was plating everything, ignoring you every time you asked if he needed help— he answered the first time, he was done with the question after that.

“where do you wanna eat?” he looked to you across the island after everything was plated like you were at a michelin grade restaurant, maybe he was a chef in a past life. “we can eat at the table, on the couch, i can come sit next to you and we can eat here.”

you shrugged, “wherever you want to eat, chef, your house your rules.”

the corner of his mouth lifted, “i’ll come over there, don’t want the princess to have to move her seat.”

you looked up at the nickname, in your twenty two years of life only one other person had nicknamed you princess. you hadn’t heard the nickname since you were twelve, it was more comforting than you expected it to be. 

mingyu noticed your look, tilting his head to ask, “what?” as he moved your plates to your side of the island. 

“i just like that nickname,” you smiled before taking a sip of your drink, the surfside mingyu so graciously stopped at the liquor store to get– you make one joke about enjoying seltzers… 

“thank you for cooking,” you said as he clicked his glass of whiskey with your can, and he nodded in appreciation. 

“let’s eat!” he said with a wide smile, excitement exuding from his skin, you could see he loved cooking, especially for someone else. it made you curious about his other hobbies, what else he enjoyed besides cooking and seventeen, what made him as enamored as you were just by him. you wanted to know everything– every detail he wanted to share you’d embrace with open arms. 

the food didn’t just smell amazing, it tasted incredible— super awesome and amazing cooking skills, indeed. he seemed like the type to be talented at everything, the jack of all trades, you could just tell. he was perfect boyfriend material, he checked off everything on your more shallow list– with time, you were sure he’d check off everything. you could feel it.

you spoke as you ate, from how he learned to cook to how he expanded his skill, the other things he had interest in– he loves dogs, he likes to clean, fix anything that’s broken (he likes to figure it out himself), interior design, he likes to drive and insists he doesn’t have a driver, he likes fashion, you learned he speaks fast when he really enjoys something. you were precise with your questions, asking him specific details about things he enjoys just so he’d speak more, you loved every minute of it. you learned so much in such a short time, you became so engrossed in the conversation he ended up getting a lot out of you, too. 

it’d been at least forty five minutes since you finished your meal and you were still talking — you bickered about doing the dishes and you finally won, insisting that he at least let you load the dishwasher while he washed them. he agreed with a sour look on his face and your smile was nothing short of victorious, and then your conversation picked up right where it left off. you talked about yourself, how you like to clean, keep a tidy space, your family, your friends, your plans for the future, the upcoming holidays– he almost got it out of you, but you kept your composure, not repeating what happened with chan. 

by the time you made it to the couch, you were going back and forth about how you grew up, talking about your families. you were facing one another, you were sitting the same way– one leg on the couch, the other touching the floor, leaning your side against the back cushion. his couch was as comfortable as it was beautiful, navy velvet so soft to your skin you sunk right in. 

“okay, what’s something you’ve done since you were young, and you still do to this day?” he kept his eyes on you, soft and focused, making sure you knew he was listening. 

you squinted as you thought about it, racking your brain for any traditions you’ve kept with your family. “we have a holiday tradition,” you smile, cheeks flushing, not one hundred percent sure if you really wanted to talk about it– but it was the only thing you could think of, and at this point you trust mingyu enough to speak on it. “we’ve done this since i was twelve— our entire family comes over to my house, my mom and stepdad host, we have over seventy people in the house for thanksgiving and christmas. it’s my mom’s family, my dad’s family, my step dad's family, plus yeosang, san and yunho’s families, too.”

“how the hell do you cook for that many people?” mingyu stares at you in shock, eyes wide and eyebrows high. 

“cook? please, we cater,” you shake your head, “we all stand in the kitchen before we eat and we talk to my dad. whoever wants to, we just talk out in the open as if he was in the room, or telling stories about him. sometimes my dads’ friends stop by too, they did that more often when we were younger, but they’ll stop by and talk to him or even about him, too. my mom will always tell the same stories of how they met, how me and my siblings came to be, the days we were born, how they named us. it’s important to us around the holidays.”

you watched mingyu’s expression soften, but he also looked as if he was thinking, processing. he finally spoke, a hush to his words, a delicacy you were expecting, “i had no idea, i’m so sorry.” his hand felt warm as he laid it on your knee, “i love that tradition, i don’t doubt he’s there with you every time you talk to him.”

you gave him a smile, “thank you, it’s my favorite part about the holidays. after that i usually get berated for the rest of the day, if that counts as a tradition, too.”

he gives you a confused look through a laugh, “i don’t think that counts. we have a somewhat similar tradition– every year at christmas we make a toast to the ancestors who have owned seventeen, paying respect to the men who have made our lives what they are. we just added my grandpa to the list a few years ago, it’s special.”

“i love that so much,” you smile, “showing gratitude to the men who have supported your family all these years. that’s incredible.”

“it’s nothing like paying tribute to a lost parent,” his smile is a sad one, “but the holidays are such an emotional time, it’s important to keep their spirit alive. can i ask about your dad?”

“absolutely,” you nod your head, smiling at him, you were surprising yourself now. you didn’t talk about your dad with anyone other than your family and your boys. 

“when did he pass? how?” he asked, leaning his arm against the top of the couch, elbow bending to hold up his head. 

“my twin and i were twelve, my sister was six. ten years ago,” you nodded, thinking about the dinner you had with your family earlier this year, marking the decade of his passing. “fatal car accident, drunk driver hit him on his way home from work– he was a lawyer.”

he groaned, “i’m so fucking sorry, that must’ve been awful for your family to go through.”

“thank you, still is sometimes,” you shot him a tight lipped smile, “he was an incredible man, i’ve forced myself to burn every moment spent with him to memory, i think about him everyday.”

“what’s your step dad like?” he changed the subject and your body went rigid– you hated talking about matt. “when did your mom remarry?”

“eight years ago, i was fourteen. too soon, if you ask me,” you shift your legs, fighting your discomfort, “matt is… something. my siblings love him, vivi was too young to remember much about our dad, so matt was quick to fill the spot. same with ace, he gets along with matt, ace needed a father figure after he passed and matt fit right in with them. happy family,” your smile doesn't reach your eyes. 

mingyu points his eyes at you, “but you…?”

“i don’t like him, point blank period,” you release a nervous chuckle, “i despised him when i was thirteen, when they started dating, i didn’t go to their wedding. i hung out with my grandma, my dad’s mom, all day instead. me and matt have never seen eye to eye on anything.”

“why? is it just because he’s… not your dad?” mingyu crosses his arms, not in a judgemental way, but showing he truly just wanted to understand. “you don’t have to answer that.”

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” you shook your head, “he just isn’t the same to me as he is to ace and vivi, and that’s probably partially on me because i never let him in. i hated him when i was younger because he isn’t my dad and he never will be, i thought my siblings looked at him like a replacement and it made me sick.” 

“i know he has good qualities but we never formed a bond, i never gave him the opportunity to. he tries to parent me even now and it’s almost funny at this point, i can’t bring myself to accept him. he will never be a parent to me, he’s just a guy who lives in my house.”

mingyu’s nod is slow as he processes, arms uncrossing to put one up on the back of the couch again, “what do your siblings think about him?”

“vivi fully thinks i have issues, ace sees my side a lot, he understands me. tries to be a buffer between matt and i, defends me to matt but defends matt to me,” you couldn’t believe that you were letting all of this information out so easily, but it made you feel better knowing mingyu was the one receiving it. 

“of course he does, you got the twin thing going on,” mingyu nods, “i’m happy ace is at least on your side. i’d like to meet him, eventually.”

“meet ace?!” you ask, eyebrows raised, then you thought about it for a second — ace would probably like mingyu, and mingyu would probably like ace. “actually, he’d probably like you.”

“probably?” mingyu puts a hand over his heart, eyebrows furrowed and jaw agape like that hurt his feelings, “everybody likes me.”

you giggle, “ace wouldn’t be the hard one to crack, matt would probably like you, too. my friends would be the ones giving you a hard time.”

“ah, yeosang, san and yunho, right? the three musketeers?” he smiles, “most guys would be terrified if they had a beautiful girl over and her three best friends were guys.” 

you laugh, “not for nothing, you and yunho are probably matched in height– he’s the scary one. the other two are just stupid, but they’re my people.”

“he might be as tall as me, but is he as big as me?” mingyu wiggles his eyebrows, making you laugh again. “i want to know your people.”

“yunho is just as tall, but san might be as big as you,” you lift your brows with a tilt of your head, “but you guys could go to the gym together, bunch of doritos.”

that made mingyu’s head fall back in laughter, you joining him before he reaches over to grab your hand, his face falling serious. “thank you for sharing all of that with me, i know it took a lot to be able to say all of that.”

you nod, “for some reason, i trust you. i know we just met,” you shrugged, cheeks flushing, “i don’t know, there’s something about you, i guess. i really like you.” 

a smile spreads across mingyu’s face and you feel him tug at your wrist, pulling you forward. you were already inches apart before, but now you’re nearly in his lap, faces mere centimeters apart. your ears burn as he looks into your eyes, searching for something you couldn’t place, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

“i really like you, too,” he smiles for a split second before he leans forward, attaching his lips to yours, and in that moment you feel every puzzle piece in your brain fit into place. every single feeling of nostalgia, feeling so comfortable with him so fast, sharing so much about yourself when you barely knew the guy– this was why. 

everything about kissing kim mingyu felt right, as if you were searching for this your entire life, as if all of those years spent alone and uninterested in dating were actually spent waiting for him. every decision you’ve made, every person you’ve met, the dates you went on before this– it was all to lead you to him. sparks, fireworks, whatever people say about meeting the one, you could add to the conversation now because you understood. 

he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and you moan. you couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight it, every single nerve ending in your body was on fire. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, your hands flying up to his shoulders, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

“been waiting to do this,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your mouth, eyes closed. 

you smile into the kiss, his words amplifying your hunger, your hands trailing from his shoulders to his chest, laying your palms flat against his muscled chest. you broke the kiss again, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

“i should be saying that to you,” his hands move from your neck down your back until they scoop under your ass, pulling you onto his lap with ease as he shifts to sit forward, your bodies fully changing position. you gasp at the movement, wrapping your thighs around him, hands clinging to his shoulders again. the thought that he could flip you around with as much ease as he just showed you had your brain doing cartwheels, you could tell just by looking at mingyu that he was strong, but him proving it was a completely different story. 

he caught your lips with his own again, hands still under your ass until they moved to your hips, digging his thumbs into your skin. you moaned into his mouth at the feeling and he let out a deep groan, rocking your hips forward. when you felt him beneath you, you couldn’t help but gasp, another sound of pleasure escaping your lips and he smiled into you, whispering, “want you so bad, princess.”

your head falls forward, eyes screwed shut, the stimulation too good to be over layers of clothes. you blamed his actions on sunday, you’ve been thinking about him like this every night before bed with a hand between your thighs, now it’s actually happening. you supposed this is what it was like to be with someone you connected with on a deeper level, your body was responding quicker than your head was, getting lost in a fog, hands trailing to his neck, his jaw– you needed to feel all of him. 

he let out a grunt, “take it easy,” he stilled your hips with massive palms, you hadn’t even realized you began moving on your own. “tonight’s about you.”

“want you so bad, gyu,” you were breathless, you sounded like an animal– voice shaky, nearly whining because he stopped you. 

he chuckled, voice octaves deeper than it had been, “you’ll have me, but not yet.”

you sat back on his thighs, baffled, eyebrows knitted in clear irritation, “what do you mean, not yet?” 

his smile only grew, “i’ll take care of you, i promise,” he spread his thighs which in turn spread yours, his hands trailing up your legs from your knee to your hips. “so spoiled already, what am i gonna do with you?”

you watched his hands travel across your body, back involuntarily arching at his touch, mewls slipping from your lips. you were losing it– fuck waiting, you needed him, you reached for his zipper. 

he grabs your wrist before you reach it, making you whine. “did you not hear me when i said tonight’s about you? is your pretty head already too fuzzy for you to think correctly?” 

you pouted, looking up to him, trying to mimic chan’s doe eyes as best you could. “please,” you begged, “want to touch you so bad.” 

“begging will get you nowhere,” he leaned back on the couch, a sense of authority filling the space between you, curbing your behavior entirely. “you’ll take what i give you, right?” 

you nod, falling into submission with ease, and the smile that grows on his face is despicable. he praises, “good girl, thought so,” before he tugs your wrists forward, and your lips are on his again. 

they’re nastier this time, all tongue and teeth, and his hands are everywhere. on your back, on your hips, on your chest, the noises you let out would be embarrassing if you could think about it for longer than half a second. when his thumbs travel up your inner thighs you stiffen, your back arching, moaning into his mouth and he laughs, his chest rising into yours. 

“relax for me, princess,” he says into your mouth and you obey without even thinking about it, body sinking into his. he slips his right palm between your legs to cup your center over your pants and you grind yourself into him involuntarily, releasing a gasp as you finally get stimulation where you needed it most. 

your head falls forward again, breaths growing heavy at the contact. he switches to two fingers instead, adding pressure along your clothed slit, pausing at your clit to rub small circles. you moans are pathetic, grinding into his hand, begging for more but you didn’t dare say it. 

“yeah, there you go,” he encourages, voice low and directly in your ear as you grind against his fingers, he doesn’t stop talking, “gonna cum on my fingers when i haven’t even taken your pants off? my girl is so desperate.” 

your moans raise in pitch at his words, the slight degradation only getting you there faster, you could taste your orgasm. you didn’t know you were into that kind of thing— you never had any experience in it, you and mingyu certainly didn’t talk about it beforehand. 

“go ahead, princess, cum for me,” he encourages and you lose it, unraveling on his hand, his words tipping you over the edge. your moans are strangled in your throat as you finally release, breath stilling as your head sinks entirely onto his shoulder, his hand still riding you through it. when you back off his touch he halts his movement, bringing a hand up to your hair, fingers lightly scratching your scalp as he praises you. “so good for me, baby, did so good.”

you whimper in response, body completely spent on his lap, limp hands resting on his chest as his thumbs sneak down to hook in your waistband. you could hear his grin in his words, “i hope you don’t think i’m done with you yet, wanna see your pretty face cum on my fingers.” 

you lifted your hips off of him and he slips the fabric down your legs one after the other, your brain completely fogged over, too fucked to do anything else but comply. you’d do whatever he said in this state, as long as he kept talking to you. 

when you sat back down on his lap his thighs were spread again, your legs sat wide over his own, pussy on display for eyes that couldn’t see it. he bared his teeth in a smile, head laying atop the back of the couch, looking at you through lowered eyes. it should’ve been mortifying, being so exposed to him when he hadn't even taken his shirt off, but the feeling didn’t come to mind when he looked at you as if he'd eat you alive. 

“so good,” he praised, the smile not once leaving his face, “you wanna cum again, don’t you baby?”

you nod, whimpering, hips bucking into nothing beneath them. mingyu was so hard, you could see the ridiculous tent in his pants, you were nearly drooling at the sight. you want to see him, touch him, taste the full length of him— it was cruel how he was keeping himself from you, but you still didn’t tell him, maybe he’d praise you more if you didn’t. 

“say it,” his hands were on your bare hips, the skin on skin contact had you heaving. you couldn’t form any words other than make me cum, begging three times before his hands moved.  

his fingers moved to your core and his lips were on yours again as his fingers slipped inside, index and middle, immediately curling inside of you. you plunged forward, your entire abdomen folding, the slight overstimulation combined with how thick his fingers felt inside of you was devastating. you were louder now, moans turning to cries, hips driving forward to match the thrusts of his fingers. 

“fuck, mingyu,” words returned to you, a moment of clarity in the midst of the fog, “feels so fucking good, please don’t stop.” 

“there she is,” his lips attached to your jaw, kissing down your neck as his fingers created a rhythm, “came back to me, hmm?” 

“yes,” you moaned out, words breathy and light, “want you to watch me when i cum.” 

he groaned, head falling back onto the couch again, his other hand reaching forward to rub your clit again. you cried out curses, watching mingyu as he watched you. you whimpered, “wanna feel you so bad, want you to fuck me gyu.” 

his eyebrows furrowed, jaw going slack, quickening his pace on your clit. you could feel another orgasm forming in the pit of your stomach, eyes falling shut, head lolling forward before you snapped it back upright. he wanted to see you, you’d let him have whatever he wanted. 

“so close,” you cried, he was so fucking good at this— not once did the rhythm he created falter as you thrashed against him, following your hips with experienced fingers. “gonna cum, gyu.” 

“cum all over my fingers baby, give it to me,” he leaned forward, catching your lips with his own in a kiss before he growled, “cum for me.” 

the order had you seeing stars behind your eyelids, your body obeying without you even processing it, shaking in his arms as you got lost in your orgasm like a fucking riptide. this one was far more powerful than the last, it took you longer to ride out the full length of it, the aftershocks hitting you in tremors. 

“good girl, that was so hot,” his voice was strained as he praised you, clearly trying to hold himself back, but you couldn’t place why he wouldn’t do anything about it. 

“want you inside,” you said into his neck, head fallen onto his shoulder by now, small aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through you. his hands rubbed your back, soothing touches to bring you back, a huff of amusement leaving his lips. 

“you’re insatiable,” he teased, hand dropping to leave a small tap on your bare ass. “you’ll have me another night.” 

“why?” you whined, body curling into his further, arms laying limp at your sides, “you don’t wanna fuck me?” 

“don’t do that,” he planted a kiss to the side of your head as his hands continued, leaving calming strokes on your back, “be patient.” 

you sit up slowly, “i don’t want to be patient.” 

“then call up the blondie,” he shot you an amused smile, “i’m sure he’ll be glad to fix your issue.” 

“mingyu,” you huffed, “that’s not funny. i’ll be patient.” 

“never heard a woman complain after coming twice,” he shook his head, watching with careful eyes as you stood off his lap, reaching for your pants. 

“i am so sorry that i want your cock so bad i’m begging for it,” you teased back as you slipped them up your legs, a playful smile on your lips. 

he lifted a brow, “touché.”

you stayed at mingyu’s place for hours after, half listening to whatever movie he put on his tv while you fought to not get lost in conversation. it was too hard when he put on a romcom, the first time he nitpicked a detail the fight was over, entering a debate about how stupid it was for the main girl to be interested in the man who was clearly an asshole. mingyu thought it was stupid, you stood up for the girl– you’ve been there too many times to not stick up for her. at least half the movie was spent talking about the movie.

you spent the other half of it lazily kissing, hands traveling across each other’s skin, he let you maneuver your hands under his shirt, feeling his chiseled abdomen, his chest, his back— you were right, every part of him was strong. his fingers had slipped under your pants again, the movie was over for far too long before the two of you had come up for air. 

but he still didn’t take it further— didn’t let you touch him below his belt. you couldn’t understand why, until he finally gave you a reason, “i just want to wait, i know it’s old fashioned. don’t make fun of me.” 

your body went hot, you were now convinced that anything he did could turn you on. “until when?! marriage?!” you joked, and he only responded by pressing his lips to yours again, effectively shutting you up.

you didn’t want to leave– you knew mingyu had meetings early the next morning, you had classes, but his couch was so comfortable, the blanket he threw over you was so cozy, you couldn’t fathom going outside in the cold air or sitting in your car that would take way too long to warm up. you felt like you were in your own bubble, just you and mingyu, no one knew where you were or what you were doing. you didn’t want it to end. 

you checked your phone after hours, your phone screen flooded with notifications. you scrolled through as mingyu traced patterns along your stomach over the blanket, his head lying just below it, both of you sideways on his massive sectional. 

8:28 pm

yeo: tiny are u alive

8:51 pm

yeo: tiny i am getting nervous yeo: pls answer

it being past ten now, you were scared to continue scrolling. 

9:23 pm

sannie: yeo is tweaking sannie: he is telling ace lol

you sighed, eyes closing, your bubble was burst. 

9:31 pm

yeo: ace did not gaf yeo: bro said ur prolly on another date yeo: good luck have fun get some

you swiped out of your groupchat, seeing an unopened text in your thread with yunho. 

10:01 pm

yunho: worried about u yunho: hope this one’s treating you better

you smiled, fingers typing away– yunho was the only one who knew who mingyu was. 

10:23 pm

you: dont be worried im fine you: hes perfect he's the one you: thanksgiving secured

the bubble appeared in seconds, then it went away.

— yunho liked your messages. 

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] // Music of the Heart [J.YH] -  ninety-eight* | more boba, less ice

“San look! San look! They’re landing on meee~!” You yelled at a whisper and tried not to move too quickly as you turned to him.

“Wait, wait, I’ll take a picture!” San whispered back and took out his phone.

You tried not to laugh as one of the butterflies, which was on your face, flapped its wings, tickling you. You tried not to let your nose scrunch up as it flapped, making you feel like you had to sneeze.

“I don’t think you need to whisper around them, they’re butterflies not birds.” Yunho laughed as he and t/n walked over.

“Don’t they hear with their feet or something?” You whispered and looked to San.

San looked up from his phone. “...I don’t know.”

The wings of the butterfly on your face finally made you sneeze, scaring them all away.

“You must have hurt their ear-feet,” San chuckled.

“Their feet-ears.” You responded as you dusted the feeling of flapping wings off your face. You hit him playfully and he laughed, showing you the picture he took. “Send it to me?”

He nodded.

Yunho and t/n looked at each other for a moment.

“Hey, t/n and I are going to get something to eat, you want anything?”

“No, we’re good,” San answered and looked at you. You nodded your head.

Yunho nodded and he and t/n wandered over to a concessions stand.

“So?” You asked San, once they were out of earshot.

“So what?”

“Why do you think they asked us to go to the butterfly garden in the first place?”

“Umm… I don’t know.”

You widened your eyes at him.

“I don’t know what that means.” He laughed.

“I think they were using asking us here as an excuse to be on a date, but to like… pretend it’s not a date. Like if you’re out with friends in the daytime and no one said it was a group date or anything, it can’t possibly be a date.”

San thought for a moment. “It… is a little weird, I guess. I don’t know if Yunho has ever been interested in butterfly gardens before…”

“Then it was her idea. Doesn’t she play an instrument? She does seem very classy.” You nodded.

“Does playing instruments make you classy?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I feel like when someone says someone else is classy they normally play like… piano or violin or something like that.”

He looked at you for a moment, eyebrows softly furrowed.

You widened your eyes and shrugged again. It made sense to you. Classy people on TV always played piano. Or violin.

He hummed as he thought to himself. “Classiness or not, it is a very 4D chess move.”

“It is isn’t it?” You punched him softly on the arm and he hooked yours in his. 

You knew he was just stopping you from hitting him again, but it made you feel very couplely and a little flushed. You looked at your feet as the two of you walked around the small outcropping of rocks and flowers the butterflies that were recently sitting on you flitted around.

“But why take us with them when they can just go on a date together?” He asked.

“Listen, denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

San stifled a laugh. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m going with!” You elbowed him playfully. “If they take us with them, they can pretend that they’re not actually on a date together. We’re like a buffer.”

“Oh? So then why did they just leave us alone?”

You thought for a moment and watched the two of them chatting over by the snack cart. Some petals had fallen out of a tree and landed on t/n’s hair, and Yunho was picking them out for her.

“Look at the two of them,” you said and nudged San.

He looked up.

“So unabashed. So mushy. So… public.”

He stifled a laugh again.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It hit you. “Ah! But, see, that’s where the denial comes in: they need to keep up the appearance of a group thing, but they actually want to be together, so they can’t help themselves.” You gestured to them again. T/n chuckled as Yunho kept picking out the petals that kept falling into her hair. “People do all kinds of silly shit when they like someone but are trying to hide it.”

San thought. “I suppose they do.”

You tapped your temple. “See? I know things.”

San laughed softly.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, you definitely know things.”

You frowned at him. You stuck out your right foot purposefully and he did the same. You stuck out your left and he did the same. You walked in tandem in a jaunty way for a few moments, as if music might start and you both might start singing a song about a word that was as absurd as it was long. When you came to the end of the outcrop, he put his hand on yours and swung the two of you hard, so your feet were in the air for a moment as he played the part of the anchor point, spinning you around until you both faced the other direction.

“Just…” he said after you came to a stop, “are you sure?”

“I’m ‘Surely Temple’ I’m so sure.”

“If you start singing, I’m leaving.”

You laughed.

“So what do we do with this revelation?”

“Go somewhere else with them, of course! And since they want to be alone so bad, we’ll abandon them somewhere.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Completely foolproof.”

“You put a lot of stock in their ability to realize they’re the one for each other.”

“Hmm…” You thought. He was right; if they haven’t gotten over their shit now, it’s not like spending another hour or so together would actually do it. “We’ll be their escorts for another date. At least until they’re finally honest with themselves.”

San nodded. “Aye aye, captain.”

“Yar…” You said, scaring some of the butterflies away. “Aww!”

He laughed.

T/n and Yunho walked back over. 

“Enjoying the butterflies, you two?” T/n asked.

“Did you know that butterflies and moths are the same species?”

She looked at you blankly.

“Really?” San asked.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“Why do we call them different things?”

“We thought they were different but they aren’t.”

“Oh.” He pursed his lips.

He was cute. You hated him.

“Enjoying your walk?” Yunho gestured to the arms that linked the two of you.

“Huh? Oh.” You extracted your arm from San’s. “Taking a turn about the garden.”

He looked from you to T/n. She shrugged.

“So, uh… Do we want to see the other parts of the garden? I saw a sign say they have glow worms and lightning bugs in a greenhouse somewhere too.”

T/n nodded. “Yeah, let’s wander around.”

For four people with no map, you managed to find the “Dark Bugs” exhibit. It had exactly what the poster described; glowworms, lightning bugs, and bioluminescent fungi. There was actually two parts to the building, the other half housed venus fly traps, pitcher plants, sundews, and other carnivorous plants. You had never been a plant person - it was a little hard to have any in your childhood home with all the cats - but they were pretty cool. One of the tanks had some flies in it, and you and San watched with a mixture of shock and delight as one of the flytraps inside closed around an unlucky fly that had landed on it.

“What, so it really eats it?” You asked as you crouched, trying to see if the fly was still moving or already still.

“It says it takes a week or two.” He said as he read the plaque on the corner of the tank. “I guess it depends on the size.”

“Oh.”

“These are from North America!”

You stood up. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, it says these ones are from North Carolina.”

“Whaaat?” You saw the outline of the North American continent with a red highlight over a state. “America, what are you hiding from us? Your states may be united, but what are your plants doing?” San laughed. 

You skimmed the rest of the plaque. “...Aww, it says that the trap falls off after three to five meals.”

“I wonder why.”

“Mhm. Is it because it can’t clean itself or something?”

“Maybe. Or maybe the digestive juices that dissolve the bug dissolve it as well?”

“It’d be nice if the description plaque, you know, described why.”

He nodded and hummed in the affirmative.

The two of you wandered around and kept an eye on t/n and Yunho while you did. They seemed to be getting along much better than when San had to pick an abandoned t/n up from that company party weeks ago. They definitely seemed more like old friends than two people who were just getting to know each other.

You lost sight of them for a moment, and stopped abruptly when you almost came around the corner into a moment they were sharing.

“Ah--” San started as he bumped into you and you shushed him and pushed him back around the corner. You held your finger up to your mouth, telling him to be quiet.

What? he mouthed at you.

You shook your head and pointed around the corner and gestured to him to be quiet again.

“Your shoe’s untied.” Yunho said.

A pause. 

“You’re not going to check?”

“If I look down and you try to hit me in the face or something…” T/n warned.

He laughed. 

“Oh.” 

You and San looked at each other and smiled.

“In all the times I’ve tied your shoes for you, when have I ever pulled a ‘your shoe is untied’ on you?”

“That’s true.”

Silence for a moment.

“I don’t see why you need to tie my shoe for me.”

Yunho laughed softly. “Because your shoe is untied.”

“I could just do it myself, you know. Like an adult. Who can tie her own shoes.”

“I’ve already done it though.”

“Yeah. Well… thanks. We’re ten years old again.” He laughed softly. 

Hearing nothing for a few seconds, you and San shared a look: they must have walked into the next room. You crouched and looked around the corner and saw no one there. San must have decided to help look, because when you went to right yourself you bumped into him and were almost knocked onto the floor. He caught your hands though, and helped let you down easy, since there was nowhere else for you to go.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, as your ass hit the cold tile of the greenhouse floor.

“Are you okay?”

“What were you doing?” You laughed.

He pulled you up. “I’m sorry, I wanted to see if they left.”

You dusted yourself off, “They’re gone,” and turned to also go into the next room.

“--Oh! You have--” he patted whatever dust you had missed off the back of your pants.

You turned and looked at him incredulously. 

“Oh-- I’m sorry-- I was trying to get the dirt off!” San blushed bright red as he apologized.

You stared at his reaction for a second before laughing loudly.

He looked at you, puzzled by your reaction.

“Well, I guess we can tell Wooyoung that I finally got the butt pat that I wanted, huh?” 

“...Oh! Ha…” He sighed in relief.

“Don’t worry about it, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I really was trying to get the dirt off of you.”

“I know.” You smiled.

He nodded and smiled back.

The door swung open. “Oh! There you are.” Yunho said.

T/n appeared next to him. “How’d we lose you?”

“Oh…” your eyes darted to San and then back to your friends. “We were looking at this really weird plant that was super stinky.”

“Oh, the one in the case?” She asked.

“Yeah. It’s dumb because, like, why’d you put the stinky plant in a case? No one can smell it.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t really think it was dumb, but you needed a cover for spying on them. And whatever that moment with San was. 

“Ah…” she nodded slowly and looked at Yunho for a moment. “I’m sure people would hate it if you could actually smell it though.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Probably. You’re right.”

“Well,” Yunho said. “I think we looked over the whole greenhouse. Want to go back outside?”

“Sure.”

You and San followed the two of them outside.

In one area, there was a bunch of large boulders that some kids were climbing off of as their parents chided them for being on them in the first place. As they all left, you could see that climbing wasn’t exactly warned against, as the only sign near them said: Please be careful!

You stared at the sign and the boulders.

Someone stood next to you. San. “Do you want to climb them too?”

You narrowed your eyes at them. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He laughed and grabbed your hand. “Come on.”

The two of you jogged over to the boulders. 

“Do you know how to scramble up them?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He laughed. 

“I thought all you knew was: serve coffee, fight stalkers, and stream. Now I find out you also climb rocks, eat hot chip, and lie?”

San threw his head back and laughed. “You meme.” “Yes. But since when do you know how to climb rocks?”

“Wooyoung and I go out and about sometimes.”

“Oh… out and also about. What a man of the world.”

He smiled. “Do you want to go to the top?”

You smiled at him wryly. “While that sounds like something either; a crooked music producer says in a movie--”

He laughed.

“--or a villain or antihero says to their love interest in a different movie: yes. I want to stand on the tallest boulder.” 

He laughed and easily scaled the first one.

“I was going to call you Spiderman, but I don’t know why I’m reacting like I should be surprised, you outdoorsy fucker, you.”

He smiled and held his hand out. You took it.

“Put your foot on the side and push with your legs while I pull you up.”

“It’s a good thing I’m wearing sneakers.”

With San’s coaching you of where to put your feet and your weight, it was easy enough to get up the boulders. You had almost forgotten that you were supposed to be watching T/n and Yunho.

“Wait, hold on,” you said to San quietly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, questioningly.

You turned to look at them. T/n looked at the first boulder and looked back at Yunho. He seemed to be asking her if she also wanted to climb. She showed him the bottom of her shoe, they weren’t right for climbing. He kneeled down on one knee and pointed to it purposefully. She tilted her head to the side, admonishment, but then relented and used it as a step to get up onto the first boulder. She sat and brushed off her hands and he sat next to her.

You and San looked at each other and smiled. He pulled you onto the top boulder and you sat together.

“I thought you said you wanted to stand on it.”

“Oh-- yeah.” You went to stand.

“Wait, I’ll take a picture of it.”

“Why?”

He moved to the boulder under the top one. “So you have it.”

“Oh.” You stood.

“Look like you’re in charge of all you see.”

“Simbaaa…” You said as you posed, pretending to look out upon your land.

T/n and Yunho turned around and watched your impromptu photoshoot.

“Now look scary.”

You pretended your hands had claws. “Rawr!”

“Now do whatever.”

You giggled. You put your hands on your cheeks in a calyx pose and looked cute.

“Amazing.” He said and moved to sit next to you.

You laughed and sat down. T/n and Yunho both turned back around with a smile.

The four of you stayed at the butterfly garden until it closed. Afterwards, you went on a walk around the city, looking for something else to do. You were surprised that Yunho and t/n hadn’t called the Totally-Not-A-Date quits yet, and you could tell San thought the same as you kept catching each other’s eyes and pointedly looking at the two of them as they walked in front of you. If only there were a way to get them alone together…

“Ohh, gaming café,” you stopped and tugged on San’s shirt so he’d stop.

“You untucked it,” San complained cutely.

You laughed. “Oh, sorry.”

San fixed his shirt. “Do you want to go play?”

“Yeah. Can we get boba?”

“Of course--”

“You’re leaving?” Yunho asked.

“We’re going to go game. You guys can come if you want.” You offered.

“Umm…” t/n seemed to think for a few seconds before looking at Yunho.

You elbowed San in the side gently and he turned to you, seemingly thinking what you were thinking.

“You don’t really game, though, right?” You asked t/n.

“Yeah… not really.”

“Well, then you guys can walk back together and we’ll hang out another time. We’ll pick the place next time!” You smiled.

“We’re-- hanging out again?” t/n asked.

“Sure! Why not?” You smiled again.

“Oh… okay. Sure.” She smiled back.

You smiled. “Anyway, raids wait for no man. Or woman. Or non-binary individual. We have to go.” San tried to wave goodbye to Yunho but you pushed him by his shoulders until he walked into the computer café.

Once you and San sat, you asked. “Do you think I was being too obvious that I knew they wanted to be left alone?”

“Mmm, maybe a little obvious. T/n seemed confused at least. Maybe she picked up on it.”

You shook your head and cracked your knuckles, warming up for the game. “Sometimes people just need to figure things out in their own time.”

San nodded and stood. “I’ll get the boba. Do you want a regular or large?”

“Hmm, how long are we planning on playing for?”

He shrugged. “Couple hours?”

“Less than three?”

“I don’t know, we might lose track…”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a smile. “Do you plan on losing track?”

“Well, there was a Dead By Daylight update that I wanted to check out…”

You smiled. “Then I’ll have a large. Milk tea, please.”

“Coming right up.”

You laughed as he saluted you and left for the counter. Five minutes later he was back with the drinks.

“What’d you get?”

“I got what you got.”

“Hey~ more boba, less ice! A man after my own heart.”

He smiled as he sat. “I never thought you could ask for more boba.”

You laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe the place I went to as a kid was strict or something.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Buncha stingy bastards.” You took a sip and chewed the tapioca pearls. “Hurry up and let’s get in a game.”

“You didn’t start without me?”

“Why would I start without you? I’m not rude.”

San laughed.

“Should we be survivors first?”

Mouthful of boba, he nodded.

The two of you joined a game lobby that already had someone in it. As you waited for a fourth player, you switched to a garish wig. 

“Wait, I think I have that--” San put the same wig on his character.

You laughed.

San laughed, “Look the other person put it on too!”

The two of you laughed, not even knowing why it was so funny.

“Wait, do we have something else that’s the same?”

“Wait, wait,” San said and his character’s pants changed. “These pants.”

“You look like someone’s couch from the 90s. Hold on, hold on,” you changed your pants to match. 

“Nice.” San said appreciatively.

The third person in your group also changed to those pants and the two of you laughed again.

“We just need one more person…” you trailed off.

Finally, someone appeared and suddenly, they were wearing the same wig and pants. This sent the two of you into hysterics a third time, and the game finally started.

“So do you think they had a good time?” You asked as you followed San up the hill.

“I don’t know. I’ll try to ask Yunho when I see him at home.”

You nodded. 

“Be careful of the curb,” San said and held his hand out for you.

You looked down. “Wow, I didn’t even see that.” You put your hand in his and let him help you over it. 

“I noticed you not noticing it.”

You laughed. “Cheeky.”

He smiled as his hand released yours and fell back to his side. Part of you wanted to reach out and take it again, but you knew you couldn’t. Somehow, you tore yourself away from that thought and looked out over the city. 

“Holy shit.” “I told you it was a nice view.”

“Yeah, you didn’t lie. I can see why it gets used in Dramas all the time.”

“We can sit over here.” 

He gestured to a bench nearby and you followed him to it. You looked up and held onto the bench as you leaned back for a few moments and let your eyes adjust to the starry sky. You chuckled.

“What?”

“When I was a kid I used to look up at the stars and feel like I could lean back far enough to just… fall backwards into the universe. Stars and planets and shit whizzing past me as I fall… like I could lose my sense of gravity if I look at the sky too long, you know?”

He nodded and looked up. “Like… your brain would forget about it because there’s no up or down?”

“Yeah,” you turned towards him with a smile. “That’s exactly it.”

He smiled back. 

Both of you looked back up.

You sighed.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You chuckled. “How about ten thousand won?”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

You laughed.

“You okay?”

You inhaled deeply and sighed. “This year has been like… a rollercoaster. I reconnected with my childhood best friend, which was awesome; I started working at the café, which was great; I got stalked by a fan who found out who I was, which was the opposite of great; you got assaulted because of me--”

“I got assaulted because of the stalker, not because of you. And I don’t know how much of an ‘assault’ it counts for if you kick the guy’s ass.”

“Well it better count, I want him to get as many charges as possible.”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“But if it wasn’t for me there wouldn’t be a stalker.”

He tilted his head for a moment. “Maybe. But there would be no you either.”

You looked into his eyes. His face was hard to see in the darkness, but you could see him looking back at you. You wondered what he was thinking. His eyes searched your face and something about his gaze made you feel vulnerable. You looked back up at the sky.

“Hey! A shooting star!”

San looked up to where you were looking. “Make a wish.”

“Wait… I think it might be a satellite.”

“How can you tell the difference?”

“It looks like… close? Also, it’s not… shooting.”

“Maybe it’s one of Elon Musk’s.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t he put them at the wrong elevation and a bunch got hit by a solar flare or something? And China was like, ‘If they so much as come near our Space Station, we’re shooting them down?’” 

San snorted. “Idiot.”

You cupped your hands over your mouth and yelled, “You’re making too much space trash! Fuck you, Elon!”

San laughed next to you.

“What?”

“I hope he heard you.”

You laughed.

c.s previous | main cast | masterlist | next

j.yh previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: What are we thinking? Are they cute?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

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[jnginlov]

to love you

when you ask him to be your fake fling he’s not prepared for the way it will make his unaddressed feelings for you grow

⇀ pairing wooyoung x gn!reader (references to yunho x gn!reader)

⇀ genre fluff, angst, fake dating au, unspecified nonidol au, f2l, one sided pining

⇀ style one shot

⇀ word count 10.4k

⇀ warnings jealousy, talks of hooking up, talks of vomit, crying, yelling at reader, yelling at wooyoung, just like a lot of general yelling, something that could be interpreted as a panic attack (no specific descriptions), allusions to violence (in a non-serious sense), cursing, food, alcohol consumption (assumed all characters are of age), parties, multiple kisses, pet names (love, babe), skinship (head on a shoulder, holding hands, holding faces), let me know if i missed anything

you and wooyoung certainly weren’t best friends but that’s not to say you two were enemies either. you’d met each other through a friend of a friend just over a year ago and even though you both felt an instant connection, it was nothing that had either of you suddenly intertwining your lives. wooyoung would consider you a casual friend and if he asked he’s about 89% sure you would say the same, 1% of the other 11 was reserved for what his best friend yeosang liked to call his “simp brain” that wanted to imagine you’d call him something along the lines of a crush, but disregarding the tiny baby so minor and minuscule romantic interest wooyoung had in you, you both were casual friends, “i’m already in the neighborhood, do you want to grab coffee” friends, “i was supposed to have a date but they bailed and i’m already dressed up, do you want to get drinks” friends. you both were certainly not “can you be my fake boyfriend?” friends.

“i’m sorry, what?” wooyoung is lucky he swallowed the last sip of his coffee or it would likely be all over his open laptop.

“you know that guy yunho?” you supply, quite unhelpfully in wooyoung’s opinion.

and yeah of course he knows yunho, he’s yeosang’s roommate, and the guy you haven’t been able to shut up about for the past month. “what does he have to do with anything?” he asks, trying to keep any of the jealousy he felt bubbling in his stomach at the mention of yunho’s name from showing on his face.

you roll your eyes like the answer is obvious as you reply, “well i was talking with mingi the other day,” mingi being the friend you had met wooyoung through in the first place, “and he said i should try making yunho jealous, because he’s pretty sure yunho is actually interested in me but just, like, needs that push.”

wooyoung nods slowly as he continues to listen to you rant, trying to understand where in your mind you think taking mingi’s advice, especially when it came to your love life, would be a good idea. wooyoung loved mingi but the man hadn’t had a date in more than six months and he’s not even sure when the last time his roommate had any romantic interest in anyone was.

“-and so i figured the best way to make someone jealous is basically seem interested in someone else,” you conclude as the man sat across from you tunes back in, trying to look like he’d been listening the whole time instead of wondering how he’d found himself in this situation. he was definitely going to have to talk to mingi once he got back home.

“and you thought i was the best choice for that?” wooyoung raises a brow as you sip your drink.

you nod quickly as you swallow. “well i’m pretty sure he knows hongjoong and seonghwa are dating, jongho is very clearly not my type, i’m not close enough with san, and i doubt he would believe yeo and i were a thing considering they live together,” you explain, listing off all the men in your close circle of friends, except for him, yunho, and mingi, and for a second he considers trying to twist mingi’s intentions by suggesting that maybe the tall blonde is the one who likes you and is looking for an excuse to get close to you but he can still recall the look of sadness on the gentle giant’s face the last time wooyoung threw him under the bus. the look of determination on your face makes it seem like you’d been thinking about this for more than a day, hell maybe even more than a week, but wooyoung can’t tell if your resolve should be alarming in any way because he’s much too worried about the prospect of what pretending to be in a relationship with you might do to his heart.

in a last ditch effort he asks, “isn’t this what, like, tinder is for?” and the way you sigh cues him in to know that you’ve definitely considered that avenue already.

“i don’t want to lead on some poor guy for my own gain like that.”

of course you don’t, you’re too nice, and if you knew that wooyoung would agree in a heartbeat, if it weren’t for his microscopic eensy-weensy romantic interest in you, he’s sure you wouldn’t be asking him for the exact same reason, but wooyoung has been set to keep his feelings to himself since he realized they existed at all and so he can only blame himself for the current situation. well maybe he can blame mingi too but, again, that’s a conversation for later.

wooyoung sighs. “i need to know your plan before i’ll agree to anything,” he says but he knows he’ll end up saying yes no matter what when he sees the way your face immediately lights up at the prospect of your plan working successfully.

“okay,” you place your hands against the table excitedly, causing both of your drinks to wobble slightly, “i was thinking it could be more of a casual thing instead of a full blown relationship so that it would be more believable when we break it off.” you explain and wooyoung can feel that he’s not going to get any work done today, closing his laptop in defeat as he rests his chin on top of his hand, his elbow now placed on the table.

after you’d explained the details of your idea, and your fake situationship, you and wooyoung both left the cafe with a plan for the next couple weeks, leading up to a big party yunho and yeosang were hosting in which you’d explain to yunho that your thing with wooyoung was over and you’d get together and it would all work out.

he had to give it to you, wooyoung had doubted how much rational thought you’d actually put into your idea when you first asked but after hearing you out he was almost convinced himself that it might work. secretly wooyoung was hoping for the romcom ending in which you would realize he was the one that was interested in you, but that was just a itty-bitty thought in the back of his mind, totally not a thought swirling around his head and making his heart thump his entire journey home after you’d parted ways.

“hey, how was your day?” mingi is quick to greet his roommate with a large smile as wooyoung takes off his shoes in the entryway.

“hm yeah it was fine,” wooyoung starts with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “except for the part where you convinced my friend to ask me for a fake relationship!” his words had progressively gotten louder as he approached the taller man, now looking like a kicked puppy and cowering on the couch.

“what’s going on?” seonghwa, who had been trying to pay attention to the television is now alerted to the conflict between his friends when mingi almost sat right on him.

“mingi convinced (y/n) that they just need to make yunho jealous in order to get him to make a move,” wooyoung plops down next to seonghwa, arms crossed in front of his chest and pout set on his face.

“and that’s your problem because,” seonghwa trials off, gesturing for wooyoung to supply the rest of the sentence before placing a comforting hand on mingi’s arm.

“because,” wooyoung sighs, taking a deep breath before he finishes his sentence, “they asked me to be their fake situationship.”

mingi pops up off the couch suddenly at wooyoung’s statement, looking just as surprised as wooyoung is sure he was in the cafe with you less than an hour earlier.

“i did NOT suggest they fake date one of our friends,” mingi explains, scrambling through the living room in search of, well, wooyoung’s not sure. “my suggestion was to just get a little comfy with someone at a party or something,” he explains, pulling the pillow off from where he’d been sat and sighing in relief as he takes his phone into his hands, fingers flying across the screen in a panic.

“i don’t see the issue,” seonghwa interjects, “it’s not like you’re actually dating and it’s not even like you’re fake dating if you’re not calling it official,” the oldest of the group shrugs, opening one of the boxes of pizza on the coffee table and pulling out a slice for himself. “plus it’s not like you’re interested in them or anything.”

mingi freezes at this, his behavior a complete 180 from only a few seconds ago as his gaze slowly drifts up from his phone to wooyoung who has stiffened next to seonghwa. the two youngest both let out audibly pained chuckles and seonghwa drops his plate dramatically back down onto the table.

“don’t tell me.”

wooyoung clears his throat loudly. “so i may have, like, the tiniest most insignificant crush on them,” he practically whispers, face feeling slightly warmer at the prospect of the situation he’s in, and certainly not his feelings for you.

seonghwa narrows his eyes at the youngest, a question on the tip of his tongue before mingi decides to supply the answer anyway.

“you’ve been in love with them for months, we all know.”

“i am not in love with them,” wooyoung shouts back, anger reignited as he focused back on the true root of the issue, mingi and his bright ideas. “yes i might think they’re attractive, and yes i would like to date them for real, and maybe, just maybe, i do get a little jealous when they talk about yunho, but that doesn’t mean i like them that much.”

wooyoung feels the energy fizzling out and his words get weaker as he observed the looks on his roommates’ faces. mingi seems almost smug, like he’s been proven right, while seonghwa wears an amused grin, eyebrows raised slightly in satisfaction.

“you’re sure about that?”

the next week, as he’s laying sprawled out on his best friend’s bed, yeosang busy putting away his freshly cleaned laundry, he sighs for what feels like the millionth time and the dark haired man at the closet has had enough.

“either say something or stop sighing,” yeosang grunts, placing the last hanging item in the closet. as he moves to sit at his desk, wooyoung flips onto his stomach quickly, causing the bed to creek and him to bounce slightly.

“i just don’t get it,” wooyoung says and yeosang resists the urge to groan. this is the same conversation the two had been having since wooyoung found out about your interest in yeosang’s roommate.

woo complains that he doesn’t understand why you think yunho is so great and then yeo has to bring his friend back to reality by reminding him that yunho is actually a pretty great guy and that woo is the one who could change his own fate, if he just had the balls to admit he was interested in you. but of course wooyoung always manages to weasel out of the truth, claiming that he doesn’t like you that much, or that you don’t like him, which yeo thinks is shit considering the amount of times you started ditching him for his own best friend but he’s not a snitch.

it’s yeosang’s turn to sigh. “i’m not doing this again,” he mutters. “yunho is not a bad guy, in fact he’s a great guy, all of his previous relationships ended amicably, he’s not unattractive according to the people that have asked me to give him their number, and as far as i know he and (y/n) actually have quite a bit in common.” yeosang turns to wooyoung quickly, finding the younger man with a small pout gracing his features.

as wooyoung opens his mouth to possibly argue against one of the points his friend had raised, both men hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and yunho’s usual greeting rings through the apartment. both boys suddenly feel like they’ve been caught, wooyoung’s eyes going wide for a moment as yeosang turns back to busy himself with the unfolded clothes on his desk.

“hey,” yunho says, poking his head through yeosang’s open door a few moments later. “they were out of those macarons you like at the cafe so i got you a maple cinnamon roll instead, y/n suggested it.”

at the mention of your name wooyoung perks up, trying not to seem too eager at the mere thought of you.

“sorry woo, i didn’t know you were over until after i’d ordered or i would have gotten you something,” yunho apologizes and wooyoung hates that he can tell it’s sincere.

wooyoung thinks it would be a lot easier to hate his best friend’s roommate if he was not actually such a nice guy. but he just can’t hate him, he might dislike him a bit for being such a great guy and being the one to hold your attention, but honestly feeling anything but amicable toward the man just makes him feel guilty. it’s not yunho’s fault you find him attractive and it’s certainly not yunho’s fault that wooyoung can’t just admit his feelings.

“you ran into y/n?” yeosang asks, honestly not trying too hard to hide the glance he throws wooyoung’s direction.

yunho nods as he moves to fully lean against yeosang’s doorframe. “they said they were stopping by the cafe before they were supposed to meet a friend.”

yeosang and wooyoung both nod in response, wooyoung’s a little more engaged while yeosang keeps looking between his two best friends.

“they actually asked if you were over,” yunho continues, gesturing to wooyoung with a quick tick of his chin.

the younger man’s expression quickly shifts to confusion before he’s remembering your idea he’d been telling yeosang about only half an hour before. he tries to tone down the shock of hearing you ask about him as he asks, “really?”

“yeah,” yunho chuckles slightly. “they said you weren’t answering any of their texts and that only happens when you’re with yeosang.”

before yunho is even done with his explanation wooyoung is digging through the slightly askew comforter he’d unceremoniously dropped himself and his phone onto once he’d arrived an hour ago. he’s not sure if you just made up the statement to prove to yunho that you two were close, as you truly didn’t text each other much outside of making plans, but no matter if you were just trying to provoke yunho you had spoken the truth. just about every time you texted wooyoung he would drop everything to respond. mingi would call it being “down bad”, and maybe wooyoung was learning to accept that fact about himself.

as wooyoung scrolled through the texts you’d sent him, a little update about how you think the plan is working and a picture of a cute dog that you said looked a little like him, which totally didn’t make him blush, he hears yunho clear his throat.

“are you two,” yunho pauses as wooyoung glances up at him, finding the conversation to feel a bit stiff and uncomfortable. “are you two like a thing?” yunho finally asks, finding the setup of yeosang’s room to be more interesting as his friend watches a blush creep onto the tips of his ears.

it’s wooyoung’s turn to find the decor around him interesting as he replies, trying to remember everything you’d talked about, “i wouldn’t call it a thing.” wooyoung shrugs trying to seem cool as he feels his heart beat creeping up into his throat.

he hadn’t anticipated it being this hard. the man hadn’t even lied about anything yet and he could still feel the guilt settling into the back of his throat, flavoring his words with a bitterness that held a strange mix of satisfaction, for getting to even pretend to know you in a more intimate way than his current competition, and regret, for agreeing to be apart of a plan that might cause one of his friends any distress.

“they’ve just been talking about you a lot,” yunho adds and if wooyoung had a little less self control he’d probably have fallen right off yeosang’s bed. he’s too focused on the thought of you purposely mentioning him in conversation to others to think about how yunho would know, the older man probably having seen you more times than wooyoung had in the past week.

“i think they’re in what you might call a situationship,” yeosang supplies when wooyoung doesn’t respond, shrugging as if he has no interest in the information he’d just shared.

wooyoung bites his tongue as he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing to tell the biggest lie he’s probably told in his whole life, just as you’d agreed to. “you remember that party their friend, whatever-her-name-was, had a few weeks ago?”

yunho nods gently, now able to look at wooyoung again after having determined that the conversation maybe wasn’t that uncomfortable.

“well we kinda,” wooyoung pauses, knowing it’s his last chance to back out before everything changes, and so he pushes forward with a sigh, “we hooked up that night and we’ve gotten together a few times since then.”

for wooyoung, it felt weird to say, the statement now just sitting in the air as he sees yunho trying to digest the information. he thought it might make him feel some way but instead he just feels empty, knowing that it’s entirely untrue. sure you’d left that party together, a fact that you had remembered and wanted to use in order to make your little fib realistic, but you’d both simply had enough of partying that night and gone for food at the convenience store on the corner before he walked you home. as far as wooyoung was aware, and he was pretty sure you didn’t go anywhere after he left your doorstep, you’d both gone to bed alone that night. and yet wooyoung didn’t feel like he could let himself daydream even the thought of you both actually doing anything then, the idea much too dangerous for the way he’d slowly started accepting what all his friends had been telling him about his affections recently. and even though he might be able to admit that he does have a crush on you, he certainly wasn’t expecting to hear the question falling from yunho’s lips.

“do you love them?”

wooyoung could feel his stomach jump right into his throat, his heart plummeting at the same time and causing nausea to replace the guilt he’d been wadding in just moments earlier.

“uh i think love is maybe a strong term,” he tries to chuckle lightly but he can hear the awkwardness permeating the laugh. “but i do like them.”

it’s the first time he’s admitted it without a caveat, and just like with the lie before, he feels the emptiness returning except instead of sitting deep into his stomach it fills his entire chest cavity, only stirring the nausea and making him feel like he’d much rather sink into the covers of his best friend’s bed than continue this conversation. he’s just not sure how much more he can say before he might actually vomit.

yunho nods slowly, a thoughtful look on his face, before he says, “i think you two would be good together.”

wooyoung is much too focused on staying grounded and not revealing the sickness that he feels to analyze whether yunho is telling the truth, a slight burn building in his chest of what he can only assume is bile, and at this point he’s not sure he wants to know what yunho thinks anymore. why did he agree to this?

“well, that roll is on the counter whenever you want it yeo,” yunho continues, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in wooyoung’s mind and body. “see you later woo.”

with that the man is gone, disappearing into his bedroom down the hall.

yeosang turns to his best friend quickly, ready to supposedly recap the conversation but stops in his tracks when he sees the look of pain on wooyoung’s face.

“how am i gonna make it through this?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the next week or so is filled with moments similar to this, where he has to look at yunho and lie straight to his face, straight to his own heart. and although yeosang assured that it would have to get easier at some point, wooyoung can feel he’s reaching his own breaking point.

throughout the process, as you execute your plan, you actually try to spend more time with wooyoung, starting with simple little outings that weren’t too different from things you might do usually. at some point these outings morphed into full fledged dates, and every time wooyoung felt himself sinking into the idea that he might be able to just enjoy this for what it was, you were quick to mention the plan and pop the bubble that wooyoung had found solace in. although he feels something unfamiliar burning lightly in his chest he can’t even fathom to be mad at you, too unbelievably happy in those moments where he could forget that you were faking it all.

“i’m not sure this is good for you anymore,” seonghwa had said one day after wooyoung had come home from a day out with you, plopping himself down onto the couch with an exhausted heart from the emotional roller coaster you were unknowingly taking him on.

wooyoung only let out a grunt, the sound muffled by the cushion his face was squished against, and seonghwa sighed in response.

“you’re tearing yourself apart for them,” seonghwa tried to reason, his quest of stopping this little escapade you’d set yourself on as futile as always.

wooyoung was sure he was delirious at this point, fatigue settled deep into his body from the way he felt he was chasing every moment with you, and so the next words that slipped off his tongue were completely unvetted by his mind and entirely from the heart.

“how else would i be able to love them?”

if seonghwa is surprised by the statement he doesn’t show it, his face neutral as wooyoung turns to look at him, the older man now crouched next to where wooyoung lies. he’s not sure what reaction he expected, and he knows that he asked an unanswerable question, but somehow wooyoung’s not surprised when seonghwa reaches out to run a gentle hand up and down the younger’s back.

the next words wooyoung speaks come out watery as he feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes and that unfamiliar burn returns to his chest, “they’ll always love someone else.”

as much as seonghwa wants to argue, to point out that you shouldn’t think in forevers and absolutes, right now he knows that his friend just needs comfort. so he moves to pull wooyoung so that he’s sitting, seonghwa moving into the space he’s created on the couch and taking his younger friend into his arms, letting him sob gently against his shoulder.

as if he couldn’t feel bad enough about this entire situation, wooyoung wakes the next morning to a text from you. normally he might feel a bit giddy to hear from you but the message is nothing like any of the ones you’d recently started sending, casual conversations about your days and cute pictures of things that reminded you of him. it was cold, with a finite energy and wooyoung could feel it like a punch to the chest.

y/n: let’s break it off

wooyoung can barely perceive himself moving to message you back, feeling like he’s gone into autopilot. he’s tried to be prepared for this but with the way he’s allowed himself to feel with you for the past few weeks it’s almost as devastating as knowing that he’s been making himself comfortable inside of a lie. as he turns over to try to return to sleep he feels that same something unfamiliar burn in his chest.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“you should go anyway,” yeosang says, looking down at wooyoung from his place on the couch.

wooyoung has taken to wallowing in self pity on the floor of his living room, mingi having forcefully pulled him out of the pitiful nest he had created of his bed a few hours ago upon seonghwa’s request.

“and see yunho all over them, no thank you,” wooyoung pouts.

the two of them had been talking about the party at yeosang’s, and by extension yunho’s, place since yeosang had arrived just over an hour ago. the party was supposed to be the final phase of the plan, when you would confront yunho, with the help of the alcohol that would surely be in your system, and wooyoung was obviously less than enthusiastic to see you complete the last stage of the plan. his best friend had been arguing that he could reasonably avoid you the entire night and be able to have fun anyway, but wooyoung wasn’t in the mood to have fun in the first place.

“if you just stay by the beer pong table the whole night i’m sure you’ll be able to avoid them,” mingi supplies helpfully, to which wooyoung whines in response.

“and have a perfect view of the rest of the room, where everyone else will be having the time of their lives, yeah great, very cool,” wooyoung spits sarcastically, limbs flailing about around him as he tries to push away the mental images of all of his friends getting to have a great night while he tries to keep from silently crying into his cup in a corner.

“so you’re just never going to go to another party?” seonghwa asks, stepping over his roommate as he goes about tidying the living room, setting things that had migrated amongst the room back where they belong.

wooyoung stops at this, turning over quickly so he can toss seonghwa, who spares no glance to him, a questioning look. “what do you mean?”

seonghwa just shrugs, dusting an empty shelf before he reorganizes the knick-knacks that would sit on it. “well, if you’re avoiding this party because you don’t want to see them together, then you’re going to have to avoid every party where you know they’ll be, which will likely be every party you’re invited to,” seonghwa explains, enunciating slowly as though wooyoung is only a child.

“and if you’re just avoiding anything they’ll be at together are you going to stop coming to group hangouts, or anything either one of them is at in fear that the other person will show up,” seonghwa continues, oblivious to the way wooyoung seems to be melting into the floor as he realizes how crazy his logic from earlier sounds now that the eldest is breaking it down like this. “so are you just going to stop being friends with both of them?”

wooyoung lets out something akin to a growl as he flops once more onto his back, his legs kicking in the air as he knows that he’s been cornered. “i get it,” he whines, hands smacking gently against his face in defeat.

“if you just rip the bandaid off now it’ll be so much easier,” yeosang adds, “you won’t have built it up more than you have already.”

“i hate when you’re all right.”

so, with the caveat that he can hang onto one of his roommates the whole night for emotional support, wooyoung finally agrees to attend the party.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“have you been avoiding me?”

wooyoung knew it was a bad idea to come to this cafe, the same one he had made that stupid agreement with you at, the one where you might be found more often than not, your favorite cafe. and if any of his friends were here with him they might just call him an absolute idiot, yeosang might even call it masochistic, to think that he could avoid you in the one spot you were sure to be.

“avoiding you?” wooyoung hears himself speak before he is even able to process what he should say, his nerves too frazzled by your proximity, standing closer than he thinks you ever have before. it certainly doesn’t help that with the warmer weather lately you’ve taken to start cycling your summer clothes into your wardrobe, your outfit today including one of your favorite tank tops, showing off the soft skin of your collarbone and shoulders. wooyoung has to use all of his self control to not reach out and brush his fingertips against you, tracing shapes into your skin and feeling you shudder beneath his gentle touches.

he’s snapped suddenly out of the trance he had been sinking into when you speak again, “you haven’t been answering any of my messages.”

at this wooyoung moves his gaze to your face and although he can see the teasing smile that graces your lips he can still spot a bit of disappointment swimming in your eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he replies, sounding much too genuine for the way you had seemed to be trying to hide your true disappointment in the playfulness of your usual cadence you adopted around him, and he feels the familiar pool of guilt start to fill the void that he’d been keeping in the pit of his stomach since you’d broken things off.

as you stand before him, forcing him into your personal space and looking at him expectantly, he thinks back to his decision to turn off notifications from your number, one that all of his friends had already torn him to shreds for. at the time he had reasoned that it was to protect himself from the repeated heartbreak he would suffer every time he might interact with you. unfortunately, in making this decision he hadn’t thought about what his seemingly sudden disappearance from your life might do to you, he hadn’t considered that he might be hurting you, and the guilt only grows.

you seem to be slightly taken back by his apology, likely not expecting him to reply in earnest, taking a moment to collect yourself before you state, “so you admit it, you were avoiding me,” although it comes out as more of a question, your head tilting gently as you seem to be inspecting the man before you, and wooyoung hates that he feels so exposed.

you aren’t even aware of the way you hold wooyoung’s heart in your hands but the longer you stand dissecting his expression the more he feels like your grip on it is too tight. he can’t tell whether you want him to answer honestly, or if you even care if he does, his mind is far too clouded by the scent of your shampoo along with the hurt he can see you trying to hide behind the confusion in your eyes, and he feels the familiar prickle of tears forming in his own.

he watches as your own features turn to concern, but before either of you can move to speak again, you’re both thrust out of the moment as someone behind you asks, “are you two going to move? you’re holding up the line.”

and suddenly wooyoung feels like the entire world can see him, pathetically crying over a person stood directly in front of him, and he needs to get out.

he’s not sure how he manages to make it out of the cafe with his vision as watery as it is, tears now fully rolling down his cheeks, but he assumes muscle memory simply kicked in as he finds himself briskly walking in the direction of his apartment.

“wooyoung!” he hears you call behind him and for a moment he considers stopping but then he feels that familiar burn in his chest, the same one he felt when you’d broken things off, and in a moment of clarity, as his feet carry him further from the agreement you’d both made, he realizes what it is, anger. although he’s never felt anger like this before, anger that roots itself into that guilt he’d been building for the entire time you’d pretended to be something. so it’s not an anger he can quickly pick apart and resolve, no, it’s an anger that feels like it feeds off of everything he’s been through for the past month. he’s angry at himself, for being so stubborn for so long, at his friends, for pushing for him to reanalyze his feelings, at the situation, for being so complicated, at yunho, for being the one you want, at the plan, for making everything worse, and most importantly at you.

his feet suddenly come to a halt, and you must have been closer behind than he thought because just a moment later he feels you running right into his back, not having expected him to actually stop.

“what do you want from me?” he spits, whipping around and causing you to jump in surprise.

“wooyoung,“ you begin softly, feeling his gaze sharp and strong, “what’s wrong?”

“you want to know what’s wrong?” he laughs, the sound void of any real humor. “you’re what’s wrong.”

you try not to react, knowing that he probably doesn’t mean what he’s saying, but he can see the way your hands, that had been hesitantly reaching toward him, suddenly drop to your sides.

“you and your goddamn plan,” he starts. “why couldn’t you have just fucking talked to yunho yourself instead of dragging me along for your own fun? you’re so goddamn selfish it doesn’t even cross your mind that other people might get hurt by the shit you think up. but it doesn’t matter to you does it? no one else’s feelings and emotions really matter as long as you can get what you want in the end. how long are you gonna string along yunho before you have to tell him you’re a liar and break his heart too? how many other guys are you going to hurt and then manipulate into feeling guilty for protecting themselves from you, huh?”

by the end of his rant he’s shouting, surely attracting attention from anyone else just trying to go about their lives that might happen to pass you both on the sidewalk, but wooyoung couldn’t care less, each word cooling the burn in his chest and laced with the anger that he can no longer stand to house inside of himself.

“wooyoung, please-“ you try to start, but he must miss the watery way you speak and how your own tears now threaten to join his on the sidewalk as he interrupts you.

“i wish i could just stop loving you,” and with his final peace spoken he turns and begins, once again, the trek home, an inexplicable exhaustion weighing down his steps.

he barely even registers that you don’t follow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“JUNG WOOYOUNG WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

when he had returned home to an empty apartment, he felt like it was the only good thing that had happened to him in the last month, but then, as he sat in silence, calming his nerves and slowing his racing heart, his actions from the last half hour began to sink into his conscious. he knew his friends would find out what he had done sooner or later, but he certainly didn’t expect to find four of them bursting through his front door in a fury only minutes after he’d arrived.

hongjoong, always the voice of reason, had been the one to shout and announce their presence, his boyfriend, and wooyoung’s roommate, in tow. both men were visibly upset, although reasonably so, and if mingi didn’t have a gentle hold on seonghwa’s wrist wooyoung is sure the eldest would have tackled him to the ground by now.

“i knew you were an idiot but man,” yeosang says, bringing up the rear.

“so,” wooyoung tries, looking anywhere but his friends, “how was lunch?”

hongjoong takes a breath, likely trying to calm himself as he replies, “great, we even ran into a friend,” sarcasm heavy on each syllable.

“oh really?” wooyoung asks just above a whisper.

“yeah,” hongjoong nods harshly with an angry smile, “we would’ve invited them to join us had they not been FUCKING SOBBING,” he ends shouting.

“ah,” wooyoung tries, wishing the couch might just swallow him whole. “so you ran into y/n i’m guessing.” wooyoung lets out an awkward cough, releasing a humorless chuckle as he finally glanced back up at his friends.

“i’m going to ask this again,” hongjoong starts once more, taking several large breaths with his eyes closed to presumably calm himself. “what is wrong with you?”

“what did you do?” mingi takes a turn to speak up, releasing his hold on seonghwa who moves to run a soothing hand along his boyfriend’s back.

wooyoung can’t find the energy to recount the details of your entire encounter, and he also doesn’t feel like being berated for every little misstep he’d taken throughout your interaction, so he resolves to try summarizing the last half hour for the four men that are giving him some of the most expectant looks he’s probably ever seen. “we-uh,” he starts, as eloquently as usual, “we ran into each other and i may have cried and then i may have gotten angry and then i may have, uhm, madethemcry.” his last three words come out as one as he tries to get them out as quickly as possible, hating the way they taste rolling off his tongue.

and now, as the four men that had been listening so closely are thrown into a flurry once more by his statement, he begins to digest his own statement. he made you cry, and he’s sure if the room wasn’t filled with the voices of four of his friends arguing, the crack he feels in his heart would echo against the walls around him.

“i also told them i loved them,” wooyoung says again, barely above a whisper and yeosang is quick to shush the other three.

“you what?”

“i told them i loved them,” he repeats before quickly clarifying, “well it was more like i told them i wished i didn’t.”

and that set them all off again, each of his friends shouting over each other, and wooyoung just sunk into himself, the image of your tear stained cheeks at the front and center of his mind.

after what wooyoung might consider a pretty reasonable 15 minutes of being reminded how he has fucked up in pretty much every way possible, mingi was the first to calm down, always the one to move through his emotions quickly, and yeosang was soon to follow. seonghwa was the next to cool off, half way through a shouted sentence remembering the moment just a week ago in which he’d comforted wooyoung on the same couch he stood in front of now. hongjoong didn’t get the chance to simmer down, seonghwa pushing him to go home before he could pop a blood vessel.

“what are you thinking about?” yeosang asks, sitting himself next to wooyoung on the couch.

“how stupid i am,” wooyoung sighs, staring up at the ceiling.

yeosang sighs, placing a tentative but comforting hand on wooyoung’s bicep. “you’re not stupid,” yeosang says, “you’re just in love.”

wooyoung lolls his head to the side, getting a good view of his friend to see if he was joking, but all he found was sincerity, and a little pity, in the gentle smile on yeosang’s face.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

saturday

y/n: let’s break it off

woo: sure

sunday

y/n: hey, i just told yunho

y/n: just figured you should know

tuesday

y/n: can we talk?

wednesday

y/n: everything okay?

today

y/n: i really need to tell you something

that night wooyoung opens your chat and feels even worse about everything that happened today, but before he can tumble into a cycle of self pity once again, he feels his phone vibrate in his hand.

y/n: are you still going to the party tomorrow?

wooyoung practically tosses his phone in the air with the way he jumps up in surprise, fingers flying across the keyboard to respond. he types out and deletes his message at least five times before he hits send, debating if he should take this moment to apologize in fear that he won’t ever get the chance again. in the end he decides to just answer your question, straight and simple, not wanting to fuck up anything else.

woo: yeah

and in the minute he waits for a response he feels like his nerves are on fire, mentally berating himself for his answer. he should have apologized, or said something else, anything else. you probably wanted him to do more, address what happened earlier in the day, but of course he couldn’t even do that right. so wooyoung starts that spiral again, sinking into the depths of his own mind, until he feels his phone vibrate.

y/n: cool

y/n: i’ll see you there

wooyoung can barely sleep that night, either replaying his mistakes from the day or rehearsing the apology he had to give you at the party.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

yeosang had managed to rope wooyoung into helping with the set up at his and yunho’s apartment for the party, claiming it would help him to get his mind off of things, but as wooyoung knocks on his best friends door, he can feel the anxiety creeping up as he tries to think of a plan for if yunho were to open the door instead of yeosang. wooyoung is so lost in his nerves he doesn’t realize that yeosang has answered until the older man speaks.

“why are you shaking?” yeosang asks, confusion clear on his face as he opens the door wider for the quaking man in question to enter.

“uh, yunho,” is all wooyoung says, as he inspects the state of the apartment.

streamers and other miscellaneous decorations are thrown about the entrance area and living room, the beer pong table already set up in the corner farthest away from the hall to yeosang and yunho’s bedrooms, giving it the best view of the open concept living room and kitchen, and wooyoung tosses around the idea of mingi’s suggestion. he would certainly be able to see when you arrive so he can catch you before you lose yourself in the party tonight.

“oh, he and mingi went to pick up the stuff for drinks,” yeosang shrugs, “i thought mingi would have told you.”

wooyoung just shakes his head before yeosang starts instructing him on what he needs to do, placing the younger in charge of setting up the kitchen while yeosang gets everything hung up in the entrance and living areas.

for the first half hour, wooyoung does have to admit that he is more focused on decorating and organizing the snacks, making sure to leave room for drinks, than the apology he has perfected that had been swirling through his mind all day. he busies himself with which color balloon should be where and whether he should put the salty and sweet together or mix them up a bit so one side doesn’t get more crowded than the other, of which he decides to mix them together, instead of how he should open the conversation he’s dreading. of course as he finally starts managing to sink himself into his task all the way he hears a throat clear behind him.

expecting it to be yeosang who has some little complaint about the way wooyoung hung the streamers or how he should at least put the cookies all together he just says, “i don’t want to hear it.”

instead of one of yeosang’s usual quips wooyoung is surprised to hear a much deeper voice, laced with confusion. “what?”

wooyoung is quick to whip around, ending up face to face with, a slightly amused but mostly puzzled looking, yunho who has a bottle of tequila in one hand and some sort of mixer in the other, a few bags scattered on the floor near his feet.

“sorry,” wooyoung is quick to move, gesturing to the empty space on the counter. “thought you were yeosang,” wooyoung explains, stepping as far out of yunho’s way as he can.

yunho just chuckles lightly, as he sets the two bottles down, turning to wooyoung, “i figured.”

to wooyoung’s surprise yunho doesn’t move to unpack any more of the bags, instead leaning up against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“he went out to grab another cord for the speakers,” yunho explains, “we always manage to loose one.”

wooyoung just nods slowly, his gaze flickering between the decorations still left to be used and the bags that still need to be unpacked, and just as wooyoung is about to move back to do one of those tasks, yunho speaks up again.

“y/n told me,” he says and wooyoung freezes completely, feeling his heart plummet into his feet. he prepares himself for any of the rage that yunho might be about to throw his way, even trying to mentally steel himself for the way yunho will surely laugh at him for telling you that he loved you. how could his love compare to that which is reciprocated by someone you actually wanted.

“i still mean what i said,” yunho continues and wooyoung dares to glance at his friend. “i think you two would be good together.”

now it’s wooyoung’s turn to be puzzled. for a moment he wonders if yunho is sick at all because he certainly wouldn’t tell another guy, especially one that made his crush cry, that they would be good together but with the way yunho doesn’t react to wooyoung’s confusion wooyoung fears that maybe the sleep deprivation has finally caught up to him.

“i know that it was supposed to be all pretend but i don’t think you were lying when i asked you if you loved them,” yunho continues and wooyoung shakes his head like it will clear out his thoughts. “you’re a pretty open book.”

wooyoung decides he might as well bite the bullet and asks, “what did they tell you?”

“that it was fake,” yunho replies easily, “the situationship.”

wooyoung wishes that his answer cleared anything up but instead it only leaves him feeling more lost. does yunho like you? does he know about yesterday? do you still like yunho? wasn’t the end of the plan the party? that had to mean that you ended the plan early, did it not work out?

“i hope it works out for you,” yunho concludes, leaving wooyoung to stand mindlessly in the middle of the kitchen as the older man goes about setting up the drinks.

“thanks,” is all wooyoung can say in response and suddenly the party can’t start soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

when it’s half an hour past go time and you still haven’t arrived, he’s tempted to text you but he decides against it when he realizes he’s not sure what he would even say. mingi had been reassuring him that it was fine, turning to say so every time he would score in the game of beer pong he and a friend of a friend were playing, he thinks she introduced herself as yuri or yeji or something that started with a y but it’s hard for him to remember when his mind has been stuck on you for the last hour now.

“i told you they were pregaming at san’s so you know it’s gonna take them forever,” mingi says before downing the cup in his hand, the girl across the table high-fiving her friend excitedly. “plus i’m pretty sure they were going to wait for jongho to get off work and swing by his place to grab him.”

wooyoung just nods quickly, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. he had decided to forgo drinking until you arrived, wanting to be sober when he talked to you but the longer he waited the more he was regretting that decision, the soda he’d been nursing for the last half hour going flat as it swished around his cup.

before he can start to overthink it, he leans in next to mingi’s ear, not wanting to yell over the music. “i’m gonna grab a drink,” he says, not waiting for his friend’s response before he’s pushing through the crowd of people dancing, making his way to the kitchen.

“they here yet?” yeosang asks as soon as he spots wooyoung entering the kitchen, simultaneously handing an obviously tipsy seonghwa another drink.

“no,” wooyoung responds quickly, tossing the liquid in his cup into the sink before reaching for one of the bottles of soju on the counter.

seonghwa lets out a high pitched giggle, not hiding that it’s at wooyoung’s expense as the younger whips his head to stare daggers at his senior. “don’t you have a hongjoong to be hanging off of?” wooyoung spits and the phrase receives the reaction he’d intended, seonghwa quick to let out a squeaky “joongie!” before making his way back into the clump of bodies wooyoung had just emerged from.

as he watches his oldest friend disappear into the crowd, yeosang following suit, wooyoung catches mingi’s gaze, eyes wide as he ticks his chin in the direction of the front door, and he knows what it means immediately.

you’re here.

he can see the top of your head slowly moving into the center of the crowd, presumably being pulled by none other than choi san, who wooyoung can see is already flushed when the crowd moves and he can catch glimpses of you both dancing together, a bright smile displayed on your face as you laugh at san. he wants to go to you but he feels like his feet are suddenly too heavy, unable to do anything but watch from a distance.

“just the man i was looking for,” jongho says, clapping wooyoung on the back harshly, and successfully pulling him out of the trance you’d put him in.

“why?” wooyoung whines before he turns to jongho, seeing the smile that only his younger friend could lace with a scary sort of anger and wooyoung’s blood runs cold.

“y/n was just telling me about the interesting conversation you two had yesterday,” jongho says, his hand moving from wooyoung’s back up to his shoulder and squeezing harshly. wooyoung resists the urge to yell and instead tries to push the younger’s hand away, ducking under his arm to try and escape.

“i’m going to apologize,” wooyoung is quick to explain, now facing jongho head on in hopes to stop any more of his friend’s attacks.

jongho just drops his smile, muttering a quick, “i hope so,” before he moves past wooyoung and toward the drinks.

once wooyoung is sure he’s no longer in danger of being on the wrong side of jongho’s anger he quickly turns back to the crowd, scanning quickly for you or san. he spots san easy enough, having moved his dancing from the floor up onto the couch that had been pushed up against one of the walls. unfortunately you’re no longer with him and so wooyoung continues his search once more, although it’s starting to prove difficult as he realizes that more people must have arrived during his quick exchange with jongho, the living room packed almost wall to wall.

“who are we looking for?”

wooyoung almost jumps three feet in the air as your voice registers so clearly, your mouth centimeters away from his ear so that you can speak without straining over the music. he places a hand firmly against his chest as he tries to calm his racing heart but when he turns to you he knows the attempt is futile.

“can we talk?” wooyoung eventually manages out between staggered breaths, yelling over the music instead of opting to get closer to you, fearing that he might overstep some sort of boundary if he were to be inside of your personal space.

you only nod in response before you grab his wrist, and wooyoung barely registers where you’re pulling him off to as he focuses on the way your fingertips press into his skin. only once you’ve closed the door behind you two, successfully muffling the music and voices enough to converse without shouting, do you release his arm and he recognizes the room as his best friend’s.

you make no effort to move away from wooyoung once you’ve succeeded in locking the door behind him, ignoring the many extra feet of space that you could place between you both, and wooyoung isn’t sure if he’s overthinking but he would like to assume it’s a good sign.

“i was looking for you,” wooyoung answers your question from earlier, feeling like his mouth is much too dry before he remembers he’s been holding a cup in his hand since you’d arrived and takes the smallest swig of the liquid inside. he notices you aren’t holding a drink and debates about offering a sip of his own to you before ultimately deciding to just set it down on yeosang’s desk, leaning awkwardly to the side in order to reach.

“why?” you ask and wooyoung loses his balance for a moment, falling into you slowly before his feet find better support. if he hadn’t felt hot enough with embarrassment just from starting to fall in front of you, he’s now overheating when he realizes you’d placed a hand on his chest to keep him from completely falling onto you, your palm feeling as though it might burn a hole through his shirt.

he clears his throat nervously as you retract your hand and he misses the searing heat of your skin almost immediately, itching to just grab your wrist and place your hand back. but he doesn’t, because he respects you too much. he loves you too much.

“to apologize,” he finally admits, feeling the heat you’d gifted him moving up from his chest to his cheeks. “i-“ he tries to breath, to remember the apology he’d been practicing in his mind, but it’s so much harder when you’re actually in front of him. your eyes, just as they had in the cafe before his outburst, make him feel exposed, sensitive. “i’m sorry for getting mad at you, i shouldn’t have said what i did,” he’s able to continue, trying hard to return your gaze so that you may be able to spot the sincerity in this apology just as you had his last. “i didn’t mean those things. i was,” he pauses, knowing this is the point in which he could still turn around, pretend that he wasn’t upset for the reasons he was, and so he pushes through anyway. “i was angry at myself and you were just who i could take it out on. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry.”

he searches your face for any change, desperate to see your usual expression replace the frown you sported and smooth out the current crease between your brows, and when your face doesn’t change he’s once again tempted to reach out to you. he wants to just take your face into his hands, to gently message the tension from your temples and to place a gentle peck to the tip of your nose in hopes that he might get to see your smile up close once more before you might just vanish from his life forever.

but instead he keeps his hands firmly at his sides and says, “i wish i could take it all back.”

“all of it?” you ask quickly, your voice practically overlapping his own, and your expression does shift but wooyoung can’t make out the difference.

neither of you speak then for what feels like an hour, your eyes determinedly set on his while you let wooyoung’s gaze flit along your face, trying to find his answer amongst your features, before he closes his eyes with a wobbly sigh.

“i don’t want to stop loving you,” he says, eyes still closed, “but i have to.”

he can feel his chest caving in, the emptiness he’d started calling home consuming him from the inside out as he finally says what he’d been teetering on the edge of admitting for the last month.

“who told you that?” you question and if wooyoung could bare to open his eyes and actually look at you instead of finding cowardly safety behind his eyelids he is sure you would be wearing the same look of frustration he’s seen directed at him so many times before. although now he knows that it doesn’t carry the same playfulness that usually makes him so endeared, the sparkle in your eye that encourages him to bring out that same look more and more.

wooyoung lets out a humorless chuckle, shoulders dropping heavily as he becomes hyper aware of the way he’s been tensing his entire body. “no one,” he says before scrunching up his face in hopes that it will quiet the urge for him to open his eyes and see your face once more. “everyone.”

he hears you let out a huff before you comment, almost indignantly, “well i didn’t get a say.”

wooyoung can’t recall a time he’s opened his eyes faster, tenderness quickly replacing the shock he’d felt when he sees you once more, your gaze now firmly set on the cup wooyoung had placed on yeosang’s desk and arms crossed over your chest, a pout on your lips. he feels the corners of his own lips ticking up in a fond smile.

“so,” he begins to ask, a hint of playfulness coloring his tone as he feels hope build inside of him, “what do you think i should do?”

he’s not sure if you were expecting his eyes to still be closed but as you bring your gaze back to wooyoung’s face he feels like he can easily spot a hint of nervousness beneath your determined expression. you both find yourself in silence once more, this time he’s the one to hold firm, your gaze now traveling along his skin.

“i love you.”

he’s sure if he was any farther from you that he wouldn’t have been able to hear it, the words flowing along an exhale.

“what was that?” he asks, unable to contain the smile that overtakes his features, and he half expects for you to take it back playfully, to mess around with him, but then he watches as a determined smirk creeps onto your face.

“i said,” you start, leaning impossibly closer and placing your hand onto the same spot on his chest as you had earlier. “i love you.”

your lips are on his in an instant, almost imperceptible, the gentlest brush of skin, but wooyoung can feel it.

“i love you too,” he whispers against your lips before one of his hands moves to the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your wrist as he pulls you back into him.

of all the times he’d imagined kissing you, it was nothing like he expected, your lips remaining gentle against his no matter how passionate he became, and wooyoung knew instantly that he was already addicted. he was so utterly consumed by you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“your drink, my love,” wooyoung says, placing a cup down on the table as he takes the seat next to you, his own coffee in his hands, while he places a gentle kiss against your temple.

“gross,” yeosang comments, watching you both from across the table before taking another bite of his macaron.

“yeah,” hongjoong agrees from his seat on your other side. “i didn’t realize that you two getting together meant we would have to watch you both all over each other all the damn time,” he complains as his boyfriend rolls his eyes on the other side of the table.

wooyoung ignores his older friends in favor of grabbing one of the legs of your chair, pulling you toward him so that he can more easily rest his head against your shoulder. he smirks against your skin as he feels a shudder run down your spine when he turns his head to press his lips into the crook of your neck.

you and wooyoung are gathered with a few of your friends in the same cafe that set everything into motion, your favorite place, enjoying your first quiet afternoon as an official couple.

“come on, i think they’re cute,” mingi says, looking between yeosang and hongjoong, who both exchange disgusted looks.

you chuckle, the sound light and airy, making wooyoung’s heart float as he feels the vibrations through his own chest.

“thank you mingi,” you say with a hint of finality, ready for the attention to be away from you two.

you’re thankful that the conversation drifts into a new direction, yeosang mentioning something about the latest star wars movie and sending seonghwa into a spiral about his thoughts and opinions.

“thank you,” wooyoung whispers, lifting his head from your shoulder before resting it on his hand, his elbow propped on the table in front of you.

you send him a confused look, tilting your head gently, but with the way he stares at you, overwhelmed with devotion, you can’t keep a tender smile from gracing your features. “for what?”

“forgiving me,” he elaborates, taking your hand in his.

for a minute you simply bask in the genuine warmth of the moment, watching the way his gaze shifts to your hand as he starts to play with your fingers gently. you’re tempted to bring his own hand up to your lips and let the whole situation stay genuine, but you just can’t keep from teasing.

“who says i forgave you?”

wooyoung is quick to look back up at your face, eyes wide with worry as he lifts his head from his hand, now using both of his hands to hold one of yours. you watch the worry melt away as a pout takes over his features, seeing the playful smirk on your own.

you can hear the whine building in his throat before he even opens his mouth, your gentle giggles matching his volume. “babe,” he groans, dropping his shoulders as he pulls your hand against his chest.

once you’ve calmed down enough from your giggle fit, you reach the hand he’s not holding up to hold his face, watching with adoration as he turns his head to press his lips into your palm before he leans fully into your touch.

as you both sit, just savoring the moment, wooyoung can’t help but reflect on how you both ended up here. so, as he falls deeper into his romantic haze, he can’t help but let you know, “i love to love you.”

↼ ateez masterlist

note so hi, i’m alive. this was just something i wrote for fun recently and now i guess i write for ateez. anyway, hope you enjoyed

let me know what you think?

[chaerssss]

REDAMANCY

Word count:- 2.5k

Pairings:- childhoodbestfriend!hwa x y/n

Type:- Mini series (part 2)

Genre:- Fluff, angst, romance, comedy, a hint of fake relationship. (look forward to the smut in other parts besties!)

Song reccs:- Love, Maybe (secret number), stay with me (miki matsubara), Day and night (Jung seung hwan), Some (bol4)

Seonghwa's theme:- Ditto instrumental (NewJeans)

Y/n's theme:- Gone instrumental (Rosé)

FYI:- The title means a love returned in full

"it'll remind you of us."

The last words.

He heard from you.

It was like a cruel joke, a twisted game of fate. He had come full circle, back to where he started. No progress, no communication, just a crushing feeling of uselessness and heartache. The more he dwelled on it, the more he questioned himself. How could he have let this happen? You were the light in his life, the reason he woke up each morning and stayed up late at night. And now, you wanted to leave. But he couldn't accept it. He couldn't just let you go, not after all you meant to him. It wasn't over for him, not by a long shot.

You were drowning in the hustle and bustle of work, barely keeping your head above water. It was your coping mechanism, but let's be real, it wasn't sustainable. Hongjoong could see right through your facade and was constantly urging you to take a break, maybe even go on a vacation. He knew exactly what was causing your stress, who was causing it. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't do much to help. Letting go was easier said than done. How could you move on after just a few weeks when you've been holding on for seven long years? It was a tough pill to swallow.

"Y/n!" The waitress called out your name, and you hurried over to grab your order. As you fumbled through your pockets for payment, you noticed someone nearby drop their wallet. Without a second thought, you sprang into action and caught it with lightning-fast reflexes. "Oh, your wallet," you said, standing up to return it to its rightful owner.

And then you saw her.

Her hair was a waterfall of luscious black locks that cascaded down to her waist, so wavy and voluminous that you couldn't help but stare. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of branded sunglasses, but when she spoke, her voice was like a chorus of angels singing. "Oh, thank you so much," she said, her politeness only adding to her allure.

You couldn't help but think that you understood why Seonghwa would kiss her. With a woman like that, who wouldn't be tempted to steal a kiss?

Your heart skipped a beat and a wave of panic washed over you, causing your breath to hitch. Without a second thought, you hastily made your way out of the café, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But just as you were about to flee, a sight that could only be described as breathtaking stopped you in your tracks. There stood Seonghwa, leaning against his sleek car, exuding an aura of undeniable charm. It all suddenly made sense - the mysterious woman you had glimpsed inside the café. You knew you had to disappear, ensuring he wouldn't catch a glimpse of you.

As you confidently stride along the path, a resonant voice beckons to you. Distinct from Seonghwa's timbre, it compels you to turn around and behold a familiar countenance donning a puffer jacket that exudes an air of intimidation were it not for his welcoming smile.

"San?" You mumbled as he slipped his way to you, like a child. "Hey, its been such a long time."

"Of course it has been, what are you doing back in town though?" You asked while ruffling his hair, by standing on your tippy-toes. "Hey not my hair!" He said as he tried to settle them back, "nothing just came back for a vacay, mom was missing me..hey you got even shorter than last time I saw you!" He said in a teasing tone while he compared his height with yours.

"Hey I'm not short!" With angry pout, you walked further now with a company. His attention went to all the coffee you had in your hand and he insisted on helping you. "don't tell me you're going to drink this all.." he sounded concern bt you laughed and gently nudged him.

"New employees came, and some interns so they've been working hard." Although, you said it with a smile, San saw your tired eyes. "Have you not been sleeping well?" And he sees the smile on your disappear for a bit but you bring it back and look at him, "No, I'm just growing older."

"Come on, spill it out," he said, his voice laced with a hint of mockery.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of unrequited love pressing down on you. Every day seemed like a struggle, carrying the burden of loving someone who could never be yours. If only there was a little more time, just a tiny bit more, maybe things could have been different.

"Is it the guy you always talked about?" The words hung in the air, and both of you fell into a contemplative silence. San could sense that he had struck a nerve. "Yeah, him..."

You were strolling along, casually pouring your heart out to San as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The memory of the first time you laid eyes on him still lingers in your mind. He was slightly smaller back then, but hey, you're definitely not complaining about his growth. What struck you the most was his undeniable sweetness, even though his aura could be a tad intimidating. But here's the thing, talking to him felt like a warm embrace, so effortless and comforting. Oh boy, that blind date? Let's just say it was an absolute disaster.

It was a day filled with torrential rain, the kind that makes you question why you even bothered with a blind date. As you anxiously waited at the restaurant you had reserved, a group of intimidating men, resembling something out of a mobster movie, caught your attention. Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, you spotted San, sneaking towards you with desperation in his eyes. He pleaded for you to hide him, and somehow, in a stroke of sheer luck, you managed to conceal him under the table.

San had always been a troublemaker back in college, but little did you know that he would turn out to be the unexpected source of laughter on this disastrous evening. Despite the chaos surrounding you, his witty remarks and mischievous charm managed to lighten the mood. However, as the night progressed, a harsh reality hit both of you like a ton of bricks - neither of you had any money. Your wallet had mysteriously vanished, and those menacing goons had stolen San's wallet, the very ones he had dared to mock.

With no other options in sight, you found yourselves facing the daunting task of washing dishes to pay off your unexpected debt. As you stood side by side, scrubbing away at the remnants of other people's meals, laughter filled the air. It was in that moment, amidst the suds and the clattering of plates, that you realized there was something undeniably special about this chaotic encounter.

Sometimes, the most memorable moments in life are born out of the most unexpected circumstances. And as you and San shared this bizarre experience, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this blind date disaster could turn into something extraordinary.

But, your heart was already stolen by a special someone. It's a common dilemma to wonder if you and your crush were meant to be, especially when the timing just doesn't seem right. As you pondered this, San noticed the sadness in your eyes and casually suggested, "Want to make him jealous?" His mischievous mind was clearly at work, and you couldn't help but be surprised by his bold suggestion.

And there was San, bursting with excitement as he unveiled his grand idea, leaving you utterly fascinated by the workings of his brilliant mind.

"Remember that incredible festival our town throws to celebrate the vibrant youth? The one that brings together people from all walks of life, aged between 20 and 40?" he began, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but anticipate what he had in store.

"He's going to be there... and guess what? You're coming with me!" San exclaimed, his voice filled with anticipation. "We'll dress up as a couple, or better yet, we'll act like one. Can you imagine the fun we'll have?" he chuckled, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, unable to comprehend the audacity of his proposal. "You must be a fan of those romantic movies, huh?" you quipped, unable to hide your amusement. (As if you are not.)

"I won't," you said, your gaze fixed on the ground, that familiar smile gracing your lips once again. San knew that smile all too well, a mixture of resignation and longing. It was as if your emotions were an open book, easily deciphered by those who cared enough to pay attention.

"Why, y/n?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"Because he loves someone else, San," you replied, your voice trembling with a hint of sadness. "How can I possibly come between them? It wouldn't be fair to anyone involved."

Your words hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet confession of unrequited love. The weight of your emotions threatened to break your voice, but you soldiered on.

"If only I had the courage back then, if only I had known that what I felt was love," you continued, your voice growing stronger with each word. "I would have confessed my feelings, without hesitation. But now, it's too late. I can't turn back time."

Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with San, his concern evident in his worried gaze.

"I don't think I'm meant to be with him, San," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of resignation and self-doubt. "Perhaps destiny has other plans for me. It's a painful realization, but I have to accept it."

As the words left your lips, a sense of acceptance washed over you. Though the path of unrequited love was a difficult one to tread, you knew deep down that you were strong enough to endure. And perhaps, just perhaps, there was a different love waiting for you, one that was meant to be.

"You know what..." San's abrupt pause caught you off guard, causing you to come to a sudden stop as well. His words hung in the air, filled with a mix of intensity and audacity. "You're an idiot!" he exclaimed, his tone devoid of any remorse. Confusion washed over you as you questioned, "What?"

"Yes, you are," he began, his voice laced with conviction. "You're telling me that you're willing to sacrifice your true love for someone who came between you and Seonghwa?" His eyebrows furrowed, reflecting his own inability to comprehend your actions. "What do you mean?" you asked, desperately seeking clarification.

"Y/n... it was always you and Seonghwa from the very beginning... she's the one who came between you two. And if we're talking about love and all... how can you be so certain that he loves someone else? What if he feels something for you too?" San's words were filled with determination, his unwavering belief shining through. It only made you scoff in response, dismissing his suggestion. "San, he doesn't..."

"Well, we can find out together," he proposed, his voice brimming with excitement. "By going to the festival." The mere thought of embarking on this adventure with San ignited a spark within you, filling you with a sense of anticipation and curiosity.

As you step into the festival, your senses are immediately overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of the bustling event. Food stalls line the streets, tempting you with their delicious aromas, while rides and games beckon you to come and play. But amidst all the excitement, you can't help but notice the abundance of couples around you.

Just as you're taking it all in, your friend San sneaks up behind you and surprises you with an ice cream. "Already looking for him?" he teases, and you shoot him a glare. "I don't think you have the right to mock me," you retort, "especially since you practically dragged me here."

But San just laughs at your adorable reaction. "Oh, don't be like that, baby," he says, leaning in a little too close for comfort. "Don't you know we're a couple today?"

Your heart skips a beat as he inches even closer, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "You're a little close, don't you think?" you manage to stammer out.

But San just grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Can't I?" he murmurs, leaning in even closer. "After all, you're my girlfriend, right?"

And there you are, playfully kicking his shins, causing him to hunch down in pain. "Don't mess with me right now," you assert, but San simply laughs away the discomfort. It's unbelievable that you're actually matching outfits with this man, wearing the clothes he personally picked out. Oh, the lengths you go for love!

But alas, Seonghwa is nowhere to be found. Maybe he didn't show up, thinking these things are too cheesy. Just as you start to lose hope, as if on cue, you catch a glimpse of him. His silhouette stands out in the crowd, and you can even make out his arm... which is being held by someone else.

Uh-oh, he's spotted you. You watch as he struts towards you, looking absolutely stunning. But just as he's about to reach you, San swoops in and pulls you close by your waist. You're so close to him that you can feel his chest against yours, and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your heart starts racing, and you can feel your cheeks turning red. You knew what you were getting into, but this is still a lot to handle. Suddenly, you hear Seonghwa's voice calling out your name, and you snap back to reality.

As Seonghwa's business partner, Soo Hyun Jee stood beside him, her eyes locked onto you. Finally, she breaks the silence, calling out your name. You meet her gaze, and she can't help but comment, "So this is the famous y/n, huh?" With a hesitant gesture, she extends her hand towards you, and you shake it, feeling a sense of unease. "He never stops talking about you, y/n," she adds, introducing herself as Soo Hyun Jee. But there's something in her hesitation that sets you on edge, as if she's implying more than just a business partnership with Seonghwa. And there he stands, Seonghwa, frozen like a statue, unable to comprehend what he's witnessing in that moment.

Meanwhile, San, his hands still resting on your waist, takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "I'm Choi San, nice to meet you both." He extends his hands to both Soo Hyun Jee and Seonghwa, a subtle hint that he's aware of the tension in the air. "I assume you're y/n's friends?" he asks, trying to diffuse the situation.

Seonghwa finally finds his voice and confirms, "Yes, I am." But his words carry a weight, hinting at a deeper connection between you and him. "and how do you fit into y/n's life?" His eyes flickered over to San, who couldn't help but snicker at his over-the-top performance. You couldn't help but roll your eyes - if only he knew how ridiculous he looked. "It's a bit complicated at the moment, but I'm confident I can win over Miss y/n," he boasted. You slowly turned your head towards him, a creepy smile on your face, silently begging him to tone it down a notch. He must have sensed your disapproval because he quickly cleared his throat and suggested they all sit down and chat. You knew this was going to be one awkward rollercoaster ride.

Throughout the entire night, San was acting as though he was absolutely whipped for you, unable to keep his hands off of you. He effortlessly fulfilled all the typical couple activities, playfully making you feed him, capturing adorable pictures together, even helping you clean your mouth after a meal. He was a true gentleman, always ready to pull out a chair for you or offer his coat if you so much as shivered.

But amidst all the bliss, there was a moment when your eyes met Seonghwa's gaze. In that fleeting instant, you could see the pain and sorrow etched in his expression. It was a look that threatened to break your heart, so you quickly averted your eyes, unwilling to let yourself succumb to the emotions that would surely overwhelm you.

However, Hyun Jee, ever observant, couldn't help but notice the disdainful glances Seonghwa directed towards San. It was as if he believed he could outdo San's sweet gestures, scoffing at each one. Hyun Jee couldn't help but chuckle softly, fully aware that Seonghwa was undeniably smitten with you.

You're in a bit of a pickle. You're not sure if trying to make him jealous would even work, because it seems like he's got a trick up his sleeve. He's been getting a little too cozy with his "business partner" and it's making you wonder if he's playing the reverse card on you. But man, does he make you laugh! So, you decided to take matters into your own hands and give San a quick peck on the cheek. The poor guy nearly choked on his water and Seonghwa's eyes practically popped out of his head!

After your little tiff, you guys were ready to hit the road when suddenly, Seonghwa's mom appeared out of nowhere. Talk about bad timing!

"Hwa? Is that really you?" she exclaimed, approaching the four of you with a grin. In that moment, it hit you like a ton of bricks - you had lied to both of your parents about your relationship. Panic set in as you exchanged a quick glance with Seonghwa, silently urging each other to come up with a plan.

Before you could even gather your thoughts, San burst into laughter, unable to contain himself. "Ahaha, yes ma'am, we were indeed on a date at the festival," he blurted out, "and y/n is so affectionate, you won't believe i got kis-" You swiftly kicked his shin, a desperate attempt to silence him, and nervously chuckled, "Oh, he's just had a bit too much to drink, aunty...haha." Seonghwa quickly jumped in to cover your tracks, "Yes, mom, this is my friend San. We actually bumped into him here with his girlfriend, believe it or not. What brings you here, by the way?"

As you tried to navigate this unexpected encounter, the air was thick with tension and the need to keep up appearances. It was a delicate dance of weaving half-truths and quick thinking, all while desperately hoping that your web of lies wouldn't unravel before our eyes.

"Oh, I was just out running an errand and somehow managed to lose my way. It's been ages since I've wandered these streets, so I'm relieved to have stumbled upon you two. I assume you have your car, Hwa? Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get going!"

With a playful nudge to both Hwa and yourself, she made it clear that it was time to leave San behind. Taking a deep breath, you leaned in and whispered to him, "I'll call you later to explain everything. Oh, and..." Your gaze shifted to Hyun jee, "make sure you take her home safely." And with that, you reluctantly followed your so-called mother-in-law.

Just great. Now you were stuck sitting in the same car as him. Despite your best efforts to convince Seonghwa's mother to take the passenger seat, you found yourself seated right beside him.

The atmosphere inside the car was thick with an almost tangible silence, as if it had a weight of its own. Not a single one of you had the audacity to break the stillness. Instead, your eyes were fixated on the passing streets, seeking solace in the outside world.

Just when you thought the silence would persist indefinitely, Seonghwa's mother shattered it with a seemingly innocent question, delivered with an air of nonchalance. "So, when am I going to be blessed with some adorable grandkids?" Her words hung in the air, carrying a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

It was as if a sudden jolt of electricity surged through the car, instantly capturing everyone's attention. The question had caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but exchange glances, searching for a way to respond. Seonghwa's mother, with her innocent expression, seemed oblivious to the impact of her words.

"Mom!" Seonghwa whined, his face turning a bright shade of red as he desperately tried to make his mom realize how inappropriate her questions were. "Aigoo, just look at him, so embarrassed! I know you two have already taken that step!" His mom continued, causing you to feel utterly mortified. You coughed and choked, desperately signaling your discomfort.

Finally, Seonghwa's mom ended the awkwardness with a sweet note. "Hey, I was just trying to lighten the mood. I know you two had a fight. And if it's because of you, Hwa, I'll scold you a lot. So, you better treat Y/N the way she deserves, alright?" She then turned to you, gently patting your head. "Y/N, my dear, I hope you find comfort with my son. And if there's ever a problem, you can always discuss it with me. I'm always here for you. Take good care of him too. You know how much of a crybaby he is..." With those words, she stepped off at her house.

"Leave Y/n at her house," she said, waving as she started to walk back. But then, she suddenly screamed, "I'm giving you an opportunity to give me grandkids!" This only made you and Seonghwa even more embarrassed.

The car ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence, but then, unexpectedly, Seonghwa broke it with a hesitant question, "So, San...huh?" Your heart skipped a beat as you let out a sigh, trying to maintain a composed demeanor, "Yeah." But then, he said your name, and it was like magic. The way he pronounced it made your name sound like a symphony, flowing effortlessly from his lips. How could you possibly resist him? Please, Seonghwa, don't do this to me. Your mind raced with thoughts, desperately trying to keep your emotions in check. And then, he asked the question that pierced your heart, "...do you hate me?"

You sit there, your mind racing as you try to decide what to do. Your fingers fidget nervously as you contemplate your response. Finally, you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, "What if I say yes?"

His heart sank as he let out a heavy sigh, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. The weight of his words hung in the air, shattering your world into a million pieces. The last thing you wanted was for him to stay away from you. "I love you, and I want you near me, I need you Seonghwa," you thought desperately, your heart aching with longing.

But what if you had the courage to tell him exactly how you felt? What if you took a leap of faith and bared your soul to him? With a deep breath, you gathered your strength and spoke, your voice as cold as ice, cutting through the tension. "That wouldn't happen unless you tell your parents the truth." A challenge and a plea all at once.

In that moment, Seonghwa realized the gravity of his actions. He had given up, succumbing to the unbearable weight of your disdain. He couldn't fathom what he had done to make you despise him so deeply. The pain etched on his face mirrored the ache in your own heart.

You were in a state of emotional turmoil, with tears streaming down your face as you confided in your mother about Seonghwa's mistreatment towards you throughout the day. Which you were a 90 per cent reason of.

However, when you disclosed that you and Seonghwa were never in a relationship, your mother's response caught you off guard. She had known all along, and it seemed like your parents were secretly rooting for you two to be together.

As your mother comforted you, she reminded you of your long-standing attraction towards Seonghwa. Even as a child, you felt a need to protect him, and in high school, he was always there to protect you. Your parents believed that you two were destined to be together.

Your father chimed in, emphasizing the importance of communication. Your mother then asked the question that you were hesitant to answer. "Did Seonghwa make you feel something?" You couldn't deny it. "I swear when he looks at me i can't breathe and i find myself incomplete without him. However, with him, I know i would be exactly where i wanted to be."

Your father couldn't resist teasing you, joking about how he couldn't believe he was listening to his daughter talk about her crush. Nonetheless, the laughter that ensued was a welcome relief from the tears.

Ultimately, your parents encouraged you to communicate with Seonghwa and explore where your feelings could lead you.

Somewhere in a different scene, things were quite the same, Seongjwa was also in his besides his mother, crying, pouring out his feelings to her. He recieved the same replies he same encouragements...but it was easier said than done. He spent the night awake, his heart aching with longing for you. The mere thought of your absence made him restless, yearning to hold you close and whisper sweet words in your ear.

He leaned against the cool glass door, his hair disheveled and falling around his face. Wearing an oversized shirt that revealed his delicate collarbones, he murmured to himself, "I miss you y/n-ah..." in the quiet of the night.

Seonghwa was determined to make you his, knowing deep down that you shared the same feelings for him. He believed that you too had endured years of pain and longing. He was determined to make up for all the mistakes he had made.

He held your earring tightly in his hand, bringing it close to his chest and feeling the warmth of your presence in his heart. With a tender kiss, he whispered those three magical words, "I love you..."

You rubbed your eyes and stumbled out of bed, still groggy from sleep. As you made your way out of your childhood bedroom, you were met with an infectious energy that filled the air. Your parents were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, and you couldn't help but feel curious about what was going on.

"Guess what? We're going to Italy!" your mom exclaimed, practically jumping up and down with joy. Your dad was already planning out all the tourist hotspots he wanted to visit. And yet it took you a lot of time to realise they actually meant it.

it's been a whole week since the whole 'italy trip' announcement and you found yourself seated on an airplane, right next to the one and only Seonghwa. you couldn't help but feel like you were caught in the middle of your parents' mischievous plan. It's like they ship you and Seonghwa more than you ship yourself! You even tried to complain to your mom about Seonghwa already having a girlfriend, but she quickly reminded you, "Oh, they broke up, remember?"

But here's the thing, deep down inside, you can't shake the feeling that Seonghwa's ex-girlfriend has made a grand return, disguised as his so-called 'business partner'. It's like a plot twist straight out of a romantic comedy!

And if that wasn't enough, your mom hit you with another perfect reason to go along with this trip. Apparently, Seonghwa's parents still believe you two are in a relationship. Talk about pressure! But hey, you couldn't resist the allure of this adventure, and you had no idea that Seonghwa's parents were in on the whole charade. It's like they were playing cupid, orchestrating this grand opportunity for you and Seonghwa.

And, Seonghwa was not about to let this chance slip through his fingers. He was determined to make the most of it, no matter what. Who knows what surprises await you on this journey? One thing's for sure, it's going to be a wild ride!

What really got under your skin was how much attention your parents lavished on Seonghwa. They seemed to prioritize him over you in every way imaginable - from giving him your favorite blanket to supplying him with an endless array of snacks. And whenever you tried to speak up, it was as if they were completely oblivious to your existence. It was beyond frustrating, especially when you know your mom would brush off your concerns with a casual "Oh, come on, he's my future son-in-law." If complained. Ugh.

As you shoot a sidelong glance at your parents one last time before the plane takes off, you can't help but feel a pang of annoyance. He turns to you and whispers, "I think your parents like me even more than you do..." You roll your eyes, unable to deny the fact that you actually liked him.

Now, he's sitting there, munching on the strawberries your mother specially handed him, and his gaze is fixed on you. "Why do you keep staring at me?" you finally ask, unable to ignore his intense gaze any longer.

He leans in slightly, his voice barely audible as he whispers, "Sorry, it's just a force of habit..." Then, he playfully pulls down the sleeping mask on your head, covering your eyes. "I can't help but look at that ridiculously cute face of yours." You're grateful for the mask, as it shields you from having to face him directly. Your heart is racing, and you're certain your cheeks are flushed. How on earth are you going to survive this eleven hour long flight?

Seonghwa's heart was racing as he sat there, feeling the same way you do. He knew he had to step up his game because he wanted you to be his. he couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of you being his. After three hours of trying to sleep, he finally managed to doze off for a little over half an hour. Suddenly, he felt something heavy on his shoulder and when he looked over, he saw you sleeping soundly next to him. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you looked.

As he traced your cheeks and tucked your hair behind your ear, he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to be yours. "Be mine y/n," he whispered softly. Seeing you so peaceful and relaxed made him chuckle a bit, knowing how different you were in real life. But his moment of bliss was interrupted by someone kicking your chair.

He saw you twitch and he held on for his dear life, and immediately spoke up. "Could you please control that kid of yours? My girlfriend is trying to sleep," he said, before putting a blanket on you and caressing your forehead and placing a chaste kiss to your forehead, "Sweet dreams," he whispered, hoping that you would feel safe and loved in his arms. But what he didn't predict, was that person asking him if you, aka, 'his gf' "your girlfriend slept alright?" And you were already throwing glares his way.

And just like that, 11 hours had slipped away in the blink of an eye, leaving you standing at the airport with your massive suitcases. You couldn't deny it, the thrill of adventure was starting to fade away, replaced by a creeping sense of exhaustion. All that remained was a mere flicker of excitement as you finally arrived at the hotel.

"And both of your room number is 3001. Here's the key," the receptionist announced, handing over the precious key. As you stood there, barely able to keep your eyes open, Seonghwa eagerly snatched the key from her hands with a cheerful smile. Goodness gracious, you thought to yourself, there's no way you can survive living with him.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Seonghwa declared with a mischievous grin as the two of you stepped into the room. "You can take the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch." But before you could even take a step further, you halted in your tracks, disbelief etched across your face. "You honestly expect me to live here with you?" Your reaction caught Seonghwa off guard, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Why... what do you mean, y/n?" he scoffed, his voice tinged with confusion.

"Seonghwa," you took a deep breath, your gaze fixed on him, "I told you to give up this whole fake dating charade. You know very well that you're still entangled with your girlfriend, and I'll just end up being the homewrecker in this situation."

You continued to ramble, unaware that he was slowly making his way towards you. As he closed the distance, you instinctively took a step back, only to find yourself pressed against the wall. His intense gaze never wavered, and he loomed over you, leaving you with no escape.

Inhaling deeply, you locked eyes with Seonghwa, refusing to back down. He leaned in closer, placing his arm against the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you. He simply stood there, studying your face as if he were capturing every detail in his mind's eye.

The air grew thick, and you couldn't help but feel breathless as you returned his intense gaze, standing your ground without hesitation. And then, he leaned in even closer, so close that your breaths mingled, his intoxicating scent enveloping your senses.

God, if it weren't for your pride, you would have kissed him right then and there. And then, in a raspy, deep voice you had never heard before, he spoke, "Did you think I was going to kiss you?"

A rush of butterflies erupted in your stomach, making it difficult to breathe. Your mind was a blur, consumed by his presence. From the tip of his nose to his soft lips, he had your undivided attention.

But you weren't alone in that room. A few hotel guests passed by, casting strange glances your way. Without missing a beat, Seonghwa shielded you with his towering frame, his eyes fixed on the onlookers. He was dangerously close, and it sent a thrill down your spine.

It's crazy, but yeah..in the end you did find yourself on the bed of the hotel room. However, sleep did not greet you the whole night. So, the next day you were practically half-asleep as your families, explored the various monuments and places in Venice.

The three days were absolutely tiring, during the day you tried to act like a couple, and during night you had to cope up with the awkwardness due to his presence.

Until one night ...

"You're awake right?" you whispered, hoping for a response. You could sense his presence behind you, even though your backs were turned towards each other. "Yes" he replied and then went quiet. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, as if it had taken over every inch of space.

And then, breaking the stillness, he began, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation. You could tell he was about to reveal something that would ignite a spark within you. "You know," he said, drawing out the words, "those bracelets I gave you... they weren't just ordinary bracelets."

"they were wish bracelets"

He said and you remembered they were once a trend back in when you were in middle school.

"You wear them...and when they fall, you know your wish is about to come true."

"..."

"I didn't untie it at graduation, it fell...i thought I'd lost it."

Your breath became quicker, "but you found it."

[rairecs]

title: show me your sure sign author: suheafoams rating: mature wordcount: 11976 fandom: ateez pairing: jung wooyoung/kim hongjoong summary: 

“Hey,” Wooyoung says. His lips settle in between a smirk and an easygoing grin. Hongjoong’s stomach bounces somewhere onto the ground and out the door.

Time doesn’t freeze or slow down, as much as Hongjoong would like it to. He stalls for time all by himself and blinks at Wooyoung’s collar, wondering if the brooch will disappear on the third blink. Or tenth.

It doesn’t.

By god, Hongjoong screams on the inside. This cannot be happening to me.

(Hongjoong prepares for the worst when his friends set him up on a blind date. He is ridiculously unprepared for Jung Wooyoung.)

link

[luumiinaa]

This was so beautifully written; got me so immersed and swimming in sorts of angst 😭💕

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: mature, romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: Drug use (weed), alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm, mentions of pregnancy

Length: ~27k

Note: this is a rewrite of this fic i posted for christmas last year. switched some things, updated my writing style and added some scenes. thank u @haologram for suffering through beta reading this. dedicated to my dearest @miniseokminnies

Summary: Wooyoung broke up with you months ago. In his own shame and embarrassment, he's never told his family. Now they're expecting you for Christmas, just like they have for the past 8 years. So he does the only thing he can think of: beg you to pretend you're still dating.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

June

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“...and forth so much but—What?” 

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door. You don’t care. You’re already outside and turning the block, completely unaware that several whip around to look at the man left at the table.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening. The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday, paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year, so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite,” she laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that. He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there,” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got your number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed. Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with your response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm. 

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!” 

“Hi,” you deadpan. “What do you want, Wooyoung?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but you’re right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” you drawl.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from your end along with a few curse words sounding far away before you continue. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now,” you insist.

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

He can hear your eye roll. “Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit anymore.”

“I can tell them you’re busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No.” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down your face, fingers massaging your temples the same way you always did when his shenanigans stirred up trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

He can’t believe you answered his call, let alone agreed to this stupid plan. But he completely can because now matter what happens, you’re a better person than he’ll ever deserve. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so—”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.” Wooyoung bites his tongue to stop the habitual I love you from slipping in.

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for you to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early 

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great. ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between you. Eight years of dating but now you’re a stranger, the last text messages arranging for Lisa to pick up a box of your stuff from his apartment. 

Six months and he didn’t know if you kept your hair the same way or what new book you were obsessing over in the sparse free time from the hospital; if your neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one. 

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door.  He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit. Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since you would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS? 

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket 

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees you’re flying out of New York, not Boston. Why aren’t you flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and you wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless there was a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. You live here, in New York. You’d been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long? Where were you working? What neighborhood did you live in? Why didn’t he know you moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

Wooyoung: since when?

He doesn’t expect a response right away. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. You’re a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when he met you at some dive bar and realized you shared a behavioral psych class. You always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day. Wooyoung would probably get an answer in the next few days but he needs to know right now.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well, fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew you moved back to the city.

Double fuck.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her. 

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face. “This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them until he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family across the country?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, Hongjoong eyes you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…” 

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake? 

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked.

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child,” he tsks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chest piece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper,” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient. 

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season. 

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you split a cab?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford downtown. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You were never one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. Back in April, when you and Wooyoung visited for her birthday Bibi decided to skip asking when you two would tie the knot and go straight to procreation. 

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

The line for security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place. “Congrats, man.”

Wooyoung gives a tight smile. “Thanks.”

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

The flight attendant keeps her best customer service voice but something dies behind her eyes. “Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, you know Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teacher's salary. In the end, a few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

 “No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you,” you say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does, in fact, exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several. The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar. 

“Cranberry margarita.” You slide over your credit card. “And start a tab, please.”  

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart; the second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic but there is no way this is happening. The world isn’t that cruel.

Even if he deserves it.

You stand twenty feet away in the usual flight attire, every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw you. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of your nose. The silver carry-on you bought in the airport during the last visit to his family at your side. And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting your lips when you catch him staring.

Better he sees you for the first time since the break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, you can kill him multiple times over with looks alone, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if you hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

You actively avoid looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for the flight. But you keep focus on your phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is Lisa. If he wakes up to the tiny blonde in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three; flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as you strut down the hall without a glance back. 

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when he shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t find you amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle. 

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes. 

Two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan. You can’t lie to her. It’s one thing for Wooyoung to play this entire charade in her face and you to go along. It’s another to ask you to look her in the eye and pretend you hadn’t spent the last six months pretending her son didn’t exist.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” the man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you.”

Wooyoung stares blankly, glazed eyes bugging out his skull like he can’t believe the irony either. If habit and history were to repeat itself, he carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left. 

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words. It might as well be ancient hieroglyphics.

“Y/N,” he tries again. In your periphery, Wooyoung folds over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you. 

“What?” you snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patients brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core. 

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land. The seatbelt sign chimes off and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it. 

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear. Once Wooyoung is out of earshot, you apologize, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while after he offers to trade seats. You refuse. If you sat next to Wooyoung they’d need more than a few people to pull your hands from his neck.

The stranger, Jay, laughs. “That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.” 

Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder. “Excuse me.”

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you. 

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” You stare straight ahead. His hand brushes yours by accident and you make more space between you so it doesn’t happen again.

“How’s work?” Wooyoung asks.

“Fine.”

“Okay, look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least pretend to act like we like each other?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you are for this charade.

“Fine,” you sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the bus to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work. A small blessing to avoid running into Wooyoung so soon after the break up.

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up. 

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” she cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Waving at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can circle back to the passenger door.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah. Good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate. 

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach at the moment. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. If you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened, then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” she gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you catch some sleep in the backseat during the long drive. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing your stomach. You shrug his hand off your thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of your sweater

His mom opens the driver's door, inviting in the chilly air from outside. “Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.”

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were both students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snow globe. 

Another yawn before braving the outside, Wooyoung spots you in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

He wants to pull you into his arms and kiss you back to sleep. Follow the slope of your nose and bow of your lips with his fingertips until you swat him away and hide in the warmth of his neck. Six months ago he could have. Now, he has to brave the cold himself.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, shouldering her away from the trunk as she insists on helping carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and your carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” You call across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as you struggle with the luggage.

“I can see that,” his dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house.

His dad lifts your larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while you balance your tote bag and his carryon. Wooyoung manages to snag the canvas bag off your elbow as he walks past. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight, the faint glow of Christmas lights illuminating the climb to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly. 

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time he shared the quilt covered bed. How the last trip here had been the last night you slept in his arms; the last time he laid you bare beneath him, giggled against your lips as you both tried and failed to stay silent; the last time he fell asleep tangled in you, with the blue velvet box he brought everywhere hidden in his suitcase only feet away, ready to ask you at the drop of a hat. 

Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it first happened. 

The same blue velvet box with the same ring sits in his suitcase but he can’t think about it because if he does he’ll beg you to come back to him. You lay curled under the quilt like before except this time Wooyoung can’t glue himself to your back and trace shapes on your stomach for you to guess. He can’t kiss you good night and tell you he loves you even though he still does; he probably always will. He can’t do it. 

Because you deserve better. 

A better life, a better man. One who doesn’t rope you into this level of insanity instead of asking for a second chance and explaining why he ruined the best thing in his life. 

But Wooyoung is a coward. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in your own suitcase, you scoff at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

A tiny speck of hope you might want to share the bed for other reasons melts into nothing. Of course, you wouldn’t want him anywhere near you. The moment in the car when he was feigning slip just to feel the gentle scratch of your nails through his hair meant nothing. “She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s going to happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” You grab your toiletry bag and shuffle to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva,” Wooyoung whines. But his rebuttal bounces off the piece of wood locking him alone in his room.

When you return from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. You leave first thing in the morning the day after Christmas and after he gets back to the city he can tell his family the truth. Or an altered version of events where Wooyoung hasn’t lied to all of them.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity. 

This was his idea. He can do this. He can pretend everything is fine. He can share a bed with you and be totally normal; unlike every other time you fell asleep in his bed since the beginning of your now finished relationship.

He finds you balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space open for him to sink into. His chest squeezes but he stays silent as the minutes tick by. He knows you’re awake. Your leg twitches and brushes back against his before you jerk away like his skin burns. 

Wooyoung wants to roll over and trace the dip between your shoulders like he used to when neither of you could fall asleep. It’d work in no time, he knows it. But he settles for counting backwards until his thoughts drift off.

You fall asleep somewhere around the second time he reaches the forties. When Wooyoung reaches zero again, he starts over. 

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone. 

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?” 

You tilt your mug towards her. ���This is fine.”

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment those four years you attended medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to your fingers brushing his hair like always, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of your short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as your heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, you’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all those months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as you sit at the counter, cradling a steaming mug. If Wooyoung had to bet, it probably contained more sugar and milk than coffee.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to you nonetheless, resting his cheek on your shoulder, feeling you startle at the contact. Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in your sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget you're lying to everyone in the gentle passes of your cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

His mom works to heat the pan on the stove. “Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.”

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” you mumble for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning at the hands of nosey grandmothers.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met you, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available, and Oh she also wants to be a teacher! Isn’t that cute? But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of you and him at the park, cheeks smashed together, announcing he was not so casually dating you, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met you at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend. 

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung survived it, their older brother survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling. It was good for him.

The second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of your overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste of dating again. 

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother,” his mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” you snap, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud. You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on one as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message. “Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jungs you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could reverse the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs. 

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothing's come up yet.” 

“That sucks,” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the  It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable. 

A light tap at the door startles you from the nosedive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood. 

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed and lean against it. “I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

 “Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” you whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind. “You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Oh?” 

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess—”

Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all. Wooyoung won’t look at you, not that you can look at him either. 

Kids.

Just another thing on the long list of wants you wouldn’t be getting. For so long, children were this amorphous thing you wanted some day. That was until Wooyoung came along and slowly changed those vague thoughts into real hopes. They had been discussed to death over and over. Wooyoung wanted as many as possible before he started teaching, then eagerly explained that two kids were more than enough after his first day of school.

All those nights snuggled in bed talking about baby names, Wooyoung offering to stay at home if you wanted.

“I’ve always wanted to be a trophy husband,” he told you. He smothered his face in your neck, sealing the offer with a gentle kiss. “Could be a trophy dad too.”

“You’d give up teaching to raise my baby?” you asked.

“I’d give up everything if that's what you wanted.”

He would have.

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. He should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were hypothetical, no matter how often you two discussed them; but marriage was almost reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, finally you and him.

Wooyoung tries not to think about Bibi’s comments but the mug of tea sits steaming on the table and the images are just there. You pregnant; a nursery decorated in greens like the one you told him about; celebrating Christmas in the city, the snow covering everything and requiring the little tyke to be wrapped up until they resembled an overstuffed dumpling.

His mind wanders as the board crowds with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quad, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her. 

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with you before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an A and every other letter I need for ACQUAINT on a triple word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom one hundred and seven points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with you in victory; cheeks squished together, matching bright tipsy grins. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

You don’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of your chair while you settle into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of your head, relaxing firm pressure of your body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

In the cool toned light of dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that separate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet sound fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your underwear.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong – so so so wrong – to fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your needs. But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” you groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress. “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow. Three more days and you can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon. In the meantime, you turn on the coffee pot and wait as the kitchen fills with the comforting smell. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family. 

Wonderful.

“Morning, sweetie.” Bibi bursts into the kitchen, a whirlwind of activity even at the early hour. 

“Coffee?”

“That stuff's no good for you,” she chides, taking a spot at the dining table with her own cup. “Our appointments are in thirty minutes, better go get ready before the boys use all the hot water.”

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom. Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows you pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard that whimper, felt your legs squeeze together the way you always did when you needed his help. Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch you to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of this charade he needed less complications, not more. Sex felt like it would make things very, very complicated.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of you in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down your nose from on top of his lap. And his personal favorite, on your knees, eyes watering as your swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of your throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung closes his eyes as the evidence swirls the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

Out of the steam, he returns to his room, ready to throw on a pair of sweats and spend the day sleeping to avoid his feelings.  Too busy thinking about you, Wooyoung isn’t paying attention when he opens the door and runs straight into you.

Also half naked.

“Oof!” 

Wooyoung grunts with the impact from the floor. Arms caging your head, you stare up at him like you can’t believe he’s there. Bare chest on bare chest. His towel unties, leaving his right leg naked against yours, hips cradled against your own.

This is not happening.

“What the hell?”

“Why are you naked?” he stutters.

Very naked, and pressed against him intimately. The heat of your core is more than enticing. Even though he washed all the desire from this morning away, his body betrays him from years of habit. Maybe touching you wasn’t such a bad idea. What could it hurt?

“I thought I’d flash you,” you spit, eyes rolling. “I was changing.”

You’re still beneath him, squirming. Right against his dick. A pang of want rushes through him like a thousand volts, his nerves turning into individual live wires everywhere your skin meets his. The cold sneaking through the windows is all more evident by your pinched nipples pressing into his chest.

“I didn’t know you were in here,” he explains. Still, he doesn’t move. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“Cleary.”

You must realize he’s hard because you stop moving, staring wide eyed as his entire body lays heavy against yours. He should have let you talk him into whatever you wanted earlier, consequences be damned. Your gaze lingers on his mouth. He doesn’t want to make assumptions but your head tilts, breath fanning his chin. His own stutters, eyes flitting between your mouth and your eyes as he leans closer and—

“YN? Are you ready?” Mia calls from the door. “We don’t want to be late!”

“Just a minute!” you respond. “Get off.” 

Wooyoung scrambles to his feet, towel back around his waist to hide what little of his dignity is left. Which is, somehow, far less than when he entered the shower minutes ago.

He tries not to look but you're standing there, breasts on display, and Wooyoung is only a man who was in love with you for years and still very much is no matter what lies he tells himself.

“Turn around, this isn’t a peep show.”

He does, but an argument fizzles at the tip of his tongue. He’s seen you naked enough to draw you from memory; the mole on your shoulder, the scar on your hip from when you learned to ride a bike and fell into a ditch, the knobs of your spine. Wooyoung knows all of them like the back of his hand. A couple months ago you would have goaded him into looking as much as he wanted, teased him and in the process riled yourself up until looking turned to touching.

You clearly don’t want that as you race to throw on whatever clothes are nearby and rush out the room.

Stupid.

He can’t believe he nearly kissed you. He actually can but what he can’t believe is you seemed to want it just as bad as he did. But it wouldn’t make anything better. This wasn’t a movie where he could kiss you and all the problems plaguing your relationship would disappear. You’d still hate him and he’d still be hopelessly in love with you.

After dressing and basking in humiliation, Wooyoung descends to the living room where his dad and brothers watch a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time? 

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

The nail salon buzzes with conversation. The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights, reminding you of the hospital. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you. 

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

Wooyoung’s stunt this morning was perfect cannon fodder for your idle mind. It didn’t mean anything; biological reactions to seeing someone and feeling someone who knew your body intimately for years. Seeking closure in the most primitive way after months without any sort of gratification. It meant nothing.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her. 

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast. 

“Yeah?” 

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day,” you laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…” That we aren’t together, you finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho…”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things only for it to be all for naught. 

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year, toothy smiles wide as they wave at him.

“I think being scared means you care. You can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” you whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch. 

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest. 

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teetering with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain, pull him upstairs to tangle your limbs between his and find sleep together. But you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the contents on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner. The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own – alone – before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed your shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly propositioned him in his childhood bed. And again on the floor.

Three more days, you think.

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of you curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles your face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world keeps you occupied. 

Wooyoung aches to scoop you against his chest and litter kisses all over your face, fingers ironing out the wrinkles creasing your forehead. To smile at your whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. This morning was a mistake. Even thinking about you the way he has is a mistake.

Even if it kills him not to touch you like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject you to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling you into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding your shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

You respond with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over your head to hide away.

“C’mon, it's almost time for dinner.” 

“Youngie, it’s cold,” you protest as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from your iron grip. “I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, you blink against the overhead light. “I’m up!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

You mutter empty threats the entire way to the kitchen, so close your cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits. 

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. You demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year Wooyoung brought you home; Mia claiming victory in your absence the year after. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright.” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery. But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches you attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. They're half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What you don't know is that those are your gumdrops and his are stashed under the table.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting, loose interpretations of houses.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” you ask. The horrendous green and red abomination resembles nothing Wooyoung has ever seen before.

“See, you get it!” 

Shaking your head, you point at the monstrosity sitting in front of you. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps… if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes. A chorus of groans around the table answer. 

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s Willy Wonka.

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his. “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard. Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year. Doesn’t even pretend Wooyoung has a shot.

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match. Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition dating back to his earliest memories.

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please,” his dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is your leaving through the same door he is, and that a menacing sprig of green leaves sit just above in wait.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” you grunt.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own. 

If you were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop you into his arms and make an entire production of giving you a short peck on the cheek – his parents were watching after all – while you laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into your eyes, barely missing the nod as you leave a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the passing contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize you’ve walked away until you’re turning a corner and are out of sight. 

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel like nothing happened.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! you think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

One stupid, G-rated kiss and you act like a bumbling teenager. Wooyoung’s morning wood was pressed against you twelve hours ago and you can’t handle a peck. 

What was wrong with you? 

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest. All those tightly stashed feelings you swore would never have a home in your heart settling back in like they never left. Honestly, they hadn’t. Six months was nothing compared to eight years together.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last-minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. He didn’t give any answers to the questions you were dying to ask. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable. And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more. 

Toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter. He stayed quiet after the mistletoe. Not that you had much to say yourself.

When you return to his tiny room, it’s notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets alone. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed. 

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss? Or was it this morning? But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

Christmas Eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night's sleep on the freezing, unforgiving floor can dull his excitement. He woke early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space while you slept soundly.

Part of the reason he slept on the floor is the knowledge that if he woke up with you pressed against him again, he’d agree to whatever you wanted from him. He was too selfish to say no a second time.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So, with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize. You’d basically avoided him after the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite to do so. Technically, you kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth. Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed about it.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky. His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving. 

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently, now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him.  “Alright,” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He pleads you for help, but you can only offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in. 

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market on the way home. The house is peaceful as everyone works in quiet content.

Until Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. Kyungmin was a sweet kid; he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager. It’d be weird if he didn’t have one. But to hear he’s been out right rude, and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. 

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep. 

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins. It's been months since you let loose, too tired from the hospital. But in the quiet cold, the fuzziness bubbling in your veins is exactly what you need.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college,” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

He takes another hit, coughing twice before answering slowly. “No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing,” you chuckle.

Wooyoung spent all his high school years and college breaks as Bibi’s helper; coincidentally meeting some long friend’s granddaughter each time. It all stopped when you came around. 

Kyungmin goes to light the bowl again and you snatch it from his hands, some big sister instinct taking over. He lets you and flops back into the snow covered roof. “They just stare at me. It’s creepy.” 

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all. He staunchly ignores your raised brow.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school,” he admits. “And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool,” you nod. “So you like her?”

Kyungmin flounders for a second, caught red handed. “I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

If your eyes rolled any harder, they’d pop out of your skull and launch off the roof. “Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league,” he sighs.

He sounds a lot like Wooyoung. Back when you first started dating and he learned you were applying for med school, there was an air of unworthiness that rolled off him. Wooyoung never explicitly told you he felt that way about himself but he didn’t need to. 

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit. You let him this time.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungho calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect,” he responds, folding in half to climb out the window.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof. 

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what, hair a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him.  You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it. 

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

Wooyoung’s breath caresses the shell of your ear before he speaks. “What are you guys doing out here?”

You resist the urge to shiver for an entirely new reason.“Bibi.”

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky. 

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while. 

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. One of your fingers slips around his, hooking them together briefly. Wooyoung doesn’t squeeze back but he doesn’t move away either.

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look you in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted you on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was your own family; how he wanted to cry when your fingers circled his own. 

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between your spread legs. 

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are. 

He doesn’t think twice about dropping a kiss against your knee until you stiffen. Idiot. Every time he swore he was going to be better, his body acted on autopilot. Falling into old habits and thoughts like they were second nature.

Resting his cheek against your thigh, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch you anymore. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, he’s too weak to stop himself. 

Considering the way you keep staring at him every time you think he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think you would want him to stop either. 

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind you up the stairs. You both get ready in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for you to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds you in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night,” you explain.

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.” 

“Just take the bed.”

“No,” you protest.

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out your scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes, you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now, shut up.”

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep on the floor if you continue to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, you were a menace. You’d cave eventually when your hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to you. His entire left side burns in your heat, acutely aware of every shift of weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from the kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, when he jacked off to old memories and then ending up tangled with you half naked on the same floor he now laid, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

It’s freezing. That’s the excuse he tells himself as to why you snuggle closer, leg splayed across his hip and face buried in his neck. It’s reflex, is what he tells himself when he presses his lips to your hairline and you grab a fistful of his shirt.

He doesn’t have an explanation when you slide over him, taking a seat in his lap. He doesn’t need an explanation either once you kiss him, closed mouth and gentle. Wooyoung quietly accepts every touch you bestow. Hands strictly at his sides, he refuses to initiate anything more. It’s all up to you. He wants to give you whatever you want without even considering himself.

His brain floods with a fuzzy feeling as your fingers itch up his chest. Under his shirt, you sluggishly trace the lines of his stomach. There is only one way this ends because he cannot let you touch him any more or he’ll ruin everything. 

“Wooyoung?” you ask, nose to nose when he pulls your hands out of his clothing and holds them between your bodies.

Twisting until you lay side by side, Wooyoung lets himself be a little more selfish as he gently sucks your bottom lip between his own. He finds the strength to pull away when you deepen it. He won’t be selfish. 

You both fall asleep with tangled limbs, Wooyoung’s nose buried in your hair and your lips against his neck.

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. You hear the first crash slice through the door, an ice bath to your system.

You’re still curled tightly against Wooyoung’s chest. 

On the floor.

“Get up,” Wooyoung shakes you, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

You groan in the morning light, burrowing back down into the still warm pillow.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall, much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!” 

You tackle him into the mattress, forehead to chin and an elbow in his stomach. Attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi stands in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” his grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Your position against his body, legs bent awkwardly, covers lopsided, only last as long as Bibi is there to witness. You stumble over the memories that remind you too much of the time she waltzed in two Christmases ago, you and Wooyoung scrambling to hide exactly what was happening beneath the sheets.

Now, the only thing you’re rushing to make it look like that was exactly what you were doing. The smallest trickle of relief slips in at the fact he brushed you off last night. The consequences of trying to hook up with your pretend boyfriend are clearer in the harsh daylight. 

You rise and stalk to the bathroom without looking back, a handful of clothes in tow to avoid the same debacle as yesterday.

You feel a little pathetic settling for meaningless touches. All you want is to pretend a little harder, let your mind believe Wooyoung still loves you, still wants you. Not just to avoid awkwardness with his family but because he knew he made a mistake and just needed the courage to admit it. 

That wasn’t going to happen. He was content with his choices, so you have to be too. 

Wooyoung is already downstairs when you descend the stairs. There's a mug waiting for you on the coffee table, perfectly sweet and milky. It doesn’t mean anything.

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store. 

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia. 

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them,” she whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right. 

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly. 

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the horrors of Midtown in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you,” she says, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well. 

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“No, I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Removing the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears staining your cheeks with gentle swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself. Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by. 

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make you so upset but his mom keeps squeezing your shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in your direction. The new necklace circling your neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask. 

Maybe it had nothing to do with the necklace. Maybe it’s because you’re finally free of this entire ordeal tomorrow and never have to see him again.

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines you into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before taking your MCAT or opening exam results. When the screen fades to black, you bolt up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following, Wooyoung finds you perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between your collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his head all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, you hand him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked you to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been. To secretly say goodbye to his family and the relationship you had with each of them after already working through it on your own. He should have known you bottled it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” you ask, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” you bite, glazed eyes blazing as you rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” your voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. “What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of the mess, you fall back onto the bed. “It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. 

“I was planning to propose.” He can see your head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he has to look you in the eyes and admit he’s a coward, so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

It’s painful to swallow the knot of embarrassment in his throat but you deserve the truth. He owes you a lot more but all he can do is give you an explanation for why he blew up both your lives. “I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything,” he admits. The crushing weight resting on his shoulders lightens a little at the confession. It feels good. So he keeps talking. “I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that,” you objects, cupping his face and forcing him to look at you; at the tears he’s responsible for. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back,” you say quickly. “Why do you think you get to make decisions about my life like you know better than I do?”

Panic sets in. “Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed about something but you never wanted to talk about it so I didn’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

An awkward silence unfurls, so thick he could choke on it.

“I still have it by the way,” he finally says.

Surprise flashes across your face as you stare at him. “Have what?”

“The ring.”

You blink through fresh tears and something in him breaks. Cracks into a thousand pieces he’s forced to hold together because this is all his fault. “Why?”

“I think…” Wooyoung sniffs back his own cries. “I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” You fume, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped. 

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down. 

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years. 

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you. 

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you. As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new. 

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center. 

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place? 

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them. Maybe it’s for some other secret he’s convinced himself to hide from you because he isn’t good enough; because he doesn’t trust you enough.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin. It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the gentle slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind across a lake. Wooyoung marvels and shakes above you, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks before kissing them away with a hitch in his breath. But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear.

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think you wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot you two were barely more than strangers after months of silence, how every part of him still fit together so perfectly with you. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without you. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text you something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having you next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

His mom turns off the radio. “When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs. “I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake. Sometimes two people don’t fit together and it isn’t because you don’t love them.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint her eventually.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

Throwing the car in park she levels him with a look so stern he feels like he’s a kid getting scolded again. “You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.” Another comparison where he doesn’t measure up no matter how you look at it.

“Yeah, well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. Each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic,” Yeosang says.

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung responds. There’s no bite in it. He doesn’t disagree, he’s told himself the same thing over and over again.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?” 

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot,” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking. “So what do I do?”

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of your full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B. Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

Lisa doesn’t even let him speak. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different? Could he promise he’d never let whatever tiny trickle of self doubt plague his brain wouldn’t flare up again? No. He can’t.

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

The line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with your best friend. The vinyl tabletop shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration. 

“She’s working at New York-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

Yeosang chews his next bite thoughtfully, like he isn’t sure he wants to share the information a second time. Wooyoung almost believes he hallucinated his friend speaking at all until Yeosang repeats himself.

“Y/N works at New York-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.” 

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him. He wants to kick his ass.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake San off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward. 

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight-year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friends don’t trust him not to hurt you anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t…”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

“And we’ll help,” San adds.

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before anyone can force him. But for now, he focuses on getting you to listen to his apology.

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” you call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes. 

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor. You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came. 

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes. – W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed. 

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach and jittering nerves. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend. Unless you shrunk, or grew two feet, or suddenly had a beard.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s nearly memorized. The Times mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg twitches aggressively beneath the table. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that you aren’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside. 

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the last tiny drop of hope. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine he watches as the clock hits nine. 

You aren’t coming.

You don’t want him back.

And he has to accept that it’s his fault.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been you and him, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked while trapezing through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Your hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring your face as it fogs in the cool air. But you’re here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi,” he says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

You nod. “I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. You’re here. You’re here and you’re looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry,” he warbles.

“I know.”

But you can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed you and how breaking up with you was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that you’re in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing you’ve ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells you how he truly feels, you’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, staring at the icy sidewalk covered in slush. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” you pause, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

You smile shyly. “Really?”  

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, you nod at him. “That’s a start.” 

And the space between them grows a little warmer. Gives him the confidence he needs.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of you. You never made him feel less than. The only person who thought he wasn’t good enough was himself and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt. 

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from your face. Beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Your voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug you into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get out. 

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” you yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders. 

“I missed you,” you whisper into his lips.

“I love you,” Wooyoung responds, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees, children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the dead grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where you and Wooyoung both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither of you like to talk about. Wooyoung woke you with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find. No different than all the other mornings spent together since January.

You tried to take things slow, ease back into the comfort of the relationship. But it’s Wooyoung. There’s no half measures, only the full rush of feelings that never went away. A few awkward weeks of dancing around one another, unsure how to fit back in when there’s so much history, but the dam broke the first night Wooyoung stayed at your apartment and woke you up with bagels and coffee in bed.

He stayed over almost every night since.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures his face from view as your head rests in his lap. Wooyoung’s been fidgety all morning. You chalk it up to the first nice day following a freezing, rainy winter. Too much energy and finally a suitable outlet that isn’t people watching from your living room window.

You look up at him, his face visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding your smile. He’s already looking at you.

Plucking the book from your grasp, he carefully marks the page before setting it down on the blanket. Wooyoung folds in half to silence your protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming as you give in all too easily. 

“I was reading that,” you mumble into his bottom lip. You tug his shirt, kiss him a little firmer before he leans back.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, you press another peck to his mouth before answering, “Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Your smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights. 

Fiance.

His fiancee…

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers you up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it, me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech but you hardly notice, shaking so hard yourself. He drops it a third time when you tackle him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from your lips and into the field where they lay. 

“Yes!” you squeal into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all your friends, he holds your hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks you home, to the apartment that’s become his second home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses your knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Each time you chest squeezes like its the first. Once inside the doorway, Wooyoung crowds you against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on your ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of the sundress off your shoulder so his tongue can etch your collarbone from dip of your throat where the locket he gave you for your first Christmas together rests to under your ear. 

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” he asks, nipping against the sensitive skin until you sigh, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between your parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr. Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Woo.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at your reaction, rocking again just to hear you moan his name once more. 

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” you huff, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of your cunt through your panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites against the strained muscle raising from the side of your neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

You do feel it. Shifting in the tiny space he’s allotted, you feel him hot and hard against your stomach. You’re caught between wanting to savor every moment and ripping both your clothes off. 

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify your question with an answer other than tugging you towards the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

You don’t make it that far. Between pulling at his clothes and tripping over your own, the hall floor becomes the alternative; Wooyoung’s lap your new perch. His teeth close around your nipple, timid until he’s not.

He keeps you like that for a while. Squirming in his lap until you're not naked enough with your dress pooled around your waist and bunched up your thighs. You whine and he switches to your neglected breast, tongue flitting teasingly. 

“Wooyoung,” you keen. 

The bastard laughs but makes no move to give you more. You’re at his mercy. The way he touches you makes you blush, still new and exciting after years but he treats you like the most interesting thing in the world; remembers even the most insignificant details that have you sweating.

You try to pull him off your chest but he ignores the desperate pleas; eager licks so good your hips kick against his crotch for some kind of relief. Fingers pinch at the abandoned one, keeping your back bent in a painful arc.

He bites a little too hard, shoves a hand between your legs and touches with raw force. You can’t think about anything. Hopped up on champagne and engagement bliss, your body rolls hot and wet against his fingers until you come with wrecked sounds.

Sagging against him, Wooyoung slows, lets you take a few weak breaths while he noses against your collarbone. He kisses the hollow of your throat, a simple brush of his lips that lingers deep in your veins.

“I think that might be a new record,” he quips. The fingers buried beneath your underwear pop into his mouth before he reaches back down with softer strokes, teasing all those worn nerves back to attention. You don’t care about anything other than the way he touches with brutal reverence. Worshiping your body the way that sets your soul on fire.

His body gives under gentle caresses, fingers cataloguing everything in meticulous detail. His hair, his neck, shoulders. The plains of his chest. How his stomach dips beneath your nails. You rub his cock through his pants before impatience takes over and you both work to shove them down his thighs.

You rock down, pulling at those short hairs at the nape of his neck with just enough sting. Wooyoung loses himself in the feeling, mouthing your name across your sternum. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whatever response rests on your lips dies as he rolls you next to him on the floor. You leg over his hip, his cock between your walls with little resistance. The kind of intimacy that makes you bubble out your own skin.

The floor isn’t good for sex. Your hips ache. Sweaty limbs stick. Your fiancé has you bent like origami to fuck as far as his dick can reach. His eyes are locked on the way you fit together, but you want them on you. “Baby, l-look at me.”

He does; hooded eyes hazy. Something simmers hot in his gaze, something you can’t name but know well because you feel it. Wooyoung doesn’t look anywhere else but your face as he rolls again and again and again.

“Feels so good,” you pant.

Wooyoung hoists your leg up higher, pushing until your back flattens to the floor and he’s crowded over. You want him to fuck you hard, nasty. Something in between those romance movie references and the way he makes you feel like the only person in the world; perfectly made to take him. 

He groans from the new angle. “I love you.”

The hand shoved between your legs is ripped away. The hand with the ring. The one Wooyoung kept by his side at all hours like an idiot. But you don’t care. Not as he pulls your fingers to he faces and kisses it like a promise, cups his hand around your own one his cheek. You shake. Thrash beneath as stars explode and everything melts into absolute nothing.

Wooyoung manages a few more thrusts before he loses it, pace uneven from champagne and giddy pleasure. The messy of his cum spills with each jilted thrust, trickling where your ass meets the floor. 

Shuddering, Wooyoung collapses. “Jesus Christ.”

You grunt something like ‘I know,’ eyes wet, body vibrating with leftover dopamine. You’ve never had married sex, and any form of nuptials remains far off in the horizon for the time being. But tonight, he’s as good as the real thing. Maybe even better.

“I think I passed out for a second,” you whisper airily. 

“Just some proactive marital bliss.”

He lays on the floor next to you, shoulder to shoulder, hands wound gently together. The pressure of his lips rains over your fingers. Again, and again like he still can’t believe this is real.  You can’t remember ever being this happy.

Hooking a leg over his hip, you cuddle down into his chest. “Bibi is gonna see that ring next weekend and start asking for grandkids.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Myungho called me this morning.”

“Wait, really?”

“Surprised?”

“No,” you laugh. “Mia called me last week.”

Wooyoung presses his nose into your cheek with a whine.  “How come you got to know before me?”

You're both still half clothed. Your dress ruined, his pants the same. Like the so many times you’ve had together where nothing can get in the way of the deep seeded need for one another. Almost poetic. 

You kiss his cheek teasingly. “Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life, Mr. Jung.”

A displeased huff is all the warning you get before he’s back on top of you, fingers bent into your waist, your neck. All the worst tickle spots that have you screaming for mercy.

“You were surprised today, weren’t you?” He pulls you tighter, levels your gaze and whispers like it’s the best secret he’s ever been a part of. “Mrs. Jung?”

“Not one bit.”

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

11/1/25 update: i apologize for how slow this is taking😭 yes, i still am 100% fully committed to finishing this series! I ask for your patience and understanding🫶🏼

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

004 》 KIM MINGYU …still

dinner with your family was always extra, just a hint to what thanksgiving with your full extended family would be. when your twin invites mingyu, does he sink or swim? …what about you?

wc 11.3k (i'm sorry) | smut minors dni, oral sex, facesitting, penetration, age gap

it was as if you never left in the first place– everyone sitting around the couch, vivi on the farthest corner, the only new addition being ace’s girlfriend. all eyes were on you as you walked in the door with a goofy smile on your face, you were floating once again, but this dance with gravity was different– it was entirely yours, and you planned to keep it that way. 

your feet brought you to your staircase on instinct, not muttering a single greeting to any of the six on the couch, you needed to shower, debrief your night with no one but yourself. in these moments a part of you wished that you had a girlfriend you could call, someone outside of your circle to share your night with, the details of mingyu. you didn’t want to hear the opinions of your boys, you couldn’t share it with your twin, your sister was far too young and too judgmental. you wanted someone to share your excitement with, someone who would be just as excited for you. you had no choice but to keep everything locked inside.

tears welled in your eyes as you undressed in your bathroom because you didn't have that person, maybe you wanted it more than you thought. you convinced yourself that the hot water coming from your shower head was the only liquid streaming down your cheeks, you told yourself you had no reason to be upset in the first place– mingyu was perfect, he would come to be your person, you were sure. you thought it was greedy to be anything other than completely elated—  the tears still flowed. 

in the shower your mind traveled, you didn’t think opening up to someone new would make you so emotional, it had been a long time since you’ve told anyone about your dad, everyone who knew about him knew everything– they were by your side through all of it. by the end of your shower your tears had stopped flowing, but as you pulled your tee shirt over your head, they returned with vengeance and for a completely different reason. 

you missed him. your eyes flew to your desk, the framed picture of you and your dad on your first day of sixth grade, he sat on the steps of the school with his arms wrapped around you. you remembered being so nervous to start middle school, crying before you even began getting ready that morning, your mom running frantically around the house to get you to school on time, packing your and ace’s lunches, making sure your backpacks had everything they needed. he usually left the house before you and ace had woken up, but he went into work late that day to see you off to school, always present no matter what. 

you could still hear his voice in your head– “middle school is just like elementary school, tiny, all of your same friends will be there, and you’ll even make more. if you get scared, ace will be right beside you the whole day.”

you could feel his hand on your head, a kiss on your forehead, “how about i take you to school? mommy will take vivi to kindergarten, i’ll take you and your brother. will that help?”

you remembered nodding, sniffing your snot back up your nose, hugging him with your tiny body with so much force it pushed him backward. he laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle with a rasp that could only be caused by the cigars he was always smoking. you wished you knew that was the last first day of school he’d witness, you would’ve hugged him a little harder, pushed him back with a little more force. 

“i miss him, too,” ripped out of your memory with your twin’s hand on your shoulder, you jumped out of your skin. his voice was quiet, like he was testing the waters, he didn’t know where your head was at. 

“you think he’d be proud of us?” you asked him after a pause, looking into eyes that mirrored your own, a face that still looked the same as it did the first day of sixth grade. ace smiled, a warm smile that was comforting as much as it was reassuring. 

“you kidding?” he looked at you as if that was the most stupid question you’ve ever asked, “his kids are in school to be a teacher and a lawyer, he’s bragging about us to every single person he can up there, you know him.”

you laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes. he always did brag about you growing up, he gave every single one of his friends full descriptions of your report cards. ace’s gaze changed, from comforting to protective, “is this actually about dad? you’re not upset because of your date, right?”

you shook your head, “i’m not even upset, i think dad would really like him. makes me wish he was here to meet him.”

“that’s how i feel about reia,” he smiles, sitting down on your bed, and you follow to the spot next to him, laying down flat on your back, silent tears falling past your cheeks to your comforter. ace twists to look at you, “he’s with us all the time, he watches everything.”

“i know,” you mumble, “i told mingyu about him, i didn’t know it’d make me feel like this.”

“wow,” his voice was breathy, his eyebrows raising, “you’re serious about him, then? you don’t talk to anyone about dad.”

he continues after he’s met with silence, you didn’t know how to answer. “you should bring him here this weekend, have him come for dinner on saturday. yeo, san and yunho’s families are coming, too.” 

you sit up on your elbows, “since when?”

“i think yesterday?” he tilts his head, “i don’t know, mom told me this morning. she said ‘family dinner on saturday’, you know what that means.”

your eyes feel swollen, a yawn passing through your lips, heavy and long as you lay flat on your back again. “i’ll see if he’s free.”

ace gets up, walking to your door, “you seem off lately, i hope you know you can talk to me.” 

you turn your head, it’s like he knew exactly what was going through your mind earlier. he leans against your doorframe, “i know i’m your brother and not a girlfriend, but i can feel when something’s going on with you. i’m always here if you need me.”

you nod, and he takes it as his leave, you can hear his footsteps leading back down the stairs to the living room. you crawl up your bed, pulling back your blankets to get comfortable beneath them, exhaustion hitting you like a truck. as much as you missed your dad, you could always find him in your brother, an extension of the man your dad was. you had everyone you needed around you.

you brought up dinner to mingyu the next morning when he called, and he agreed to come immediately— not a moment of hesitation. nerves coursed through you as soon as he said yes, knowing that come saturday, there was no more bubble. the thought crossed your mind that maybe things were moving a little too fast, maybe inviting him to meet your family was too soon, but if mingyu was quick to say yes then he felt the pace of your relationship was just fine. you pushed the thought from your mind. 

──────  ꨄ︎

nervous was an understatement for how you felt about mingyu coming over– you were in the bathroom once an hour, if not more, starting from noon. being almost five… you weren’t sure how you had anything left in you. you shouldn’t be this nervous, you were just with him last night at his place, you even discussed today in depth so you wouldn’t be nervous. 

you’ve never brought a guy around your family before and as much as you were confident in mingyu being the first, you were still scared of your family’s judgement– especially scared of how your friends would feel about him; but if you couldn’t get through your immediate family for a simple saturday night dinner, you’d never get through thanksgiving. you could do this, they would love him, just like he told you they would. 

your mother had catered, of course she did, only the five of you and the catering company in your house until your company would arrive. the smell of food consumed your house, the only time you smelled anything close to a home cooked meal was when someone paid for it and yet it still smelled nothing like the dinner mingyu cooked for you. your mother was dressed up, which you were sure the rest of the boys’ families would be as well, meaning matt and your siblings would be, too. family dinners were always… extra, in the best and worst way. you had to dress up like you were going to a restaurant just for the restaurant to be brought to you. 

ace was in deep blue jeans, a blue sweater that was somehow a darker blue than the jeans, a white collared shirt peeking out from underneath. his sweater hid his tattoos, a watch on his wrist, glasses on his face– he could see just fine, that was your mothers’ doing, for sure. 

vivi didn’t look much different than usual, you realized she looked like you– blue hair wrapped up in a clip, a short, black dress, cardigan with a pair of loafers, she looked both sixteen and not sixteen. you tilted your head as you stared at your family wandering about the kitchen, siblings stealing appetizers from plates carefully placed atop the kitchen island… it all looked so staged, it dawned on you that this was not a simple saturday family dinner at all. you couldn’t help but wonder what mingyu would think. 

you didn’t have to wonder for long as san’s family piled through your front door, mingyu following right behind them– prompt, just as you’d expected. as it usually does, seeing his face willed away all of your worries, his smile bringing forward the excitement you’d buried deep beneath the anxiety. he held a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine after you told him not to bring anything, your feet started moving before you willed them to.

“hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, pulling himself to the side of the crowd that he followed inside your foyer, canines showing in a wide smile before leaning down to press his lips to yours. dressed as if you’d sent him a dress code, he looked the same as the rest of you– a loose button down that had one side tucked into black slacks, a pair of sneakers on his feet that you just knew were expensive, a black jacket hung over his broad shoulders. you reached for the flowers and wine, which he quickly lifted far above your head, shaking his head. “these are for your mom, silly girl.”

your cheeks flushed, “what a gentleman, where’s my gift?” 

“you’re looking at it,” his smile was impossibly wider, maybe even mischievous as he stood tall again, shoulders wide as he scanned your foyer, taking it upon himself to walk inside. you called for your mom who was in the middle of kissing san’s mom on both cheeks in greeting. 

your mom’s eyes widened just enough for you to catch it before she hurried over to where you and mingyu stood, quickly reaching upward to hook her hands around mingyu’s neck. “mingyu! it’s so great to meet you, i’ve heard so many good things!” 

you almost roll your eyes– she’s heard close to nothing about mingyu. you wanted to save it for tonight, to let everyone meet mingyu and know him themselves before you gave out information. he offered her the flowers and the bottle of wine and she blushed– you wanted to crawl out of your skin, but a part of you was proud at the same time. 

“handsome, kind man– tiny, he’s a keeper,” she whispered to you in passing as she brought mingyu’s gifts towards the kitchen, handing them to one of the caterers who promptly followed her orders, despite it not being their job. 

mingyu followed as you greeted san’s family, pressing a kiss to his mom’s cheeks, a prompt hug to his dad before you finally reached san who wore the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen. his voice was hushed as he said, “i understand why you’re keeping him to yourself.” 

your smile swiftly changed into a smirk, “tell me about it, you wanna meet him?” you ushered mingyu over, pulling him away from san’s parents who he was already in the midst of a conversation with, introducing him to san who looked like he saw an angel. they quickly fell into conversation, the topic turning into gym talk quicker than you thought it would, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. 

yeosang and his family followed shortly after, his mom rushing in with a bottle of red wine, hurrying straight to your mom where you were sure she was dying to tell her some form of drama. yeosang followed behind, making a beeline straight to where you stood with the two men, an impressed look on his face. 

his eyebrows were raised, head tilted towards mingyu in a way you knew said ‘is this him?’ and you gave him a proud smile– this was going so much better than the million terrible scenarios you imagined. yeosang interrupted their conversation to introduce himself to mingyu, the two shaking hands, effectively pushing you out of the triangle they formed almost immediately. 

yunho’s family was last to show up, his tall figure looming over the rest of his family, you caught his eye just as he stepped over the threshold into your foyer. the four of you stood in the living room off to the side, mere feet from where he walked in– yet he followed his parents straight into your kitchen, completely dismissing you where the group of you stood. 

you seem to be the only one who noticed as you quirked a brow, your feet leading you to the kitchen before you had a moment to think about it. “hey,” you said softly, your eyebrows slightly knitted together, your arm coming up to rest on the sleeve of his jacket.

he twists his body to look down at you, muttering a “hey” that matched yours before he was tugging off the sleeves of his jacket. you pulled your hand back to your side. 

“everything okay?” you tilted your head, taking his jacket from him, bouncing on your feet– adrenaline was coursing through you, if you wanted anyone to like mingyu, it was yunho. his aloof attitude was almost enough to wake your nerves back up.

“yeah, all good, was that the boyfriend at the door?” he looked over your head, eyes going back to your living room where the three still stood. ace walked over, mouth full of another one of the appetizers he’d been snacking on for at least the past hour, interrupting you and yunho entirely.

“what up? these are really good,” he lifted his hand up to the two of you, two more of the finger foods in his palm, talking with his mouth open and full of food. you lifted your top lip in disgust, shaking your head, walking to the closet to hang yunho’s jacket. 

when you walked back to the living room, ace and mingyu were shaking hands, one of the finger foods in mingyu’s open palm– definitely from ace. yunho stood next to him, his face stoic as it was moments ago, all of the men now in conversation. you made your way around the circle, taking everyone’s jacket– host duties. 

“i can hang mine,” mingyu shook his head when you finally got to him, looking baffled that you even asked for his jacket, “you have enough in your hands, sweetheart. here, let me take some.” 

your cheeks flushed as he took all of the jackets from your arms, the rest of the boys watching as you led him to the closet, hanging each jacket from his arms onto the wooden rack in the middle of your hallway. 

“they’re all super cool,” mingyu’s voice was quiet as you took another jacket from his arms so only you could hear him, “not at all intimidating like you made it out to be.”

“is that sarcasm?” you give a playful smile, tilting your head, keeping your eyes on him as you put the sleeves of yeosang’s jacket over the hanger. 

“they’re all much younger than me,” mingyu’s face was unbothered, blank without a trace of sarcasm, “you were nervous for nothing. you and ace look the exact same, it’s kind of terrifying.”

you rolled your eyes, a sound of amusement escaping you, “you know we’re twins, gyu.” 

“i’d believe you if you told me that you were identical,” he raised his eyebrows, shifting his weight to one foot after he handed you the last jacket. 

facing the coat rack, you looked over your shoulder to say, “so i’ve heard.” 

you brought him to the kitchen, the four families stood around the massive room, split into two groups– mothers with mothers, fathers with fathers and matt, everyone already deep in conversation. you lean toward mingyu, “they’ll talk until it’s time to eat, we usually hangout in the living room, then we’ll eat at the table that will remind you of the last fucking supper, then the parents usually all leave and the boys stay over.”

“you told me that last night, where does your mom cater from?” mingyu asks, brain elsewhere, mindlessly walking further into the kitchen which forces you to follow behind him. you were initially not going to go in there, but instead drag him back to where the boys were– you were following him like a lost puppy in your own house.  

your mom pulled him into her conversation, introducing him to the rest of the moms, you watched as mingyu shook everyone’s hand wearing his infamous, perfect smile. mingyu didn’t shy away for a moment, instead he seemed eager to meet everyone– you seemed to forget mingyu is a man, and not only a thirty year old man, but a businessman. he doesn’t shy away from conversation or hide from it, he welcomes it, he knows how to do it. you wondered if it was just because he had eight years on you or if it was because these people are your people. 

either way, it didn’t matter as you were inevitably pulled into the conversation, yeosang’s mom asking for the story of how you met. mingyu looked down at you, “can i tell the story?”

you nodded, you were sure the smile hadn’t left his face once. “she was out on a date already when we met, actually.”

yeosang and san’s mom both giggled after gasping at the same time, making mingyu chuckle with them. “scandalous– i know, but i couldn’t help it. she was touring the distillery i own, and i was smitten the moment i saw her. i gave her my business card instead of flat out giving her my number, i had to be inconspicuous.”

“you own a distillery?” yunho’s mom lifted a brow, leaning forward, making the wine in her glass rock side to side in its confines. 

mingyu nods, “seventeen whiskey, if you’ve heard of it.” 

“if i’ve heard of it– jongcheol! come here,” san’s mom calls across the room to the group of fathers, who were all standing in their own circle, glasses full of what you assumed was whiskey. “apologies, he loves that whiskey, i want him to meet you. mingyu, right?” 

“kim mingyu,” he says with a nod, waving his hand in protest, “don’t apologize at all.” 

as san’s parents pulled mingyu into conversation, you were left with the other moms who were staring at you expectantly. yeosang’s moms voice is hushed as she leans closer to you, “that’s a keeper, tiny.”

your smile is wide, because you know, and you’d do your very best to keep him.

“i always thought you’d end up with one of the boys,” your mom frowns for a second before it turns into a warm smile, “but i can’t lie and say he isn’t perfect for you, teens– better keep him far away from us.”

the three moms cackle in laughter, clinking their wine glasses with one another in agreement, probably already leaning toward tipsy. you laugh with them, attempting to not show your discomfort, not knowing what else to do in this situation– you needed a drink. 

you walked towards your garage door off the side of the kitchen, all of the alcohol you and the boys drank was stocked in the fridge there, only whiskey and wine inside the house. when you pulled open the door, ace and yunho stood in front of the fridge with beers in hand, already in conversation. you could only hear the end of ace’s sentence, making out the words ‘i don’t like it’. 

“don’t like what?” you asked as you stepped through the door frame, your back to them as you ripped open the refrigerator door. their heads snapped to you the moment you were through the threshold, quiet for a moment before ace answered. 

“what the caterers are serving for dinner,” ace responds, him and yunho now standing side by side as you crack open a surfside. 

“why are you talking about it in the garage? you okayed the menu when mom asked,” you raised an eyebrow as you took a sip from your can, putting your other hand on your hip.

“i changed my mind,” ace shrugged, “let’s go back in, it’s cold in here.”

your eyebrows furrowed as ace threw his arm around your shoulder, pushing you back inside the house. san, yeosang and vivi were all in the second living room with the TV, sat on the couches just as they were the other night– vivi on the farthest corner, the other two taking up their usual spots. ace and yunho sit where they usually do, whipping out their phones as soon as they sat down.

the whole interaction threw you off completely. they were in the living room, yet every ounce of you wanted to be in the kitchen with mingyu— yet you didn’t want to be in the kitchen with the parents at all. you shift your weight on your heels, an invisible string pulling you to your usual spot on the couch as you said, “i’m gonna go check on mingyu.” 

you shook it off before you reached the kitchen, mingyu all but blending in with the dads, standing tall above the group of them. it makes you smile, it was amusing to see mingyu towering over several fifty year olds. you slip in the circle next to him, all the dads greet you, already telling you how great mingyu is— including matt, not that it mattered to you. 

your smile is wide, confidence coming back to you– “thank you, i know.” you look up to mingyu, “i’ve been a terrible host, did you want a drink?”  

mingyu nods, opening his mouth but you already knew what he was going to say, “we have macallan 18, family reserve bourbon, 15 i think, or yamazaki 18.” 

he thinks for a second, taken aback by your knowledge, you actually asked matt for the information last night. he smiles in surprise, “the bourbon, can you pour–”

“neat, i know,” you wink, finishing his sentence again, escaping from the dad-circle to head to the bar off the side of your kitchen, in the corner of the dining room. you don’t realize mingyu follows you until you’re standing at the bar, back to him as he slips his hand around your waist, turning you around with ease. 

you don't have any time to make a sound of surprise before his lips are pressed to yours, hastily slipping his tongue into your mouth with such force your hands move to the counter behind you to hold yourself up. you whine into the kiss, using your arms to give you leverage to push your chest into him, hands then breaking from the counter to reach up to his face. 

“where’d this come from?” you break the kiss, keeping your face centimeters from his, releasing the breath he stole from you back into his mouth. it was hot– doing this in a corner of your house where you could easily be seen. this energy was new for mingyu, you weren’t used to him being so eager, so impatient, instead usually slow and controlled— you liked this attitude on him, the feeling that he couldn’t wait made you just as impatient. 

his lips are on yours before answering, “that was so fucking sexy, you studied whiskey for me?” 

you giggle into the kiss, that explains that, “i asked matt one question and he went on about what we have for probably ten minutes, he’s very proud of our collection.” your words are light and bubbly, a harsh contradiction to how mingyu’s lips traveled to your jaw, “i now know that the bourbon is from kentucky, it’s legendary, it’s flavor profile is caramel, oak and–”

“vanilla,” he finishes for you, pulling away from your neck to peck your lips again. “we talked about whiskey the entire time you were gone.”

“i’m sure you loved that,” you stare up into his eyes, rich, chocolate brown staring back at you, deeper than usual— hungry. you tilted your head, batting your eyelashes to egg him on further, “did i impress you?” 

his groan was deep, coming from the depths of his lungs, quiet enough to not be heard outside of the room. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice lowering an octave, “if i could fuck you stupid against this bar i would.” 

you gasped, eyebrows twisting, his words went straight to your core. he still wouldn’t sleep with you last night, instead insisting only you get off once again– you cursed under your breath, “you’re fucked up for saying that now when you had me under you last night.”

he backed up a step, his smirk devious, “i’ll have you under me again tonight, just say the word, princess.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before looking past you, picking up the bottle of bourbon as if the interaction you just had didn’t affect him in the slightest. you looked at him with wide eyes, your mouth damn near watering– all you could think was finally, finally, finally. 

he poured his own glass of whiskey instead, leaving you breathless and silent next to him, trying to push your desire down until you didn’t notice it anymore, which deemed itself impossible when the only thought in your head was what’s to come later. you heard your mom announcing dinner was ready from the kitchen, ruining your moment alone with mingyu entirely, and you walked into the kitchen with hot ears and a burning pit in your stomach. 

everyone was already beginning to sit around the enormous table, long enough to fit the fifteen of you, caterers running about the kitchen with food on platters. the table was set with plates and silverware, glasses of water already filled, centerpieces extravagant and totally unnecessary— the stage was set perfectly, you were sure your mom was thrumming with pride. 

you took your place where you always did, inviting mingyu to sit beside you instead of yunho who sat directly across from you. the table was always divided between the parents and the kids, husbands sitting with wives, but you, your siblings and your friends always sat at the other end of the table, always in the same seats. mingyu sat to your right, putting yeosang to your left, vivi beside him, then across from you was san, ace and yunho. mingyu sat beside san’s father, which you were sure wasn’t on purpose— the man immediately brought up how mingyu ran his company. 

as you got settled in your seat, the others talking amongst one another and mingyu beside you in conversation, the unease returned as if it never left. you realized you had nowhere to run, there was nothing for you to do— no taking jackets from anyone else, no drinks to be fetched from the bar, no escaping to an entirely different room to avoid whatever you were scared of. 

mingyu’s hand rested on your thigh as if he could read your thoughts, not even sparing you a glance from being mid-conversation with san’s dad— but somehow he knew, or he didn’t know and this is just who mingyu is. you rested your hand on top of his as your mom stood at the head of the table. 

she made her speech, the same one as usual— you can choose friends but you can’t choose family, how lucky are we to have been able to choose our own family? you were sure the six of you could recite it by heart— as you looked to the other five seated around you and they silently said her speech verbatim, you had to cover your mouth to muffle the laugh that rose up in your throat. 

the caterers came around much like waiters in your own house, filling up your plates one by one with entrees and sides from a menu your mom picked by hand. 

“i need to know where she caters from,” mingyu leaned in close to your ear, nudging your arm with his own after taking his first bite, making you smile as you cut into your own food. “it’s not funny, i’m serious. i want to hire them.”  

“ask her yourself,” you nudge back, moving your food around on your plate. you looked up as you brought your fork up to your mouth, ace was in the middle of saying something into yunho’s ear. you pointed your gaze at the taller one who caught your eye, he didn’t even react, dismissing you as if you hadn’t even made eye contact at all. 

“stop telling secrets,” you say across the table, making yeosang’s ears perk up from beside you. 

“share with the class,” yeosang backs you up, eyes also pointed at the two. ace shoots the same glare back at yeosang, which shuts him up entirely. it was getting too obvious now— you were itching to grill them about it. 

“ace,” mingyu starts from beside you, ripping you from your thoughts, “your sister told me you’re a law student, right? where do you go to school?” 

ace’s expression is blank, “uh, i go to lexford, studying corporate law.” 

mingyu winks, “call me when you pass the bar, i might need you in the future.” he picks up another piece of his food with his fork, “i actually have a buddy who leads a seminar for something to do with corporate law— maybe ethics?” 

a knowing smile sits on ace’s face as he leans forward on the table, body turning in mingyu’s direction, “tell me it’s jeon wonwoo.” 

mingyu’s smile grows wider, “that’s him, you know him?” 

“i’m taking his online seminar this semester,” ace nods as his entire face lights up, “incredibly smart guy, his seminar is like nothing else i’ve attended for, like, my entire career at lexford.” 

mingyu laughs, “i’ll have to tell him, i’ll put in a good word.” 

“wait, actually?” ace’s eyebrows shoot up, “i’m working on my thesis and an independent study with him would actually save my life.” 

“he owes me a favor,” mingyu nods with a tight lipped smile, “i’ll see what i can do.” 

your smile widens, you feel lighter, a weight lifted off of your shoulders from such a simple interaction. you’ve never cared about ace’s approval for anything, but for some reason it feels so good to see him bonding with your maybe-could-be-boyfriend. 

the unease doesn’t fully go away, especially not when yunho began shooting daggers across the table, eyes cold as ice in a way you haven’t seen in ages, you weren’t sure if you or mingyu were on the receiving end. you shiver. 

mingyu notices your physical reaction, his massive arm wrapping around your shoulders, palm rubbing your bicep in comfort. he leans into your ear, “you cold?” 

“something like that,” you respond, a meek smile on your face. you wouldn’t call him out across the table, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle yunho’s brute honesty in front of the people who mattered most to you— if you had every person’s approval except for yunho, how much weight would his opinion hold?

dinner passed smoothly, mingyu was immersed in conversation with the parents while you talked to your friends, barely even speaking a word to one another unless he brought you into the other side of the table for conversation. you didn’t think anything of it until you were in your basement after dinner was over, the boys on the couch before the tv with controllers in hand, playing the game they were always playing. you felt like you had mingyu’s voice in your ear the entirety of dinner, and now he was silent. 

“do you know the game they’re playing?” you ask him, cuddled into his side on the smaller couch off to the side, your skirt long forgotten. you replaced your outfit with sweats the moment all of the parents left through the front door– if your mom loves anything, it’s appearances. 

“no idea,” he says, but his eyes are trained on the television, eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus. he leans his head onto yours, asking, “do you play with them?”

“hell no,” you giggle, “i have no interest in video games.” 

“i play sometimes, just haven’t played this one,” he leans his head back, settling into the couch a little more, hand coming to rest on your thigh. the gears turn in your head, realization hitting you that the only thing mingyu had in common with any of your boys was the gym and ace’s professor, of all things. 

mingyu had everything in common with the parents— a career first and foremost, their schedules, taxes. the gap is apparent and it’s huge, the thought feels sour in your stomach and you hate it. everything up until now had been perfect, you needed to dry off the rain on your parade before it turned to a downpour. 

“wanna go upstairs?” you ask him directly in his ear, not that any of the boys could hear you with their incessant screaming at the game. he looks at you with eyebrows raised, a surprised look on his face, but he nods with no hesitation. 

“we’re going up,” you announce to the room as you walk toward the staircase and all necks snap to look at you. the unease slithers back up your spine after you feel like it just left you, the hairs on your arms sticking up– in that moment you knew there was something they weren’t telling you, and all four boys are in on it this time. 

your face contorts into something between confusion and alarm as san asks, “you don’t wanna hangout a while longer?” 

your head turns, neck twisting in discomfort. you hesitate, not sounding completely sure of yourself as you respond, “it’s getting late, i want to watch my show.”

“are you staying over?” ace asks mingyu, chin jutting upward in question to where mingyu stood. 

mingyu shrugs, head turning to you as he says, “if you’ll have me.”

you suck your lip between your teeth while nodding, and mingyu gives you a tight lipped smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. oh, you hate this and you need to fix it now. mingyu has been able to read you since the moment you met, you knew as soon as you stepped foot into your bedroom he’d be quizzing you. you bid the boys goodnight and head all the way up to your room, you were brainstorming the entire trudge there, only coming up with one thing to make this feeling go away– what he promised you earlier. 

your room was on the opposite end of the hallway from ace, the guest room and a bathroom separating you, vivi’s room up in the attic– her choice. with your parents’ room on the first floor, you officially had nothing to stop you from jumping mingyu, no one to hear you. you were sure that everything would go back to normal after that. 

“it’s so… clean,” mingyu says as you turn on the lamp beside your bed, filling the space with a dim warmth, white bed sheets turning a sunset orange under the amber hue. 

“thank you,” you smile, closing your bedroom door, “it has to be that way or else i can’t sleep.” 

he raises a brow, “really?” 

you shake your head, “you have no idea. do you want a change of clothes? i can snag some from ace’s room, i think even yunho might’ve left some clothes in the guest room.” 

he’s walking around your room, looking at all of your decorations, then his eyes glaze the picture frames on your desk. he looks over to you after a moment of silence, “yes, please, then we can talk about why that was so weird.” 

your lips pull into a line– you hadn’t even gotten a chance to seduce him yet, fuck him and his developed frontal lobe. your feet drag into the guest room, thinking yunho’s clothes would fit him better than ace’s, even though ace’s build wasn’t too far off from either men. 

before you even handed mingyu the pile of clothes, he was already reaching behind his head, slipping his shirt over his head. your breath hitches in your throat– finally, finally you were seeing what was hidden underneath, and being flabbergasted wasn’t enough to explain what mingyu was keeping beneath his shirt. honey, golden and chiseled, as if he were handcrafted by the gods themselves, your imagination couldn’t compare to the absolute perfection that was kim mingyu. 

you cursed under your breath, eyes racking down his body from his collarbone to his belt, pile of clothes dropping to the floor and feet carrying you closer to him without a second thought. words come back to you as you shamelessly say, “i need my mouth on every inch of you.” 

he laughs, a soft chuckle as you stand up on your tippy toes to reach his lips, your mind clear enough to realize that your plan was set back in motion. the kiss was dizzying, so deep and sensual it had your brain clouding up as he walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit your mattress. 

he laid you back, massive frame hovering over yours as his lips met yours once again, slipping his tongue into your mouth. you hooked your legs around his back as he fully crawled onto the bed, hands coming to the back of his neck to pull him closer. 

he pulls back, still keeping his face close, “we need to talk, princess.” 

“later,” you murmur, attaching your lips again, pulling him closer. your hand travels down his chest to his pants, fingers wisping over what was beneath them, wanting to feel him. he grows under your touch and lets out a groan, breaking the kiss to let his head hang, eyes screwed shut tight as you up the pressure. 

“want you so bad,” you say in the sweetest voice as your hands go to his belt, and he actually lets you unbuckle it. all thoughts leave you as you pull the strip of leather from its loops, this was actually happening, and it was in your bedroom– somehow it made everything more intimate. 

he curses as your hand reaches below his boxers after getting him unzipped with ease, strong arms still holding himself up beside your head. you moan as you finally feel him, you couldn’t hold it back, imagining what he’d feel like inside you, you needed to see him. 

“let me taste you,” you whispered, more of an order than a question and he keels over, body rolling off of you.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” his voice is surprisingly wrecked as his back hits the mattress, hands folding beneath his head. your grin is wide at the idea of him obeying you, flipping over so easily after so long of denying you… the thought of what made him finally say yes crosses your mind.

“you’ll be just fine,” your excitement is clear as you pull his boxers down his thighs, watching in awe as his length springs up against his abdomen. a sight for sore eyes, pink and leaking, he was just as massive as he felt and as delicious as you’d imagined. your eyes widened, “so fucking big.” 

between his legs you began with kitten licks to his tip, drinking up the droplets of precum he’d offered you with obligation. raw and unfiltered and so him, you moaned at the same time, music to your ears giving you the confidence to take him into your mouth fully. two hands around him with room to spare, you wondered if mingyu would fit inside you, he was definitely not fitting inside your mouth. 

“fuck, you’re so good,” he groaned, keeping his voice low, his hands coming from the back of his head to pull your hair away from your face. as you created a rhythm, bobbing along his length with your mouth and hands moving in unison, his words came out staggered as he said, “just like that, princess.” 

you loved mingyu’s praise, you loved his degradation, too– but hearing the words with your mouth wrapped around his cock was different. it urged you to work harder, to take him further, as if feeling his cum hitting the back of your throat would be more than a reward, more like a gift. you pumped him faster, hollowing out your cheeks just a little and he gasped, hips bucking into your mouth, cock hitting so deep you gagged. he moaned, really moaned, a higher pitch than what you’ve heard yet, and the wetness between your thighs grew tenfold. 

his hands wrapped in your hair tightened, a harsh grip on your scalp as he said, “don’t fucking stop– ah, doing so fucking good for me, baby.”

your eyes screwed shut, fighting your gags hard as you pushed yourself further, no doubt bruising your throat just to hear him keep talking. as if he could hear your thoughts, he continued, “want me to cum down your pretty little throat?”

you could hear his smile as he taunts you, “bet you’d love that, been begging for my cock for days.” 

you whimper, eyes opening with tears in your waterline, involuntarily swallowing around him. he lurches forward, eyebrows knitting in pleasure, voice dipping an octave, “fuck– fuck, do that again.”

you obeyed, constricting your throat around him again and his head falls back, his adam’s apple on display before it snaps forward again, “i’m gonna- gonna cum.”

his hands flee from your hair, and you know immediately it’s so you don’t feel pressured to take him down your throat, but you couldn’t imagine not being rewarded for your efforts. you gag around him again, the tightness of your throat finally pushing him over the edge and he spills, a quiet, long groan leaving his lips as ropes of white cum shoot down your throat, swallowing before even tasting him. 

he curses as you lick him clean, popping off of him with a proud smile on your face. he chuckles before leaning forward, grabbing you by your armpits to pull your body atop his. he smiles before pecking your lips, “you’re so fucking perfect, so fucking perfect.”

you kiss him again and he embraces it, tongue slipping into your mouth without hesitation, nasty and messy and wet. you whimper, your cunt was throbbing– you could feel the wetness between your legs only growing, as if your body knew it was mingyu under you, knew you could be coming in minutes if he’d just slip his hand beneath your panties. 

“you gonna be quiet for me?” he asks, hands coming up to keep your hair away from your face, cradling your cheeks. you nodded, bringing a hand on top of his, pulling it away from your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. 

“i know you will, my good girl,” your body heats up at his words, threatening to let a moan slip from your lips without even being touched. he continues, his words stealing all the breath from your lungs, “sit on my face.” 

“gyu,” you whine, keeping your voice hushed, “want you inside me already.”

“gotta open you up first, wanna taste you,” he says absent mindedly as his fingers go to your hoodie, pulling it up with your shirt and quickly slipping your sweatpants down your legs. 

you don’t argue, but instead hesitate out of nerves– you pause, legs hovering over his chest, knees planted onto the mattress. you bite your lip, “i’ve never done this before.”

“you’ve never gotten head before?” his eyes shoot open, staring at you as if that was a crime. 

“no!” your voice is louder than you intended it to be, quieting down again to say, “i’ve never sat on someone’s face before.”

“oh,” he says as if it was no big deal, then looks up at you again with an eyebrow lifted, “really?” 

“mingyu,” you whine, “tell me what to do.” 

“sit,” he says simply, and he doesn’t continue. that was his only instruction.

you blink at him, “and then what?” 

he smiles wide, “and then i make you cum.” 

his hands are on your hips before you can process it, pulling you down onto his face, the moment his tongue meets your folds you moan. wanton, lewd, it was long and loud. 

“what’d i say?” he pulls away to scold you and you purse your lips, eyes widening as if you’d just gotten caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “as much as i want to listen to you, your entire family is in this house. be respectful.”

“no one’s on this floor, they can’t hear us,” you argue, but his tongue is back between your folds instead of answering you. your head falls forward and you moan quieter this time, no headboard for you to grab onto, your muscles already willing to give out. 

he pulls you down onto his face harder and you mewl, he’s silently begging you to let go of control, let loose on his face – but you don’t know what you’re doing and you don’t want to crush his face between your thighs. 

“relax,” he encourages from beneath you, voice soft and sweet, thumbs massaging circles into your hips. you relax your muscles, keeping most of your weight on your knees rather than on his face, focused more on doing than enjoying. he notices, hands traveling to your chest, flipping your bralette upward to get his hands on your breasts. 

thumbs ghosting over perked nipples had you twitching, your hips grinding against his tongue and he smiled against you, using more pressure, taking the buds between his fingers to pinch. your hips bucked, clit sliding forward to bump against his nose and it seemed to crack open all sense of dignity with the way you released an unrestrained moan. noise after noise left your lips, without complaint from mingyu as you began to grind against him, gaining a rhythm now, hands coming up to grip at his wrists as the pit began forming in your stomach, quicker with each pass of his nose over your clit. 

“that’s it, princess. use me,” he said into you, hot breath on your center, eyes completely glossed over and focused solely on you, the words sending all the blood in your body straight to your center, beckoning your orgasm to come faster. you quickened your pace, the sounds escaping you turning desperate and filthy as your hands came down to grip onto his hair, his tongue sticking outward so you can ride it. 

it was new— this feeling of confidence, being in control, getting yourself off at your own pace. just a few weeks ago no one else had even made you finish, and here you were holding the reins. how far you’ve come.

“mingyu– i’m gonna cum,” you gasp out, shocking yourself with how utterly debauched you sounded, too far gone for embarrassment to wash over you. the pads of his fingers play with your buds as you bring yourself to orgasm, hips riding his face at a rhythm to send yourself over the edge, breath hitching in your throat as you finally feel it hit. like a train, a bus, a truck, shockwaves of pleasure rack through you that had your legs shaking around his head, hips twitching against his lips, head hanging forward with your eyes rolled back— mingyu was drinking it up. 

arms hooking around your hips to keep you in place and his tongue flattening out to lick you up had you convulsing, whimpers flying from your lips as your orgasm fades to a muted throb and overstimulation takes over. 

“mingyu.” your hands grip onto his hair again, hips that attempted to buck away from his face didn't have very far to go until strong arms pulled them back into position. 

he finally gives you the space to come down, a comforting sigh leaving your lips on cue. his head hits the mattress, hair fucked and eyes glazed over, but his smile was victorious. “that was so hot, do it again.” 

“i want to sit on your cock not your face,” you shimmy out of his grip and he lets you – much to your surprise – hips backing up to sit on his very bare thighs. his eyes drift from your center sitting inches away from his cock that was hard and leaking against his stomach again back up to your face, you were sure it was flushed and sweaty and gone by now. 

“gimme a sec, let me grab a condom,” he says as he sits up, pecking your lips before scooping you from his lap onto your mattress. 

“what makes you think i don’t have one?” you don’t, you know you don’t, but you tease him anyways as your head hits your pillows, positioning yourself so the two of you wouldn’t be sideways anymore– and now you have the headboard if you need it. 

he turns back to you as he pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his pants, a knowing look on his face, “okay, do you have one?” 

your lips purse, “no.”

his smile was comical, “thought so.” 

he kneels between your legs after taking his pants off fully, ripping the packet open with his teeth, spitting the foil onto the bed beside your legs. you didn’t think a simple act could be so sexy, especially one as awkward as that, by this point it shouldn’t surprise you that mingyu could make anything hot. you unclasp your bra behind you and throw it to the floor, widening your legs further, excitement consuming you. you wanted him so bad, you were thrilled he didn’t wait any longer, you weren’t sure if you could take it anymore. 

you gasp as he bends down to spit between your folds, hips bucking as he spreads it across your folds. he looks up to you, face turned serious, “if it hurts you need to tell me.” 

“i will,” your voice was breathy, giving it away that you were here but not fully. growing impatient your eyes were trained on his cock, not even looking at him as you responded. 

“hey, look at me,” he leans forward, arms caging you in, forcing you to pay attention as his build completely swallows you beneath him. “tell me if it hurts.” 

“oh my god, i will,” you whine, legs hooking around his back– your mouth was near watering. 

“spoiled,” he mutters as he lines himself up, tip so much as prodding at your entrance invoking a hiss from your lips. you curse as he pushes further, your eyes screwed shut in something between pain and pleasure, but you don’t say a word– you’d lose your mind if he stopped now.

“so tight– ah, gotta open up for me, baby,” his voice is strained, taking it slow as he inches forward, cock dragging against your walls at an agonizing pace. “fuck, knew i should’ve made you cum again.” 

“keep going,” you encourage, moving your hips to meet his thrust, taking him further. the stretch was delicious– slightly painful, mingyu was bigger than anyone else you’d ever taken, thicker than anything that’s ever been inside you. it was worth it, so, so worth it as you feel every vein along your walls, hypnotizing you, dragging you under whatever spell he was casting. 

when he pushed himself to the hilt he took a pause, giving you a moment to adjust, to get used to how big he felt inside you. you hummed, the burn along your entrance dimming to a flicker of heat. he felt perfect inside you, as if he was made to be there, as if your walls were already molded to his shape. 

“move?” he asked, his right hand moving your hair out of your face before he cupped your cheek, you fed him a nod. he slipped out slowly, rocking his hips to push back in at a quicker pace– you moaned, the pain turning to pleasure as soon as he hit that spot.

“so fucking tight,” he said under his breath, voice rough and husky, “god, you’re fucking perfect.” 

you moaned in response, back arching into him as he hit that spot again– it wasn’t by chance, his thrusts were precise, practiced, they were skilled. like everything else he’d done so far, mingyu knew exactly what to do to completely wreck you. 

“holy fuck,” you cried, your moans growing in volume as he picked up the pace, rocking his hips as if it were a dance, movements so fluid you already considered yourself ruined for anyone else. no one could compare to this. 

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you, touch you, be close to you as he fucked you dumb– you needed everything all at once, his cock felt so good inside you it was almost overwhelming. he kisses you hard, lips messy and harsh and incredible, the perfect pair to his cock that was burying itself inside you with abandon. 

“should’ve known you couldn’t be quiet,” he said, cocky tone to his voice as he broke the kiss, you could feel his smirk as it smeared across your wet lips, simultaneously offering you a particularly harsh thrust. 

you yelped then through a broken moan you said, “it’s y–our fault, you fuck like a god.” 

“you see why i wanted to wait, then,” he snickered as he sat up, long fingers wrapping around your ankles to place them on his shoulders. his hand fell to lay along your stomach, drilling himself inside you and you lost it, the back of your head pressing into your pillows, your last semblance of control gone. 

he leans forward with your legs on his shoulders at a quick speed, hand moving from your stomach to clasp over your mouth and you whimper into his palm. his voice is breathless, “consequences of your own actions, brat.” 

you cry out into his hand, noise muffled as he pistols inside you, hips stopping just before they can snap against your own, balls deep inside you and he had so much control. you wondered how he managed, you clearly had none after his cock had blatantly intoxicated you, you didn’t care if anyone heard you at this point. 

he lets your mouth go, pulling out of you swiftly just to flip you over, hands scooping under your body as if you weighed nothing. you had no time to whine in protest as his palm pushes your head into the pillows, cock filling you right back up. you scream into the pillow as he reaches deeper, you feel him in your stomach. 

“there we go,” you hear from behind you, his voice sounding too far away, “now you have no choice but to behave.” 

he positions his cock to hit that same spot with the new angle, pressing against it with such precision and rhythm you felt the pit in your stomach returning in just two thrusts. your hand reaches beneath your body, between your legs that just slightly opened up between his thighs, rubbing quick circles into your clit. 

“gonna cum already?” he sounds taunting behind you, hands squeezing your ass, spreading your cheeks so he could watch his cock relentlessly bully your cunt. it felt so fucking filthy but so hot— you rubbed your clit faster. 

“go ahead baby, show me — cum around this cock,” you could hear the hint of desperation in his voice, he was close too. you couldn’t form words as your orgasm approached with force, thighs shaking between his own, shamelessly drooling into your pillows as incoherent babbles left your lips. 

he gave your ass a harsh slap as his cock carved into you and it was enough to push you over the edge, burying your face in your pillows as everything clenched. he grunted, his voice strained as he attempted to be quiet himself — “f-fuck, yes, that’s it.” 

your orgasm was so long and so intense, he fucked you through it, losing his control as his hips finally clapped into the cheeks of your ass, chasing his own high. you turned your head, catching your breath, sounding as fucked out as you probably looked as you said, “cum for me, gyu, wish you were filling me up.” 

he gasped, splitting you in half as he brought himself to orgasm, stilling inside you with a moan as he unloaded into the condom. you wore a weak smile — you weren’t lying, the only thing you could think was that you wish you could feel the warmth, the fullness of him coming inside. it seemed he wished the same with how quickly he finished after you said it. 

“i hope no one heard,” was the first thing out of his mouth as he slowly pulled out, you whimpered at the loss — you were positive you’d never feel that full again. 

“it’s fine,” your voice was raw, too tired and too spent to turn over. you felt him slide off the bed, watched as he tied up the condom and threw it in the trash, smiled as he picked up yunho’s sweatpants from the floor. 

“you okay? need water or anything?” he asked as he pulled them up his legs — you were right, the sweatpants fit him perfectly. 

“water,” you mumbled, your pupils still the only thing moving, watching him silently as he reached for your water bottle that sat on your desk. 

he joined you back in bed, scooping you up in his arms to place you on his front, holding the water bottle in front of your face so you could drink from the straw. 

“did i break you?” he asked, amusement lacing his words, you could hear his thoughts— you still felt somewhere else entirely, definitely not in your room with a drool covered cheek on his bare chest. 

you hummed in response, eyes falling shut. you laid like that for awhile, cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he mindlessly played with your hair, fingers scratching at your scalp. 

“come back to me, i’m getting nervous,” he said after some time, his heartbeat quickening with his words. 

“i’m okay, still processing,” your voice was light, hopefully comforting, “you just fucked my brains out, just wanna lay like this.” 

his chuckle was deep from his chest, flat against your ear as his hands moved to your bare back, tracing circles along your skin. he sighed — “let me clean you up, put some clothes on you, then we’ll get back in bed and put on your show.” 

you whined, but agreed nonetheless, the air of your bedroom turned cold against your skin that was quickly losing its heat. you had never been more grateful for a bathroom attached to your bedroom as you were right now, a shirtless mingyu running you a bath, sitting on the tiled floor as you soaked in the warmth of the water. you talked the whole time, about the sex, about your likes and dislikes, the conversation was open and honest. you wouldn’t expect mingyu to be a kinky guy, and he wasn’t beside his slightly dominating nature. 

he didn’t consider himself inherently dominant, it wasn’t a trait he had across the board, only something that came out of him with you. you didn’t know if you were naturally submissive or if it was something that just came out with him— you were still exploring sexually, you opened up about your past with frat guys, how someone else just made you cum for the first time mere weeks ago. he took it all in with open arms and zero judgement, he told you that you should never be with someone who didn’t care about your needs, didn’t respect you enough to get you off, too. 

the bath brought you back to reality, but your talk with mingyu brought you down to earth. it still amazed you how easily the two of you communicated, how comfortable it is to share things with him that you would only share with the other boys, if not more. he carried you back to your bed bridal style— he insisted, he also insisted on pulling pajama pants up your legs, an oversized tee shirt over your head.

“brookhaven college? you go to crest university, don’t you?” he asked as he pulled the cotton over your head, reading the print across the front. 

you looked down at the shirt then back up to him, “this is yunho’s, i don’t know how it made its way into my laundry, must’ve gotten confused with the clothes he keeps here.” 

“ah, the tall and broody one?” he questions as you both crawl into your bed, settling beneath your comforter. 

“he’s not usually brooding, i don’t know what was up with him tonight,” you say through a yawn, cuddling into mingyu’s armpit, laying your head on his bare chest again. 

he was silent for a moment before he asked, “have you ever had a… thing with any of them?” 

you picked your head up from his chest, staring at him with a shocked and disgusted look plastered across your face. “never ask me that question again, hell no.” 

he raised an eyebrow. “i’ll ask a different one then — have they ever liked you? crushes on each other growing up, anything of the sort?”

“mingyu, they are the last humans on earth you need to worry about, they’re all extensions of ace to me. other brothers,” you said, your face completely serious. “they’ve never looked at me like that, i will never look at them like that, period.”

he pauses again — “alright.” 

he didn’t fully believe you, that much was clear, but there was no way to prove your innocence or your honesty, so you let it go. instead you reached for the TV remote and turned on your show, getting comfortable on mingyu’s skin once again, letting the topic of conversation leave you both fully. 

one of the couples in the show was in the midst of marital issues: she had gotten married young, divorced early into her marriage, remarried someone else and had kids just for her ex husband to come back into her life later on, leaving her conflicted. 

being someone who speaks over every show or movie on a screen, you blabbed, irritation in your tone. “if she had just waited to marry him, this never would’ve happened in the first place.”

“i disagree.” you looked at him with eyebrows raised, silently telling him to explain. “i think everything happens for a reason, she learned so much about herself and what she wants through her second marriage— filling in all the gaps that she was missing with her first husband. he’s a learning experience.” 

you contemplated it, “she could’ve learned all those things with him if she had just taken her time and not rushed it, she went through so much shit just to be back at square one.” 

“but then she wouldn’t have her kids,” mingyu argued, “even if she married him down the line, they wouldn’t have grown as individuals. all the things she’s learned are because of her second husband.” 

“so you think she was right in divorcing him?” you popped a brow, leaning off his chest to stare at him, “even though they were perfect together and came back to each other anyways.” 

“i think they came back to each other because they were meant to be,” his eyes were trained on the TV at the end of your bed, “it wasn’t their time yet, there was more the both of them needed to learn before they could have a healthy relationship without regrets.” 

he took a pause before he continued, looking at you now, “she reminds me of my ex-fiancée.” 

you sat up, shock written all over your face, “you were engaged?” 

he sighed, sliding his body up your pillows so he was sitting up a little straighter, “when i was twenty five, i popped the question after four years of dating. she was with me through some of the darkest parts of my life, i popped the question when i finally came out of everything, when i was stable again.” 

“we were engaged for a year until she broke it off,” he shrugged, “said she was too young, she wasn’t ready even though we were both twenty six.” 

you blink at him — “so the woman in the show reminds you of her, and you think the couple were meant to come back together after they both remarried.” 

you could hear the gears turning in his head before his eyes widened. “do not think too deeply into that, it’s just a coincidence. our first disagreement is not about to be over a netflix original.” 

your arms cross over your chest, voice coming off stern. “maybe we should talk about it, because why would you even say that to me?”

his eyes close, lips forming a thin line. “i had to tell you eventually, it’s been four years since we broke things off and i’ve dated plenty of women since i was with her. i am fully healed from that relationship, she lives across the country with her husband now.” 

his words sit with you, and not in a comforting way. “are you looking to get married? like, soon…?”

he looks at you as if he could see through you. “you’re twenty two, my love, i’m not rushing anything with you. i’ll get married when it’s right.” 

his words were supposed to make you feel better but they don’t— mingyu was ready to get married five years ago. he could’ve had a family by now, three kids and a dog if he wanted to. you hadn’t even graduated yet, you hadn’t even began student teaching— you had years to go before you’d be ready to have a ring around your finger, even if that was the goal eventually. you didn’t want to hold him back. 

mingyu could feel your shift in mood, feel your uneasiness, within moments he was pulling you in close, lips catching your own, freeing you from your thoughts. it took little to no time until he was rocking into you again, bodies pressed against each other, tongue licking into your mouth until he made you forget what you were feeling entirely. 

the thoughts didn’t come back until you were tangled in each other, sweaty and half asleep with your blankets half covering your bodies. you tried to push them away, turn your brain off but you couldn’t. 

all you wanted was a boyfriend for thanksgiving — kim mingyu wanted a wife.

8fd masterlist | masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - ninety-four | good thing I’m a teacher

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a/n: Yeosang has a degree in two things: teaching and real talk. We all knew she was going to end up like this.

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[luumiinaa]

The couples bickering mid sesh, is such a refreshing twist to read 😂

aemulus. (noun) latin for rival or competitor. thought to be the origin of the name emily.

park seonghwa is in no position to ask you for a favor. but being underqualified for something has never stopped him before.

pairing: academic rival!seonghwa x fem!reader

details: grad school/nursing school au, fake dating

word count: 8.1k

warnings: swearing, food allergy, smut (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, discussion of birth control methods

a/n: for @sluttywoozi's birthday <3 (just a month and a half late)

playlist

“I need a favor.”

“From me?”

Seonghwa tongues his cheek and looks around. “Is there anyone else in the room?”

You scoff. You aren’t friends with Park Seonghwa. You don’t even particularly like Park Seonghwa. You know the feeling’s mutual so why was he asking you for a favor?

“If you want something from me you should try being a little nicer,” you mutter, turning your attention back to the textbook on the desk in front of you. 

You hear Seonghwa sigh beside you before he tries again. “Sorry, yes, I need a favor from you. I need a date to this event Dr. Harvey is hosting for all of his graduate mentees next weekend.”

Date? You? Your face must be scrunched up into an expression of confusion and concern because Seonghwa puts his hand out to stop you before you interject. 

“Yes, it has to be you. I-I’m trying to secure a position on his research team next semester and I need an extra edge.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And I’m the extra edge?”

“Exactly! Dr. Harvey loves you. If I show up with you on my arm, the spot is mine for sure.”

“You really think it’ll be that easy? I haven’t taken one of Dr. Harvey’s classes since undergrad.”

You’re not even a student in Seonghwa’s program, the one Dr. Harvey was the head of. There just happened to be some overlap between your field of study and his that required you to take some of the same courses. 

“But you were his TA last semester, and you’re the top student in the department, after me-” you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, “he brings you up in almost every meeting we have,” he continues, sounding more than a little annoyed, “when we’re supposed to be talking about my dissertation.”

Despite the non-case Seonghwa was making on his behalf, you couldn’t help but feel a little curious. “He does? What does he say?’

“Usually, it’s little comments about how you would do something differently, which is not-so-subtle code for better. If you ever decide to write a dissertation on microbiology, let him know. I’m sure he’d love to be your mentor-” Seonghwa stops himself there, taking a deep breath as if to physically shake the bitterness from his demeanor. “Sorry. The point is that he thinks very highly of you and it would really help me out if you were my plus-one to this thing.”

“And what exactly does ‘this thing’ entail?”

“It’s a little appreciation banquet for all of the students he’s mentoring. He said it’s at this hotel, I think it’s downtown, and it’s a dinner and drinks in the evening and a brunch the next morning-”

“Wait, it’s overnight?” You hadn’t meant or intended to interrupt him but the prospect of spending the night in the same room with Park Seonghwa was enough to make you panic and forget your manners. 

Seonghwa looks annoyed that you cut him off but holds himself back from responding with something snippy. Instead, he lets it go. Unheard of for him.

“Yes, but it’s just one night.”

“One night?” He nods. “And I just have to show up with you?”

“Well, you’d pretend to be my girlfriend. ”

Right. That had sort of been implied when he asked but you were hoping that wasn’t the case. It honestly sounded like a nightmare, but the idea of having something to hold over Seonghwa’s head was tempting. 

Doing him the favor was one thing. The execution of said favor was another. Were you going to be able to put on a believable act as Seonghwa’s girlfriend? It certainly wasn’t going to come naturally to you... but you were friends with a bunch of theatre kids. You could pull it off. Probably. 

“Okay, well, what’s in it for me?” you ask.

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by your question like he hadn’t expected to get this far. 

“What do you want?”

Oh fuck. You scramble to think of something worthwhile that he could be of use for, coming up short in pretty much all aspects.

“My dad’s getting married in a couple of months. Our little duet can have an encore then.”

Seonghwa grins and offers his hand for you to shake. “Send me the details. Pleasure doing business.”

-

It isn’t until Seonghwa’s already left the classroom that he realizes he doesn’t even have your number. He’s known you for years now but has never had to contact you outside of the context of school. Never had reason to. He could turn around right now and go back and ask for your phone number. You’re still in there. 

He lets his pride get the better of him, and with a quiet groan, he shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps walking. He’ll just email you later to ask for it. 

-

You iron out the details over text, once Seonghwa finally gets your number. You had made fun of him in your reply email for forgetting to get it back when he begged you to come with him in the first place, which only reassured Seonghwa that he had made the right choice that day. It would’ve been way more embarrassing to have you say that to his face. 

He asks you to meet him at a cafe the day before the event so you can iron out your story together. You look nervous, he notes, so he tries to break the ice. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet here. I would’ve had you over to my place, but my roommates are kind of obnoxious.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.” You gesture with your cup, shaking the ice around before taking a tentative sip. 

“Least I could do, considering.”

You shrug. “You’re already repaying me by going to my dad’s wedding with me, but I’m not one to turn down free coffee.”

“Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “So, how’d we fall in love?”

-

Seonghwa picks you up at five pm on Saturday. He makes some comment about you looking nice that you don’t really believe he means, but you return the compliment anyway. He does look good. Annoyingly so. He had told you it was a formal event but you hadn’t expected him to show up in a fucking three-piece suit. 

His hair is slicked back on the side to show off his undercut, and wire-rimmed glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, the reflection of traffic lights and street lamps shining in the lenses. It’s a little intimidating to be on his arm for the night when he looks like that, not that you didn’t also dress for the occasion, he just... looks so sharp. 

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks as you climb into the passenger seat. “Pajamas? Toothbrush?”

“I think so.”

“If you forget something we can probably grab it at the kiosk they have in the lobby,” he assures you.

You groan. “Yeah, but we’ll have to pay a small fortune for it.”

“That’s the price of convenience.” He puts the car in drive and navigates out of your apartment complex’s parking lot onto the main road. “You can pick the music,” he offers after a moment of silence. 

“But you’re the one driving.”

“Is that a rule?”

“Yeah, the driver picks the music. Have you never heard of that before?”

He shakes his head but hums thoughtfully. “No, but I don’t mind. I’m not picky.”

“Shocking,” you mutter under your breath. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You plug the aux into the lightning port on your phone and scroll through your playlist until you land on something you deem to be neutral enough to play in the background. You can feel Seonghwa watching you out of the corner of his eye but you willfully ignore it. 

“Do you remember the story?”

You nod. “We only got together officially a couple of months ago. You asked me out by waiting outside the door of one of my classes last semester-”

“Which class?”

“Um...” you frowned, trying to remember. 

“It was pharmacology.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Just be sure to remember that.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to be interrogating us about our relationship,” you scoff. 

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This is just important to me and it needs to be believable. If anyone were to find out that I tried to pull this shit off just to get on Harvey’s good side... I don’t even know what would happen to me. Like, would I get expelled? I definitely wouldn’t get the position, I-”

“Woah,” you cut him off before he can spiral any further, “we... don’t have to do this. You can drop me off back at my apartment and pretend like it never happened. I won’t make you go to the wedding...”

“No, no I need you,” Seonghwa insists, panicked. “It just... didn’t occur to me how stupid this idea was until now.”

“If you think it’s a bad idea we shouldn’t do it,” you reason.

“It is a bad idea,” he agrees, “but I don’t know what else to do. Jung Wooyoung is vying for the same spot and he’s way more likable than me.”

“That’s not true, he’s just more of a kiss-ass.”

“Same thing. Either way, I already told them I was bringing a plus-one so I can’t show up without you.”

You nod, holding back from suggesting other alternatives. Seonghwa seemed resolute on going through with it and it wouldn’t do any good to try and convince him otherwise. He was like you in that way. Stubborn to a fault. Trying to “fix” the problem would only start an argument and that was the last thing you needed right now. So you let it go, and it only killed you on the inside a little bit. 

-

Seonghwa checks into your room as soon as you get to the hotel. Since it’s late in the afternoon, it’s already ready, and you go up to drop off your things before navigating to the ballroom together. 

You try to ignore the single king-size bed in the middle of the room but it’s like it’s glaring right at you, taunting you in the reflection of the vanity mirror as you reapply your lipgloss. If Seonghwa notices your apprehension about it he doesn’t say anything. 

“We don’t have to go over the top,” Seonghwa reminds you in the elevator. “You don’t have to kiss me or be super touchy if you don’t want to. Some hand holding and familiarity should do it.”

“Are you sure?” 

He smirks at you. “I mean, if you want to kiss me, you’re more than welcome to. But it wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You stare at him. He had never said anything like that to you before. It felt like it had come out of nowhere. The smirk falls when he sees your reaction and he side steps away from you, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry, I was, uh, I was kidding. It was, I wasn’t-”

The elevator dings to signal its arrival on the first floor before Seonghwa can finish whatever excuse he was stuttering through. He motions for you to exit first, putting his arm in front of the door to keep it from closing. When you turn back to look at him, he’s all calm and collected again like nothing even happened. The only evidence of ruffled feathers was the pressed set of his lips and the pink tinge of his cheeks. 

“Ready?” he asks, straightening his tie. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

He offers his hand to you and you take it, entwining your fingers with his. His thumb finds the back of your hand and draws absentminded circles. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to be comforting but it is. 

There are already a few people mingling when you and Seonghwa make it to the ballroom. You don’t recognize any of them but that was to be expected. Seonghwa had said that it was an intimate event, just Dr. Harvey, his mentees, and their potential plus-ones. Not everyone is here yet from what you can tell. You can’t hear Jung Wooyoung’s loud voice echoing throughout the hall so you figure he must be one of the late ones. 

The way the room is decorated reminds you a bit of Christmas with the opulent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the ivy garlands laid across the tables. All that's missing are the trees wrapped in lights and potted poinsettias in every corner.

Dr. Harvey is in the middle of a conversation with a couple of other students when he spots the two of you. He excuses himself and approaches you with a smile. 

“I’m glad that you both could make it!” he says, greeting you with a hug. 

He hugs your fake boyfriend next and claps him firmly on the back. Seonghwa coughs at the unexpected hit but plays it off easily with a chuckle. 

“When Park told me he was bringing you, I thought he was kidding. I couldn’t believe he finally got the guts to ask you out.”

Seonghwa stiffens next to you but keeps the smile plastered on his face. You, on the other hand, can’t mask your surprise. 

“What do you mean?” you press. 

“Oh, just that I sort of wondered if you kids would get together,” he explains. “You used to argue in my class all the time as undergraduates, but whenever we had group activities you would pair up anyway.”

“That’s because we didn’t trust anyone else with the work,” Seonghwa points out. 

You squeeze his hand urgently, trying to tell him to shut the fuck up before he ruins his chances with his big mouth. Thankfully, he seems to get the message and relaxes a little but you can tell he still wants to protest.   

“You didn’t even trust each other with the work,” the professor corrects. “You would bicker about every little thing under your breath when you thought I couldn’t hear even though you always sat in the front of the classroom.”

“I guess we are a little competitive,” you admit with a grin, looking up at Seonghwa with what you hope comes across as affection. 

“That’s an understatement, my love,” he agrees.

“Well, it’s nice to see that you’ve been able to turn that energy into something positive,” Dr. Harvey says. “What changed?”

“Well, we’d been seeing each other for a while and finally decided to make it official,” Seonghwa muses. 

And by ‘seeing each other’ he meant fucking. When you decided on your story that day in the cafe, Seonghwa had said it would make the most sense if your fake relationship budded from a friends-with-benefits thing- or acquaintances with benefits, whatever the two of you were. But of course, you couldn’t tell your professor that so you had to more so imply it by talking around the subject.

“Well, I hope that you being together means I’ll get to see more of your face. Park, you need to bring your girlfriend around the department some time. I’m sure the other faculty miss you too.”

Seonghwa nods. “I’ll be sure to do that, sir.”

“Great! I think some more people are starting to trickle in so I should go say hello, but please help yourselves to drinks while we wait for dinner.”

You both thank him and wait before saying anything else to each other. 

“I think that went okay,” Seonghwa sighs.

“Could’ve been worse,” you agree. 

He takes a quick look around before turning back to you. “Do you want something to drink, baby?”

“God, yes.”

At the bar, Seonghwa orders you both a glass of wine. It’s an open bar but there’s a little fish bowl for tips balanced on the edge of the counter so he deposits a couple of bills in it as he thanks the bartender.

He holds one of the glasses out to you with a half-smile. “Cheers.”

“To getting through the night,” you propose. 

“To getting through the night.”

-

Dinner is a choice between a chicken pasta dish, a beef and potatoes dish, and ratatouille that could be made vegan upon request. 

“Does the pesto have pine nuts in it?” Seonghwa asks the server when he reaches your end of the table.

“No, all of our options tonight are nut-free,” he replies. 

“Perfect, thank you. Did you want the pasta, then, baby?” 

“I- yes please.”

“And I’ll get the beef and we can share.”

“Sounds good,” the server says as he jots down your orders on his little notepad. 

You wait until he moves on to the next guest before leaning over to your date and whispering “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Hm?”

“You remembered... I’m allergic to tree nuts.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal and murmurs, “you almost dying in the middle of chem lab our freshman year is pretty hard to forget.”

He had a point. Still, you were surprised he remembered the girl that collapsed to the floor and had to be stabbed in the thigh with an EpiPen all those years ago as you. You’re not sure if you’d remember the details so clearly if it were the other way around. 

All of the dishes were pre-prepared by the hotel’s event catering staff so they were served almost immediately after the orders were taken. 

Dr. Harvey led the conversation, engaging each of his students about their studies and personal lives. He was even sure to include the plus ones at the table, making an effort to get to know them as well. That was why Dr. Harvey had been one of your favorite professors, why you’d agreed to TA for him when he asked. He genuinely cared about his students, wanted them to succeed and was willing to go the extra mile to help them do so. You still remember crying in his office over a failed lab report, remember how he had patiently walked you through what you’d done wrong until it finally clicked for you, how he ended up giving you half of the credit you missed back just for following up and showing how dedicated you were to learning the material.

Even now as he listens to his mentees talk about everything under the sun, he doesn’t want anyone to feel left out. 

A hand on your thigh startles you out of your zoning out. You had been trying your best to pay attention but it’s just so hard to stay attentive when Wooyoung opens his mouth. He’s been talking about algae for what you estimate to be the past twelve minutes- so in your defense, you never stood a chance anyway.

“Do you want another glass of wine?” Seonghwa asks, low enough for only you to hear.

You hadn’t even realized you’d finished your first one. It had probably happened sometime in the middle of Wooyung’s rambling. 

“Yes please.”

“Okay, be right back.”

He stands from the table and takes both yours and his empty glasses in one hand, using the other to push his chair back in. Thankfully, he’s back before you can be cornered by the others at the table. You can feel it, the curiosity your presence invokes from your peers. You only recognize a few of them but all of the sideways glances make you wonder how many of them suspect why you’re really here. Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe they’re just surprised Seonghwa managed to pull anyone at all... no, that couldn’t be it. He’s too hot, his personality alone wouldn’t be enough to deter anyone from going out with him. 

“What’s wrong?”

You take a sip from your newly refilled glass of wine and try to play it off. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“You’re making a face.”

“What face? This is just my face.”

“No, you’ve got that wrinkle in between your eyebrows. You’re worrying about something. What is it?”

You sigh and lean over to whisper in his ear. “I feel like your... friends think it’s weird that I’m here.”

“These people aren’t my friends.”

“I know. I didn’t know what else to call them- is that really the part of what I said that you think is important?”

“Why do you think they think it’s weird?”

“I don’t know, I just keep noticing everyone looking at me.”

“It’s probably because you’re pretty,” he suggests, which makes you want to change the subject entirely. 

He thinks you’re pretty? Does he think you’re pretty or does he think other people think you’re pretty? What would possess him to say something like that?

“That- no, it’s not that.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know what a dirty look is and I’ve been getting a lot of them. Do you think they’re onto us?”

Seonghwa makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know. Maybe I underestimated the number of people applying for the same position as me.”

“Maybe, and maybe they know we haven’t always gotten along and are suspicious of why this is the first they’re hearing of us dating.”

“I guess we need to turn it up, then,” Seonghwa muses under his breath. 

“Wha- that’s not what I-”

-

After dinner, there’s a bit of mingling. You get the opportunity to formally introduce yourself to the guests you’ve never met before and answer the burning question on everyone’s mind as to why you’re there in the first place. 

Seonghwa’s hand is warm on the small of your back, making you wish you had decided against wearing a backless dress. Although, you suspect you still would have been able to feel the heat of his palm through the silk had it offered more coverage. 

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Park,” Hongjoong, you thought his name was, says as he wraps an arm around his own date. In her heels, she’s taller than him by an inch or so, and somehow it only makes the man more intimidating. “Thought you were too busy for dating, or was that just an excuse?”

“I am busy. But when you meet the right person, you make time. You of all people should know that.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly and grins. “You’re right, we’re all fools for love, aren’t we?”

“It certainly seems that way.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong continue exchanging semi-polite small talk until the latter’s date tugs him away, mumbling something about needing another drink. 

“I didn’t realize you were so popular,” you say under your breath once the two are out of earshot.

“Yeah, you’re not the only one who hates me,” he mutters. 

“And here I thought we had something special.”

Seonghwa gives you a half-smile. “Sorry to break it to you like this.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t hate you,” you clarify, voice lowered. 

He can’t hide his surprise as his eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

He straightens up a bit, stiffening, and you wonder if you’ve said something wrong. “Good to know.”

You each have another drink before the night ends. Champagne is served with dessert and Dr. Harvey proposes a toast to all of his students once everyone’s gathered around the table again. 

You clink your glass to Seonghwa’s and take a sip. The bubbles soothe your throat, making the lies you’ve been telling all night easier to swallow. 

You’re not drunk, you haven’t had that much to drink, but the alcohol is definitely making you feel lighter. People have started filtering out of the ballroom to go to their rooms but a few linger a little longer, taking advantage of the free booze and relaxed atmosphere. Your professor flits between the remaining students, continuing conversations that had been cut short during or before dinner. 

Soft music is playing over the speakers and a few couples are dancing to it. Seonghwa hadn’t said anything about dancing, it probably wasn’t on the actual itinerary, but he draws you out to the floor without warning. You want to protest but his hands are already on your hips and your chest is already pressed to his. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him, save bumping into each other in labs and accidentally spilling samples down your coats. Based on the number of times that had happened, you don’t expect Seonghwa to be particularly graceful. But he seems intent on proving you wrong as he leads you to the rhythm. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you murmur. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he quips back. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? Like what?” 

He seems to think about it for a moment before answering. “I love Star Wars.”

“I already knew that.”

“What?”

“You used to bring a Darth Vader thermos to class. The lid was his helmet.”

“Legos?”

“Lego guy keychain.”

“Animal Crossing?”

“You’d literally play it in class.”

Seonghwa smirks. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I just didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“Wha- I’m not obsessed with you!” you sputter. “I’m just very observant! And you make your interests too obvious.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he teases, making you roll your eyes. 

He spins you before you get the chance to argue again, extending his arm all the way and then whipping it back so that you’re stumbling into his embrace. 

“My turn, then?” he asks. 

You feel your face scrunch up in confusion before you can stop it. “What do you mean?”

“Your favorite color is pink,” he whispers, as if it’s some kind of secret. “You love The Lord of the Rings. You quote it all the time. You like to cook. You always brought your leftovers for lunch and everyone would ask how you made whatever it was because it smelled so good.”

You’re staring at him now, lips slightly parted in surprise. His gaze flickers down to them and then back up. He smiles. 

“You’re not the only observant one.”

A song is still playing but you’ve stopped dancing. It’s like you’re standing in the eye of a storm, surrounded by music and conversation that blurs and distorts around you. It all sounds muffled, but that might just be the ringing in your ears. You realize what’s about to happen a moment before it does but you’re still unprepared when Seonghwa kisses you. 

His lips are softer than you expected, not that you’ve imagined kissing him before... not that you ever wondered. His arms are still around your waist and he pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss. 

You’re stiff at first, unsure of what to do with your arms or your own lips, but you relax when you feel his tongue swipe at your bottom lip. He makes a contented sort of sound in the back of his throat when you open your mouth for him. It’s just slightly, just enough for him to get a taste, but he seems pleased nonetheless. 

Distant cheering in the background startles the both of you out of your daze, pops the little bubble you’d somehow found yourselves in. It’s then that you remember that you’re in public, and that you probably shouldn’t be sucking each other's faces off in the middle of this very nice ballroom in front of your peers. 

You part, both a little breathless. 

“I hope that was okay,” Seonghwa whispers against your cheek. 

“It was, yeah. It was okay. More than okay.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He grins, the upturn of his cheeks pushing his specs higher on his nose, making glimmers of light from the chandelier dance in the reflection of the glass like stars falling from the sky. One of his hands strays from your waist to take your own.  “Wanna get out of here?”

You’re nodding before your brain can fully process the question. “Yes please.” 

-

The journey back up to your room is a blur. You vaguely register bidding Hongjoong, Dr. Harvey, and a couple of other people whose names had long since slipped your mind goodnight. You’re not sure what you said, Seonghwa probably took the lead. 

Your cheeks are warm with embarrassment as you make your way out of the hall hand in hand. You feel like everyone knows what you’re about to do. And with a kiss like that in a crowded room, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out.

But did it really matter if they knew you were about to get your back blown out? It would only help sell the story to them even more. At least, that’s what you’re telling yourself, still not ready to admit that you’re not playing pretend anymore. 

The clicking of your heels on the marble sounds entirely too loud as you walk through the lobby to the elevator bay. The lights have been dimmed for the night, emulating the darkness outside. Only a few employees remain behind the desks, stationed for any late check-ins. The rest had surely clocked out hours ago when the rush ended.

“Do you have a key?” Seonghwa asks you, eyeing the purse you’d somehow remembered to grab on your way out. 

You did, but, “there’s one in your pocket.”

His hand comes to the front of his pants, feeling for the plastic card. “Right. Sorry.”

He uses the key to activate the elevator and then he uses it again to open the door to your room. The ride up had been silent, and a little awkward, both of you standing on opposite sides of the tiny room, avoiding eye contact.  

You wonder if the energy has shifted, if the moment has passed. Had he suddenly come to his senses? Was he already regretting kissing you? 

You don’t get the chance to ask either of these things, however, because he’s kissing you again as soon as you stumble into the room. It’s dark, so everything is a little uncoordinated, but it almost seems fitting for you and Seonghwa. 

He presses you up against the door, fingers fumbling with the ties on the back of your dress. It’s hard for him to undo them when he can’t see what he’s doing, too occupied with kissing his way down your neck. 

“Fuck this,” he gasps, breaking away. “Lift up your arms.”

You do, gasping as Seonghwa tugs the silk up and over your head. It’s the kind of dress you can’t wear a bra with so you’re left completely bare from the waist up. 

“Fuck me,” he breathes, running his hands over your body. 

“I’m trying.”

A beat lapses before Seonghwa lets out a quiet chuckle. You’re the one to pull him back this time, tugging at his suit jacket as you kiss him in an attempt to get it off his shoulders. 

“Let me, um,” he mumbles against your lips, feeling along the wall of the little hallway you’re standing in for something. “Let me turn on a lamp or something. I want to see you.”

The comment makes you feel shy but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see him too so you let him go and only laugh a little bit when he trips over his suitcase on the way over to the desk.

“Oh, would you rather have it off?” he asks, noticing the way you’re holding your arms over your chest. 

“No, no, I want to see you too,” you assure him. “I just feel kind of weird being the only one naked.”

“Well that’s an easy fix.”

He makes his way back over to you, loosening his tie as he does. He leaves it hanging around his neck so that you can take it off for him. The satin feels heavy in your hands and you wonder briefly how it would feel tied around your wrists- another time, maybe. 

Seonghwa focuses on unbuttoning his shirt while you lift the tie over his head, hands brushing together as you work in tandem. 

You reach for his belt but he ducks out of your grasp with a grin, shrugging off the button up as he sinks down onto his knees in front of you. You barely register the feeling of his hands on your thighs. You’re too caught up with the way he’s looking up at you. He’s taken his glasses off, though you don’t know when- or where he’s put them for that matter, and is gazing up at you like painted the cosmos themselves. Like he fully intends on worshiping you. 

Park Seonghwa on his knees. What a sight. 

“Can I?” he asks, fingers gently wedging themselves in between your legs to part them. “Please?”

You nod. 

“I need you to say it.”

“You can,” you whisper. 

“I can... what?” Seonghwa presses. “I haven’t even said what it is I want to do to you.”

He’s taunting you now. It’s obvious what he meant when he asked you but he just loves pushing your buttons too much to stop, even when he’s on the verge of begging to taste your pussy. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” you breathe. 

“Fuck.”

You nearly lose your balance as Seonghwa lifts one of your legs over his shoulder but he plants both of his hands on your ass and pulls you onto his face before that can happen. He groans at the first taste of you, even though it’s over your panties. You’re not sure whether he meant to leave them on to be even more of a tease or if he had just simply forgotten to take them off in the rush to get you on his tongue. 

They’re the seamless kind, the kind that aren’t supposed to show through thin material. You’d chosen to wear them with your dress instead of suffering through the discomfort of a thong all night. The comfort was a benefit. The sheerness was a drawback. You might as well not be wearing anything with how form fitting they were, especially considering how wet you already are.

Your hands are in Seonghwa’s hair and you’re trying not to pull too hard but you have to anchor yourself to something or you’re afraid your knees will buckle. 

“That’s it,” he praises, nose nudging your clit as he licks into you. It’s muffled but you can still make it out, if just barely. “Harder, baby.”

“Are you s-sure?”

He nods and the motion makes you want to cry out. “I won’t break. Promise.”

You decide to trust his word and tug a little harder. He moans and rewards you by pushing his tongue inside of you. He can only go so far with the fabric of your underwear restricting him but it’s enough to get you to whimper his name. 

-

God, you sound so pretty, it’s almost too much for Seonghwa to handle. You taste just as good as he’d always imagined, better even, and he’s losing all sense of control because of it. He can tell he’s making you feel good but this won’t be enough to get you to cum, at least, not as hard as he wants you to before he fucks you... if that’s where the night ends up going. He would be more than happy to have you cum on his tongue, kiss you goodnight, and then fall asleep beside you if that’s what you wanted.   

He manages to get your panties out of the way and to the side with his teeth before diving back in and sucking your clit into his mouth. You make a little surprised sound and melt into him even more. 

He wants to get his fingers inside of you too, but it would be difficult with the way the two of you are positioned so he pulls back and jerks his head in the direction of the bed. You help him to his feet and pull him in for a kiss, moaning at the way you taste on his lips. 

Seonghwa didn’t think it was possible for him to get any harder than he already is but you’re always going and proving him wrong. 

You release him after another moment and fall back onto the mattress, calling to him like a siren. You don’t actually say anything, but you don’t have to. The sight of you on the bed you’ll share with your legs spread and your thighs still glistening with your arousal and his saliva is all it’d take for Seonghwa to throw himself into the sea and drown in you. 

He takes off his slacks finally, just to give himself a bit of relief, and joins you on the bed as fast as humanly possible.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, running his fingers over the soaked patch of your underwear. 

“Please,” you laugh. 

You lift your hips so that he can pull them off of you and then he’s back in between your legs with your thighs clamped around his head so tightly he can’t hear anything aside from your desperate pleas for him not to stop. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s been grinding into the mattress until you’re cumming on his tongue and it takes everything in him to hold back from falling over the edge with you. 

“Hwa...” 

Your voice is so distant he doesn’t hear it until you repeat it. The nickname makes his heart do a little somersault. You’ve never called him that before. It makes him want to smile like an idiot and not fight so hard to suppress those pesky feelings he’s been harboring for you for God knows how long. He wants to kiss you all over and make love to you and give you a little house on his Animal Crossing island even though he’d have to rearrange the entire layout. He actually brought his switch with him, it’s in his bag and he could go get it right now and-

“Hwa!”

Fuck. Right. He pushes the aforementioned feelings down again, clears his throat, and plays it cool. “Hm? What’s up?” His voice cracks on the ‘up’ because of course it does. So much for playing it cool. 

“Can you fuck me, please?” 

He feels like he could fall through the floor. How the fuck could you sound so polite asking to get your back blown out like that? His dick twitches against his thigh and Seonghwa has to take a deep breath to steel himself before answering. 

“You sure you want to keep going? You want this?”

“God, yes,” you whine, leaning forward to try and pull him on top of you. “Are you going to make me beg for it?”

Tempting, but, “no, it’s just... I have to tell you something.”

Jesus, was he really doing this now? It felt like the worst possible moment to bring it up but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he slept with you without coming clean. He’d already gone further than he probably should have, judgment clouded by lust and alcohol and the lingering scent of your perfume on your neck. 

You face falls, making Seonghwa realize he definitely should have worded it differently. 

“It’s not anything bad! I don’t think...”

“Just tell me,” you say flatly. 

“Um, remember in the car earlier today when we were going through our story, and you couldn’t remember what class I asked you out after?”

“And you yelled at me about it?”

“I didn’t yell at you-” he pauses, and squeezes his eyes shut. This was why he kept going back and forth over what he was about to say, why he was hesitating even now. “I reacted the way I did because... I actually was going to ask you out that night after your pharmacology class got out.”

“What?”

“I was there, waiting outside and I-I chickened out.”

You blink in disbelief. “You don’t... hate me?”

“Hate you? I never hated you!” You give him a look. “There was a bit of... animosity between us, but it was never hate! At least, not for me! Did you hate me?”

It’s your turn to feel exposed. That’s what Seonghwa thinks you feel anyway, from the look on your face. 

“No... I already told you I didn't! It was... what you described.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t believe you.”

“I mean, like you said, it wasn’t hate. I just didn’t particularly like you. And I thought that was a mutual thing.”

“It was!” he agrees quickly. A little too quickly, maybe. “It was. For a while. And then it wasn’t. But I never said anything about it because I kept thinking it was just a phase I was going through. I thought I’d get over it and you’d never have to know.”

“But that never happened?” He shakes his head. “But you built up the courage to show up and ask me out that day. You had to have accepted it then.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. “I guess I did, but like I said, I was a coward. When I peeked through the window on the door, I saw you laughing and joking around with your friends and I just thought about how it’s never been like that with us. And I thought it’d never work out because we’re... us. We bicker all of the time. We’re always competing. That didn’t magically go away when I realized I had feelings for you. So I thought you deserved someone who you’d actually get along with.” 

“Well, that should have been up to me to decide,” you say. 

“I know,” Seonghwa admits with a groan. Then, he bolts upright. “Wait, would you have said yes?”

“Probably.”

“What do you mean probably?”

“I mean, I would’ve liked to see where it went. I’ve always thought you were attractive.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s one of the things about you that annoyed me.” Seonghwa scoffs. “Just being honest.”

“Well, if I’m being honest,” he counters, propping himself up on his elbow. “I kind of like it when we bicker.”

“Don’t tell me it turns you on.”

“Only sometimes.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re sick.”

He shrugs. “It’s only because you’re so hot when you’re mad at me.”

“You must be really horny right now, then,” you mutter. 

“You’re mad at me?” 

“Yes, I’m mad at you! You’ve been keeping your little crush on me a secret all this time! And you chose now to tell me?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I have the worst timing.”

“Understatement of the year.”

Seonghwa figures he deserves that one so he lets it slide even though it chips at his pride. “Wait, so... what does that make us? If we feel the same way, shouldn’t we give it a real shot?”

You groan, putting your hands over your face. “Can we talk about it after you fuck me stupid? I’m still so wet I can’t think about anything else.”

“Oh yeah, right.” He sits up and rolls back on top of you, caging you in. He presses his thigh between your legs so that you can grind on it as he kisses you again. “Are you sure arguing with me doesn’t make you horny?” he teases. “Can feel you throbbing against me, baby.”

“I’m horny because you’re hot and your dick is hard.” 

And because you like him, Seonghwa thinks giddily. 

“We can talk about it later, then,” he surrenders, reaching down to pump himself a few times. “As long as you’ll say you’re mine.”

You tilt your head to the side as you process his request. “Yours?”

“Mine.”

“You want me to be yours?”

“If that’s something you want.”

“It is something I want.”

“Then say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” Seonghwa hisses, grinding against you. He’s not even inside of you yet and he feels like he could explode.

“Please, Hwa,” you whisper and reach down to line him up yourself.

“Wait fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“I have an IUD. It’s okay,” you assure him.

“Are you sure?”

“As long as you’re clean.”

“I am, I haven’t been with anyone since last year, and I’ve been tested.”

“Me too.”

“Then we’re good?” he asks. 

“We’re good.”

“Perfect. Deep breath, baby.”

Seonghwa’s arms threaten to give out the instant he begins to push himself inside of you. He should have been the one to take a deep breath. He already knows how you taste so he really should have been more prepared for how good you would feel but then again Seonghwa had always been a bit Icarian in nature so his overly ambitious attitude is pretty par for the course in light of everything. 

“Hold on, just... just give me a second,” he stutters.

He swears you clench around him purposefully, playing it off with a meek “sorry, it was an accident” when he glares at you. He wouldn’t put it past you to turn this into a competition too, but he wants to remember your first time together as something special. He wants to be in the moment with you, wants to make you cum over and over and over on his cock until you can’t say anything but his name. He wants to make tonight all about you. He wants to make every night about you, but he’ll have to start with tonight. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, voice so sweet he almost has to pull out so he doesn’t end what’s barely started. 

“You feel too good,” he admits, dropping his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“If you cum now, we can just go again, right?”

Right. He forgot about that. He needs to stop thinking with his dick. 

“Yeah, right. Right.”

“Fucked out already?” you tease, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s you,” he pants weakly. “How can I not be?”

You open your mouth, probably about to say something smart in reply but he rolls his hips just as you do, pushing himself deeper inside of you. The words seem to dissolve on your tongue, your mouth falling open in a moan instead.

“What was that, baby?” he asks, moving even faster now.

You answer in mumbled nonsense. Seonghwa smirks down at you and leans forward to kiss the point where your neck meets your collarbone. He thinks about what a hickey would look like there, what kind of attention it would draw from everyone tomorrow morning. 

He can’t dwell on it for too long, though, because you’re yanking him back up by his hair, warning him that you’re about to cum.

“Already?”

“It’s you,” you repeat his own words back to him, and he feels his own stomach tense up in anticipation. “You and your perfect dick.”

Okay, so, less romantic than his sentiment but the structure was still there. It made him feel warm inside nonetheless. 

“Can I cum, please? Please?”

“Do you think you can be quiet? We don’t want a noise complaint, remember?” 

“I c-can be quiet.”

You’re lying through your teeth and Seonghwa can tell, he’s known you for so long now that he;’s memorized all of your tells. But he’s right there on the edge too and he wants nothing more than to cum with you.

“I’m close too, baby. Shit, can I cum inside you? Please?”

“God, yes- please, give it to me...”

He kisses you as he cums, managing to swallow some of your moans and cries of his name as you cum even harder than you did the first time. He’s sensitive by the time you finally come down from it but he doesn’t pull out. 

“Can we lay like this for a second?”

You nod easily, letting out a soft laugh when Seonghwa drops his weight on top of you. “I don’t think I can move anyway.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.”

“Oh my god, get off of me.”

“Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“You’re the worst!”

“The worst at what?”

“Everything!”

“You didn’t seem to think that a few minutes ago,” he points out. 

“I’m having post-nut clarity,” you mumble, pushing weakly at his shoulders. 

“I didn’t know that happened to girls,” he muses. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about women,” you snap, still struggling underneath him. “Maybe if you talked to one once and a while you’d be more knowledgeable on the subject.” 

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“That’s because I- are you getting hard again?” you ask in disbelief. 

“I told you that bickering with you turns me on!”

“You are unbelievable!”

Seonghwa kisses you and rolls his hips experimentally. You moan, relaxing under him immediately. 

“Fuck, that feels good,” you sigh against his lips. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely going to be late to brunch tomorrow.”

happy birthday emily!! i'm so lucky to call you my bestie and i hope you enjoyed your very late present :)

[yutarot]

ride or die. l.jn smau

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ f1driver!jeno, fake dating, college au, humor, romance, enemies to lovers

synopsis. you knew very little of jeno lee, but who did? he scared most people and hated the rest. so what happens when you accidentally walk in on him removing his race jacket, identifying him as the famous, faceless f1 driver you and everyone else know under the name samo. do you run around the college telling everyone of his secret? or do you take the opportunity to strike a deal with him, a deal which changes both of your lives, forever. a fake relationship.

taglist; open

status; ongoing 3.10.24 - ????

warnings; language, mentions of alcohol/ being drunk, mentions of sex, angst, jenos dad is strict af, blackmailing, lots of jealousy on jenos behalf, major character betrayal (again sorry guys lmaooo), lots of lying (again), the usual cliffhangers and painful suspense (again), yn is annoyingly stupid in the beginning but she grows

disclaimer; all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl

playlist.

is it a crime sade — tasty nct 127 — can’t get you jaehyun — stupid cupid nct dream — uno muse — tokyo drift teriyaki boyz — this world ateez — talk talk featuring troye sivan charli xcx — volcano nct u — ten fred again — joyride kesha — faster nct 127 — miami will smith — rodeo wayv — smooth operator sade — (it goes like) nanana peggy gou — pipe christina aguilera — homecoming kanye west

masterlist.

[000] — [000]

[001] #NEEDTHAT

[002] DRIVE

[003] FOR HER

[004] TELL ME

[005] YN ENVY

[006] ACTUALLY…

[007] ITS COMPLICATED

[008] FOOLISHLY

[009] IS IT TRUE?

[010] I WANT U

[011] RISK.

[012] STAY

[013] NOT HIM. ME.

[014] I BARELY KNOW HIM

MID-FIC SUMMARY.

[015] #SELFCARE

[016] THUMBS DOWN EMOJI

[017] WHEN IT COMES TO YOU.

[018] FOR HER, I AM.

[019] NUH UH

[020] YOU HAVE TO TELL HER

[021] QUEEN OF HEARTS

more tba..

replies, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! feel free to send thoughts in my asks!

[holybibly]

𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 | 𝔜𝔲𝔫𝔥𝔬 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

♡ Pairing: Boyfriend Yunho х reader ♡ Summary: You can't blame Yunho for not being able to keep his hands to himself—it's your fault that you're so irresistible that he's madly in love with you. Or you don't like to get up so early in the morning, but Yunho has a great way of changing that. ♡ Genre / Au / Trope: Smut, non-idol!AU, established relationships ♡ Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI ♡ Word count: 2.8k ♡ Warnings: Pervert boyfriend! Yunho, sub!reader, consensual somnophilia, masturbation, free use, unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play, pet names, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, pussy slapping, and more.

♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet ♡ A|N: For bunnies who, like me, hate waking up early.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @vampzity @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess @0rangemilk

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @oddracha katsukis1wife

When Yunho wakes up, it's just beginning to light up outside the window. He lets out a heavy sigh as he leans back onto the soft, fluffy pillows and covers his eyes sensitive from sleep with his hand. His teeth bite his lower lip to keep from moaning as his straining cock twitch under the silk of his pyjamas from movements he makes. Damn, it's too early for that shit, but here he is with his cock hard as a rock, all sweaty and thirsty, and all because of a dream, albeit a damn nice dream, he has to say. 

Yunho's gaze rests on the white ceiling of your shared bedroom, the sunlight now casting golden pink shimmering pools across it. He tries to recall the details of the dream, which excited him so early in the morning and made his cock noticeably tense. He could swear that at the beginning it was all innocent, until little by little your nice date with him turned into a completely dirty and disgusting scene where he was fucking you in a public toilet. Yunho bent you over, your big, juicy tits sticking out of your dress neckline, jiggling with each powerful thrust, and he put his long, ringed fingers in your mouth to muffle your loud, sweet whimpering as he filled your tiny, tight cunt with his cock like his life depended on it. 

Pictures of you wriggling in his arms, your thick thighs trembling as you came on his cock, coating it with your cream, and how his viscous, milky cum lavishly gushing from your used, reddened hole, which still continued to tremble even after he was completely out of you, flash before his mind's eye again. 

His Adam's apple twitches as he swallows noisily, and Yunho can feel his silk pyjama trousers getting more uncomfortably wet by the second from how profusely his cock is leaking. It's your fault;rom it's all that damn attraction of yours and those big shining eyes begging 'fuck me' even if it's only a dream. How can he resist such temptation? 

He sighs again and slips his thumbs under the elastic of his trousers to pull them down his thighs, wanting to solve his 'problem' by himself as soon as possible, knowing that you don't like to be woken up so early.

'So bloody early...' He curses quietly, his eyes sliding to the electronic clock on your bedside table. 'Five in the morning.'

Yunho slowly lowers his trousers until the thick, swollen head of his cock is visible over the silky fabric before he pulls his heavy, throbbing cock fully out. The cool bedroom air lightly kisses the hot length painfully, making him hiss. Yunho licks his lips before sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he runs his manicured fingernails lightly up the length of his cock. That's what you always do to him before your tongue presses against the velvety skin of his cock and licks it lazily a few times before you close your lips over the wet, flushed head and... Damn, he should stop his fantasies right now before his self-control collapses like a house of cards and he climbs on top of you to fuck you good in the mattress. 

He doesn't want to wake you, especially as he knows you've had problems getting to sleep lately, but he finds it so hard to hold back his groans as he cups his cock in his hand and runs it up and down a few times from the base to the head. His balls are straining with sperm he wants to pour into your pretty pussy or lovely mouth. He imagines that your palm is caressing his dick or taking it down your throat and swallowing so deeply you put your face against his pubic and start choking. Oh shit, he really must stop. 

Yunho sits up on the bed with his back against the headboard, his legs bent at the knees and spread as wide as he can so as not to disturb you. He lazily jacks himself off, his eyes gliding over your sleeping form, taking in every curve and glimpse of bare skin. 

His tongue keeps flicking over his lips, as if Yunho can taste your pussy, which he has licked deliciously in his dreams. He's always enjoyed eating you; it loosens up his compulsive oral fixation, and lately he's become addicted to lazily licking you to ease the gnawing feeling of dissatisfaction inside him when his mouth is empty. 

The image of him languidly sucking on your clit, occasionally rubbing his tongue over your folds, makes him pump his cock faster. His other hand slides between his thighs and encircles his balls, massaging them in his palm, which only increases his pleasure. Suddenly his gaze falls on your small mouth; he can see the tip of your soft tongue between your wet lips. Fuck, you look so vulnerable, so tender, absolutely fuckable, and this only excites him more. 

Although Yunho has to say that he's generally turned on by absolutely everything you do, even if it's something mundane or completely innocent. Maybe he's just a total pervert; who knows? 

To be honest, he still doesn't understand how he managed to make you his in the first place, but it doesn't matter; you're here now, living in his apartment, sleeping in his bed, fucking him every night, and more. 

Sometimes he can't control himself at all; you make him feel so good just by being in his life; you're like a drug he can't get enough of—all those dreams, all those thoughts, all those sweet smiles and wet, glistening looks, and of course that special look on your face he always sees when you cum for him—Yunho is crazy in love with you; sue him for it. 

Every time Yunho promises himself that he is going to do the right thing—he is going to treat you like a real princess, he is going to kiss the ground you walk on, he is going to be gentle, he is going to be affectionate—he can do it. Yunho is determined to make love with you for hours because he is a fantastic lover and he is so tough. You can ride him like a stallion, he can fuck you holding you in his arms or pressing you against the wall; every position is possible with him, and of course he will let you take the control, but... but it ends the same way it always does: he grabs your thighs roughly with his big and strong hands, digging his fingers into the soft flesh until it bruises and haemorrhages, and he fucks you roughly and deeply like an animal. 

Sometimes he's so ashamed of it, but it's you; it's all because of you; it's you who do all these things to him—you're the source of his insatiable lust. 

But now it was a completely different case. How is he supposed to deal with it when he's so damn horny and you're consciously not available to him now? 

Of course, it was always present in your conversations; you dropped hints here and there that 'he can have you anytime he wants', but Yunho still felt a little guilty. Hell, he seemed like a horny teenager with raging hormones who didn't know how to deal with his own arousal, but it wasn't enough to stop his free hand from squeezing your breasts and massaging them through your thin nightgown. 

It was such a pretty thing—sheer, thin, short, trimmed with ruffles and lace—just the way he liked it; you looked absolutely angelic in it, but at the same time utterly slutty, the contrast Yunho liked most about you. 

Your sleepy face frowns slightly at the sudden stimulation, your nipples hardening under his touch. He unconsciously licks his lips as he sees the candy pink flesh swell as his fingers circle your nipples through the translucent fabric, his obsessive oral fixation not helping him at all with the urge to take them in his mouth and suck them until you come, and he knows you can definitely do it since Yunho has done it to you before. Once he dedicated a whole evening to sucking, licking, and biting your nipples until you squirted for him, and damn, it was so hot. The memory makes his cock twitch in his hand, new drops of pre-cum leaking from its head, running down its thick, wiry length, coating it in a glistening layer of moisture. 

'Fuck.' Yunho moans, strangled. He's so close, so damn close, but his orgasm still doesn't come, keeping him on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. His cock aches from how rough and hard he's fucking his fist and how eager he is to get his sweet release. But all his efforts are in vain; they only irritate him more and make his cock throb with tension; he needs you and only you to make him cum. 

He throws his head back, rolling his eyes as he runs the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, and imagine that he's rubbing it against your princess-pussy instead, smearing his pre-cum all over your clit and making you shiver and squirm. Shit...

With a disappointed sigh, he stops touching himself and rolls over onto his side so that he's facing you. Indecisively, his hand hangs in the air before he places his big palm on your pussy. He can feel how warm and wet it is through the see-through panty, which he thinks is completely useless, but you like to look aesthetically pleasing, and who is he to argue with his princess? You squirm at his touch, unconsciously spreading your legs wider for him, and Yunho takes advantage of this to push the wet net aside and slide his fingers along your slit. 

"Mmm, baby, you're obviously dreaming about something nice." He whispers into your cheek, showering it with light, airy kisses as his fingers circle your clit, spreading your juices all over it. You're already so wet for him. His fingers caress you persistently, tracing his name on your clit, feeling it swell under his touch. His kisses travel down your neck to your bare shoulders and deep cleavage. Yunho is trying not to bite your skin; he doesn't want you to wake up in pain, especially as the marks of his past bites still haven't completely disappeared. God, how you moaned when he sank his teeth into you as he stretched you out on his fingers. The memory is still too vivid in his mind.

Eventually the stimulation becomes too overwhelming for you to stay asleep and your eyes flutter open. For a second, you panic at the feel of a cold, calloused finger rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, but Yunho's husky voice instantly calms you.

"Shh, princess, it's only me." He kisses your lips gently, and you moan into his mouth as his fingers pinch your clit. "I couldn't cum without you, so I thought I'd play with that angel pussy; you don't mind me waking you up like this, do you, baby?" He continues to kiss your face as he circles your clit before slapping it lightly with the palm of his hand. You jerk at the sharp sensation, excitement tingling on your skin, and you feel your hole tighten around nothing. It's not the kind of awakening you've been dreaming of, but you don't mind, especially when Yunho's long, skilled fingers are giving you such pleasure. 

You couldn't stop squirming; it felt too good as he continued to rub his fingers over your delicate folds, occasionally tracing the edge of your hole and dipping his fingertips inside to collect your juices. Your hips rose in time with the movements of his hand, and you came closer and closer to orgasm when suddenly he pulled his hand away from your pussy and brought his wet fingers to your lips. 

"Lick it for me, princess." And you do as you're told. Your tongue sticks out of your mouth, wraps around the long appendages glistening with your slime, and licks them clean. All the while, as you suck and lick Yunho's fingers, you stare into his eyes, knowing that this is what drives him crazy—his long fingers in your mouth, the unbroken eye contact, and the way you drool for him. "Damn, angel, that's it." He slaps your pussy again with his free hand, and you roll your eyes in searing pleasure as you continue to suck his fingers diligently. "I want to see your beautiful face when you come, Princess. You'll show me, won't you?" He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, allowing you to speak.

'Yes, Yu-Yunho...Whatever you want." 

A smug grin blossoms on his lips; he likes the way you react to him too much. Yunho feels his cock throbbing painfully again, more pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock and smearing down his thigh, but it doesn't matter; all he can think about is how you're going to come on his fingers. 

Your vision becomes blurry; you can't even describe what's happening; your brain is still too foggy from sleep; you just lie there and take whatever Yunho gives you and let your handsome boyfriend play with you as he pleases. 

"I'm going to make you feel so good, Princess." You cling to his wrist, trying to ground yourself, but it doesn't help much, especially when he inserts his two long fingers into you sharp and deep, making you let out a shrill moan. 

It's always like this with Yunho; at first he's gentle, his touches airy and calculated, but the longer your games go on, the rougher and sharper he gets. It can start with him worshipping your pussy with his mouth and end with him roasting you in the butt with his huge cock, getting you on all fours, and putting all his weight on you. 

"I'll buy you new ones." That's the only warning you get before the sound of ripping fabric fills the room, or rather the sound of your panties ripping—they're the fifth he's ripped this week. For a moment he cups your entire pussy in his possessive palm, feeling how wet and ready it is for him, promising himself that he will fuck you with his tongue later, after you have come on his fingers and maybe after you give him a delicious blowjob. You always drove him crazy with the way you sucked him off. Your mouth was always so hot and wet, and as a bonus, you swallowed him all the way to the base and let Yunho fuck your sweet face.

Yes, that was a great plan for the morning. 

"The most beautiful pussy belongs to my sweet girl, doesn't it?" His fingers enter you again and begin to move quickly in and out of you. You could only nod in response to his words, too absorbed in the sensation of your growing orgasm. Your back arched over the bed, your hips trembling as his fingers flexed inside you, hitting your sweetest, most sensitive spot each time. 

"I'm going to cum! Shit... Yunho!' You moaned his name like a mantra, feeling the tight, hot knot of pure ecstasy unravel inside you, plunging you headfirst into the depths of pleasure. Your moans and cries were like music to his ears and only spurred him on. 

Yunho focusses his attention on your clit again, increasing the sensations of your orgasm even more. You almost lose touch with reality as he looks at you with a smile, not stopping the movement of his fingers on your clit for a second, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours. 

"That's it, good girl." His honeyed voice is sticky against your heated skin as Yunho leaves smudged kisses on your cheeks. 'That's my princess. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?' He asks almost innocently, taking your hand in his and pressing it against his needy cock. It's hot under your palm, wet and sticky with pre-cum, thick veins swollen and throbbing under the velvety skin. "Come on, angel, help me, and then I'll make you cum again. You can ride my face, or I can eat you up against the wall. Remember the time I held you on my shoulders while you smothered me with your sweet cunt, hmm?" Yunho coaxes you and begins to push his cock into your hand. You reflexively squeeze it with your palm, your thumb running over the sensitive spot under the head. 

"Fuck, yeah... Just like that."

It may not have been the wake-up call you dreamed of on a Saturday morning, but you weren't the type to complain, especially when your boyfriend is Jeong Yunho. 

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Reactions Masterlist

Unless specified, I write a mix of idol!ateez and non-idol!ateez for reactions.

You breaking up with him as a prank.

You run away. (Mafia!Ateez)

You dancing with another male idol in front of him on a show.

You want to take a break after an argument. 

You faint.(idol!reader)

Saying something hurtful to you during an argument.(Mafia!Ateez)

You catch him cheating on you.

Your friend tries to flirt with him.

Overhearing and misunderstanding something you said.

Rumors of you dating another idol. (idol!reader)

Disapproving of you smoking. 

You make out with your co-star for a movie/drama.

Your ex wants you back. 

You ask him to buy pads. (Text version)

You get injured.(celeb!reader)

You ignore him as a prank.

Watching an erotic movie with you.

Finding a positive pregnancy test (but it isn’t yours).

You come home late after an argument. (Mafia!Ateez)

You’re his bestfriend and you kiss him/he kisses you. 

“I had a dream about you . . . you were my sleep paralysis demon.” (Text Version)

You call him a “friend.”

You tell him to sleep on the couch after an argument.

He accuses you of cheating on him. (Mafia!Ateez)

Sitting on their lap during a bumpy car ride.

He finds out you’re a spy from his rival gang. (Mafia!Ateez)

You prank him with lyrics. (Text version)

Someone hitting on you. (Mafia!Ateez)

He finds out that he has a child. (Mafia!Ateez, Dad!Ateez)

He gives you an inkigayo sandwich. (Idol!Reader)

You wearing their clothes.

Being on the same show as you. (idol!reader)

You being affectionate/horny when drunk.

You’re his / he’s your wallpaper.

You kiss him out of the blue.

Confessing your / his feelings after an arranged marriage. (Mafia!Ateez, arranged marriage au)

His child interrupts him during a meeting / work. (Mafia!Ateez, Dad!Ateez)

You’re his love interest for a movie/drama.

Leading him/you on as a prank.

[luumiinaa]

Forever known to be a duck-whisperer 😂😂😂

That Kids, Is How I Met Your Father - Seonghwa X Reader

Part of the CODN Summer Event - See You On The Flip Side

Genre: Mature, Angst, Crack, Fluff, Non-idol!AU

Pairing: Seonghwa X GN!Reader

Words: 2,700

Rating: T for Teen

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, but really it's a really funny misunderstanding, a gun!, mature themes, not edited, I'll do that laterrrrr so please excuse any errors

A/n: Since the event was announced and I saw the first prompt, this has been living in my head rent free lmaooo I had way too much fun writing this, so I hope you all like it as well! It's not meant to be taken too seriously, so just have fun when reading it! At least, I hope you will! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: You seem to have the most rotten luck when it comes to chatting up strangers... and asking them for help...

Prompt: Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss.

You have no idea how you got here. Perhaps it’s your penchant for excitement, or maybe even your love of adventure. However, if anyone would have told you that you’d be in this situation, you would have laughed in their face… followed promptly by an excited, yet curious, ‘really?’

Honestly, you can’t be mad. He is rather cute, and he did go along with it to start.

That’s what happens when you trust a stranger.

You had seen your ex across the park with their new fling walking hand in hand. Or, rather, the person they had been seeing the whole time while you had supposedly been in a relationship with them. Seeing them out looking so joyous had something within you twisting unpleasantly, and if they could look so happy being together and away from you, then so could you.

Looking around the park, you had done a quick scan of the area. Weeding out potential dangers, you finally zeroed in on your target. A man with shaggy black hair half tied up in a ponytail. He appeared to be alone, and the fact that he was crouched by the pond chatting with the ducks had an immediate good feeling towards him building within your gut.

Without a moment to waste, you ran over to him.

“Hi, I know this is really sudden, but could you do me a huge favour?” Your words come out rushed, cheeks heating as you avert your gaze to the side.

Unfortunately for you, your gaze caught on your ex and their now partner rounding the closest bend and getting even closer to where you were standing.

You didn’t even give the man time to respond. All you did know, was that he had stood back to his feet beside you, his beauty captivating you the moment you turned to meet his curiously quirked brow.

“Great, thanks.” You say, offering him a tight smile.

The sound of laughter meets your ears, and you immediately find yourself stepping closer into this mystery man’s side.

A call of your name draws your attention to the side.

“Oh, hey, Colin,” you grin, chuckling awkwardly as you meet his gaze. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, we were just out for an afternoon stroll through the park, and I couldn’t help but notice you with-“

“Oh, excuse me,” the man beside you clears his throat, extending his hand out towards Colin. You fail to see the pointed look he shoots your ex’s now partner. “Where are my manners? My name is Seonghwa.”

You swear you see Colin’s partner stiffen beside him, their eyes catching on a large silver and black ring on the duck watcher’s - Seonghwa’s - hand.

“So, how long have you and Seonghwa been together-“

“Well, it was great seeing you!” You cut their words off eagerly, a tight smile painting your lips. 

Grabbing Seonghwa’s hand in your own, you pull him down the path and in the opposite direction of the two of them a bit frantically. You need to get away from an even more awkward conversation than what had already been started mere minutes ago.

“This was a dumb idea.” You keep muttering over and over to yourself as you drag him along. “God- how could I have been so stupid?”

You fail to see the curious quirk of the man’s brow trudging behind you.

Taking a quick look around, you manage to rush across the street and into a side alleyway. It’s a bit secluded, but you could use the space right now. Especially after seeing your ex again.

It takes you a full minute to realize that you’re still holding this mystery man’s hand.

“Should I even ask?” His amused voice greets your ears.

Instantly, you drop his hand, beginning to pace.

“All this time I thought I was over doing stupid things like this to get his attention, but no!” You drawl out that last word, shaking your head. “I just had to go and drag a random stranger into it instead of walking away. God, that was probably so uncomfortable for you. I’m so sorry!” You turn to him, your eyebrows drooping. “You probably think I’m some crazy person obsessed with their ex, or something. I promise you I’m not!”

Your words start rising in pitch, voice taking on a more frantic tone.

“I’m just…. upset at how happy they look after what they did-“ you take a sharp breath in. “And you probably don’t even care, oh my god. Here I am ranting to a literal stranger over my old relationship problems after dragging him across the street.”

The corner of Seonghwa’s lips quirk, resting his one shoulder against the brick wall of the alleyway casually. His eyes continue to track your every movement, amusement dancing within his gaze as he listens to you rant like he’s not even there.

After a few more minutes of you seemingly working yourself up, he cannot help but chuckle, “You know, there’s not many people brave enough to do what you just did.”

This seems to halt you right in your tracks.

You blink, turning to face him fully, and noticing how he’s still been here this whole time.

“To be fair, I thought you would have bolted the moment I dragged you into this alleyway.”

“You’re blocking the only exit.” The grin he wears only widens, watching as your eyes seem to dart everywhere but towards him now.

“Oh.” You laugh awkwardly. “So, I am.”

He says nothing in response, simply continuing to watch you in amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, then…” you clear your throat, stepping pointedly to the side. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

His grin only stretches wider across his face. “You sure about that?”

“Well, unless you want to hear all about the relationship struggles of a stranger, I won’t hold you hostage any longer.” You motion for him to walk passed with your hand, signifying his freedom.

“Believe me,” he pushes himself off of the wall, yet opts to stand directly across from you still with his arms crossed. “If I had wanted to escape, there is no way you could have held me here.”

To say you are taken back by his bluntness would be a great understatement.

“Oh?” Your brows raise, an expression of disbelief coating your features. “I mean, it’s not like I was being forceful!”

“On the contrary,” he chuckles, his eyes dancing in amusement. “I had no other choice than to follow you after you had grabbed my hand.”

“Well, I highly doubt you couldn’t have just pulled your hand free-“

“But then what would have our dear Colin have thought?” He hums, tilting his head slightly. “Would have been so scandalous for a couple to act so repulsed of one another.”

“I said I was sorry!” Your shoulders deflate. “You seemed like the best option in the park at the time and I took a chance! You’re the one who went along with it.”

“I’m not so heartless that I would leave someone in clear distress.” His words come out a little sharper than before, and you notice his eyes seem to harden for a moment.

You recoil slightly, blinking at him in disbelief. “I never said that you were.”

He holds your gaze, his jaw ticking. His shoulders seem tense.

“Well, thanks for your help, oh, great kung fu master,” you say, bowing dramatically with an arm across your chest while the other extends out towards the opening of the alleyway. “My apologies if I disturbed your duck whispering rituals.”

Seonghwa takes a moment to observe you, his head tilting curiously. A blink, and you have yet to come up from your mockery of a bow, which only causes a huff of disbelief to escape him through his nose.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?”

You lift your head, brow furrowed. “Should I?”

Your response clearly catches him off guard. So much so, that he drops his arms to his side.

“Are you some celebrity that I don’t know about?” You shake your head, attempting to place if you’ve seen him on a talk show, or in headlines recently.

This time, the disbelief is clear on his face. “You’ve got to be shitting me…”

“I assure you, sir,” you reply pointedly, “that if I had any idea who you were, I most likely would not have approached the least intimidating stranger making animal crossing sounds at the ducks.”

His mouth falls open, eyes widening as he attempts to refute your statement.

“It was rather sweet, if I’m being honest with myself-“

A blink, and suddenly he has you pinned to the wall of the alleyway. His hands hold tightly to your shoulders, pressing you harshly against the brick as his dark eyes meet your own.

“You need to forget everything you saw, and, or heard today.” He says firmly, his lips curling over his teeth.

“Woah,” you attempt to lift your hands in a shrug, but at the way he pushes you firmer into the wall, his body now pressed against your own, you grimace. “Didn’t realize being human was a sin.”

“You don’t understand-“

“Oh, I don’t understand?” You nod once, slowly, your eyes wide. “Because I’m pretty sure this has taken quite a turn from what we both expected from the other.”

“You don’t realize how dangerous I can be-“

“Is this supposed to be some kind of bad boy act, because it really could use some work-“

“It’s not an act!”

“Oh, really?” You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips quirking. “Then, is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

The man before you lets out a long sigh, his head dropping as he takes a step away from you. His hands move almost too fast for you to see, but at the sleek black object that he pulls out, your eyes nearly bulge from your head.

“A gun!” 

“Keep your goddamn voice down,” Seonghwa hisses, tucking the object into the back waistband of his jeans. “I told you I wasn’t fucking around.”

However, you’re not even paying attention anymore.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die….” You’re mumbling again, blinking rapidly as you lean against the wall for support. “Stupid, stupid, stupid trying to enlist help from a stranger. A stranger with a gun, no less…” You smile tightly, looking like you may let out a shriek of disbelief at any second. “I’m gonna be kidnapped, and my cats will have no one to take care of them-“

“I’m not going to kidnap you.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He goes to reach for you in attempts to calm you down, but you recoil, causing him to immediately back down. “Your cats won’t be orphaned. Relax.”

“But you have a gun!” You whisper harshly, as if it should be obvious why he is a sudden threat to you.

“Hey, if anyone is the kidnap victim here, it’s me.” He hums, that same look of amusement back in his eyes.

“I didn’t-“

“I’ve already had to tell my personal guards to stand down twice since you’ve whisked me away-“

“I was about to knee you in the balls!” 

“Yeah, you definitely would have been shot for that.” He states, rather casually at that.

The look of horror that paints your features is near comical at this point.

He blinks. “You’re not going to be shot-“

“I’m too young to die! I still have my whole life ahead of me!” You begin to wail dramatically.

“You’re not going to die.” He sighs, shaking his head lightly in amusement.

“Says the man with the gun!” You flail your hands, motioning to him with wide eyes. “I knew celebrities valued their privacy, but threats are a whole different ball game.”

“I guess you could call me somewhat of a celebrity.” He shrugs casually, seeming to bask in the idea.

“You, sir, need to sort out your priorities.” You deadpan.

“Says the person freaking out about getting shot by a gun I already put away.” He counters. “Believe me, if I had wanted you dead, you would have been by now.”

“Well, that just makes me feel loads better!” You throw your hands in the air in exasperation. “You certainly know how to pick someone up at the park.”

“You kidnapped me!” He replies, just as exasperatedly.

“I thought you said you’d have no trouble getting away if that were the case.” You simper, nose in the air as you cross your arms over your chest.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as he takes you in. Then, the most startling sound escapes him since the beginning of your encounter with this mystery duck whisperer.

He laughs. Not a small chuckle, or puff of amusement. A loud, boisterous laugh which echoes off of the bricks of the alleyway as he nearly doubles over.

“God, I haven’t had this much fun since Joong shattered the duplicate blood ruby we were supposed to use to pull off the Mont Blanc heist.” Seonghwa straightens, attempting to catch his breath as he wipes at the corner of his eyes.

You blink, his words seeming to trigger a memory inside of your mind. Curiously, you tilt your head as flashes of breaking news bulletins flit through your mind, your mouth falling open in disbelief. You hand lifts, shaking lightly as you point a finger at him.

“You’re the leader of the notorious Hala gang?” Your eyes go wide, stunned disbelief painting your features. That is, until a shrill laugh is leaving your lips.

Now, it’s your turn to double over in laughter.

“You- you’re the-“ More peels of laughter escape you, hunching over to rest your hands on your knees.

“What’s so hard to believe?” He quirks a brow, seemingly amused by your reaction currently.

“You were making animal crossing noises at the ducks!” Your lips quirk upwards in the corners. “The big, bad, scary Hala boss spends his free time at the pond, cooing to the ducks!”

“Well, we all need hobbies other than murder sometimes.” He shrugs, as if this is the most normal conversation to be having.

“Right,” you drawl out, shooting him a sceptical look. “And diamonds aren’t a girl’s best friend. Or, well, in this case, blood diamonds.”

“Actually, it was a ruby. But, fair enough,” he chuckles, his eyes shining as he stares at you across from him.

“Oh, pardon me,” you roll your eyes playfully. “We can’t all be versed in the world of jewels and gemstones.”

He takes a brief moment to observe you, seemingly coming to a decision. The corner of his lips twitches upwards.

“Would you like to be?”

His question clearly catches you off guard, and you nearly go tumbling over your own two feet as you push yourself off of the wall. “Excuse me?”

“Well, seeing as you’ve separated me from my lovely ducklings, and kidnapped me against my will…” he hums, closing the distance between the two of you carefully. “I think it’s only fair that we do something to my benefit this evening. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Almost as soon as he finishes speaking, he offers you his arm. A soft smile tugs at his lips, that glimmer of amusement shining once more within his dark eyes. He holds no aura of intimidation around him, nor does he seem to have any intent of harming you for the moment. Still, you cannot help but to eye him cautiously.

Your gaze flicks from his arm to his face, studying him carefully. Your brow quirks, and you cannot deny the spark of excitement that kindles within you as you gently place your hand on his arm.

“If my cats are suddenly orphaned cause I’m dead in a ditch somewhere…”

“Believe me, Darling,” Seonghwa chuckles lowly, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he leans into you. He lightly tugs you in closer as you both exit the alleyway, ensuring that you’re pressed right against his side. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to stay.”

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋 FOR THE PLOT! — AN 02z SMAU

∿ THE PLOT IN QUESTION 📁 A crush from kindergarten, a classmate from second to fifth grade who you refused to admit you liked (even with a blushing face), and a childhood friend you never saw in any other way surrounded your school life. What if, the three boys you had forgotten about return to your life, and you can’t help but fall for all of them? Also, what if your feelings for these boys all existed at the same time?

∿ 📢 CASTING ≋ childhood-crush!jay, childhood-crush!jake, childhood-friend!sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. 02z + niki from enhypen, chaewon and yunjin from le sserafim, karina from aespa, juyeon and sunwoo from tbz, sohee from riize, nayeon from twice, rei from ive, seoyeon from fromis_9, belle from kiof, zhanghao from zb1, taehyun from txt, taeyoung from cravity, jaemin from nct dream, mingi from ateez, choi yena, and includes mention of other idols too)

∿ GENRES 🔗 › smau + written, childhood crushes/friends to lovers, highschool au, nonidol au, reverse but not so reverse harem, fluff, angst, and crack.

∿ CONTAINS 🔍 profanity, 02z aren’t the same age, random timestamps, kys/kms jokes, joking threats, no official faceclaim but images may be used, y/n goes on dates w all three boys (diff days), more will be added.

∿ SCHEDULE 📰 ongoing (tues and fri)

TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO BE ADDED

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

CHAPTER ONE — let you break my heart again

CHAPTER TWO — WHAT THE FUCK IS TRIPLE BALL

CHAPTER THREE — chronicles of narnia 2 (0.6k words)

CHAPTER FOUR — jake?????? like nerdy boy jake?????

CHAPTER FIVE — #ResortToDominican

CHAPTER SIX — clock it

CHAPTER SEVEN — so basically diva down

CHAPTER EIGHT — cute 😊

CHAPTER NINE — need him miss him want him 💔💔

CHAPTER TEN — calm luh facial structure (0.4k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — MONTHLY REUNION (0.4k words)

CHAPTER TWELVE — for the 𝖕𝖑𝖚𝖍

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — a date?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — “nah id win” ahh reply 😭🙏

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — panda enthusiast

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — keep laughing.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — blue icing cupcakes (0.6k words)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — keep yourself on ur toenails

CHAPTER NINETEEN — SIKEEE YOU THOUGHT 😂😂🫵

CHAPTER TWENTY — because i know i did

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — cute ay eff!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — even as a joke

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — my fave soccer play

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — #ourbad

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — white roses (1.2k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — i’m sorry (1.0k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — start running hoon!!!!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — FUCK YOU MR LEE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — death of him (1.2k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY — don’t hit him up 😆

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — loving you from a distance

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — mabagal (1.3k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — U DOWNBAD FREAK

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — Join me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — UNSTOPPABLE FR 😂😂😂

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — single and NOT able to mingle

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — in love or mentally ill

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — gave a fuck

CHAPTER THIRY-NINE — i’m going to reply to

ENDINGS (FORTY) — SUNGHOON JAKE JAY

COMPLETED!

© JUYEOZ

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter I

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: mentions of violence, gangs, drinking, shooting, near-death experience, illegal businesses, seonghwa and yunho are major assholes in this chap, san and yeosang have warmed up, mention of killing, etc

chapter wc: 9.8k

chapter synopsis: it is the year 1970 in eden when an attack on the crescent bar prompts you, the bookkeeper, to carry out yeosang’s order and flee with the contents of the safe. however, you are unlucky to have discovered an unknown, suspicious package that sentences you to an early death. left with no choice, you reveal secrets about the underworld to the crescents and their underboss that even they are not aware of. will this gamble prove to be fruitful?

It was very easy to get lost in the liveliness of the Crescent Bar. Despite being stationed away from the heart of it all, you often found yourself distracted by the chatter of a couple who would occasionally pop in for a drink, the hushed whispers of a group of men who would be looking over their shoulders every few minutes, the hearty laughter that would suddenly fill the hall and spread warmth in its wake, or simply, a lone traveller who would be swaying to the light music that you were actually sick of hearing but didn’t have the heart to complain about. 

It was now second nature to jot in an observation or record transactions on an hourly basis, just like it was natural for you to take over the cashier’s place so the poor girl could take a break and move around. You no longer felt your hair rise every time you overheard a piece of information that you knew Yeosang or San would like to hear, nor did you feel your pores opening to release sweat every time they glanced your way– just like San did now, just having entered the bar and sent his trademark flirty smile in your direction.

“Restock champagne on table two, right away!” 

“On the way!” You shouted instead of the new girl who was currently finding it hard to multitask. You didn’t have to worry about a thing– Yuju, the head of staff, noticed everything as if she had eyes in every corner of the bar. She would make sure to let the girl know that she was doing well with an encouraging pat to her back.

“They’re going to empty our inventory tonight,” Eunbi shared a grin with you. “We’re going to have to check the stock again.” 

“I’ll take that– ask Jeonghan to wake the hell up and make sure we don’t run out,” you requested, sliding over to the cash register and typing in the latest entry, marking it with today’s date of 3rd April, 1970. Eunbi urged the waiters to speed up before rushing to the empty table at the left corner of the bar where Jeonghan was resting. She delivered the message with a smack and Jeonghan, who was never really asleep but just had a knack for pretending that he found the loud and bustling atmosphere of the bar relaxing, groggily walked across the hall to the door that led downstairs to check stock- or to get an actual nap. You would find that out later.

“Luna,” San greeted you with your nickname and you nodded in greeting– the nickname stuck with you after Jeonghan once called you Luna. Everyone started calling you by that name afterwards but only a handful knew it was short for lunatic and you intended to keep it that way. 

You had no desire to use your real name anyway.

“Busy night?” San slid on the stool not far from you, Eunbi passing him a sweet smile before she started to pour Black Shadow for him- a staple of the Crescent Bar as the only supplier of the famous and well-loved Utopian wine in all of Eden. San swirled the red wine in his glass casually before downing it in one gulp and Eunbi refilled it before passing the bottle to you, going to attend to more pressing matters than one of the owners casually lounging to chat.

“Kind of,,” you turned to grab yourself a glass and San poured the wine for you. The clinking of your glasses echoed even in your loud surroundings and you took a sip, taking in his appearance- you assumed he must be returning from business since he was wearing a formal black suit, though he ditched his coat at the entrance. The white sleeves were rolled up, revealing his sturdy forearms with a thick silver watch on his left wrist and a silver band on his index finger- one you had never seen him without. 

Your eyes travelled up to his face- tendrils of slick hair falling on his forehead. Choi San was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, and hardly anyone could deny that. 

The problem was that perhaps, he really did not realise how painfully attractive he was. The man was far too humble for his own good, despite being one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Eden.

“Heard something interesting of late?” He inquired routinely. It was always a bit more casual with him as compared to Yeosang. Yeosang was the boss around here, yes, but San was the one who kept things under control. The pair of them worked together very harmoniously and you admired that, even though you had qualms about whatever they were doing- whatever you thought they were doing. Almost two years here and you still had no idea just what it was that their gang did. 

Gang, you called them though they preferred ‘organisation’. The cops preferred ‘criminal organisation’ but you supposed it was just semantics at this point. Their name was Ateez- you never heard that term directly from any of their mouths, but even a child recognised that name and knew to avoid them- or avoid trouble with them. 

But officially, they were the Crescent Company, owner of the Crescent Bar and other businesses in Eden.

“Just politics,” you finished the rest of your drink, adjusting the lone pearl ring on your right hand. “Everyone’s a little antsy with what happened at the protest. They think it’s Assemblyman General Wi’s gang.”

“General Wi would never interfere like that, though,” San scoffed in amusement- perhaps he genuinely found the idea of a man like Major General Wi resorting to dirty means hilarious. “He’s far too smart for that.”

“He is,” you had to agree. “But who else to blame? Only someone from the military would dislike people protesting against martial law. There’s only one candidate for presidency who’s got influence in the army. They think General Wi’s success in the elections would mean the army would control the state.”

“Isn’t the army somewhat controlling the state already, though?” San pondered. “President Lee has ties with the army too.”

You may have gotten used to interacting with the most feared gang in Eden, but the mention of President Lee still made you shiver involuntarily. San had noticed it one too many times and though he hadn’t asked for an explanation, you were sure you would lack the words to describe this sentiment anyway. “President Lee… cannot be controlled by the army, or anyone for that matter. General Wi may be smart but he’s still easily influenced when met with someone of a higher status- that’s what I heard,” you added the last bit hoping it wouldn’t sound like a personal opinion. 

San raised a brow at your comment- you often tried (and failed) to mask your personal opinions under the guise of news but whenever you shared something, he made sure to listen- and listen beneath what your words tried to cover up. He often found your opinions and predictions regarding politics holding some weight and he wasn’t quite sure if you were subconsciously very observant or purposely pretending to be unaware. He once asked you how you knew so much but when you didn’t discuss any information with him for a few weeks, he took the hint. You only reported officially to Yeosang and he could bet you found it easier to talk to him about these things because he wasn’t one to probe.

“Keep me updated,” San said and you nodded. “Yeosang must be inside?”

“He’s actually in Room no. 1- he has visitors.”

“Visitors?” San frowned. “Who?”

“Lieutenant Jeong and co.,” you said and San shook his head at the way you so formally addressed the man. He had told you before that no one ever referred to him as the ‘lieutenant’ but you didn’t know how else to refer to him. “I was in the office earlier so they decided to take the room.”

“That’s okay, I’ll pop in there,” he grabbed a handful of nuts from the counter before walking to the backside of the bar, disappearing in the shadows as he reached the VIP area. You took a deep breath, your mind once again wandering to the ‘guest’. 

Lieutenant Jeong Yunho was not a guest here at all. He belonged here. If you thought Choi San was intimidating, you were wrong. You still recalled the first time you saw him right outside the bar, all roughed up, wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve but not a single scratch on him while a group of men around him writhed on the floor, clutching their mangled limbs. He met your eyes and your heart sank in the worst way possible- worse than the moment you were disowned by your own father. It was simply fear, and you hated feeling fear. You made up your mind to avoid him from then on but there was only so much you could do when you worked at the place he owned. 

Oftentimes he came into the bar in the late hours of the night after wrapping up things in the main office and sat right where San had been sitting earlier in front of you, drinking the strongest wine available in silence- perhaps to sort his thoughts out. He didn’t mind you sitting near him and doing your paperwork, and you didn’t make him feel uncomfortable unlike the others who could not stop stealing glances at him- it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but you simply could not. You didn’t want him to find out what kind of an effect he had on you.

Especially when he had the warmest laughter and his entire demeanour shifted around his comrades. It intrigued you because he felt like two different persons in one vessel. That was the only time you would allow yourself to steal glances at him- when he was distracted enough. Otherwise you didn’t dare look at him in fear that he might find something about you that you had been struggling to hide all your life.

Eunbi came back after serving a group of guests, whispering, “This one table- they were awfully quiet when I went to serve them. I don’t know if it’s because they’ve got some gossip they don’t want anyone to hear or if they’re going to try something stupid.”

You looked at her- Eunbi’s instincts were usually spot-on. “Which table?”

“Over there,” she glanced at the corner and sure enough, the group of four was already looking in your direction. You pretended to be unaffected, asking her to take over the register. While casually strolling towards the door that led to the basement at the other end of the hall, you passed their table, noticing how they resumed talking only after you were out of earshot. 

Something was up. You went downstairs to see Jeonghan napping on the couch.

“Oi,” you poked his thigh and he stirred, opening an eye. You knew he wasn’t really asleep- he wasn’t one to let his guard down, but you supposed he could have his moments of peace. “Stock?”

“Enough for tonight but I’ll place an order for tomorrow before we leave,” he said. “What’s up?”

“There’s a group at table seven. Four young men, armed with guns, awfully quiet and jumpy. Care to take a look?”

“They could have just lost a bet. They might be collecting the remnants of their pride- you tend to do that in silence,” Jeonghan mused.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather you make sure,” you said. “Lieutenant Jeong is here. They’d be stupid to try anything- anything at all, even if it’s just throwing a tantrum.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan got up and smoothened his long dark hair. “I suppose I’ll ask them if they require a better drink to down their shame.”

“Whatever,” you sniggered before going back to your position upstairs. You watched Jeonghan don his jacket as he entered the floor and he looked around, meeting eyes with the group and you both noticed two things-

That their hands went to their hip where the weapons rested, and that they exchanged quick glances with each other. Jeonghan looked at you and you shook your head, urging him to skip the plan and alert the others- it might be an attempt at robbery or worse, but they were so stupid to do that, especially tonight. 

“You’ve restocked their drinks?” You asked Eunbi.

“They just ordered another, Soojin is going to refill their drinks-”

“The new girl?” You shook your head, “She’s been jumpy all night. Stop her, right now. They’re armed, they might do something stupid-”

Before you could finish the sentence or Eunbi could carry out your order, the loud shatter of glass made you both flinch and hold on to each other as you ducked, splinters raining down on you and making you both hiss in pain when some of them met your skin. You tucked Eunbi closer before you raised your head over the counter to assess the situation-

Chaos was the word. Eunbi had been right to be suspicious- the men were now pointing guns at whoever dared to move and another gunshot sounded followed by a guttural yell of the waiter whose arm took the blow. You met eyes with Soojin who stood frozen in the middle of the room and you motioned for her to stay that way.

“No one move!” One of the men shouted, wide eyes relaying the threat. “I’ll shoot you if you move!”

“I’m going to take the register and go to the office,” you whispered to Eunbi who shook her head furiously.

“It’s too dangerous- they’ll shoot you,” Eunbi held your arms in panic but you pried her hands away, squeezing them assuringly.

“I’ll be fine- they won’t spot me. I have to hurry,” you told her and before she could insist, you started crawling away from her, keeping close to the wall and moving towards the backside of the bar, avoiding the shards of glass as best as you could. You had orders to follow- orders Yeosang trusted you would follow at a time like this. You could not disappoint him now after everything he had done for you.

The office was the nearest room from where you sat crouched and if you made a dash for it, you could probably go unnoticed- if the instigators didn’t catch movement from the corner of their eyes. They were too busy forcing the customers to line up against the walls so you could take this chance-

Without thinking any further, you gathered the material of your skirt and thanked the lord that you wore boots instead of your usual heels today as you took a few large steps to disappear into the shadows, now successfully out of their vision. You silently unlocked the door and entered the empty office, taking a deep breath once inside, the adrenaline rush making your head spin. After stealing just a few seconds to calm down, you opened the drawers to make sure nothing of importance was there and then you bent down to access the locker under the desk-

The locker of which you had the key to all this time, but never once checked the contents of. You remembered when Yeosang promoted you from cashier to bookkeeper and told you that not all their transactions were legal- you just had to keep a record and stay shut about it. That, you could do. You kept the key on you at all times, and you took it out from the inside of your skirt’s waistband, unlocking the safe and gathering the two registers and a small packet wrapped way too much to figure out what it held inside. You held the things close to your chest as you made your way out, peeking first to see if the commotion had moved away from your eyeshot. 

You took a turn to the narrow space at your right that led to the back exit, but that was not your destination- the room at the end of that corridor had a passageway that led to another exit in the alley. You slowed down at the sound of footsteps and you wondered if they were coming from right behind you-

Before you knew it, you were being pulled inside the room with a twirl that ended up with your back slamming against the wall, a gasp producing from your lips and freezing midway when you realised just who had pinned you against the wall-

Lieutenant Jeong. And he did not look pleased. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Carrying out orders,” you breathed, realising just how tall and broad he was now that he was in front of you, bending to reach your height. You clutched the registers tighter reflexively, your left wrist still in his strong grip. “I’ve been instructed to flee with the contents of the safe in case of an attack.”

“By who?”

“Kang Yeosang,” you said, though you figured he already knew the answer. “I have the key.”

The man scanned you slowly as if that would give him all the answers to the questions he wasn’t asking. He knew you were the bookkeeper, but did he not know that Yeosang trusted you enough with this?

The sound of a few rushed footsteps caused him to let go of your wrists and you rubbed the skin there. It was Yuju accompanied by the manager, Mingyu, and they told Yunho that there were more men outside now.

“Did you figure out who’s behind the attack?” Yunho asked.

“Probably Chan’s gang,” Mingyu huffed, looking at you and relaxing when he saw that you were safe. “I’m going back to get the rest of the employees.”

“I’ll stay here and make sure they get out safely,” Yuju nodded, noticing the items you were clutching. “Luna- go. We’ll call you when things settle down.”

You looked at Yunho- though you didn’t need his permission, you knew that he could very well ruin things for you. He didn’t trust you- he had no reason to. He told you to wait and disappeared out of the room and Yuju widened her eyes in confusion.

“I mean… I can understand,” you shrugged. “Is everyone okay back there?”

“I don’t think they knew that Yunho and his lackeys were here,” Yuju folded her arms, hugging herself. “They’re going to regret it. Whoever it is… they’ll make him regret ever coming up with this plan.”

“Even if it was just San and Yeosang, they couldn’t have won,” you said and Yuju agreed. “They both go a little crazy too.”

“But Yunho-” she shivered. “He’s something else.”

Your lips twitched in amusement despite the gravity of the situation and moments later, Johnny- Yunho’s assistant- appeared, looking battered.

“I thought it was a gunfight- why does it look like you were in a catfight?” Yuju commented, slumping down on one of the chairs and Johnny shot her an annoyed look. 

“One, I didn’t have a gun on me. Two- they touched my hair!” Johnny huffed and you looked at the man in disbelief, all the impression you had of him going down the drain. Yuju was familiar with Johnny so she didn’t seem very surprised at his childish outburst. “Anyone who messes with my face will get worse in return.”

“Understandable,” you muttered. “Can I go now?”

���Oh, you’re staying here,” Johnny urged you to take a seat. “You’re not going anywhere- Yunho’s orders.”

“Wow, okay,” you sank down on the chair. “And you don’t have a gun? If someone comes here and tries to take these away from me?”

“They’ll have to get past me, you don’t need to worry,” he grinned. “You can relax.”

You could, but you were far too nervous to. You didn’t realise how badly you were rocking your legs until Eunbi entered and you groaned in relief to see she was unscathed. “They almost shot me. I can never get used to this.”

“You will get used to it, one day,” you told her, holding her hands and Eunbi squeezed it with an anxious smile, wondering if that was why you seemed mostly unaffected.

The rest of the employees came one by one in a matter of a few minutes, recovering from the initial shock though it quickly wore off since all of you had experienced something like this at least once- and working in a bar owned by a gang, it was bound to happen anyway. Everyone knew better than to call them a ‘gang’ to their face, though- they had spent years to make their business and organisation legal. 

Somewhat legal, you would argue as their bookkeeper who knew that wine wasn’t the only thing being consumed here. Your hand that was clutching the packet in its grip itched in answer and you looked at it in suspicion.

The few new employees like Soojin were definitely in shock and Yuju did her best to calm them down. Johnny was kind enough to crack jokes to lighten the mood and you were glad to see it was working. Some people really were here to make a living and you were sure you were going to lose a few employees after this incident.

The door opened and Yeosang entered, looking unharmed, almost unfazed. He talked with Yuju first in hushed voices- probably something about the damage they would have to deal with. When he spotted you, he smiled and called you over. You got up and followed him outside to the corridor.

“Glad to see someone followed their orders,” he commented.

“I would have gone to that building you’ve told me about but…”

“Yunho stopped you, I know.” He was going in the direction of Room no.1 where he had previously been in with Yunho but when you entered, you found not only San but Park Seonghwa as well, looking as posh as ever. 

The underboss of Crescent Company, he was the one person in all of the gang that you truly had respect for- it didn’t matter that Park Seonghwa was a criminal. You had once seen him help a lost child find his mother, and another time seen him carry a cat with a broken leg in his arms, and that had changed everything. Not only you but the whole town was aware that Park Seonghwa was a man that possessed a functioning heart unlike most of the gangsters here.

However, you were soon going to find how wrong you had been.

“Miss Jeon, please, make yourself comfortable,” Seonghwa’s calm voice sounded and you looked at Yeosang instinctively- what was happening? He only smiled though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, pouring you a drink which you downed- you needed it now more than ever.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Seonghwa said. “You have the contents of the locker?” 

“Right here,” you placed them on the desk and Yunho shifted in discomfort.

“Thank you for keeping them safe,” the underboss took a deep breath. “I understand that you’ve been working here as the bookkeeper for a considerable amount of time now?”

“About a year, yes,” you straightened, suddenly aware of the tension in the room- even San appeared to be squirming, playing with the ends of his sleeves- you’d never seen him fidget like this. “What is this about, if I may ask?”

“And you… do you have some family? Someone you’ve been caring for?”

“Not in Eden, no,” you confirmed.

“Do you have any idea of what these items are?”

“That’s my registers,” you nudged the thick books. “I’ve recorded every transaction here, legal or not. And this…” you held the package in your hand. “I’m afraid I do not know, but if I have to assume… probably the drugs we slip to our VIPs here.”

Seonghwa met eyes with Yeosang who sighed. “I told you. She does not know, but she can be trusted.”

“We have a policy, Yeosang. I know we trust our employees, but the trust can only go so far.”

“If you could tell me what this is about,” you gritted your teeth, knowing fully well where this was going. “Maybe you should just talk to me, Mr. Park.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” he turned his attention to you, fixing his coat. “We cannot let you go since you’ve seen that,” he pointed at the package and you realised that it was not the drug that you were aware of.  

But if not that, then what was it? You shook it slightly and felt the rustling of something powdery. It had to be a drug.

“And?” You countered. “I was assigned by one of you to take this and flee in case of an attack. I’ve simply followed orders.”

Seonghwa’s brow rose subconsciously and he shared a look with Yunho who looked amused- amused? You knew that people didn’t usually talk back to those in power, but you had once been there. They didn’t know that you once had power- some semblance of it, at least. 

“I’ll be forward with you- we are not allowed to share that with anyone outside our circle, and anyone who does see that is subject to execution.”

You looked at Yeosang in disbelief- he knew that, yet he had still assigned you to carry out this job for him. He could have asked anyone, but he chose you, even when he knew Kihyun had recommended you. Kihyun, the leader of the longest standing gang here and Ateez’s partner. He knew how desperate you were for some stability in your life, yet he chose you.

“I chose you because I trusted you,” Yeosang offered, not meeting your eyes lest he saw how betrayed you felt. It didn’t matter anymore, though. 

“You can’t kill me,” you told Yeosang. “You know who recommended me.”

“I’m sure they will understand,” Seonghwa answered in his stead.

“No, actually,” you tossed the packet on the table and folded your arms, liquid courage making its way up unfiltered as you met Yunho’s eyes- the one thing that you hid from him- from all of them. “I’m sure I’ll be much more useful alive.”

Yunho scoffed loudly, not quite believing the shift in your demeanour and the calculation in your voice, but Seonghwa leaned forward as if to question the sheer audacity that you displayed, and if you knew any better, you would have backed down and accepted your predetermined faith, but-

You still had unfinished business. You still had to take down the men of Eden who possessed power yet wielded it against their homeland. You still had to get back at your father for disowning you. You were far from your goal and you simply couldn’t stop here. 

“Miss Jeon… how on earth could you be more useful alive to us?”

You mirrored Seonghwa’s posture, leaning forward as well and though the wide table separated the two of you, you could very well have been inches away considering how fixated your gazes were. “I know things about the people in power that even your angels do not know of, Mr. Park. I know how their minds work, I know their dirty little secrets. I know what to avoid when dealing with them. I could help you shake Eden’s current establishment- you should not kill me.”

A silence spread in the room as they processed your words and assessed your statement- was this a leap of faith or an act of stupidity? Whatever it was, it seemed to be enough. Seonghwa looked at Yunho again who seemed just as surprised as the rest.

“We could strike a deal,” you offered, relaxing back. While you knew that they could kill you right away and move on with their night, you decided that if you were really going to get killed, you could try something.

It wasn’t a bluff, no. You meant each word you said, but it was a gamble on your life. 

“Luna,” Yeosang’s low voice prompted you to turn to him and adhere to his warning but you were still cross with him.

“What deal would that be?” Yunho finally spoke- you supposed that as consigliere to his boss, he handled these matters. “What information do you possess that is worth more than your life?”

“If I give it away right now, you won’t have any reason to keep me alive, would you?” You countered and San huffed in appreciation, making Yunho shoot daggers at him.

“What? She’s smart,” he pouted and you smiled inwardly, glad that he was still the same old San.

“You will have to give us something, darling,” Seonghwa straightened his gun on the table and though the action was casual, it felt like a mockery of how your life was literally in his- in their hands. 

You leaned back to think- you had to play your cards right here, and very carefully. One wrong move and you’d be gone. What was it that you could reveal right now that would make them consider that you were a force to be reckoned with, and would also make them join hands with you? Could you make this mafia gang bend to your will, or were you asking for too much?

You looked around the room, meeting eyes with each one of them, calculating every possible move from here. Most of the information you had was something you couldn’t simply claim to know without blowing your real identity. If they started looking into your background properly this time, they would find out that your surname was borrowed and there was no record of you being here in Eden before 1966- that was four years ago. You came back from Wonderland in ‘66, having spent a few years there looking after your sick aunt and recovering from the shame and anger of being disowned by your father. You couldn’t tell them who your father was- it was far too early for that. 

And since you couldn’t have them finding who your father was, you couldn’t let them know anything related to the pharmaceutical business your father owned, or his connections with the politicians- could you give them some information about a politician? President Lee, perhaps? But you weren’t sure how dangerous he was, maybe someone else-

Your eyes fell on an antique porcelain vase in the corner that looked awfully familiar. Your frown deepened as you tried to recall where you had seen it, and when it clicked, you realised you had your answer.

“You got that vase from Assemblyman Major General Wi, is that right?”

The four of them turned to look at the object you were pointing at. Yeosang confirmed that you were right. You couldn’t help but have your lips curl in a smirk. “You might want to return it. You don’t want to have an object that was used for money-laundering… unless you’re involved.”

Yeosang blinked in confusion, looking at the older two who seemed to be concealing any hints of emotions. San, however, looked just as confused as Yeosang. “How do you know that?”

“That’s not the point,” you told him. “The point is that General Wi’s artefact gallery is just a cover for his money-laundering business. Not a good look for a presidential candidate, is it?”

Seonghwa nodded, perhaps connecting some dots in his head and coming to the conclusion that you may be right. “I’m impressed, Miss Jeon. I will verify this information but I have a feeling that you’re speaking the truth.”

You nodded and Yeosang finally laughed in disbelief. “Who are you really, Luna?”

“Your bookkeeper who’s asking that you take consideration of my loyalty and make a deal,” you said and when Yeosang nodded, you continued. “I… I, too, have unfinished business. You know I was desperate to have stability when I first got a job here- it wasn’t always like this. I will give you all the information that you need as long as you protect me as your source. As long as you keep me safe, because you and I,” you turned to Seonghwa. “We have the same goals.”

“And what might that be?”

“Power and protection,” you said, sure that you were right about the first part but when Seonghwa’s brows twitched, you realised that the shot in the dark with ‘protection’ wasn’t fruitless. “We’ve all got something or someone to protect. I’m protecting myself. You’re protecting your people.”

“You’re very talkative… Luna,” Yunho commented and your heart fluttered at the way he called your name- only the nickname, yet you were wavering. You mentally scolded yourself. “This could be the only information you possess. Not enough.”

“Oh, please,” you countered. “You know I have more- I can’t be running on sheer confidence here. But don’t think for one second that you can torture that information out of me,” you said and when Yunho smiled guiltily, you somehow found yourself smiling back despite the fact that your life was on the line. “Protect me and I’ll make sure your boss overthrows the current establishment and becomes the most powerful man in Eden.”

“Protect you from who?” Yunho asked and you gulped involuntarily, recalling the darkness and emptiness in the eyes of the person the whole nation admired. 

“I can’t say yet, just… keep me in the shadows, for now. Please.”

Yunho looked at Seonghwa- you couldn’t be making this up. Yeosang asked you to go home and that they would give you an answer soon. When you left the room, Yeosang sat down next to San.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“She’s not lying, yes,” San confirmed and Yeosang nodded. “She’s only ever worked, right? We’ve been seeing her for a year now. Work and home is all she does, isn’t that so?”

“Yes. I kept an eye on her for a few months before I assigned her with bookkeeping duties- she has no family here. Just a few acquaintances- Kihyun of MX Pharmaceuticals, which I thought was odd, but they were a gang before they became a pharmaceutical company, so maybe she encountered them at some point. They literally know everyone.” 

“And her roommate just so happens to be Wendy.”

“I dismissed it as a coincidence. She couldn’t be one of the RV spies, could she?”

“Nope. They’re far too meticulous.”

“You assigned bookkeeping to a person who was acquainted with both Kihyun and Wendy?” Yunho raised his brows in disbelief. “That’s too big a coincidence, guys.”

“Wendy is under a disguise, Luna probably doesn’t know what she actually does,” Yeosang said. “Besides… I trust her. I really believe it wasn’t necessary to just kill her like that. It’s not like she knows what’s inside this,” Yeosang poked the packet with his finger.

“I don’t think Chan’s gang got a whiff of our drug dealing,” Seonghwa sighed, running a hand through his lengthy locks. “They must have attacked just to get us riled up. They wish to tarnish our reputation because General Wi is choosing sides.”

“We really need to check if the thing about the artefacts gallery is true,” Yunho said. “If it is, we have to tread carefully. Hongjoong will be pissed to learn what happened tonight.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Seonghwa got up. “This girl… Luna?”

“That’s what everyone calls her here,” Yeosang said and Seonghwa nodded slowly.

“She’s something. I’ll verify her information- it’s probably true. Tell her we’ve got a new job for her.”

When you bluffed your way out of your death- though you hadn’t really lied, you did hold information that could ruin Eden- you didn’t expect that you’d find yourself with a new job in the main office of the Crescent Company. You paused in the middle of recording the last entries of the day and your job, only to catch Yeosang watching you with interest. 

You folded your arms, staring back and pulling your lower lip between your teeth in contemplation. 

“Are you sure this isn’t just a trap to kill me? You could just shoot me and get on with your day, why go through all these lengths?”

Yeosang’s rich laughter boomed in the office room and you sent a tired glare in his direction before going back to checking the receipts of the new stock. 

“We would have killed you last night if we really wanted to.”

The nonchalance with which he said that sent a bitter taste down your throat, reminding you of familiar words you had heard a few years ago, but you knew that this situation was different- you had to believe that they were different. Otherwise, there was no hope left for Eden. 

“I’m still mad that you signed me up for death with this job, by the way. That was a low blow.”

“You are our first bookkeeper,” Yeosang said in response. “We just didn’t know what to do… does that sound like a good excuse?”

“Hardly,” you muttered. “I thought we were… acquaintances, if not friends. I respected you, Yeosang.”

Yeosang put a hand on his chest. “Respected? Do you hate me now?”

“I can’t really hate you when you’re… you,” you shut the register, looking at him. 

You had spent long hours with Yeosang in this very office. Somehow, with him, it had always been naturally comfortable and he once admitted that he thought it was odd how you both could be in the same room, busy with your own work yet feeling right at home. Though you barely ever had a heart-to-heart with the man, the impression that he was a scary gangster had vanished long ago. He was scary when he had to be, but he just felt more human than his partners.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just a little hurt that you delivered me on a platter to your underboss for him to do whatever he wanted with me. Try to understand,” you explained. “And I still respect you, don’t worry.”

“He wouldn’t have killed you. I would have stopped him,” Yeosang insisted.

“You were more nervous than me,” you scoffed. 

“I was nervous for you, that you were going to make a mistake and he would really have to kill you,” Yeosang admitted and you blinked in surprise. “But you did just fine on your own. Are you not going to tell me who you really are?”

“I can’t tell you that yet,” you told him. “I trust you just enough to gamble with my life, but I’ll reveal things only when I’m sure the information would be in safe hands. You have to trust me a little too. It’s not like I can betray you- where would I even go? You’re all going to kill me if I make a mistake anyway.”

Yeosang nodded- you had a point. “Have you got nothing to lose?”

“I’ve already lost everything that I had,” you shook your head. “I’ve only got my life now.”

“I have a feeling you’ll do well in the main office,” Yeosang clapped his hands once in conclusion. “Since you’re already aware that we’re doing both legal and illegal dealings, you can do bookkeeping there. I have to warn you though- if information ever leaks, they will kill you without hesitation.”

“Geez, thanks,” you winced. “Tell me something new.”

“I don’t know where you got the guts to talk back to me,” Yeosang laughed, shaking his head once. “But keep this up and you won’t last long.”

“Why?” You leaned forward on the table in challenge. “Are you and San the only ones who can converse like normal humans?”

“We’re always just a little tipsy,” Yeosang said cheekily and you realised he was right. “You shouldn’t see me when I’m sober.”

You pursed your lips, realising that he was right- if he was anything like the rest of his gang, he had to be drunk all this time if he could tolerate you, a mere employee, talking like you were on his level. 

“Snob,” you muttered and got up to put these registers with the rest of the piles, ignoring Yeosang’s snickers. “Alright, my work here is done.”

“You’re fired,” Yeosang announced with a grin. “I’ve wanted to say that to you for so long.”

“You’re hopeless! I’ve been promoted, not fired,” you corrected.

“Whatever,” Yeosang got up, checking the time on his wristwatch. “San will be here in a few minutes- he’ll accompany you to the main office. You can say your farewells but you’ll be here often. It’s not a goodbye.”

“Okay,” you stood awkwardly for a moment, looking around- the beige walls with paint peeling in the corner, the dark shelves and furniture, the gramophone in one corner that you never played because you could always hear music from outside.  

“I’ll miss this,” you took a deep breath, nodding as you memorised and soaked in the feeling of this room.

“You’ll be back,” he assured, giving you a moment. “Now off you go.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, very out-of-character for you and taking him by surprise, you exited the office. You could hear what his response would have been- ‘just because we decided to keep you alive doesn’t mean that you can act out!’ but it was exactly that. If you had their protection, you would act out- just not to them. 

To the people who wore the cloaks of saints over their demonic hearts and ruled over Eden.

“Luna!,” Eunbi spread her arms as soon as she spotted you and you gladly let her hug you. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’m hearing I’ll be here often, so you won’t have to worry too much,” you poked her ribs, making her squirm as she laughed. “Just stay safe. And no matter what, do not become their bookkeeper.”

Eunbi frowned at that but before she could ask you more, the bell over the front door chimed and you knew it was San the way the bar suddenly fell quiet. You let go of Eunbi and patted her cheek before meeting eyes with San who waved at you.

Waved. You were a little pleased to see that the new arrangement was as awkward for him as it was for you. Eunbi echoed that out loud with a ‘did he just…?’ and you told her to get back to the counter.

“Hi,” San stifled a smile. “Good to see you’re still in one piece.”

“No thanks to you,” you countered. “Shall we?”

“I’m just going to let Yeosang know that I’m here,” San said, finally chuckling. “Look, if it helps, Seonghwa wasn’t really going to kill you.”

“I keep hearing that, but it just feels like you’re trying to convince yourselves instead of me,” you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. I'll say my farewell to Yuju.”

You agreed to meet outside in five minutes and you went to find Yuju, who told you to stay safe. Jeonghan looked more worried than Yuju- he had overheard some of their conversation last night about them getting rid of you but you assured him it was alright now.  You just found out something you shouldn’t have so they were just being cautious. Though he didn’t look convinced, he let you go with an affectionate pat to your shoulder and a joke about how no one is going to let him nap in peace anymore.

Before you went outside, you took a look in the mirror and adjusted your black slacks and the rounded collar of your cream blouse before wearing your black coat over it. San was already waiting for you in his car- a black ‘67 Bentley- and you got in the backseat, your heart beating in anticipation.

“It’s not a long drive from here,” San said, “But I thought as an apology, I’d give you a ride.”

“I’ve been in better cars, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you said and San deadpan stared at you. You squirmed, realising an explanation would entail revealing details from your background. “I mean… the condition could definitely improve.”

“Yeah, it’s been through a lot, you’re right, “ San let out a chuckle before glancing at you. “You’re not going to tell me where exactly you’ve been in better cars? Because as far as I know, you were struggling to make a living when you first got a job here.”

“That was because I moved back from Wonderland after a long time,” you fiddled with your pearl ring. “Anyone would struggle.”

“And how do you really know Kihyun?”

Kihyun- he was almost like a brother to you. As a child, you had often seen him go in and out of your house because of some business dealings with your father. Though your father kept you hidden for the most part, having homeschooled you and pretending that you were his niece instead of daughter, Kihyun knew. He was far too smart to be deceived by a simple lie, and your brother had made it painfully obvious that he hated you for a reason. And when everything went wrong, Kihyun was there as a shield. 

He had offered you a place in his company too, but you could not possibly involve Kihyun into your plans for the demise of your enemies. You respected him far too much to drag him into your mess.

“He’s just a connection- we have a few mutual acquaintances.”

“And who might they be?” San asked but you shook your head.

“I can’t reveal their identities… yet,” you said and when he narrowed his eyes, you stifled a smile. “Is there something I should know before we reach the office?”

“Well,” San exhaled, thinking. “It’s going to be quite different from the bar- more professional and tense. I’m sure the secretaries you’ll work with will warm up to you eventually but they might come off as unwelcoming or prickly at first.”

“We’ll see,” you said. “And… will I be interacting with… one of you often?”

“Why?” San questioned, a playful smile gracing his lips. “Is there someone you’d like to interact with?”

“That’s not what I mean-” you started but the car came to a halt and with a dirty look thrown in San’s direction, you got out of the car and craned your neck to look at the double-story building that was the main office for Crescent Company.

It wasn’t anything much, and you knew that that was intentional. Just like all the other office buildings in this somewhat posh area of the town, it had a chestnut brick wall with a new moon that made up for the ‘c’ in crescent. The guard situated at the front door bowed to San as you entered. The employees inside acknowledged San’s presence, halting what they were doing and only resuming once San nodded. There were a handful of them- a receptionist and a few workers coming in and out of the unlabelled rooms. You supposed everyone was assigned a task and had respective offices.

“This is us,” San announced, motioning at the somewhat lifeless interior. “Nothing much, and we would like to keep it that way. You’ll be working upstairs with Jihoon and Eunha- they are our boss’ secretary.”

“Mr. Park’s?” You questioned as you followed him at the end of the hall towards the stairs.

“And Hongjoong’s,” San said and you paused in the middle of ascending the stairs.

“I’m going to work for Kim Hongjoong?”

“Relax,” San snickered. “He’s always holed up in his office if he’s not in the field, and Jihoon does the assistant work. You won’t encounter him too much.”

“That’s not the point,” you muttered. You reached the upper story to see three rooms across the spacious hall which was set up as an office itself. There were two people working in that space, sitting in front of the windows where there were three desks in a row. It didn’t look out of place since their workspaces were spread across the entirety of the hall. The empty desk looked a bit odd, though, and you reckoned it had been set for you which meant they must have moved things around a bit.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted with them,” San said. “There won’t be much to do for a few days until they think you can handle the work.”

When Jihoon’s burning gaze met yours indicating his annoyance- already?- you gulped. Perhaps, you should have stuck to the bar or denied their offer. Jihoon was quick to change his expressions as he rose from his seat.

“Mr. Choi,” Jihoon greeted and Eunha looked a bit surprised as if she hadn’t heard you two come. She followed with her own greeting, tucking her short pink hair behind her ear in what looked like a nervous habit.

“This is… Jeon y/n- the new secretary. I hope you’ll train her well. She’s already familiar with bookkeeping so I don’t think she’ll have to learn much.”

“No worries, we’ll handle it,” Jihoon said. “Nice to meet you, Miss Jeon.”

“Nice to meet you too. You can just call me Luna- everyone does.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Eunha shook hands with you. “This is your desk, and I’ll give you a walkthrough before Jihoon takes you around the office, is that okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, feeling hopeful. You turned to San. “I think I got it from here.”

“Very well,” San nodded. “Take care of her- she’s got potential.”

Jihoon only smiled in response and as soon as San was out of sight, he slumped down on his desk and went back to typing. You turned to Eunha who only smiled awkwardly, muttering ‘he’s a bit cranky at times’ and you shrugged. You could deal with cranky.

Eunha told you about your duties- bookkeeping since you had experience, typing a report each night that Mr. Park or Mr. Jeong would be signing, and any other miscellaneous tasks that Eunha and Jihoon couldn’t cover in their shift hours. Once she was done briefing, she handed you over to Jihoon who made a display of grunting in annoyance before he guided you downstairs to the last room which was essentially a storage.

“You must know that not all the business under the Crescent Company is legal,” he said and you nodded. “Where would you keep the record of illegal transactions?”

“Definitely not here?” 

“Here,” he corrected, “but concealed while still being right in front of your eyes. In the case of a raid by the detectives because a certain inspector has been on our case for a while, they will take everything in here, right? The illegal transactions are kept in a safe behind that painting,” he pointed towards the mediocre painting of cherry trees in the darkest corner of the room. 

“And the key?”

“A code, this time,” he said. “I’m still hesitant about sharing it with you but Mr. Choi said you could be trusted.”

“I’ve handled such matters before, yes,” you told him, understanding why he was sceptical about you. “There’s a reason I’m here.”

“That is definitely not the reason why you’re here,” Jihoon scoffed loudly. “Just because you passed a little trust test does not mean you get a position as the boss’s secretary. Eunha and I have worked under them since the beginning- that’s a plausible reason. They trust us.”

Though you wanted to argue with the man, you decided that you would be better off being civil towards him if you had to tolerate him to keep your job. 

“Who else knows the key?”

“Apart from the boss, underboss and consigliere… only Eunha and I. So if information leaks, if the location of the safe leaks-”

“I’ll be the obvious suspect, of course,” you nodded and Jihoon considered you for a moment before acknowledging your answer. 

“Our schedules are going to change now, so there is always at least one person out of the three of us in the office at all times, though the three of us must always be present in the 12 to 2pm slot. In case of an emergency, you are expected- obliged to get down here and escape with the contents of this safe, is that clear?”

“Clear as day,” you confirmed.

“1024 is the code,” Jihoon said and you nodded, memorising it. “Now, let me show you where we keep the official records.”

You took note of every little thing Jihoon had to tell you. Eunha observed how you worked for the rest of the evening and made you acquainted with the methods that you were to use. You were familiar with the work- you had already been in charge of tracking expenses, monitoring budget and keeping a record of all the financial transactions in the Crescent Bar. Eunha was going to take care of tax payments and returns while Jihoon was going to supervise. 

It was a manageable workload so you were pleased with your current position- you just hoped the two would warm up to you soon. You did not expect them to get along with you, you just prayed they would remain civil and not stir any trouble.

Your schedule was going to change from the next day and your shift was from 6pm to midnight- or more, if the need be- and you would also have to be present in the 12 to 2 pm slot. Since you were going to be the one who would lock up the office, you received a set of keys which included one for the storage, one for the main door, and one for Jeong Yunho’s office- in case he or Park Seonghwa weren’t present- to lock away those documents. You were to place them in the cupboard in Mr. Jeong’s room.

While you were in the office today, you didn’t encounter any of your bosses. You figured their absence wasn’t unusual since no one was talking about them. Eunha helped you prepare the report that you were to hand over tonight in her stead if anyone did visit the office because she had a work appointment and needed to be there. She told you to make sure that all the locks are in place before you leave for home.

While you waited for the clock to strike midnight- which was about twenty minutes from now- you busied yourself with scratching your pencil at a piece of paper that was going to be discarded anyway. One thing that calmed you like nothing else was the feeling of the pencil’s lead rubbing against the grains of the paper and leaving a mark for you to play with. With a very specific picture in your mind, you continued to draw straight lines, sharp curves and edges, adding the elements of threat and danger where needed, but preserving the softness of it all-

“What are you doing here?”

You looked up to find not the person you were hoping to see but the person you wanted to avoid the most.

Jeong Yunho.

Lieutenant Jeong Yunho, all dressed up in a black suit with engraved silver buttons, the black tie loose on his neck, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants. Your eyes travelled up to his parted lips, to the muscles of his jaw flexing and unflexing, to his dark gaze trained not on you but lower- what was he looking at-

You subconsciously put a hand over your incomplete sketch and got up in greeting. “Lieutenant Jeong. I have the report- Eunha had a work engagement.” 

“I see,” he nodded slowly as if still coming to terms that you were to work here now. You could return the sentiment- it was a strange feeling to see him here. You had acknowledged each other’s presence in silence and at rare times, shared a drink (you didn’t often drink at the bar). But standing across each other in this formal setting… 

“Well?”

You broke out of your trance, feeling heat creep up your neck. Perhaps, you were waiting for him to call you to his office. Had you expected him to do that because Yeosang had done the same once? He had been so nonchalant about everything but right now, you felt overwhelmed. You fumbled with the folders until you dug out the report, cursing yourself internally because why didn’t you place it right on the top? 

You extended your hand and he drew closer to grab the document from you, reminding you once again of how tall he was. You gulped- there was no way to explain what you were feeling except a crushing sense of intimidation that made you feel so very small. It had been about a year, yet whenever you were in his presence, your mind took you back to memory lane- 

Specifically the lane near the bar where he ended his enemies and found you watching. Neither of you ever addressed why you had been there or why he had done all of that mercilessly.

“Looks fine,” he said, turning the few pages and skimming through them. “You can leave now- it’s almost closing time. I’ll lock the doors behind me”

“Alright…” were you two the only ones inside the building? “Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

“You don’t have to call me lieutenant, you know,” he said and you met his eyes again, finding the ends of his lips slightly curled in a… smile? Or was that a smirk? 

“How would you have me address you then?”

Somehow, it oddly reminded you of a similar conversation you had with Yeosang, except you had been calling him ‘sir’ and he couldn’t stop snorting everytime you called him that. He let it be for the entire day until he told you to just call him Yeosang- calling him sir in an informal environment only earned him odd looks. You argued that apart from the selected few employees, literally everyone called him ‘sir’ or a variation of it, but he insisted that you already sounded like something was stuck up your [redacted] and he didn’t want to add on to that.

That was the only time he saw your composure break. The rest was history.

The consigliere shrugged, giving you yet another glimpse of the person he was. He didn’t like to be called lieutenant, even though this was a formal environment.

“Mr. Jeong then, since everyone calls you that,” you concluded. 

“And do you still go by Luna?”

“I… do.”

He nodded once, his gaze falling at the paper you were hiding from him. You kept your hand placed over it and he turned, disappearing into his office. You didn’t miss the frustrated grunt that escaped his mouth as he shut the door.

Your shoulders relaxed and you picked the paper- he had definitely seen and recognised the gun that you had just seen last night on the table, and he probably recognised the hand that held it as well- the long, slender fingers that radiated delicacy despite being roughed up. 

The hand of the underboss of Crescent Company. Someone you had wished to meet before the night ended.

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@lorensonebraincell @sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @jjaemasung @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @vcutparis @missbangtangirl @zaynsfl4m3s @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @katerade23 @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @curse-of-art @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @chanst1ddies @softsanglix @yongility @sang-09 @sweetinsaniiity @a-teez-4-exo @omgsuperstarg @saintriots @bihwabi