#because we were expecting like an “After” type romance

[seospicybin]

TASTE.

CHAPTER V: TENDER.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

TASTE MASTERLIST

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen. (20,7k words)

Author's note: Congratulations for making it through the week. Pls enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think about it after ♡

Tender. /ˈten.dər/ (adj) 1. showing gentleness and concern or sympathy. 2. easy to cut.

There’s something about the way sweet things linger on your tongue—like the moments you’ve shared with Minho. Each one, fleeting and intoxicating, feels like a sugar rush. The stolen glances, the secret smiles, the warmth of his presence beside you—they all flood your senses, leaving you craving more.

But now, that sweetness has turned cloying. The secret you’ve been keeping together, delicate as spun sugar, is starting to crack. And like biting into something bittersweet after too much indulgence, the sharp edge of reality cuts through.

You’re walking toward the locker room, hands balled into fists on each side of you and you brace yourself for what's coming as you push the door open. It feels like the aftermath of a sugar addiction—the kind of crash that leaves you wondering why you allowed yourself to get so carried away in the first place.

The memory of Taesoo’s panicked face lingering in your mind, his words ringing in your ears: Everyone knows now.

Your heart sinks again, as if hearing it for the first time.

The taste of bitterness is unmistakable now, grounding you in the realization that this thing between you and Minho—this private, fragile thing—has been exposed to the light.

The locker room feels like a battlefield the moment you step inside. Seungwan charges toward you like he’s been lying in wait. His voice comes out in a rapid-fire assault.

“Minji saw everything!” he declares, practically vibrating with excitement. “She watched you and Chef Minho in the café! She even sent me a picture—proof!”

Your stomach drops, but you force yourself to stay calm. Before you can even respond, Hyunwoo appears at Seungwan’s side, his expression stern. “So? Is it true?”

Before you can answer, Felix suddenly slides into view, positioning himself at your side like a protective shield.

“Hey, it’s not true.” His wide, bright eyes lock onto yours as he asks for your confirmation, “That’s not true, right?”

The weight of their combined stares is suffocating, but you take a deep breath and let it out, bracing yourself. “It’s true.”

The room erupts. Seungwan gasps in victory, practically glowing as he boasts, “See? I told you I wasn’t lying!”

You quickly raise your hands, trying to regain control of the situation. “Wait, listen. It’s true we went to the café, but it’s not because we’re dating, we're close because we were friends back in Italy.”

The uproar falters, and Hyunwoo crosses his arms, skeptical. “Minji said she saw you give him chocolate.”

“I did,” you admit, “but not everyone who exchanges chocolates on Valentine’s Day is a couple by default.”

Seungwan isn’t buying it. “Minji said you looked like a couple.”

You meet his gaze head-on. “Does she have proof? Did she see us kissing? Did she see us sleeping together?”

That bold challenge silences him for a moment, but before you can feel any relief, Felix jumps in, clearly desperate to squash the rumor.

“Hey, it’s impossible!” he insists. “Chef isn’t the type to fall for some random woman in the kitchen. Even if you like him, no matter how hard you try, he won't budge.”

You don’t know if that comment stings more than it should, but you keep your face neutral. In the corner, you catch Taesoo trying to suppress a laugh. He quickly looks away when your eyes meet his.

The tension in the room gradually deflates as the others seem to accept the lack of solid evidence. Seungwan narrows his eyes at you, his voice low with warning. “If it turns out you are dating, I’m not going to sit back and allow it.”

You force a small, indifferent smile. “Fine.”

The others shuffle out of the locker room one by one, grumbling amongst themselves. As you listen to Felix and Hyunwoo bicker about whether or not you’re really dating Minho, you lean against the cold metal of the lockers and close your eyes.

Finally, blessedly, the room is empty, and the air feels breathable again. You sag against the lockers, exhaustion creeping in. The bitter taste of the confrontation lingers, but at least, for now, the storm has passed.

But even in the bitterness, there’s a part of you that clings to the sweetness. The way Minho looked at you, the way his voice softened when he said your name. Those moments are what keep you going, what make the risk feel almost worth it.

You glance down at the chef coat hanging in front of you, then yanking it off the hanger and taking your time as you put it on. Maybe you need the space to breathe, or maybe you’re just trying to drown out the ache in your chest.

Because no matter how much you tell yourself to stop, to quit this dangerous craving, your heart keeps whispering the same thing: One more taste.

-

The echo of his footsteps feels heavier today as Minho walks through the hall and up the stairs to his office. Everyone knows. That single thought loops in his head, clinging like a bad smell he can’t shake off.

He’s prepared himself for the inevitable questions, even rehearsed his answers, but when he steps into his office, the tension he expected isn’t there.

Sara is at her desk, her pen gliding smoothly over her notebook. She looks up briefly when he enters, her brow furrowing slightly as if she senses his unease. But she says nothing.

Minho pauses, unsure. Her lack of reaction is almost more unsettling than if she’d pounced on him with questions. They share a quiet glance, her expression a mixture of curiosity and confusion. When he doesn’t speak, she simply returns to her notes, the faint scratch of her pen filling the silence.

Minho crosses the room and drops into his chair, swiveling it slightly to the side to put himself out of Sara’s line of sight. His fingers reach into his coat pocket, pulling out the card you gave him.

He stares at the envelope for a moment, running his thumb along the edge before carefully pulling the card out. The words you wrote are simple, yet they hit him with an unexpected force.

"I'm happy that you're always around me, Chef. You make me feel like I’m cooking the best pasta in the world."

A small, lopsided smile tugs at his lips as his eyes fall to the tiny heart you’ve sketched in the corner, next to your initials. It’s so you, and it’s perfect.

Minho lets himself sink into the warmth of your words, feeling them settle in his chest. For a brief moment, the weight of the morning—the rumors, the tension, the stares—fades away. All that matters is this little card and the emotions it carries.

He leans back in his chair, holding the card in one hand as he gazes at it. The dread that had been clawing at him since Taesoo’s outburst dissipates. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Instead, he thinks of you. The way your eyes light up when you talk about food, the shy smile you tried to hide when you slid the box of chocolates across the café table, how you thought of him when you wrote these words.

Minho’s grip on the card tightens slightly, a spark of determination igniting within him.

-

The kitchen hums with the usual chaos—clanging pans, sizzling oils, and sharp orders cutting through the air—but today, there’s a peculiar tension simmering beneath it all. It’s intangible, like an invisible thread tightening around everyone, pulling them taut.

Minho feels it, the weight of too many eyes fixed on him. He’s used to being the center of attention in the kitchen, but this is different. Suspicion hangs in the air like the smell of burning garlic.

He notices Taesoo, his eyes darting nervously between stations. First at you, then at Minho, then at everyone else, as if trying to track invisible lines of connection. Minho doesn’t miss the way Sara leans toward you, whispering something. You shake your head, feigning obliviousness, but your stiff shoulders betray your discomfort.

Minho keeps his face neutral, but inside, he’s amused. He knows exactly what’s happening.

Walking the perimeter of the kitchen, he checks on everyone’s progress, pausing here and there to critique, encourage, or chastise. When he reaches your station, he pauses longer than necessary. Without warning, he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to shake the frying pan properly.

“Faster, but steady,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. His hand remains over yours a moment longer than needed, and he can feel the heat of your skin through the fabric of his gloves.

It’s deliberate, of course. A tiny act of rebellion against the scrutiny, a way to poke at the invisible tension until it snaps.

You pull your hand away quickly, your cheeks flushing as you mutter, “I’ll do better.” Your eyes dart nervously around the kitchen, and Minho knows you’re aware of the stares.

He smirks faintly. “Good.”

Then, louder, for everyone to hear, he says, “Come with me.”

The room freezes for a moment, and Minho doesn’t miss the way Taesoo’s face pales. Minho walks toward the freezer without looking back, trusting that you’ll follow. Sure enough, he hears your footsteps trailing behind him, hesitant but obedient.

The freezer door closes with a soft thud, and the chill immediately bites at his skin. You cross your arms, glaring at him.

“Chef, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you grumble, your voice low but firm.

Minho raises a brow, feigning innocence. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Everyone is watching,” you hiss.

He steps closer, tilting his head slightly. “I called you in here to scold you. Don’t get any ideas. Do I have to tell you so many—”

Before he can elaborate, the door bursts open, and Taesoo rushes in, his face a mask of panic.

“Chef,” he stammers, his voice a frantic whisper. “Everyone’s watching you two. You can’t—”

Minho cuts him off with a sharp look, his patience thinning. “It seems you the two of you are getting too comfortable with me. It’s time to fix that.”

Both of you blink at him in confusion.

“Kneel,” Minho orders, his voice cold and authoritative.

“What? Why?” you ask, incredulous.

“Kneel on the floor and raise your arms. Now.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before you and Taesoo comply, kneeling on the icy floor and raising your arms awkwardly.

Minho crosses his arms, pacing in front of you. “Respect in the kitchen isn’t optional. Do you think I'm a friend? You will both stay like this for ten minutes as punishment.”

He walks over to a nearby bucket of clams, gesturing toward it. “And apologize to the clams. You didn’t clean them properly, and they still smell like mud.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, to his surprise, you burst into laughter, your giggles echoing in the cold space.

Minho glares at you. “Do you think this is funny?”

Through your laughter, you manage to say, “I’m just… glad I’m being punished.”

Taesoo, unable to hold it in, starts chuckling beside you. The sound is contagious, and for a brief second, Minho’s composure cracks, a small smile threatening to escape. He quickly regains control, his expression hardening.

Minho straightens, his authoritative mask slipping back into place. “Now, stop grinning like an idiot and keep your arms up. Ten minutes isn’t over yet.”

As he turns to leave the freezer, a small, satisfied smirk plays on his lips. Whatever happens next—whatever fallout this may bring—he’s ready. For you, he’ll face it all and if anything, he feels braver now.

-

Minho’s office feels smaller than usual, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Felix hesitates, glancing between you and Minho before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Minho’s voice calls, steady and commanding.

You step inside, Felix right behind you, both still clad in your chef coats. Minho and Sara are already waiting, their expressions unreadable as they stand side by side.

Minho doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Hyunwoo is moving to the pasta line and Seungwan will take over the grill which leaves the antipasto line open.” His sharp gaze moves between you and Felix. “Which of you wants to take it?”

Sara chimes in, her tone softer but no less serious. “We’re leaving the decision to you two.”

You exchange a brief glance with Felix. The silence stretches just long enough to feel uncomfortable before Felix clears his throat. “I… I don’t think it’s a good idea to break the current dynamic. But—” He hesitates, his voice growing quieter. “I’ve had some issues with the entrée line. I’d rather not work directly with them.”

All eyes shift to you. The unspoken expectation presses down like a weight. You’re the senior, the one with more experience in antipasto, and everyone knows it.

Minho’s eyes lock onto yours, and with one look, he makes the decision for you. “You’ll take it.”

Sara immediately protests. “We need to hear her opinion first.”

“It’s final,” Minho replies without missing a beat, his gaze shifts back to you. “You’ll take Seungwan’s position starting tomorrow.”

Before you can argue, Minho dismisses Felix with a curt nod. Felix glances at you, his lips parting as if he wants to say something, but he thinks better of it and leaves.

“Can you give us a minute?” Minho asks as he turns to Sara, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Sara pauses, her expression conflicted, but she nods. As she passes, her gaze lingers on you, offering a silent apology before she exits.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Minho and the second you and him are alone in the room, you don't hold back.

“I don’t want to switch, Chef,” you blurt out, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

Minho leans against his desk, arms crossed. “This isn’t about what you want. A cook who stays in one section becomes stale. Hyunwoo didn’t get moved because he complained—I made that call.”

You narrow your eyes, doubt creeping in. “Is this because of the rumors?”

He straightens, his tone sharp. “No.”

But it’s too late. The thought takes root, and your voice softens. “If this is about protecting me because of our… relationship, I understand.”

Minho steps forward, his hands landing firmly on your shoulders. His touch is steady, grounding. “I told you this isn’t about that,” he insists, his gaze searching yours. “Look at me.”

You hesitate but eventually meet his eyes.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice quiet but intense. “Don’t you trust your chef?”

You do. You trust him more than anyone else in this kitchen, but a small part of you doesn’t trust his judgment on this decision. Still, you keep that thought buried.

You don’t answer, and the silence stretches between you. Minho’s hands drop from your shoulders, and he steps back.

“Be ready for tomorrow,” he says, his tone unreadable.

You nod stiffly, turning to leave, but the tension lingers, heavy and unresolved, as you close the door behind you.

-

The morning light streams through the curtains as you wake with a heavy head, your body feels sluggish, and for a moment, you consider calling in sick. But no—you refuse to let anything, not even a budding illness, make you seem weak or incapable.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen, your eyes barely open. Sara is already at the dining table, her laptop open, fingers typing away. She glances up as you enter.

“Morning,” you mutter, your voice scratchy as you make your way to the coffee machine. The promise of caffeine is the only thing pulling you forward.

“Morning,” Sara replies, her tone light but curious. Her gaze lingers on you as you prepare your coffee.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee offers some comfort as you pour yourself a cup and take a slow sip. The warmth spreads through you, waking you up just a little.

Sara leans back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “You’re still upset about Minho’s decision, aren’t you?”

You glance at her but quickly look away, shaking your head. “It’s fine,” you say, forcing a faint smile.

She doesn’t seem convinced. “If you don’t want to leave the pasta line, you can tell me. You don’t have to go along with it if it’s not what you want.”

You take another sip of your coffee, letting the bitter warmth fill the silence. “It’s fine, really,” you repeat, this time with more finality.

Sara watches you for a moment longer, then smiles faintly, taking a sip of her own coffee. “If you say so.”

The sound of her typing resumes, filling the quiet space between you.

But then she pauses again, tilting her head slightly. “The kitchen was… weird yesterday,” she says casually, though her eyes are sharp. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face neutral. “I have no idea what you mean,” you reply, your tone light and innocent.

Sara raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but she doesn’t push further. Instead, she nods slowly and returns her attention to her laptop.

You take another sip of your coffee, the bitterness grounding you as your thoughts swirl. Sara’s question hangs in the air, her suspicion like a quiet storm waiting to brew.

“It’s better this way,” you murmur under your breath, so softly that Sara doesn’t hear. Keeping things under wraps—keeping him under wraps—is the safest choice for now.

You glance over at Sara, who’s focused on her screen again, her typing steady and uninterrupted. If she, with her sharp intuition, catches on, it’s only a matter of time before everyone else does. And then what?

You set your cup down on the counter, the sound sharper than you intended, and Sara glances at you again. You force another faint smile her way, but your mind is already elsewhere.

Minho’s decision might sting, but he’s right about one thing: in a world like this, appearances matter. As much as it frustrates you, the secrecy shields you both—for now.

You press your palm against the counter, steadying yourself as a quiet resolve builds in your chest. Yes, this is the best thing for now. But for how long?

-

The locker room smells faintly of detergent and metal, the silence punctuated only by the quiet clink of locker doors and the shuffle of clothing. Minho steps inside, and his eyes immediately find you. You're standing at your locker, back partially turned to him, moving with a distracted air.

He pauses, taking in the tension in your shoulders, the way your movements lack their usual grace. He knows you're still upset about yesterday, about the decision he made for you without asking, but he also knows this isn't something you can discuss openly.

Taking a steadying breath, Minho calls your name softly.

You glance over your shoulder, your expression unreadable, before turning to face him fully.

Minho steps closer, his voice calm but firm. "In the kitchen," he starts, his gaze holding yours, "I'm just your head chef. Not the man you like."

The faintest smile graces your lips, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Yes, chef," you reply, your tone polite but distant.

That won’t do. Minho closes the distance, resting his hands lightly on your shoulders. The warmth of your body beneath his touch grounds him as much as it does you. "Listen," he says, softer now, his tone almost a whisper. "In the kitchen, there’s no Minho. Just the chef. Do you understand?"

This time, your smile is a little brighter, a touch more genuine, and it eases some of the tightness in his chest.

"Yes, chef," you reply again, and this time, there's a hint of lightness in your voice.

Minho hesitates for a moment, then lets his hand trail up to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, warm and steady, before he leans in slightly, his voice low. "Be prepared."

Your smile deepens, and this time it’s convincing. "Yes, chef," you say again, and something about the way you say it fills Minho with an unfamiliar ache—a longing to stay like this, even though he knows he can't.

The sound of approaching footsteps snaps the moment in two. Instinctively, Minho drops his hand and takes a step back, turning to his locker and shutting it with practiced ease.

Before he leaves, he risks one last glance at you. You're standing there, watching him, your expression softer now. Minho doesn’t say another word, but he hopes that brief moment between you was enough to bridge the unspoken gap.

As he walks away, he also reminds himself it’s all about work. What he does to you at work is nothing personal. Not at all.

-

The kitchen bustles with the usual clamor of voices, clattering utensils, and the sharp hiss of flames.

Your new station feels foreign, the rhythm and layout unfamiliar compared to the pasta line you’d grown so comfortable with. Across the room, Felix gives you an encouraging grin, his eyes sparkling with reassurance. “Good luck!” he mouths.

You smile back, appreciating his gesture, but the nerves gnawing at your stomach refuse to settle. Your attention shifts to the front as Minho steps up to the chef’s table, commanding immediate silence with his presence.

His gaze sweeps across the kitchen, lingering for the briefest moment on you. Then, his voice cuts through the room, authoritative and unyielding. “There are changes in the kitchen,” he begins, his tone firm. “Just because you're in the new line, does not mean you can make mistakes. I won't accept excuses like 'I need time to adapt' or 'I'm not used to it'. Customers are blind to what's going on in the kitchen. Just because we have a change in personnel or because they're not used to doing it, there's no customer whose willing to put up with bad food. Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Chef” echoes in response, your voice among them.

The first orders start rolling in, and the kitchen launches into motion. You throw yourself into the work, your hands moving with practiced efficiency, but there’s no denying the subtle awkwardness of being in a new environment.

You present your first dish, a carefully grilled medley of vegetables, to Minho. He barely glances at it before his voice cuts through the din, sharp and precise. “What are you doing to these vegetables?” he snaps, holding up a forkful like it’s a crime scene. “Did you forget how to grill? Or is this because it’s not pasta?”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you stammer out an apology as he continues. “The basic of grilling it is to let it sear lightly so that it's brown on the outside but still juicy inside. This? This is dry.”

“I'll do it again, Chef,” You admit your mistake quickly, grabbing the plate and retreating to your station. His words sting, but you force yourself to focus, determined to get it right on the second try.

As you work on the next dish, a bowl of potato soup, Minho’s voice startles you again. “When are you going to come to your senses?,” he slams his spatula onto the counter before pointing it at your garnish choice. “The soup is potato. When it comes to course meals, balance is everything. It's different from pasta, the garnish should be something refreshing like tomatoes. Do you think the customer only eat potatoes, huh?”

Swallowing your frustration, you apologize once more and excuse yourself to retrieve a container of tomatoes from the freezer. The cool air hits you like a slap as you step inside, and for a moment, you just stand there, clutching the empty container.

Your thoughts race as you try to steady your breathing. He’s just doing his job, you remind yourself, but the harshness of his tone lingers, cutting deeper than you want to admit. Was it really just about the food, or was there something personal behind his words?

The door creaks open, and you jump, turning quickly. Relief floods through you when you see Taesoo grinning at you.

“Jeez, you look like you saw a ghost,” he jokes, grabbing something off a nearby shelf. “Man, the way Chef yelled at you, no one’s gonna think you two are dating now!”

You force a smile, trying to match his lighthearted tone. “Yeah, I’m glad no one thinks so,” you reply, though your voice comes out strained.

Taesoo chuckles, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Seriously, it looked like he was just trying to knock you down a peg. Guess that’s his way of making things... normal?”

His words blur into background noise as your thoughts drift. Was it really just about appearances? you wonder. Or was there something else behind the way Minho singled you out today?

You shake your head, pushing the thought aside as you grab the tomatoes and head for the door. Taesoo’s voice trails after you, but you don’t respond.

As you step back into the heat and chaos of the kitchen, your resolve hardens. If Minho wanted to prove something today, he succeeded—but the sting of his words still clings to you like a bitter taste that lingers on your tongue.

-

The dining hall is empty now, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound echoing through Farfalle. Minho knows exactly where to find you. He steps out to the back entrance and spots you sitting on the narrow steps that lead up to the dining hall, your arms wrapped around your knees.

You’re not crying, but there’s something vulnerable about the way you sit, staring ahead as though trying to push away the memory of today’s relentless scoldings. Minho pauses for a moment before joining you, settling onto the steps with a sigh.

Your expression is calm, but he catches the faint pout of your lips. It’s… cute, in a way that annoys him because it’s distracting.

“Today was tough,” he begins, his voice softer than usual, “but it’ll get better from now on.”

You hug your knees tighter, still avoiding his gaze. “Were you harsh on me because people are suspicious of us, Chef?”

The question catches him off guard, but he recovers quickly, his tone firm. “No. I scolded you because you didn’t get it right.” His lips twitch into a faint smirk as he adds, “And it’s honestly annoying how you’re worse than I expected.”

That earns him a glare. “The last time I handled antipasto was four years ago,” you retort defensively.

Minho leans back, his tone warning. “This is just the beginning.”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Does that mean you’re going to scold me more?”

“Yes,” he replies simply, relishing your exaggerated groan as you bury your face in your hands.

After a beat of silence, you call him. “Chef?”

He hums in acknowledgment, and you wait until he meets your gaze before asking, “Are you the chef right now, or are you just Minho?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a teasing smirk. “Which one would you prefer?”

You glance around, gesturing to the empty surroundings. “This isn’t the kitchen or anything.”

Minho raises a brow, his tone dry. “There are still people around who haven’t left work yet.”

You pout again, your lips jutting out in that same way that makes something tighten in his chest. “Then when do you stop being the chef and just become Minho?”

He smirks, leaning slightly closer. “What’s wrong with the chef? Don’t you like him?”

You sigh dramatically and mumble. “I hate the chef. He scolded me all day long.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “What about you? Is this my line cook, or just you?”

“Just me,” you mutter, though your eyes dart nervously around.

“If it’s just you then why are you sitting so far away from me?” He asks, one corner of his mouth raises higher than the other.

“But people could still see us like this,” you say as you crane your neck to spot any prying eyes.

Minho shrugs and calmly responds. “We’re in an open space. No one would suspect anything.”

You glance at him, then the empty surroundings, before scooting closer. You both exchange playful glances at each other until you break into a series of giggles, light and sweet, and for a moment, Minho feels the weight of the day lift. Your warmth draws him in, and he considers, just briefly, risking everything by kissing you.

But the moment shatters as Chris appears at the top of the steps, his expression far too cheerful. He squeezes himself between you and Minho, blatantly ignoring the latter’s glare as he takes your hand.

“You've finished your work today,” Chris begins, his tone warm. “I’ll give you a ride home. Let's go.”

Your gaze flickers to Minho, seeking his reaction, but Chris notices. “It’s past working hours, Chef,” Chris says pointedly to Minho. “Surely, she’s allowed to leave.”

Minho exhales sharply, locking eyes with you. “It’s up to you,” he says cryptically, his voice unreadable.

Confused by his cryptic response, you hesitate, but Chris barrels on. “I know it’s not allowed for kitchen staff to date each other,” he muses aloud, “but hall staff and kitchen staff? That’s a different story, right?”

Chris grins slyly, his words grating on Minho’s nerves. “I personally think the restaurant should be a happy place, don’t you think? Love, friendship—it’s all fine by me.”

Minho’s patience snaps. “What are your intentions with her?” he asks bluntly, his tone sharp.

Chris meets his gaze with an infuriating calmness. “Anything,” he replies smoothly.

The audacity makes Minho’s blood boil, but he reins himself in. “Go inside,” he orders you curtly.

You hesitate but obey, and Minho waits until he hears the sound of the door slamming shut behind you before talking again.

Minho turns back to Chris, his eyes blazing. “I know why you’re doing this. You like her, don't you?”

Chris doesn’t deny it, his calm stare unflinching. “That’s right. I like her.”

It's not a rocket science to figure it out, Chris' treatment toward you tells it all and Minho can tell the difference between favoritism at workplace and romantic feelings.

“How long were you planning to keep it a secret?” Minho boldly asks him.

Chris smirks and puts on a coy smile. “I'm not going to love cowardly like you do, Chef. It's difficult to just watch and support her now. Thanks to you.”

The words hit like a punch, and Minho scoffs, masking the sting.

Chris shrugs, his tone casual. “The secret ends now. I'm going to tell her.” He announces before walking off, leaving Minho stewing in his frustration.

You return a moment later, your expression hesitant as you sit beside him again. “What did you two talk about?”

Minho tilts his head, exhaling sharply before leaning toward you. “Good news,” he says with a wry smile.

You perk up slightly. “What is it?”

“There’s a guy who likes you,” he teases, watching your reaction carefully.

Your brows furrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“To give you confidence,” he replies smoothly. “Who knows? Maybe he’s a better person than me.”

You chuckle, leaning closer. “I have good news for you too.”

“Yeah?” Minho asks, playing along.

You lean in close to whisper it to him. “There’s a girl who likes you.”

Minho takes it with a coy smile. “Is she pretty?”

You nod with a grin. “Very.”

“Good to know,” he quips, smirking.

“What about the guy who likes me?” you ask, feigning curiosity. “Is he rich?”

“Very,” Minho deadpans.

Your delighted gasp turns into laughter, and Minho finds himself laughing too, though a bitter ache lingers beneath his amusement.

How is it fair? he wonders as the laughter fades. Chris will have the freedom to treat you well, to show his feelings openly. And Minho? He’s trapped, forced to keep scolding you in the kitchen while his own feelings remain locked away.

-

The kitchen is quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the refrigerators and the faint echo of your footsteps. Determined to make a better impression in antipasto today, you arrived earlier than usual. After slipping into your chef’s coat, you head straight to your station, mentally rehearsing the steps for today’s dishes.

As you’re about to inspect your prep list, the sound of footsteps echoes behind you. Turning, you see Chris walking in, his navy suit perfectly tailored, his silk tie catching the faint glow of the overhead lights. His dimpled grin greets you warmly, and you can’t help but smile back.

“You’re early,” he remarks, leaning casually against the counter.

“You’re always early,” you counter with a teasing smile.

Chris comes up at you and crosses his arms, pretending to pout as he says, “I’m hungry.”

You raise a brow. “What? No personal chef to whip up breakfast for you?”

Chris dramatically places a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That hurt.”

You chuckle. “Alright, alright. Sit down. I’ll make you something.”

Chris waves a hand dismissively. “But you’ll be cooking all day so let’s go out and grab something instead.”

You shake your head. “I insist. Besides, I miss cooking pasta.”

He relents with a small shrug and a grin. “Alright, then.”

You grab a gas lighter for the stove. “I'll be a moment. You should wait in the chef’s table.”

“I want to watch you cook,” Chris says with a teasing smile as he leans against the counter.

You take a wooden spatula and point it at him. “Don’t blame me if your fancy suit get splattered!”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a pan and start prepping. As you move around the kitchen, you occasionally glance at Chris, noticing how his eyes linger on you instead of the ingredients. His attention is flattering, but you try not to let it distract you.

Once the dish is ready, you bring the plate to the chef’s table, setting down a fork and napkin. You hop onto the counter, watching as he examines the dish with a look of admiration.

“It’s pretty,” he comments, his fork hovering above the plate.

With a sly smile, you tell him, “Instead of spaghetti, I used farfalle—for the owner of Farfalle.”

Chris grins at the pun but still hesitates. “It’s too pretty to eat.”

“Nothing tastes good when you eat alone,” you say, crossing your arms with a playful smirk. “And I’m not sitting here because of you. I’m sitting here because I want my pasta to taste good.”

Chris laughs at that, finally digging in. As he eats, you can’t help but lean forward. “So? Does it taste good?”

Chris nods earnestly. “It's the best.”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced and sigh. “Your taste buds are a bit dull because Chef would've thrown a fit right now.”

“I mean it, it's good,” he insists, his tone softening as he meets your gaze. “Anything tastes good with you next to me.”

You quickly laugh, brushing off the flutter in your chest. “You’re just trying to flatter me now.”

He chuckles, taking another bite before you teasingly ask, “Still better than sex?”

Chris pauses, chewing thoughtfully. When he swallows, he shakes his head. “I’ve had sex now, so...”

You feign nonchalance and give him a playful side eyes, “Good for you,” you reply lightly.

Chris offers you a forkful of pasta. You lean in to accept, only for him to pull it back last second and shove it into his own mouth with a mischievous grin.

“Really?” you ask, putting on an annoyed expression.

He grins triumphantly. “Got you.”

Despite your mock irritation, you feel your mood lift. Chris always has this way of making everything lighter, brighter without him even realizing it and you’re grateful for it, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

-

You’re on your way to the kitchen, mentally going over the preparations needed for tonight’s dinner service. Your nerves are steady—though antipasto demands precision, you’ve prepared yourself for the challenge.

“Hey!” Hyunwoo’s cheerful voice stops you mid-step.

He’s standing beside Seungwan, his usual wide grin plastered across his face. “Ready for today?”

You nod simply. “Yes.”

Seungwan, ever the commentator, chimes in, “You know, antipasto requires meticulousness. A delicate hand. Mindfulness. You get it. Women are naturally better at these things.”

You feel the heat of irritation flare up but push it down, offering a curt nod instead of engaging. It’s not worth the energy.

Hyunwoo claps a hand on Seungwan’s shoulder, as if to diffuse the awkwardness. “Well, you’ve got experience, so I know you’ll do well. But if you need anything, I’m here.”

You muster a polite smile. “Thanks.”

Before you can move on, Seungwan interrupts, smirking. “You have nothing to worry about, though. We know Chef will take good care of you.”

Hyunwoo chuckles, catching the implication, and soon both of them are laughing, their voices carrying through the hallway.

You open your mouth to respond—to shut down their insinuations about Minho—when a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“What are you three doing standing around?”

Minho appears behind you, his sharp gaze flicking between the three of you. His tone is cold, commanding, and it instantly silences Hyunwoo and Seungwan’s laughter.

“Hurry up and get to the kitchen,” he orders, his eyes narrowing slightly in warning.

The two men mumble quick apologies and scurry off, leaving you alone with Minho. For a brief moment, his gaze lands on you, unreadable. Then, without a word, he strides past you, heading straight for the kitchen.

You can't tell if he heard everything or maybe he heard but he just doesn't care. You release a quiet breath and follow after him, steeling yourself for the long night ahead.

The kitchen is chaos. Orders are flying in, pans are clanging, and the sharp aroma of cooking fills the air. You stay at your station, hyper-focused, determined to do your best and avoid Minho’s wrath.

The ticket machine whirs, spitting out another order. Minho’s voice booms across the kitchen. “Table number six. One panchetta, one carbonara, one celeriac puree with grilled scallops.”

He looks around the kitchen and his eyes land on you. “You take the scallops. Make one extra for a taste test.”

“Yes, Chef!” you reply firmly, moving to grab a pan.

Taesoo rushes over with fresh scallops, and you thank him before carefully checking the temperature of your pan. You add the scallops, and the satisfying sizzle confirms the heat is just right. Every move is calculated—no room for mistakes.

When the scallops are done, you plate the dish for service with meticulous attention to detail, making sure it looks perfect. On a smaller plate, you arrange the extra portion for Minho to taste. You carry both plates to the chef’s table, setting them down with a quiet but confident, “Chef.”

Minho doesn’t hesitate. He takes a bite of the extra plate.

The reaction is immediate. He spits the scallop into a napkin and, with a sharp movement, hurls the plate to the floor. The crash echoes, silencing part of the kitchen.

“Are you trying to break the customer’s jaw? Is this a gum or a rubber? What is this?” His voice is cutting, laced with venom.

Your heart sinks as you see the dish you made splattered across the kitchen floor and Taesoo quickly sweeps it away before anyone can step on it.

“Didn't you hear what I told you earlier? I said it has to be brown on the outside but tender on the inside. If you overcook a scallop like this, it’s tougher than the soles of your shoes!” His eyes are blazing, and for a moment, it feels like his anger isn’t just about the dish but aimed directly at you. It’s hard not to take it personally.

“What are you doing? Do it again!” The tone of his voice rains down on you like a bucket of cold water.

“Yes, Chef,” you manage, your voice tight as a lump forms in your throat.

Before you can move back to your station, Minho’s sharp voice cuts through the kitchen again. “Seungwan, you take the scallops.”

The humiliation burns as Seungwan takes over, muttering under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, “But I still have a lot to do...”

As you return to your station, Seungwan glances at you, his tone dripping with mockery. “You still like Chef after he tore you apart like that?”

You don’t answer. Your lips press into a thin line, and your chest feels heavy. The truth is, you’re not sure anymore. It’s harder and harder not to let his words cut deep, harder to pretend his disdain doesn’t feel personal.

You focus on the task in front of you, trying to push the doubt and hurt away. But no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just work, his anger lingers like a bruise.

-

Dinner service is brutal, even by Minho’s standards. The tension in the kitchen is suffocating, and he sees the weight of his harsh words pressing down on you. He hates it—every second of it.

Minho prides himself on keeping things professional, but with you, the lines blur dangerously every day. Tonight is no exception, and he can’t wait to leave the kitchen behind and find a way to make things right.

The locker room is dim and quiet when he walks in. His eyes immediately find you standing in front of your locker, your back to him. You’re tying your hair into a messy ponytail, your movements deliberate and tense. You look exhausted, but more than that, you look angry.

Minho hesitates, unsure how to approach you. He moves to his locker, giving you space and hoping you’ll warm up to him. As he opens the metal door, his eyes catch the corner of something tucked into the back of the shelf. He pulls it out—the Valentine’s card you gave him, still pristine despite its creased edges.

"I'm happy that you're always around me, Chef. You make me feel like I’m cooking the best pasta in the world."

He reads it again, the words a bittersweet reminder of how much you mean to him and how much he’s risking with his behavior. Slipping the card back into the locker, he turns to face you and softly calls your name.

“Yes, chef?” you reply, your voice distant and clipped.

“Are the other cooks still bothering you? Like earlier?” he asks, watching you carefully.

You wave him off, your tone sharp. “It’s nothing. It’s not their fault anyway—it’s ours. We’re the ones lying to them.”

The bitterness in your voice stings, and Minho realizes this isn’t like the other times you’ve been upset. This is deeper, rawer. You grab your bag from your locker, slamming it shut with more force than necessary before turning to leave.

Minho steps in your way, blocking the door. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Just... tell me and I’ll do it.”

Your eyes lock with his, hard and unyielding. “Then tomorrow. During lunch service. Tell everyone that you like me and that we’re dating. And you want everyone to treat me nicely and to be patient with me.”

He knows you don’t mean it—not really. It’s not a serious demand but a product of your anger and frustration. Still, he stays quiet, letting you speak because he knows you need to.

“I didn’t know it was going to be this difficult,” you continue, your voice softening but no less sharp. “If I had, I wouldn’t have started it.”

Your words strike him like a blow, but he stays rooted, listening as your eyes turn glassy.

“I know you’re scolding me as a cook for making mistakes,” you say, your voice trembling, “but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I’m being yelled at by someone I like. A lot.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you wipe it away hastily, as if embarrassed by the show of emotion. Your eyes meet his again, red and glistening.

“I can't separate those two feelings like a fool,” you say wistfully, fighting the tears pooling in your eyes. “But you seem to be good at it so why can’t I? Tell me how.”

Minho opens his mouth to speak, to tell you how hard it’s been for him too, how every harsh word in the kitchen feels like a knife twisting in his own chest. But the words won’t come. He can’t explain without risking you misunderstanding everything.

When his silence stretches too long, you bite your lip, swallowing down more tears. “Forget it,” you mutter, pushing past him.

He lets you go, standing there alone in the quiet locker room. The anger that swirls inside him isn’t directed at you—it’s at himself. At the way things have spiraled between you. At how his own fear of jeopardizing your career and his has made everything worse.

And most of all, at the way he’s made you sad.

Leaning against the wall, Minho clenches his fists, vowing to himself that he’ll find a way to make things right. He has to—because losing you isn’t an option.

-

Minho sits at his desk, his head bowed over his well-worn recipe book. The pages are filled with scribbles, corrections, and crossed-out ideas—remnants of every failure that taught him something valuable. He flips through them slowly, the memories tied to each one tugging at him.

He’s come so far, but the thought of how easily it could all crumble gnaws at him. His shoulders feel heavy with the weight of his choices, both in the kitchen and outside of it.

The creak of the office door pulls him from his thoughts. He glances up to see Sara stepping in, her expression hesitant but determined. The sight surprises him—he thought everyone had already left the restaurant.

Sara doesn’t say anything at first, but her eyes are locked on him, her presence carrying an air of purpose. Minho leans back in his chair, waiting for her to speak.

“Chef,” she starts, her voice carefully measured. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t reply verbally, just nods slightly, signaling her to go on.

“It’s about... what people are saying in the kitchen,” she says, her voice faltering.

Minho smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in a humorless smile. Of course, the gossip finally reached her. He expected as much—it was only a matter of time.

“Is it true?” Sara asks, her tone laced with hesitation.

Without hesitation, Minho answers, “It’s true.”

The confirmation hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable.

Sara presses on, her voice trembling slightly. “How do you feel about it?”

Maybe this is his chance to stop running, to stop pretending he can keep everything under wraps. He exhales deeply, letting the tension leave his body, and answers her with full conviction.

“I like her more than she likes me,” he says, his voice steady and unwavering.

Sara’s lips tremble, and Minho can’t tell if she’s holding back tears or fighting the urge to speak further. But he doesn’t feel guilt. He’s told her before, countless times, that he only sees her as a chef—a colleague. Nothing more.

Standing, Minho grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He pauses for a moment, looking at Sara one last time, before stepping toward the door.

“I hope this clears things up for you,” he says quietly, his tone firm but not unkind.

As he leaves the office, Minho feels a small weight lift off his chest. He’s not hiding the truth anymore—not from Sara, at least. And while the path ahead still feels uncertain, he’s relieved to have taken this first step.

-

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there at the bus stop, letting bus after bus pass without getting on. Your head is a whirlwind of thoughts, yet somehow, it also feels completely blank. You sigh, hugging yourself tightly against the biting cold of the night air.

The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you glance sideways. Minho is walking toward you. Without a word, he sits down on the bench and slides closer until he’s right next to you. You keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. You can feel his presence, the warmth of him radiating against the chill, but you say nothing. If you open your mouth now, everything you’re feeling will come spilling out, and you’re not ready for him to see how deeply he’s affected you.

In a calm, steady tone, Minho breaks the silence. “You can go back to the pasta line.”

You bite your lip, still not looking at him. That’s not what this is about—not why you exploded at him earlier. When you don’t respond, he leans in a little closer, his voice soft but firm. “I said I'm letting you go back to the pasta line.”

Your frustration boils over. “I don’t want to,” you snap, finally turning to glare at him.

Minho looks genuinely confused. “Weren’t you just complaining about it a while ago?”

You meet his gaze, your voice unwavering. “I don’t want to go back because of you. I’m going back to the pasta line on my own merits—not because of whatever this is.”

The intensity of your words seems to take him by surprise. He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a sly smile.

“You’re quite something, do you know that?” he says, his tone laced with admiration.

You roll your eyes, dismissing his attempt at flattery. You dismiss it, thinking he’s just trying to sweet-talk you.

Minho sighs, his expression softening as he leans in even closer. “What should I do? I’m in big trouble now,” he says quietly.

Your brows furrow. “Why?”

He tilts his head, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. “Because I like you even more now.”

The words catch you off guard, and despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You quickly suppress it, trying to keep your composure.

Minho notices, of course, and his own smile deepens. “I’ve never met a woman like you,” he says earnestly.

You jab back, trying to deflect. “Just how many women have you known?”

He doesn’t rise to the bait, surprising you. Instead, he gestures toward the sky. “Look at the moon.”

You scoff, skeptical. “Why?”

“Just look at it,” he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a huff, you tilt your head up, your eyes landing on the full moon glowing brightly against the dark sky. The sight is breathtaking, but before you can comment, you feel the soft press of Minho’s lips against your cheek.

Startled, you whip your head around to face him. He meets your gaze, his eyes steady and sincere. “Your cooking is missing something. You need to improve,” he says quietly. “That’s why I scolded you—not because of rumors, not because of us, but because I know you’re better than that.”

His words sink in, and you nod slowly. “Yes, Chef,” you reply sincerely.

Minho smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s what I love to hear the most. When you say, 'Yes, chef!'” he says with a teasing lilt.

Despite yourself, you giggle softly, repeating, “Yes, Chef.”

This time, Minho doesn’t hold back. He cups your jaw gently, leaning in to press his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, tender—completely different from the sharp, demanding presence he exudes in the kitchen. It’s as if he’s trying to show you the difference between Minho the Chef and Minho the man.

When he pulls back, his hand remains on your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. “What do you think, mmh?” he murmurs. “Should we let all hell break loose tomorrow?”

You blink at him, startled. “You’re serious?”

Minho chuckles, nodding. “Let’s stop hiding. It’s better than getting caught and fired.”

You stare at him, trying to gauge if he really means it. His lips quirk into a grin, and he adds, “I feel like I’m about to explode from frustration if we keep this up.”

Finally, you find your voice. “So... you want us to just say to hell with it?”

“Exactly,” he says, cupping your face with both hands now. His gaze is intense, but there’s a warmth there that steadies you. “Let’s just tell everyone. To hell with it.”

Before you can respond, he leans in again, his lips capturing yours in a long, lingering kiss that erases any doubts you might have had.

As he pulls away, leaving you breathless, you find yourself staring at him, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The truth is, you’ve felt it growing stronger every day—the way he’s slowly become impossible to ignore. It’s more than just admiration, more than just the thrill of secrecy. It’s something real, something that scares you just as much as it excites you.

You don’t say any of that aloud, but the way you lean back into his touch, the way your lips curve into a small, shy smile, tells Minho everything he needs to know. For once, you feel like you’re both on the same page.

-

The space between you feels heavy, charged, but neither of you says a word. His gaze locks on yours, dark and intent, and it makes your heart race. Slowly, Minho steps closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his bedroom room. His fingers graze your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he’s memorizing the moment.

Your breath hitches as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a gentleness that sends a shiver down your spine. The kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second. You respond in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Minho deepens the kiss, his lips moving with a tenderness that leaves you dizzy. His hands slide down your arms, warm and steady, before resting on your waist. He pulls you closer, your bodies barely a breath apart.

As the kiss grows more fervent, his fingers find the hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric. He pauses for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as if asking for permission. You nod, your own hands slipping to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, carefully, you undo them one by one, your fingers brushing against his skin with each movement.

Minho mirrors your actions, his hands lifting your shirt over your head in one fluid motion. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s quickly replaced by the warmth of his touch. His fingers trace along your collarbone, his lips following suit, leaving a trail of soft kisses that make your knees weak.

You push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Your hands explore the smooth planes of his chest, the taut muscle beneath your fingertips. He exhales sharply, his breath hot against your neck as he presses closer, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your hands move to his belt, fumbling slightly, but Minho stops you with a soft chuckle. “Hey, what's the rush?” he whispers, his lips curving into a small smile against your skin.

The rest of your clothes fall away piece by piece, each moment lingering, each touch filled with an unspoken reverence. Minho’s hands are steady as they glide along your body, his touch igniting a warmth that spreads through you like wildfire.

When there’s nothing left between you, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your cheeks flush. “You’re perfect,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumb brushing along his jawline. “You’re perfect,” you mutter back, your voice soft but certain.

Minho leans in once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts passion and tenderness. As you fall back onto the bed together, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth, every touch and kiss a silent declaration of the feelings neither of you can deny any longer.

-

Minho hovers over you, his weight braced on one arm as his free hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and adoration that sends a thrill through your entire body.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, his gaze never leaving yours.

His lips capture yours again, the kiss deep and unhurried, as if he wants to taste every sound you make. His hand trails down, fingertips ghosting over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The anticipation coils tight in your stomach as his touch ventures lower, slow and deliberate.

When his fingers finally slide between your thighs, a soft gasp escapes your lips, but Minho swallows it with another kiss, his smirk pressing against your mouth. He pauses for a moment, teasing, his touch feather-light on your bundle of nerves, just enough to drive you wild.

“Eager, are we?” he asks, his tone playful, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth.

You nod slightly, breathless, and he rewards you with a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers move with precision, exploring and learning what makes you react, what makes you tremble beneath him.

The tension builds as he curls his fingers inside you, finding the perfect rhythm that leaves you gasping and clinging to him. He watches you intently, his eyes flicking over your face, taking in every reaction. The smirk on his lips deepens as he notices the way your body arches toward him, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so sensitive,” he whispers, his voice filled with both awe and amusement. He leans down to capture your lips again, muffling the soft moans spilling from your mouth. His kiss is as skillful as his touch, his tongue teasing yours as if he’s trying to coax every bit of sound out of you.

Your hands grip his shoulders, desperate for some anchor as the pleasure intensifies. Minho’s lips leave yours for a moment, moving to press kisses along your jawline, then down to the hollow of your throat. His voice is a low murmur against your skin. “I could watch you like this forever.”

Each movement of his fingers feels like a symphony, building you higher and higher. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, your body trembling beneath him, and Minho seems to revel in every second of it.

When your moans grow louder, your head tilting back against the pillow, Minho leans down to kiss you again, catching the sound in his mouth. His lips curve into a smile against yours, and the vibration of his low chuckle only heightens your pleasure.

“Let go for me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

His words, his touch, the way he’s watching you with so much intent—it’s overwhelming in the best way. You fall over the edge, your body trembling as waves of pleasure wash over you. Minho doesn’t stop, guiding you through it, his lips never straying far from yours, his fingers slowing only once he’s sure you’re coming down gently.

When you finally open your eyes, Minho’s gaze is still fixed on you, his smirk replaced by a softer, more affectionate smile. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, as if to ground you.

As you come down from the high he’s led you to, Minho’s hand slides up, his fingers brushing over your flushed skin with care. He watches you intently, his lips curving into that signature smirk of his, as though he’s proud of the effect he has on you.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his hand up, his slick fingers hovering near your lips. “Open,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, yet laced with dominance.

Your breath catches, but you obey, parting your lips for him. He slides his fingers into your mouth slowly, his touch deliberate, and you close your lips around them, tasting the remnants of yourself on him.

Minho’s eyes darken as he watches you, his thumb tracing along your jaw as you lick his fingers clean. The way you meet his gaze, unflinching and bold, sends a shiver through him, his smirk deepening with every deliberate movement of your tongue.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice soft but dripping with heat. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your cheeks flush at his praise, but it only makes him lean in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispers, his tone dripping with seduction.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, his hand now cradling your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, as though he can’t get enough of you. “You make it so easy to lose control,” he adds, his gaze intense.

Minho leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both possessive and tender, as if to seal his words. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and the corners of his lips lift into a soft smile.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says with a chuckle, his voice light but filled with genuine affection.

You can’t help but smile back at him, your heart pounding as his thumb strokes your cheek. Whatever walls he’s kept up before, they seem to have crumbled completely in this moment, leaving nothing but raw honesty between the two of you.

-

“Please,” You whimper as Minho is burying his head in between your soft mounds. His mouth immediately latches onto your hardening bud while the other is being teased by his fingers, both assaults make your eyes fluttering shut.

A moment after hearing your plead, Minho lets go of his mouth, leaving your nipple wet and swollen. “Please what?” he asks, landing a kitten lick on your other nipple.

“Fill me,” you breathlessly beg.

Minho sucks on your flesh before answering to your request. “Fill you with my cock or...?”

Your hand reaches down to his hardening member, you pinch the end of the condom he's already putting on and pulling at it until it snaps away. “Both,” you simply answer and opening your legs wider for him.

The thought of being filled by his cock is enough to send you into overdrive but you want more, you want to feel every inch of him, to be filled with his cum, to feel it filling you and leaking out of you and ultimately, you want to be soaked in both of your releases.

Minho is more than eager to comply to your request, he gives his cock a few strokes before aligning it with your entrace. Once the tip has entered you, he uses his hips to push the rest of his length.

The two of you collectively moan at the feeling of being inside each other, raw, without a layer of protection. While you delightfully sigh, Minho groans into the crook of your neck as he's fully sheathed inside you. The slightest of movement and you can feel him, the length, the heat, the hardness... oh, he fills you perfectly.

The way Minho moves against you is slow yet deliberate, every motion pulling soft gasps from your lips. His hands grip your waist like he’s afraid to let you go, his forehead pressed against yours as he lets out low groans, completely lost in the sensation of you.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice shaky and raw. His head tilts down, lips ghosting over the curve of your shoulder as if trying to ground himself, but you can feel him faltering, overwhelmed by the intensity between you.

You’re caught between the pleasure coursing through you and the sight of him unraveling—his lips parted, his brows furrowed, his breaths heavy. It’s mesmerizing, yet you know he’s losing himself too much in the moment.

Reaching up, you grab his chin gently but firmly, tilting his face so he’s looking directly at you. His eyes flutter open, hazy and dark with desire, and you feel his breath catch as you lock your gaze with his.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the heat pooling in your core. “Look at me.”

Minho’s lips part as if he’s going to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he nods slightly, his hands tightening on your hips as he adjusts his rhythm, his movements more controlled now, more intentional.

You hold his gaze, your eyes searching his as your fingers caress his jaw. “That’s it,” you murmur, your voice soft but commanding. “Stay with me.”

His breaths grow heavier, his lips brushing yours briefly as he finds his rhythm again, pouring everything into every movement. He seems transfixed by you, his eyes never leaving yours, even as his body trembles with the effort to keep it together.

“You feel so, so good,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe and something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten in the best way. His gaze softens as he takes you in, his movements slower but no less intense, like he’s savoring every second with you.

Your hand moves from his jaw to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as you pull him closer. “Minho,” you breathe, the sound of his name on your lips pulling a low groan from his throat.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s searing, his focus entirely on you now, every motion, every touch, every sound meant for you alone. The intimacy of it all makes your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every moment.

And as he continues, his body pressed firmly against yours, you see it in his eyes—the way he’s completely and utterly yours in this moment, and how much it terrifies and excites him all at once.

-

Minho leans back against the headboard, his chest bare and warm against your back as you sit between his legs. His arm wraps securely around you, holding you close in the quiet intimacy of afterglow. In one hand, you're holding a wine glass steady as Minho carefully pours, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment.

You take the first sip, savoring the sweetness on your tongue before passing the glass to him. The silence that follows is comfortable, but you know it can’t last.

“You know your plan to say ‘hell with it’ tomorrow isn’t going to work, right?” you say, breaking the quiet.

Minho pauses mid-sip, raising an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

You shift slightly to look up at him, your head leaning back against his shoulder. “Because I want to stay in the kitchen with you for a long time,” you admit, your voice soft but firm. “You still have so much to teach me, and that can’t happen if we get fired.”

Minho takes another slow sip of wine before handing the glass back to you. He exhales, his lips curving into a slight smile. “I can’t work in that kitchen without you in it anyway.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten in the best way, and you can’t help but giggle, the wine glass hovering close to your lips. Resting your head comfortably on his shoulder, you turn your face slightly to meet his gaze. “I want to learn to be as good as you someday,” you confess, your tone playful but tinged with genuine admiration.

Minho scoffs, his usual cockiness coming through. “As good as me? You’re being greedy. I’m the best, you know.”

His arrogance annoys you, but it’s so quintessentially Minho that you can’t even be mad. Rolling your eyes, you counter, “Exactly. That’s why you’re the best teacher I could ever have.”

Minho’s hand slides to the nape of your neck, his touch gentle but firm as he tilts your face toward his. “So, what you’re saying is... you want to be my student?”

You smile sweetly, meeting his gaze. “Yes, chef,” you reply with a soft laugh.

He shakes his head slightly, his lips curving into a sly grin. “That’s not good enough. You have to be my favorite student.”

The playfulness in his tone makes your heart flutter, and when he leans in to kiss you, it’s like he’s trying to capture your smile with his lips. The kiss is slow and tender, leaving you breathless when he finally pulls away.

Lightly holding his chin, you gaze into his eyes, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. “I wonder if there’ll ever be a day when I can be as good as you. Maybe even better.”

Minho snorts, clearly amused by your boldness. He wraps his arm tighter around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “I don’t want you to be better than me,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “Being as good as me is enough—and even that’s highly unlikely.”

You groan, rolling your eyes again, which only makes him smirk. He tugs gently at the hair at the back of your head, making you turn to face him fully.

“Why? You think I’m arrogant?” he asks, his tone daring you to challenge him.

Without missing a beat, you reply, “Yes, chef.”

His smirk deepens as he pulls you closer, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Even if I am, just grin and bear it,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You chuckle softly, nuzzling into him as you reply, “Yes, chef.”

Minho shifts slightly, his fingers trailing along your jawline as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze again. His eyes darken with something unspoken as he murmurs, “Say it one more time.”

Your heart skips, but you don’t hesitate. “Yes, chef,” you whisper, putting every ounce of feeling into the words.

He nods in satisfaction, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that’s hard, deep, and utterly consuming. The taste of wine lingers on his tongue resembles this shared moment between the two of you: sweet with just a hint of bitterness and highly intoxicating.

-

The key to a perfect crispy hashbrown lies in the details, and Minho thrives in them. He presses the shredded potatoes between layers of paper towels, extracting every last drop of moisture with precise, firm motions. The sizzle of oil heating in the pan is his cue to move, his fingers instinctively testing the temperature by letting a few stray potato shreds dance in the heat. When the oil crackles just right, he spreads the potatoes into an even, golden canvas, pressing them lightly with his spatula to ensure uniformity.

The smell of starch meeting hot oil fills the kitchen as the edges of the hashbrown crisp and curl slightly, the underside transforming into a golden-brown crust. With a deft flick of his wrist, he flips it, revealing the perfection he aimed for—deep, golden brown, with a promise of crunch.

He’s just plating the first hashbrown when you appear, stepping out of the bedroom in his oversized sweater, the hem brushing your thighs, the sleeves swallowing your hands. Your hair is a mess of bedhead, and your sleepy smile feels like sunlight breaking through the quiet morning.

“Good morning,” you mumble, leaning against the counter, your chin resting in your hand as you watch him work.

Minho allows himself a brief glance at you, his lips twitching into a smirk, before returning his focus to the pan. “Why are you just standing there? Make yourself useful. Coffee,” he says, his tone a mix of teasing and instruction.

You chuckle softly, the sound still drowsy, but you comply, moving to the coffee machine with a sense of purpose that warms him more than the steam rising from the pan.

Together, the two of you work in quiet harmony. By the time breakfast is ready, the table is set with golden hashbrowns, fluffy scrambled eggs, and two steaming mugs of coffee. Minho takes a seat across from you, picking up his fork as you do the same.

He notices it immediately: the way you keep stealing glances at him between bites, your eyes lingering like you’re savoring more than just the food. The third time he catches you, Minho sets his fork down and narrows his eyes at you.

“Stop staring,” he says flatly, though the corner of his mouth betrays him with a slight twitch.

You pout, your lips curving into a playful frown. “It’s the first time I’m staying over for breakfast,” you point out, your voice soft but teasing.

Minho scoffs, his hand pausing mid-reach for his coffee. “That’s because you always sneak out before I even wake up,” he counters, giving you a look that’s equal parts reprimand and amusement.

You giggle, tucking your knees up onto the chair and cradling your mug close to your chest. Instead of looking away, you stare openly, the mischief in your eyes making his chest tighten in ways he’s not ready to admit.

Rolling his eyes, Minho leans back in his chair, reaching for his backpack slung over the sofa. He pulls out his notebook, flipping it open briefly before sliding it across the table to you.

You blink in surprise. “What’s this?”

“The notes I took in Italy,” Minho explains, crossing his arms as he leans back. “From when I was wrestling over pasta. If you look carefully, you'll see all my failed attempts.”

You pick it up hesitantly, flipping through the pages. Your brows furrow as you scan the scribbled notes, some smudged with flour, oil, and sweat from long nights in the kitchen. “Not the ones you've succeeded?”

Minho nods, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Deliberately noted every single one of them.” He taps his temple. “If you only write down what you got right, you’ll keep going back to it and stop thinking it over. But if you document your mistakes, you’ll challenge yourself to do better every time.”

Your eyes widen as you flip through more pages. “You made this many mistakes?” you ask in disbelief.

Minho is slightly offended, his expression darkening playfully. In one swift motion, he flicks your forehead, the sound sharp but the gesture light enough to make you laugh.

“Don’t focus on replicating someone else’s great recipe,” he warns, his tone firm but not unkind. “Find your own dish through your mistakes. That’s how you get better.”

You clutch the notebook to your chest, nodding solemnly before breaking into a smile so warm it feels like the morning sunlight flooding the kitchen. “Yes, chef,” you say softly, the sincerity in your voice settling into him like a perfectly balanced dish.

Minho watches you for a moment, his arms crossed as his sharp eyes scan your face. There’s something about the way you’re holding his notebook—as if it’s the most valuable thing in the world—that stirs something deep within him.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches across the table and gently pats your head, his fingers ruffling your messy bedhead with deliberate care. His lips curve into a faint smirk, but there’s a softness in his eyes that he doesn’t try to hide.

“I gave you that because you're my favorite student,” he murmurs, his voice low but undeniably affectionate.

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected praise, and you duck your head slightly, pretending to focus on flipping through the pages again. But Minho sees the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and it makes his chest feel inexplicably full.

Yeah, you’re his favorite, and for reasons that go far beyond the kitchen.

-

The clinking of utensils and hum of conversation from the staff having lunch downstairs fades as Minho walks toward the second floor of the dining hall. His footsteps slow when he spots Felix and Taesoo sitting at one of the tables, heads bent close in conversation. Their voices are low, but not low enough to escape his ears.

Minho lingers just out of sight, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, listening in with mild curiosity.

“So, what do you think’s going on between chef and her?” Taesoo asks, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

Felix hums thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’d prefer it if they did fall in love.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. That’s not the answer he was expecting, and judging by Taesoo’s laugh, neither was he.

“Why?” Taesoo presses, his tone disbelieving.

Felix shrugs. “I mean, if it’s between her and Sara, I’d rather see chef with her, you know? It’d be… nicer.”

Minho’s lips twitch, both annoyed and amused. His jaw clenches when Felix adds after a moment, “But, even if they did, it’d be risky. If they got caught dating while working in the kitchen… It’d be dangerous.”

That’s enough. With a sharp inhale, Minho steps forward and delivers a firm slap to the back of both their heads, startling them.

Felix yelps, clutching his head as Taesoo hisses in pain, whipping around to see their chef towering behind them.

“Yes, I’m having an affair in the kitchen. So what?” Minho deadpans, his gaze locking onto Felix with a daring intensity.

Felix stiffens, his face a mixture of shock and embarrassment. “I—I’m sorry, chef!” he stammers, bowing his head.

Minho walks around to the front of the table and leans against it, crossing his arms. His sharp eyes stay trained on Felix, who fidgets nervously under the weight of his stare.

“What you said is right,” Minho says, his tone deceptively calm, almost challenging.

Felix blinks in confusion. “I didn’t mean with what I said, Chef. I'm sorry.”

Minho smirks as he calmly asks Felix’s opinion. “What do you think? Don't we look good together?”

Felix gapes at him, dazed and unsure if this is a trap. “I—I don’t know! Are you asking for real or just messing with me?”

Minho tilts his head, his smirk deepening. “Well, since there are already rumors, maybe I should make them true.”

Taesoo lets out a snort of laughter, but Felix pales. “Chef! You’d get fired!”

“I know,” Minho replies nonchalantly, his voice laced with mischief.

Felix groans, slumping back in his chair. “There are so many beautiful women out there. Why her?!”

Without missing a beat, Minho leans forward and flicks the back of Felix’s head again. “Do you want to die? What's wrong with her?”

Felix winces, rubbing his head. “Are you lonely, chef?” he mutters weakly.

“Yes,” Minho replies immediately, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Felix groans louder, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Chef, you need to control yourself! You can’t date her!”

Minho smirks, reaching out to grab Felix’s ponytail and giving it a playful tug. “Never,” he says with a sly grin, watching as Felix frantically fixes his hair, a look of disbelief etched across his face.

Taesoo snickers behind his hand, and Minho straightens up, looking utterly satisfied with himself. Taesoo makes another zipping his mouth gesture to him to avoid Minho’s wrath.

As Minho walks away, he feels a small but undeniable sense of relief. Now that more people knew about you and him—albeit through gossip—it felt a little less like he was hiding something. And while he’d never admit it out loud, he liked the idea of others knowing that you were his.

For once, the thought didn’t feel like a risk. It felt like a win.

-

The hum of the coffee machine fills the air as you sit at the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and Minho’s notebook in the other. You flip through the pages, tracing his meticulous notes with your finger, trying to absorb every word. His handwriting is sharp and precise, almost as if it mirrors his personality—strict, methodical, yet undeniably passionate.

The faint sound of footsteps makes you glance up, and you catch Chris approaching. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls up the stool next to you, sitting with his arms stacked on the counter. His presence is calm but unwavering, his gaze fixed on you as you study the notebook.

You try to ignore him, focusing back on the notebook, but his silent watching becomes too distracting. After a few moments, you sigh, closing the notebook and turning to him with a questioning look.

Chris flashes his trademark dimpled smile, the kind that always seems to disarm everyone around him. But this time, there’s a hint of something else behind it—something pensive. He lets out a low sigh.

“It’s unfair,” he says softly.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What’s unfair?��

Propping his chin on his hand, Chris starts listing, his tone lighthearted but deliberate. “Well, for starters, I think I’m a good person. I’ve got a decent amount of money. I’m considerate. And—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “I’m very reasonable.”

You nod at each point he makes, humoring him. “I acknowledge all of that,” you reply with a small smile.

Chris leans back slightly, grinning as he clasps his hands together. “And I also think you’re the best chef in the world.”

You chuckle at his exaggerated sincerity. “Fully noted and acknowledged.”

Chris’s grin widens, but his tone softens. “All things considered, I think I’m a pretty decent catch. So why don’t you even consider me in the running?”

You pout at his question, feigning offense. “Who told you I didn’t?”

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

You shrug, maintaining your playful tone. “I love wealthy men. And I do love that you have lots of money.”

Chris nods in mock seriousness, playing along. “So… no dislikes?”

“Of course not,” you reply easily, taking a sip of your coffee.

There’s a brief moment of silence before Chris leans in closer, his tone dropping just enough to make the conversation feel private. His eyes lock onto yours, and the teasing air between you shifts.

“You know I like you,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

You chuckle, brushing it off with a lighthearted smile. “And you know I like you too.”

But the smile on Chris’s face fades, replaced by an earnest, almost vulnerable expression. “No,” he says softly, his gaze unwavering. “I said I like you.”

It takes you a moment to process his words fully. The weight of his confession settles in, and your playful demeanor falters. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

Chris doesn’t press you for an answer. He simply smiles—soft and understanding—and stands from his stool. As he walks away, his words hang heavily in the air, leaving you sitting at the counter, staring after him with a knot of conflicted feelings in your chest.

-

The echo of your footsteps bounces off the corridor walls as you head toward the locker room, your mind swirling with thoughts. Chris’s confession keeps replaying in your head, leaving you feeling like your chest is tied in knots. You want to vent, to unload the mess of emotions building inside you, but there’s no one in here you can comfortably and openly share this with.

With a frustrated sigh, you dig your phone out of your pocket, scrolling through your contacts until you land on a name that feels safe. You press the call button.

The line rings three times before your dad picks up. “Hello?”

“Dad,” you say, your voice wistful and soft.

There’s a pause before he asks, “What’s wrong with your voice? Did you get into trouble again?”

You grumble, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Why do you always assume I’m in trouble?”

“Because you call me like this, all dramatic,” he replies. “What is it, then?”

You hesitate, chewing your lip. Then you take a deep breath and let it out in one go. “A guy told me he likes me.”

Your dad gasps, audibly enough that you can’t help but pull the phone away from your ear. “A guy?”

“Why are you so surprised?” you ask, annoyed.

“Which guy?” he presses, his tone suspicious and borderline protective.

“I’m not telling you that,” you reply firmly. “But now I’m confused.”

Your dad doesn’t let it go. “Does this guy have a job?”

You blink at the unexpected question. “Yes. He’s got loads of money.”

“Is he bad-tempered?”

You sigh. “No, he’s actually very considerate and reasonable.”

“Does he mind that you’re a chef?”

You pause before answering, “He always says whatever I make is delicious.”

Your dad sighs deeply, his voice softening. “Then what’s the problem?”

You hesitate again, your heart caught in your throat. Finally, you admit, “I… I like someone else.”

There’s silence on the other end, and then your dad asks, “What’s better about the other guy?”

You instinctively clam up. The thought of describing Minho to your dad feels impossible. He’s the exact opposite of Chris in every way. “I… I can’t talk about him,” you say vaguely, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your dad’s tone sharpens. “Does the other guy have more money?”

“Probably not.”

“Is he nicer?”

You snort, the answer bubbling up before you can stop it. “No way. He yells a lot, is stubborn, and gets into fights with people all the time.”

“Does he like your cooking?”

You groan, already knowing what’s coming. “No, he nitpicks my cooking. All. The. Time.”

Your dad lets out another heavy sigh. “And you like this guy more?”

You lower your voice, almost ashamed. “It just… happened.”

There’s a long pause before your dad speaks again, this time with firm finality. “Go with the first one. No matter what.”

“What?!” you shriek, your frustration boiling over. “Why?”

“Because I’m your dad,” he replies without hesitation, as if that explains everything.

You gasp, completely exasperated. “You can’t just pick for me!”

“I just did.”

Groaning in disbelief, you snap, “I shouldn’t have told you anything!” Without waiting for a response, you hang up, shoving your phone aggressively back into your pocket.

“God! Why did I even bother?” You mumble to yourself.

Standing in the quiet locker room, you lean against the cold metal doors, groaning under your breath. Calling your dad was supposed to help clear your head, but now you feel more conflicted than ever.

-

The heat in the kitchen feels heavier today, the air thick with tension as the orders flood in relentlessly. Minho scans the ticket machine as it spits out another slip. His eyes flicker to table eight’s order, extra cautious as he calculates what needs to be done. His gaze darts to your station.

“Have you started on table eight?” he asks sharply.

“Yes, Chef,” you reply immediately, already halfway into prepping the vongole.

“Then hurry up,” Minho snaps, turning back to the endless stream of orders.

Before he can move on, a service staff member steps into the kitchen, looking hesitant. “Chef, table eight wants to change their order—they’re asking for the Chef’s special.”

Minho clenches his jaw, spinning back toward you. You glance up at him, your hands frozen mid-motion. “Chef, I already put the clams in. Should I stop cooking the vongole?”

For a moment, Minho hesitates, the decision flickering in his mind. Table eight wants a Chef’s special, but you’re already halfway through the vongole. Quickly, he makes the call.

“Keep going with the vongole,” he instructs, then pivots to the entrée line. “Seungwan, swap the tuna salad for grilled vegetable salad. You’ve got five minutes to prep it.”

Seungwan looks up from his station, irritation flickering in his eyes. “I don't think that’s possible, Chef. If you only give me five minutes, we should go with the special we already prepared.”

Minho turns toward him slowly, his stare icy. Before he can respond, you interrupt with another question. “Should I keep going with the vongole, or—”

“Finish it,” Minho barks, his patience thinning, then swivels back to Seungwan. “Are you trying to teach me a lesson here? Did you guys set the specials?”

Seungwan stiffens, but Minho doesn’t give him a chance to retort. He steps closer, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. “Let me remind you, I created this menu. If I decide to make changes, it’s because I know what works. Since the pasta is changing, the grilled vegetable salad will enhance the flavors of the clams better than tuna. Do you get that?”

Hyunwoo chimes in from the side, his tone laced with skepticism. “Why change the pasta in the first place? If you’d just stuck with the seafood linguine, none of this would be necessary.”

Seungwan adds, his tone sharper, “Or is it because she made the vongole?” He throws a glare your way.

You hiss back at them, your voice tight with frustration. “Hey, this has nothing to do with me!”

Minho draws in a deep breath, trying to contain the mounting irritation. He strides toward the entrée line, his sharp tone commanding the room. “A customer requested the Chef’s recommendation. Are you saying I can’t make that recommendation?” He raises his voice, his authority cutting through the tension. “Whether I tell you to make pasta, lasagna, or even a bowl of ramyeon, if I say it, you make it. Got it?”

Turning on his heel, he stalks back to the chef’s table, his voice dropping to a cold calm. “If anyone here has a problem with how I run this kitchen, feel free to find another chef and another kitchen. I don’t need anyone here who won’t listen to orders.”

The room goes silent, save for the faint sizzle of pans. Then Seojun, the sous-chef, speaks up, his tone measured but firm. “Chef, how can you say that so easily?”

Before Minho can respond, Hyunwoo mutters under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Unlike some people, we don’t have chefs who’ll cover for us if we leave.” His eyes flick briefly toward you and Felix.

Minho hears you hiss under your breath as you tend to the vongole about to get overcooked from staying on the pan for too long. “Chef, what should I—”

Before you can finish the sentence, Minho snaps, “I told you to make it! Are you rebelling against me too?” His voice rises as he glares at you. “I gave you an order then you should make it. Where did you pick up a habit of questioning me over and over again? Is that how these guys taught you to do? Just finish the dish!”

The tension is palpable, the air crackling as Sara steps in, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” she barks, her tone sharp as a blade. She glares at the entrée line. “Are you going to keep these up? Can't you see the orders are piling up?”

Minho grips the edge of the table so hard his knuckle turns white, he turns to Taesoo who's been watching the fiery exchange from the corner of the kitchen. “Hey, Taesoo! What are you doing? You still don't know what you should bring out for a chef’s recommended course? Hurry and bring them out. Right now!”

Now that Minho knows they won't obey him, he only needs to work with the people who wants to work with him. He turns to Felix and says, “Felix, you and I are going to make the chef’s recommended course. Switch places! Now!”

“Yes, chef!” Felix eagerly respond, throwing a sharp glance at Hyunwoo as he walks past his station.

Felix walks to the other side of the kitchen, taking Seungwan’s station from him while Minho takes Souschef Seojun’s station, pushing Seojun and Seungwan to the back of the kitchen.

Sara temporarily takes the chef table and scold both Seojun and Seungwan who refuse to obey Minho. “If you're all just going to stand there and do nothing, get out. You're just interfering.” Her voice is firm yet authoritative as she remarks, “Whoever doesn't want to cook in this kitchen, I want you to get out.”

Seungwan and Seojun exchange glances, resentment burning in their eyes. Seojun steps forward, his voice tight with anger. “Chef Sara, why are you doing this? At least one of us should find out why this is happening—why the kitchen’s a mess!”

Sara doesn’t flinch under his fiery stare. “Anyone who doesn't obey the orders of the chef isn't needed in the kitchen. You should've at least followed the basic rules of the kitchen before you protested,” she retorts coldly.

Meanwhile, the ticket machine continues to spew out orders. Minho knows the kitchen won’t survive with half the staff refusing to work. His pride grates against his decision, but he knows what he has to do.

He turns to Seojun, his voice softer but no less commanding. “Hey, Souschef! Grab a frying pan. Please!”

Seojun’s jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists. For a moment, it looks like he might refuse, but then he sighs heavily and steps toward the pasta line. Slowly, the others follow, the kitchen sputtering back into chaotic motion as the orders pile up.

Minho exhales deeply, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The fight isn’t over, but for now, the kitchen runs.

-

Minho descends the staircase slowly, his steps measured, the sounds of distant chatter from the dining hall growing clearer with each step. As he enters the hall, he spots Taesoo sprawled on his back atop one of the tables, groaning dramatically as he vents to you. You sit beside him, listening patiently, though Minho can tell from the way you rest your head on stacked hands, you're too exhausted to listening to it.

“I can’t do it,” Taesoo whines, stretching his arms above his head. “If there’s another day like today, I swear my heart will either burst or shrivel up into nothing.”

Minho, unimpressed by Taesoo's theatrics, crosses the room in quick strides and delivers a swift slap to the back of Taesoo’s head. The loud smack startles him, making him yelp and sit upright, rubbing the spot with a pout.

“Cut the drama, Taesoo,” Minho says curtly as he pulls out the chair next to yours and sits down. “It’s embarrassing.”

Taesoo grumbles but doesn’t argue further. Meanwhile, you turn to Minho, offering a polite smile. “Thank you for your hard work today, Chef,” you say, your tone professional, if not a little tired.

Minho’s gaze softens as he places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual.

Your smile doesn’t falter, though it seems rehearsed. “I’m alright, Chef,” you reply simply.

The interaction doesn’t escape Taesoo, who sits upright, his eyes darting between the two of you with exaggerated suspicion. “Do you know how many people are talking about the two of you?” he blurts, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Or how many can’t wait to catch you two together? They're sharpening their knives as we speak!”

Minho shoots him a smirk, entirely unbothered. “Should I care?”

Taesoo doesn’t back down, lowering his voice as he leans closer. “I’m more anxious about it than either of you, and I’m not even involved!” He clasps his hands together in mock pleading. “Please, for all our sakes, rein in your temper a little, Chef. You’re making it worse.”

Instead of acknowledging Taesoo’s concerns, Minho flicks his forehead, eliciting a sharp hiss from you as you watch the scene unfold. Taesoo’s expression twists in exaggerated pain and frustration.

“Chef! How long do you think we can keep going like this?” Taesoo asks, panic lacing his voice.

Minho considers it for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Not more than a month,” he answers nonchalantly. Then, with a small sigh, he corrects himself, “Probably a week. Three days if we’re lucky.”

Taesoo lets out a defeated groan, slumping back against the chair as if Minho’s prediction seals his fate.

Their conversation seems to summon trouble as Seungwan, Hyunwoo, and sous chef Seojun appear near the entrance. Their gazes immediately zero in on you and Minho, and Seungwan wastes no time making his disdain clear.

“If I catch the two of you dating, I’m not going to stand for it. Keep that in mind!” Seungwan says, his tone sharp and accusatory. His glare lingers on you, but Minho stands up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Are you threatening me right now?” Minho asks, his voice dangerously calm. His sharp gaze locks onto Seungwan’s, daring him to escalate the situation further.

Seungwan hesitates, faltering under the weight of Minho’s icy stare, but whatever response he might make is interrupted by the sudden arrival of Chris.

Chris smiles warmly as his eyes land on you, his soft voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Hey, aren't you going home?” he says, directing his attention to you. “I’ll give you a ride home. Let’s go.”

You glance between Chris and Minho, sensing that leaving now is the smartest move. With a quick nod, you grab your bag and rise to your feet, walking toward Chris. Minho’s gaze follows you, sharp and unreadable, as you reach for Chris’s arm in a small gesture of familiarity. Minho feels something pinged his chest, jealousy.

Chris turns back to the room before leaving with you, his smile unshaken. “Good job today, everyone. I'll see you all tomorrow,” he says cheerfully.

The room falls silent in their absence until Felix appears a moment later, his presence lighter but no less significant. He approaches Minho, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “It’s been a long day. How about we grab some drinks, Chef?” he offers simply, his tone a mix of suggestion and insistence.

Minho exhales, running a hand through his hair. Drinking feels like the only way to end the day, and he figures he can deal with the mess brewing around him tomorrow. Without a word, he gives Felix a nod, and the two leave the dining hall together with Taesoo insists on joining as he trails behind them like a puppy.

-

It’s been a hard day, and drinking feels like the perfect solution. Minho sits at a small table in a dimly lit bar, with Felix to his right and Taesoo to his left. The three of them have already drained two bottles of soju, and as Taesoo refills their glasses, it looks like they’re well on their way to finishing a third.

The alcohol has softened the edges of Minho’s usual restraint, his words slightly slurred as he leans back in his chair. He glances between Felix and Taesoo, raising his glass. “If either of you has any complaints about me, just say them now,” he says, his tone both a challenge and an invitation. “Everything. I want to hear it today.”

Felix perks up instantly, his face lighting with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Oh, I’ve got a ton of complaints,” he says, setting his glass down with a grin.

Minho arches a brow and turns to him, feigning seriousness. “Go on, then. Say it to my face.”

Felix stacks his hands together on the table, leaning forward as if preparing for a serious interrogation. “Alright, tell me the truth,” he begins dramatically.

“The truth about what?” Minho asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you like sharing the office with Chef Sara?” Felix asks, his voice laced with mock curiosity.

Minho doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he gently slaps the back of Felix’s head. Felix hisses in pain, rubbing the spot as he mumbles something under his breath about Minho being too rough.

Minho doesn’t linger on Felix, shifting his attention to Taesoo next. “What about you?” he asks. “Got anything to complain about?”

Taesoo shrugs, nonchalant. “Nope. No complaints.”

Without hesitation, Minho slaps the back of Taesoo’s head too, earning a startled yelp. “You’re too agreeable,” Minho mutters, shaking his head.

Felix chuckles, taking another sip of his soju before wincing at the sharp aftertaste. He exhales deeply and rests his chin on his hand. “You know,” he says, looking at Minho with a hint of earnestness. “The problem is that you have a funny way of showing affection. That’s why the other cooks don’t get your good intentions.”

Minho rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he firmly hits Felix on the chest, causing Felix to wheeze dramatically.

“Let’s just drink tonight,” Minho orders, waving for another bottle of soju.

He doesn’t want to talk, not about anything that actually matters. Tonight, he just wants to drown his frustrations in alcohol and forget the tension that’s been weighing on him all day. Especially the part of the day where he got to watch you being whisked away by that annoying manager, Chris.

The waiter brings the fresh bottle, and Taesoo eagerly pops it open. He pours into all their glasses, careful not to spill a drop, and they raise their drinks together.

“To surviving another day,” Taesoo says with a grin.

Minho clinks his glass against theirs, the faint chime ringing in the air. “Cheers,” he mutters before downing his glass in one shot.

The warmth of the soju burns his throat, momentarily dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts. He places the empty glass on the table and exhales, already reaching for a refill.

-

Chris drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. The car glides smoothly along the road, his pace steady and unhurried. As the car slows to a stop at a red light, he glances over at you.

“So,” he says, his tone light but knowing, “did you come with me on purpose to avoid the other chefs?”

You chuckle softly, amused by how quickly he figures things out. “See? This is why I like you,” you reply with a grin. “You’ve got a great sense for things, Chris. And honestly, I’m glad it’s not awkward between us.”

His forehead wrinkles slightly in question. “What do you mean?”

You tilt your head, choosing your words carefully. “I mean, it’s just the two of us here, in the car, and it doesn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. Especially after what you told me earlier.”

At that, Chris’s lips curl into a wide grin, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks. “I’ll take that as a good thing,” he says, his voice warm.

The light turns green, and Chris shifts his attention back to the road. After a moment, he speaks up again. “I need to stop at the grocery store. You wanna come along?”

You glance at him and smile. “Sure,” you say, feeling like it’s the least you can do after he swooped in to save you earlier.

When you get to the supermarket, Chris grabs a trolley and starts pushing it through the aisles while you wander toward the fruit section. Your attention is caught by a bag of grapes sitting in the chiller. You grab it and examine the label before turning to him.

“These are cotton candy grapes,” you announce.

Chris raises a brow, pushing the trolley closer. “What’s the difference?”

“They’re sweeter than regular grapes,” you explain. To prove it, you open the bag, pull out a grape, and without hesitation, shove it into his mouth.

Chris blinks at you, startled, but obediently chews. You pop one into your own mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness as you watch his reaction.

He chews thoughtfully, his expression neutral. “Tastes like regular grapes to me,” he finally says, shrugging.

You groan dramatically. “Your taste buds really are dull, Chris.” Then, with a teasing smile, you shove another grape into his mouth before he can protest.

Ignoring his glare, you toss the bag into the trolley. Chris immediately objects, his voice mock-stern. “Hey, you opened that! You should pay for it.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Nope. You ate more grapes than me so you’re paying for it.” And just to tease him further, you shove yet another grape into his mouth.

Chris pouts as he chews, his lips sticking out just slightly, and you can’t help but laugh softly at the sight. There’s something so easy about being around him. There are no games, no tricks, no sharp words to dodge or tension to navigate. It’s nice, comfortable, safe.

And yet…

As you watch him push the trolley forward, chatting easily about what else he needs to buy, your thoughts drift to someone else. Your heart, stubborn as it is, doesn’t want this safety or ease. It wants the man who flicks your forehead and scolds you, who keeps you guessing and makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

But for now, you follow Chris down the aisle, telling yourself it’s enough to enjoy this moment, even if your heart is elsewhere.

-

Minho’s head is buzzing, a dull throb behind his temples as he stumbles out of the elevator. His steps are heavy, his balance slightly off, but he manages to make it to your apartment without tripping. He pushes the doorbell, leaning against the wall for support as his impatience bubbles over.

“Hey!” he calls, his voice slurred. “Open up! I know you’re in there!”

After what feels like forever, the door finally opens. But it’s not you.

Sara stands in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she takes in his disheveled state. Minho squints at her, as though he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “Where’s she?” he asks, his voice thick with alcohol.

Sara hesitates, her hand still on the doorknob. “She’s not home yet,” she says simply.

Minho scratches his head, a frustrated groan escaping his lips. He needs to talk to you, to see you. His gaze flickers back to Sara. “Can I get some water?” he asks, his voice softening.

Sara nods after a moment, stepping aside to let him in. He makes his way to the living room, collapsing onto the single sofa with a tired sigh. The room is quiet except for the faint clinking of a glass from the kitchen. When Sara returns, she hands him the water without a word.

Minho takes a long gulp, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. He gasps for air after finishing half the glass, setting it down on the armrest as he leans back into the cushions. His gaze shifts to Sara, who’s taken a seat on the long sofa across from him, sipping what looks like tea.

“Thanks,” he mutters, breaking the silence. “For today. In the kitchen.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sara says with a small smile and then takes a careful sip of her tea before asking, “You've been drinking, huh?”

Minho nods bht his mind feels slightly clearer now, though still hazy enough to loosen his tongue. He glances down at the glass in his hand, his voice dropping to a steady, almost contemplative tone.

“You know,” he starts, “I thought about it once. Just once.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “If you’d beaten me fair and square—if you’d used honest means and taken first place—would I have stayed in second just because I loved you? Would I have applauded you in the background?”

Sara’s brow furrows slightly, but she stays quiet, letting him continue.

“I think… even if you had been honest and won, I still would’ve left you,” he admits, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Because I would’ve gotten jealous. Envious. You’d have made me feel small.”

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “My pride as a man… it would’ve screamed that I had to be number one. And because of that, I would’ve left you anyway.”

He takes another sip of water, his words hanging heavy in the air. When he sets the empty glass down, he looks at Sara directly. “So maybe… maybe I didn’t leave because you backstabbed me. Maybe I would’ve left regardless.”

The room falls silent. Sara holds his gaze, her expression conflicted. Minho can see the appreciation in her eyes for his honesty, but also the uncertainty about how to respond.

That’s his cue to leave.

Minho pushes himself up from the sofa, his legs unsteady but determined. “Thanks for the water,” he mutters, heading toward the door.

Sara stays seated, watching as he leaves. As he steps out into the hallway, Minho lets out a breath, leaving her to grapple with the weight of his words and eventually makes peace with herself with it.

-

Chris pulls the car to a stop right in front of your apartment building, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the vehicle. You unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching back to grab your bag from the backseat. Your heart pounds as you sit there, debating whether now is the right time to say it.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to him with a smile, calling his name softly. His dimpled smile greets you instantly, warm and familiar. “Yeah?” he says, his voice gentle.

You don’t hesitate any longer. “I like Chef more.”

The words tumble out so quickly that you barely register the slight shift in his expression. For a second, he looks caught off guard, but then his lips curl into a soft smile. “Wow,” he says, feigning playfulness. “You’re quick to reject a guy, huh?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not exactly a rejection,” you explain. “I like you, Chris. I do. But I just… like Chef more.”

Chris leans back in his seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel. He nods slowly, as if processing your words, before looking back at you with a knowing grin. “I kind of already knew.”

You gasp, your eyes widening. “Wait, you knew I’d reject you?”

He gives a small, coy nod.

Without thinking, you reach over and gently slap his chest, making him chuckle. “Then why confess in the first place?” you demand, half annoyed, half amused.

His chuckle deepens, his dimples flashing again. “Because I wanted to try anyway. Maybe I’ll just keep trying until you say yes.”

You groan, slumping back against the seat. “Don’t do that, Chris. Seriously.”

He laughs at your reaction, but there’s something in his tone that hints at a deeper feeling—one he’s clearly trying to mask. You glance at him, feeling a pang of guilt. “You don’t know how hard this is,” you mutter, glaring at him. “I’ve never had to do this before. Rejecting someone… especially a guy who’s wealthy, good-looking, and actually likes me?!”

Chris laughs again, the sound warm and disarming, but you can see the faint sadness in his eyes. You reach out and squeeze his arm gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I really hate being the one to do this, you know. I’d rather be the one getting rejected.”

Your hand slides down to his, holding it briefly as you meet his gaze. “Just… promise me you won’t say this again. Don’t tell me you like me or anything like that ever again.”

Chris holds your gaze for a moment longer, a glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes. “I’ll do what I want,” he says, his voice teasing.

You groan in defeat, leaning your head back against the headrest. Your frustration only lasts a second before the two of you burst out laughing at the same time, the tension melting away.

Eventually, you know it’s time to go. You reach for your bag and unbuckle, but before you leave, you lean in and wrap your arms around him. “Good night, Chris,” you whisper softly, giving him a squeeze before letting go.

As you pull back, you give him a smile—one that you hope conveys how sorry you truly are for not being able to feel the same way. “Bye,” you say gently, opening the car door.

Chris watches you as you step out, his gaze lingering until you close the door. You wave briefly before heading toward the building, his car idling in place for just a moment longer before driving away.

-

Minho leans against the cool marble column of the lobby, his eyes fixed on the car parked outside. Through the windshield, he sees you and Chris talking, your expressions shifting between seriousness and familiarity. His stomach twists uncomfortably when he sees Chris’s smile soften and how you return it before leaning in to hug him—a hug that lingers just long enough to stir unease in Minho.

He doesn’t know what you’re saying to each other, but his gut tells him Chris must have confessed his feelings. It doesn’t scare him—Minho knows who he is, knows his worth—but it makes him nervous. He knows how sly that Australian guy, Chris, can be, how easily he could sway you if you let him.

When you step out of the car and head toward the building, you don’t notice Minho watching until you’re almost at the door. Your startled expression turns to one of exasperation as you catch his glare.

“You really are a professional two-timer,” Minho sneers, his words sharper than he intended.

You scoff, crossing your arms as you step closer. “And you’re drunk,” you point out, wrinkling your nose at the alcohol on his breath.

Minho grabs your hand firmly, cutting off any further argument. “Come with me,” he mutters, dragging you toward the elevator.

The ride up is silent, except for the faint hum of the elevator motor. Minho leans against the wall, his gaze locked on you. He wants to ask about Chris, wants to confirm if his suspicion is right, but his thoughts are muddled by the alcohol and his own insecurity. The ding of the elevator interrupts his thoughts, and he stumbles slightly as he steps out.

“I need your help to get inside,” he grumbles, draping an arm over your shoulder for support.

Once inside his apartment, Minho kicks his shoes off haphazardly, his bag and coat ending up in a careless pile on the floor. He pulls you along toward the bedroom, his grip on your hand tightening. “Take me to bed,” he demands, his voice heavy with fatigue and alcohol.

“Just a second,” you chide, slipping out of your shoes as fast as you can before he tugs you toward the bed.

Minho collapses onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You prop yourself up on one elbow, offering to get him some water, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you down beside him. “Stay,” he murmurs, his tone softening.

You obey, lying on your stomach and facing him. The room is quiet except for the faint sound of the city outside. After a while, Minho turns his head to look at you, his brow furrowed. “Chris told you he likes you, didn't he?” he finally asks.

You nod, confirming his suspicion.

“What did you say?” he presses, his voice low.

Instead of answering directly, you prop your hand under your chin and smirk. “My dad says Chris is a nicer man than you.”

Minho lifts his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at you. “Does that make me the bad guy?”

You grin, nodding without hesitation.

“You told your dad about me and Chris already?” Minho asks in disbelief, his brows shooting up.

You nod again, your grin widening.

He groans, reaching out to pull you closer. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the finger flick you’re certain is coming, but instead, Minho wraps his arm around your neck and tugs you close until your head rests against his shoulder.

“What did your dad say?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

You let out a soft sigh. “He’s rooting for the nice man.”

Minho frowns, his lips pressing into a thin line. “What about you?”

Your sly smile returns as you rest your hand on his chest. “Well... I’ve always been the disobedient daughter who never listens to her dad.”

Minho smirks at that, nodding in approval. “Good,” he murmurs. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. “Don’t listen to your dad, okay?”

You chuckle softly. “Yes, Chef.”

He nods again, shifting to get more comfortable. “Let’s sleep.”

“Yes, Chef,” You snuggle closer to his side, his arm draped around you as he exhales deeply, finally relaxing.

Just as you’re about to drift off, Minho turns his head toward you. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head firmly. “No. You reek of alcohol.”

“Come on, just a peck,” he pleads, his voice almost whining.

With a sigh, you relent, leaning in to press a quick peck to his lips.

“That was too quick,” he protests immediately.

You groan, rolling your eyes again before leaning in for a longer, lingering kiss. Minho lets out a small gasp when you finally pull away, his cheeks flushed and his lips curling into a contented smile. “Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft and drowsy.

He cups your face gently, holding your gaze as he whispers, “Goodnight.”

You smile back at him, your heart warming at the tenderness in his voice. “Goodnight.”

As the room falls into peaceful silence, Minho pulls you closer, your warmth grounding him. For the first time in a while, the doubt and jealousy that had been weighing on him begin to lift. With you lying beside him, he feels at ease—secure in the knowledge that no matter who tries to sway your feelings, you aren’t going anywhere but his side. A soft smile lingers on his lips as sleep finally claims him.

-

Minho’s eyes scan the tickets clipped to the rail as Felix approaches with a dish in hand. Minho inspects the plating carefully, wiping a smudge from the edge of the plate with a practiced motion. “Go,” he instructs, handing it off to the waiting server. Felix nods and heads back to his station, and Minho’s focus shifts to the tickets again.

His brows furrow. Something’s off.

“Felix!” Minho barks, his voice cutting through the clatter of the kitchen. Felix looks up from the garnish he’s carefully arranging.

“Yes, Chef?”

Minho holds up the ticket. “Table three’s order hasn’t even gone out yet, but table eight’s is already served. Care to explain?”

Felix glances at the tickets, then smirks and jerks his head toward Hyunwoo, who’s furiously tossing pasta in a pan at the next station. “It’s not me, Chef. It’s Hyunwoo. He’s taking too long on the linguine.”

Hyunwoo stiffens, glaring at Felix. “Linguine takes longer to cook! Maybe if you timed your dishes better, this wouldn’t happen.”

Felix doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe if you didn’t act like you’re boiling pasta for a buffet line, this wouldn’t happen either.”

Their voices escalate, bickering like children, as Minho’s patience wears thin. Slamming his palm against the counter, he growls, “Both of you, shut up!”

The kitchen falls into tense silence, save for the sizzle of pans. Minho steps around the counter, moving to stand between Felix and Hyunwoo, his sharp gaze flicking between the two.

“I’ve told you both a hundred times,” Minho starts, his voice low but seething with authority. “Cooking for a course meal isn’t the same as cooking a single dish. Timing. Coordination. Communication. If you two can’t figure out how to work together, you’ll take this entire kitchen down with you.”

Felix nods quickly, contrite. “Yes, Chef.”

Minho looks at Hyunwoo, waiting. But Hyunwoo’s jaw is tight, resentment clear in his eyes as he hesitates.

Minho narrows his gaze at Hyunwoo. “Are you not going to answer me?”

The tension thickens as Hyunwoo glares back at Minho but says nothing. Before Minho can press further, the kitchen door bursts open.

“Where is he?!” Yura’s voice echoes like a thunderclap.

Chris rushes in behind her, his face flushed as he tries to hold her back. “Please, don’t. Let’s talk in my office—”

Yura yanks her arm away, storming past Chris with fire in her eyes. She marches straight toward Minho, her voice trembling with rage. “I know what you’ve been doing. With who. And when.”

Minho doesn’t flinch, his expression stony as he locks eyes with her, daring her to continue.

“I know your little secret,” Yura spits, her gaze sweeping the kitchen before landing back on Minho. “I saw it with my own eyes. You and her.” Her eyes flick to you, standing frozen by the corner of the kitchen.

Minho’s chest tightens, but his face remains impassive.

Yura takes a deep breath, as if savoring the moment. Then she announces, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I saw you two at the bus stop. Kissing.”

The kitchen plunges into suffocating silence. Every clatter of knives and pans halts. All eyes turn to Minho, then to you, then back to him.

Despite his calm exterior, Minho’s heart pounds in his chest. Yura presses on, her voice dripping with venom.

“You are a hypocrite. You fired my sister—innocent Minji—because you said you wouldn’t allow romantic relationships in the kitchen. But now you’re doing the exact same thing.” Her lips curl into a bitter smile. “How does it feel to be the one breaking your own rules? How does it feel to be the one causing this situation?”

Felix steps forward suddenly, his voice firm. “That’s a complete lie! Chef wouldn’t do something like that.”

Hyunwoo hisses in response, turning to Felix with a sneer. “How do you know? Minji saw them at the café, remember? And now this? Are you seriously defending him?”

Hyunwoo turns his glare on you. “And you—didn’t you say you were just close with Chef? What a joke.”

Seungwan steps in, his voice sharp. “So, it's true, Chef? That the two of you are dating?”

You cut in, your voice trembling but steady enough to say, “We— We’re close because we went to the same culinary school in Italy. That’s all.”

But Sous Chef Seojun isn’t satisfied. “Chef, just tell us the truth. Are you dating her or not?”

Minho’s gaze falls on you, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Your eyes plead with him, a silent “don’t do it” written in every tearful glance. But Minho knows this has gone on long enough.

Minho straightens, resting his hands flat on the chef’s table as he looks out at his team.

“It’s true,” Minho says, his voice clear and unwavering. “We’re close.”

He pauses, looking back at you, silently apologizing for what he’s about to do.

“However, I’m in love with her.”

A collective gasp ripples through the room.

You close your eyes as if you can't stand seeing it happens and when you open them, tears pooling in your eyes as you stare at him in disbelief.

Minho keeps his gaze on you, knowing that as long as he looks at you, he can weather anything.

The silence is deafening, broken only by Yura stepping forward with a mocking laugh. “And what did you say would happen if someone was caught dating in this kitchen, Chef?” She grabs Minho by his chef’s tie, pulling him closer. “You’re fired!”

Minho calmly untangles her grip from his tie, fixing his coat with precision. He stands tall, facing everyone once more.

“I acknowledge that I’ve behaved in a way that could lose your trust in me as your chef,” he says, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “But I won’t apologize for loving her. And because of that, I have no right to continue leading this kitchen.”

Minho unties his chef’s necktie, pulling it off and holding it in his hand.

“With this, I'll leave this kitchen on my own cognizance.”

The room remains eerily quiet as Minho steps back, turning his attention to you one last time. A triumphant smile plays on his lips, even as tears stream down yours.

Despite the chaos he left behind, despite the stunned expressions and inevitable fallout, Minho feels an unexpected lightness—a sense of victory. For the first time, he didn’t hide. He didn’t lie. He stood before everyone and declared his love for you without hesitation, without shame.

He glances down at the crumpled chef’s tie in his hand, a symbol of all the rules and walls he’d built around himself. He knows he’s walking away from the life he built with his blood, sweat, and tears, but strangely, there’s no regret.

If loving you meant losing the kitchen, then so be it.

-

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[badsalmonella]

Hi tonight and I watched the movie Beautiful Disaster and I think I've actually discovered the most movie to ever movie.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊����𝐀𝐄

w.c › 9k

Warnings › face claims. Part 2. Bottom male reader, slow burn, slight romance with Doha. Mentions of body shaming

Plot › Mingi begins to actively pursue you, while you uncover who else in the group still likes you

Kinks › size difference, cross dressing, manhandling, lite feminization, semi-public sex

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male will call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Noona (누나) — a term a younger male will call an older female.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Four years ago

Doha didn’t get it.

You and Hyojin were acting buddy-buddy after one music video. It was strange to him at how easily Hyojin just started calling you “Hyung.” Did you really allow it? You haven’t even been in the group for over two months yet.

The company just plopped you into the group and expected everyone to just fall at your feet.

Well, he wouldn’t.

But he didn’t agree with Yohan’s weird hatred of you.

He and Yohan were walking to the dance practice room. Yohan looked angry, he had been angry ever since you stole the leader title from him.

“I don’t get it. I’ve been leading you guys for four years, how is that Hong (Name) better than me?! Just because he can carry a tune?” Yohan ranted, lowering his voice when he and Doha reached the empty room.

Doha didn’t respond, letting Yohan whine about his frustrations. He took off his jacket and backpack, resting them on the couch. Why was there a couch in the corner of the dance studio?

Who knows.

He plopped down and pulled out his phone, typing away. “You talked about this earlier. It’s been two months.”

“Two months!” Yohan yelled, throwing his bag onto the couch. “Two months compared to my four years! How is that fair?”

“Stop yelling at me as if I chose for this to happen.” Doha rolled his eyes. “We just have to go with what the company decided.”

Yohan groaned, rubbing at his face. Doha glanced up and noticed the door to the studio open, Mingi was walking in with Hyojin to behind him. He was about to greet them when you appeared right after them.

His eyes widens as he glanced over at Yohan who had his back to the door. He quickly tried to signal for Yohan to shut his mouth.

“It’s so strange, what did Hong (Name) sleep with the CEO to get my position?” Yohan ranted, pausing when the sound of the door slammed shut.

Doha held back his loud groan as he watched Yohan look pale, he wasn’t making any effort to look back.

“Seriously, Hyung?”

Doha raised an eyebrow, he had expected Hyojin to say something but Mingi beat him to the punch. Hyojin looked pissed but Mingi had a look of anger that he had never seen on the younger boy.

You on the other hand, didn’t look bothered. Doha looked closer and realized why—you had headphones on. You took off your headphones and smiled widely, naive to the fact one of your teammates just insulted you.

“Afternoon!” You said. “Is everyone here?”

“Kihyun Hyung is coming late,” Hyojin answered, looking back at you.

Mingi kept his gaze on Yohan’s back, tightening his grip on his bag. He raised his hand up and leaned back, before throwing his backpack to hit Yohan square on the head.

Yohan grunted, almost falling to his knees from the impact. Doha winced. Mingi always had the heaviest backpack because of his school supplies. He still went to school at the request of his mother.

The bag fell to the floor as two thick school books slipped out.

“Mingi-Ssi!” You said, a frown on your lips. “That’s not nice, you need to apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing to an asshole like him, he should apologize to you!” Mingi yelled.

“Why should he—?”

“—sorry I’m late.” Kihyun said, entering the studio with the choreographer and a few managers behind him.

Well, things were getting worse by the minute.

The dance practice went fine. The choreographer had to tell Mingi to stop glaring at Yohan. A few times Yohan was even told to fix his movements, which was rare. Yohan never got moves wrong.

After the managers gave the dance practice their approval, everyone was eager to leave. Mingi left first, his excuse was the need to “study.” However Doha knew it was because Mingi would’ve jumped Yohan if he stayed any longer.

Hyojin didn’t even speak to Yohan as he walked past and left with Kihyun. Doha was about to go speak to Yohan when the boy left quickly.

Doha sighed, rubbing at his face. He’d have to try and talk to Yohan another time. Any sort of tension between the group before debut was a bad sign.

Just as he finished packing, he glanced up to see one of the managers had stayed back. It was an older man. He wasn’t their main manager—just one that would occasionally substitute for Dawon or Gaeul.

“Do you need something?” Doha asked, standing up.

“Ah, yes,” the man said, a wide grin on his face. “You dance pretty well but… I’ve noticed that you’ve gained a bit of weight.” He used his pen to point of Doha’s stomach.

Doha just felt himself freeze as the man poked his stomach that was spilling over from the shorts he was wearing.

“You’re probably just eating good for your debut but you don’t want to be over a certain weight. Guys need to watch their weight too!” He laughed, as if this was just a funny joke. “Maybe lighten up on the gimbap or something, I’ve noticed you’ve been eating it a lot.”

“Gimbap is healthy.” A voice cut in.

Doha glanced over to see you. You hadn’t left yet?

Your gaze was harsh as you glared at the manager, reaching over to push his hand away from Doha’s stomach. “You shouldn’t touch someone you don’t know. It’s rude and disgusting. Besides, are you his doctor?”

“Huh…?” The manager asked.

“Are you his doctor? What if he is at a healthy weight? He’s still growing.” You patted Doha on the back. “Weight fluctuates… but even then, even if he was gaining weight from ‘eating too much’… it’s none of your concern. Now you should go, I’ll be reporting you to the HR department.”

The manager squared his jaw. He looked ready to say something before he raised his hand up high. Doha felt himself move before he could even think as he grabbed the man’s wrists just as he brought his hand down close to your face.

“Are you crazy?” Doha yelled, pushing the man away. His yelling seemed to catch a few people’s attention as Dawon and a few other people walked into the studio.

He stopped paying attention as the workers began speaking to the manager as he glanced over at you. His gaze softened at the sight of you, you looked calm for just a second before you let out a gasp, almost dropping to the ground. Doha grabbed your arm and held you up as you took multiple deep breaths.

“Doha, (Name), are you guys okay?” Dawon suddenly asked. Doha looked up to see the manager being carried out with force. “I didn’t think he’d be crazy enough to hit any of you guys.”

“We’re okay. Maybe you guys should look into the people you hire.” Doha spit out.

Dawon rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. I’ll go tell them that. You guys should go home, it’s late.”

As Dawon left, Doha heard you let out a sigh. He looked over at you and helped you stand up straight.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I tried to act… tough but I was so scared. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Has.. someone spoken to you like that?”

You only nodded. “Mhm. But it’s the first time I’ve talked back… it’s easier doing it for other people, for you.” You looked up at Doha and smiled.

Doha only stared at you before feeling himself blush. “Ah.. thanks, (Name)-Ssi.”

“Oh, you can call me Hyung.”

“Are you sure..?”

“Mhm!” You grinned. How could someone be this cute without being cringy?

“Ah.. okay, (Name) Hyung…”

“You’re so cute, Dodo!”

Doha narrowed his eyebrows, “never call me that again.”

“Mhm… Dodo!”

Never mind, he didn’t like you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were pretty sure Mingi was dying.

It had only been four days since your ‘no touching’ rule and he’s been acting as if he’s going through a drought. He was currently on the couch, dead eye contact on the tv as he occasionally let out a loud groan.

He seemed to groan louder each time you walked past the living room to get to the kitchen.

While he was certainly dying—you couldn’t lie to yourself much longer.

You were horny.

Worst of all, you were missing him sleeping with you at night. You never realized how much Mingi touches you everyday. Yohan was the cuddliest but Mingi was on another level—but usually only with you.

Teaching him a lesson seemed so silly now. You wanted him to touch you but you knew he wouldn’t dare unless you told him to or until the month was over.

But… that was embarrassing. You didn’t want to ask. You, the oldest, whining to the younger man to touch you?! Have some decorum!

No way in hell were you going to embarrass yourself in front of your maknae again. No way!

You’d get through this… you would!

“Hyung, are you going to stare at Mingi all day or..?”

You sat up, blinking rapidly as you looked over at Kihyun. He smiled and sat down beside you in the van. The company was having the group record content for promotion for the future comeback. Luckily, Yohan and Mingi were currently holding the vlogging camera.

“I was staring?” You whispered. “I wasn’t.”

“Sure.” Kihyun replied, looking over at Mingi and Yohan when Yohan let out a loud laugh. “Why didn’t Mingi sit next to you? He always pushes us out of the way to sit near you.”

“He does?”

Kihyun rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.” He muttered, looking back at you.

You pouted. “Well why aren’t you sitting next to Jinnie?”

That seemed to be a sore spot as Kihyun immediately tensed. He didn’t even attempt to glance over at Hyojin who was sitting next to Doha. The two weren’t even talking, just listening to music on their own headphones.

“Ah,” you muttered, wondering how far you could push him before deciding to just take his mind off his problems. “You just wanted to spend time with your Hyung, mhm~?”

Kihyun glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow as you grinned. You wrapped your arms around his bicep and pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Hyung wants to spend time you too~” You giggled, purposefully tightening your grip as Kihyun tried to pull away. “Hyunnie~ don’t make Hyung sad!”

“You’re so annoying.” Kihyun muttered, but you could see the corner of his mouth tilting upwards as he fought back a smile.

You opened your eyes and glanced over to see what Mingi and Yohan was doing as their conversation suddenly fell silent. Only for you to see the both of them staring daggers right at Kihyun.

The camera was pointed at you two so you decided to wave, trying to ignore the weird tension for those two.

“Hyunnie, wave to Miras.” You said, grabbing Kihyun’s left wrist and waving it for him. He didn’t pull away and just allowed you to maneuver his hand around.

“I’m stopping for gas.” Dawon said from the driver seat. Gaeul said something too but you couldn’t exactly hear her clearly.

Once the van reached the gas station, Kihyun and the others had gotten out to buy a snack. You stayed in your seat, typing away as you texted your mother when the sound of bickering filled your ears.

“Stop it, I’m the youngest.”

“You can’t keep using your age card!”

“Face it, (Name) Hyung doesn’t even see you that way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know a lot of things… living in the same apartment has gotten us closer than you can imagine.”

“You fucking—”

The sound of banging caught your attention as you made the move to get up. However an angry Doha walked into the van right after. He sat down beside you, muttering on about something you couldn’t understand.

Hyojin came in after, sitting down in his same spot. Kihyun walked in but seemed to hesitate for a moment. He made the move to sit somewhere else until Hyojin grabbed his hand and tugged him back to the seat.

You watched the scene with an odd sense of relief. Maybe they’ll get over whatever’s bothering them.

After a minute or so, a disgruntled Mingi walked in with Yohan close behind. The two sat in the two empty rows of the van, far apart from each other.

The van had three rows, two seats each. You were sitting in the right side middle row. Kihyun and Hyojin were in the back row, left side. Mingi in the front left side and Yohan in the front right side.

They looked childish.

Dawon and Gaeul came in not too long ago and started the car. The group was heading to the amusement park.

“Doha,” you whispered, leaning in.

Doha glanced over at you, pulling off his headphones. “Hm?”

“What were Mingi and Yohan arguing about? Did a fight break out?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dumbasses were fighting over something stupid. I think Mingi was going to punch Yohan Hyung but I beat them both to it by hitting them both. So childish.”

“What were they fighting over?”

“Uh. I don’t know.”

“Oh.” You frowned, easily clocking that Doha wasn’t about to tell you the truth.

The rest of the ride was oddly tense, well from Mingi’s and Yohan’s side. You decided to leave the two to wallow as you gazed out the window. It would be your first time going an amusement park. The last time the group went was in their second year and you had to sit out because of a family emergency.

Your mother could never afford to take you when you were younger. And even as you grew up, you threw yourself into practicing as a singer and dancer. No breaks.

To say you were excited was an understatement.

Once the van finally reached the location, you were practically buzzing in your seat. You all got out of the van as you took in your surroundings. Dawon and Gaeul was telling you guys something but you could hardly pay attention.

It was more than likely just about what to do for the vlog. Didn’t matter to you, you hardly paid attention to it since Miras didn’t particularly care about you.

As soon as Dawon and Gaeul gave you guys the ok, you practically sprinted away, ignoring the surprised yells of your members.

There was a whole plan that you had since you were ten. You were going to follow that plan to a tee!

First: ride the Ferris Wheel.

Lucky for you, there was no long line. You eagerly got on and sat on one of the horses. It looked a little silly compared to the small kids on the ride but you didn’t care.

Even if the ride was a little slower than you imagined, just being on it was fulfilling any dream you had back then.

After the ride finished, you were a ball of energy as you mentally thought about what your next step was. But you didn’t get far when something tugged at your shirt. You looked back to see an exhausted Doha as he let out a heavy breath.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, rubbing at his face. “You’d think you’re the youngest. What was that?”

You blushed, biting your lip. “Sorry, I got a little excited.”

“A little?”

You giggled in response to his harsh glare. You could hear footsteps from behind him as you glanced over his shoulder. Mingi was sprinting over to you with Yohan right on his tail, somehow holding up the vlogging camera upright the entire time.

Hyojin and Kihyun were walking behind them.

“Hyung!” Mingi yelled, skidding to a stop as he shoved Doha away from you. Doha gave Mingi an incredulous look as you couldn’t help the slight laugh that left your lips. “You scared me—!”

“—scared us.” Yohan interrupted, slowing down as he panted heavily. “Who knew the leader would abandon his members in an amusement park. I only noticed you walking away because of the camera’s viewfinder.”

You grinned sheepishly, “sorry. I’ve never been to an amusement park, I got too excited.”

“You’ve never been?” Mingi asked.

“No. I have a list of things I want to do.”

“I’ve been here loads of times,” Yohan said, grinning. He pointed the camera over at you. “I can show you the best rides.”

Mingi subconsciously stepped in front of you, “no way. You’ll hog him the entire day. I want to spend time with Hyung.”

“Stop being so childish,” Yohan rolled his eyes. “It’s so he can have a good time.”

You sent a swift glare to both boys before they could raise the tension with their stupid argument. You didn’t know what was wrong with them—they seemed to be arguing more than normal.

“I’ll spend one step of my bucket list with each of you.” You said, shaking your head. You reached over and grabbed the camera from Yohan. “I’ll start with Doha. I’ll find whoever I want to hang out with later.” With that, you turned around and grabbed Doha’s hand, tugging him away to the nearest ride.

The others just watched in silence.

“Uh,” Kihyun muttered. “That’s going against the plan of the vlog.”

Hyojin shrugged. “I think a vlog focusing on (Name) Hyung isn’t a bad idea.” He looked over at Mingi. “What do you think, Mingi?”

Mingi pouted. “How comes Doha Hyung get to go first?”

Hyojin sighed and shook his head. “Oh my gosh.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Turns out taking Doha out on the fastest rollercoaster was a terrible idea. He was out of commission immediately. You felt terrible as you led him to rest on a bench.

After a few minutes, Hyojin and Kihyun appeared. Doha looked pale as he slowly sipped on the water bottle you bought him. The camera sat on your lap as you had shut it off as soon as he threw up a few minutes earlier.

“What happened to Doha Hyung?” Hyojin asked.

“I took him on that fast rollercoaster… I forgot he had eaten something not even twenty minutes ago.” You sighed, patting him on the shoulder.

Kihyun looked away as he let out a cough. “Shame… we should probably take him back to the van.”

“Ah, right. I’ll go take him.” You said, getting ready to help him up.

“No, it’s okay, Hyung.” Kihyun said, shaking his head. “Hyojin and I will take him.”

“We will?” Hyojin whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. It’s your first time here. You can’t just ride one rollercoaster and call it a day. Go find Yohan Hyung and Mingi. They were by the food court a few minutes ago.” Kihyun walked over and grabbed Doha’s arm, helping him stand up.

Hyojin helped him as well, looking a bit pissed at his forced aid. “We’ll join you guys later… if Doha Hyung feels better.”

With that, they walked away with a groaning Doha in their arms.

You felt anxious, feeling terrible about putting Doha through that. Deciding to follow Kihyun’s orders, you began to walk over to the food court to find Mingi and Yohan.

Though you didn’t necessarily want to speak to them right now. They were being so childish—it was getting a bit annoying.

You started the camera back up, unsure of what to do. You’ve never solo vlogged. You turned the camera to face you as you smiled shyly.

“Ah… I’m not sure what to do,” you whispered, feeling a bit shy. “I need to find Hannie and Minnie. I made Dodo sick, I feel so bad… I should buy him a gift to make up for it.. but—”

“—excuse me! Are you busy, Miss?” A lady yelled out to you.

You almost ignored her until you realized she was pointing right at you. “Miss…? Ah, I’m not a lady.” You said, laughing slightly. That’s the first.

The lady looked slightly embarrassed as she laughed nervously. “I’m sorry! I don’t have my glasses on right now so I can’t see far away that well.”

“It’s okay… is there something you wanted?”

“Ah!” The lady pointed at her small little venue. “I do a little make up and dress up booth! I was asking if you were interested but since you aren’t a woman…”

“Can I still do it?” You asked, grinning at her shocked face. Ever since the whole Cinderella makeup, you oddly wanted to see how you’d look with a more natural look. The stage makeup was always so heavy because of the bright light they shined on you.

It wasn’t a crime to see how’d you look. Maybe you’d like it.

“Of course, of course! Ah, you young men are so open minded! C’mere, I’ll do makeup that suits your features.”

Since you were vlogging, you had the camera propped up on her desk so it would tape the entire process. Though the editors would probably fast forward or take most of it out to save time.

The lady worked faster than you imagined. She looked on the older side, close to your mother’s age of 56. But somehow she was swift and precise with her strokes of the makeup brush. You wondered if she painted on the side.

After a few minutes, she was done.

“Ah,” she nodded, squinting her eyes as she took in her handwork, “I wish I didn’t forget my glasses but you look good, son. Boys should wear makeup more often. They’d look less ugly.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. You reached over to look into the small mirror she had on her table. Woah, she was right. You did look good.

The makeup wasn’t overly feminine like the Cinderella makeup but it still softened your features. It was light and almost felt like there was nothing there. Minimal blush and the lightest red tint on your lips. She even put an eyeshadow that matched your skin tone.

The only strong part of the makeup was the wing eyeliner she did.

“Woah, thank you, Miss!”

“It’s no problem. It’s nice to see a man that’s not an actor or model wear makeup.”

You didn’t mention you were an idol.

“Since you’re here, take this sweater, it looks good with your outfit.” She pulled off a baby blue sweater off her chair and handed it over to you. Just as you were putting it on, she placed a headband on your head. “Might as well, they’re the same color.”

You only grinned, handing her a few dollars before grabbing the camera and leaving. While it still felt a bit awkward to vlog by yourself, it was oddly nice to see such a pretty sight of yourself in the viewfinder.

“I only wear makeup for photoshoots and performances… maybe I should wear it more casually.” You muttered, grinning slightly. “Would that be weird?”

It only took a few more minutes before you reached the food court. You glanced around, wondering if you might have to call them when a hand tugged at your sweater.

You looked back and grinned when you came face to face with Mingi. He looked particularly angry until he saw your face. Whatever he was pissed about was long gone as he stared at you with his mouth agape.

You turned the camera to face him and grinned, “Found Minnie. What do you think? A lady stopped me and I decided to let her do my makeup. I kinda like it.”

Mingi only let out a little grunt as he gulped. “Mhm.”

“Mhm..? What? Do you hate it?”

“No!” He yelled, catching the attention of a few guests. “Uh, I mean… it’s nice.. it’s not too much. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Minnie. I don’t think I’ll wear it daily but maybe sometimes.” You giggled. “Anyway, where’s Yohan?”

At the mention of Yohan, Mingi fought back the urge to roll his eyes. You frowned, wondering if they must’ve fought again. And if there was no one there to stop them—it must’ve gotten bad.

“I don’t know.” Was all he said, shaking his head. “Let’s just hang out.” He reached over and grabbed the camera, turning it off. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

“But we have to film.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take the fall from Dawon Hyung and Gaeul Noona.”

“Minnie, are you okay?”

Mingi glanced around before he grabbed your arm, tugging you away to a corner away from curious eyes. You almost forgot about how he wasn’t even supposed to be touching you right now.

He pressed you against the wall of the hidden corner, a dumpster hiding you both from anyone who peeked into the mini alleyway between the small food courts.

“Hyung.” Mingi whispered, his hands gripping your shoulders as he released a strangled groan. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what anymore?”

“I can’t let Yohan Hyung keep thinking he has a chance with you.”

“What…? Hannie? What do you mean, Minnie?”

“If I want our relationship to work, I have to be honest.” He whispered to himself before gazing over at you. “Yohan Hyung was the person who refused to my request back on my nineteenth birthday.”

“Wha…”

“Everything was okay until he started pursuing you for real. No one told you this, but when we were choosing our roommates, Yohan Hyung and I got into a huge argument about who would room with you.”

“Argument? Oh my gosh, Mingi, why are you guys so childish?”

Mingi frowned. “Yeah, I know… but we ended up letting you choose and after you chose me, he’s been a bit pissy over it.”

“Choose you? How’d I do that?”

“Oh uh, remember when Doha Hyung asked if you’d prefer me or Yohan Hyung cooking you dinner. You said me.”

You blinked. “That’s so stupid. Who came up with that?”

“Doha Hyung because he got tired of us arguing.”

“Of course.” You sighed, shaking your head. “But this is so silly, Mingi. You two can’t be fighting over me like this. It’s not good for the groups dynamic.”

Mingi nodded, signing. “I know. I wanted to apologize but he made me angry again so I fought back.”

“Mingi… that’s not right. You should apologize to him.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue but decided against it. Mingi rest his head on your shoulder as you flinched. It had been a minute since Mingi has been so close to you that this light contact was sending you over the edge.

It seemed he could tell as Mingi let out a laugh, his lips teasing your collarbone.

“Hyung… there’s something else I can’t do anymore.”

“W…What…?”

He slowly pulled away as he held your gaze. Never in your life did you think being stared at like you were a piece of meat could be hot… but you felt a rush of adrenaline in your body from his gaze.

Mingi didn’t say anything his hand slowly reached up and grasped your cheek, gently rubbing the skin. You almost closed your eyes at the touch when lips slammed against yours. Your head knocked against the wall but you didn’t even get a minute to properly react to the pain.

He kissed you as if you were his lifeline. His free hand moving down to grab your jeans, unbuckling it. You reached up and grasped the collar of his shirt but you made no effort to push him away. Your lips followed his as he bit and tugged at your bottom lip, earning a gasp from you.

His tongue slipped in with ease as the kiss entered a new territory you didn’t know. Your eyes felt watery as you whimpered into the kiss, beginning to remember you weren’t exactly in the privacy in your own home.

But he didn’t pull away, his hand slipping into your boxers as he grasped your cock. Your hips stuttered as you let out a muffled cry. Maybe it was a good thing he was kissing you.

He pumped your cock with a quick rhythm, not wanting to drag out the quick handjob. You appreciated it but also wanted him to stop as your moans were swallowed into the kiss.

Your back arched against the wall as your eyes squeezed shut. The pleasure was too much—you wondered if this was what pleasure was like. Or if only Mingi could make you feel this way.

You cummed into the palm of his hand, nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself. He didn’t pull away, kissing you as if he was stealing your oxygen. When you began to tap at his back is when he finally got the message to let you breathe.

A large gasp left you as you took a few greedy breaths, taking in the fresh air. Mingi didn’t say anything as he pulled out his hand from your jeans. His hand was coated in your cum as you stared up at him in embarrassment.

“Mingi—”

Your eyes widen as you watched him bring his palm to his mouth. With his gaze zeroed in on you, he stuck his tongue out and licked his palm clean off. He didn’t leave any trace behind as he showed you his clean hand.

You felt as if you’d faint.

“You taste sweet, Hyung.” Mingi grinned, a smirk pulled on his lips. His blonde hair fell into his eyes as he leaned down and captured your lips into another kiss. You didn’t even attempt to push him away, eagerly kissing him back. Your hands tangled themselves into his hair as he pressed your body against the wall with his own.

His hands reached down and grabbed your thighs, hoisting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you released a moan into his mouth.

You almost forgot all about your surroundings when the sound of a kid crying startled you both. Mingi immediately pulled away as he peaked over the garbage bin. Coast was clear, but that was way too close.

Mingi helped you back to your feet as you tried to fix your jeans. Your face felt warm—you couldn’t look Mingi in the eye at all. He let out a slight huff before grabbing your face, forcing your face up.

“Hyung,” he said, before his voice trailed off. His gaze widening. “Oh shit… you can’t go out there like that.”

You blinked. “What’s wrong?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, turning on the camera. Mingi handed over his phone as you cautiously took it. Your eyes widen immediately when you caught sight of your face.

To say you looked like you were just fucked was an understatement. Your lipstick was smudged, blush almost gone from the tears. Even worse, the eyeliner had leaked and trailed down your cheeks, creating a dark stain.

Any one would understand what happened with just one glance at you.

You looked over at Mingi and noticed that there was lipstick on his lips but it looked a bit more natural on his face. Okay, he could get you some wet wipes so you don’t embarrass yourself to complete strangers.

“Go get me some wet wipes.. hopefully I can take some of it off.” You muttered, noticing that Mingi wasn’t making an effort to move. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi bit his lip, “I think I want to fuck you while you wear makeup.”

“Choi Mingi!”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Two years ago

“That’s a perfect birthday present for Mingi. He’ll love it, Hyung.”

You glanced up to see Kihyun standing behind Yohan. Yohan was still holding the vlogging camera before turning to face Kihyun.

“Perfect present?” You asked, moving to sit on up. “What is? I bought him a guitar…” your lips pulled into a frown.

“You bought him a guitar?!” Yohan yelled, mouth agape.

Kihyun rolled his eyes. “You are so oblivious. I meant you being on your knees.”

“Why would Mingi like that?” You whispered, genuinely confused.

“Forget it.” Yohan quickly said, “let’s just focus on getting the party ready.”

“What party?”

You all looked back to see Mingi entering the apartment.

Fuck.

After a few seconds of panicked silence, a rushed Doha and Hyojin appeared behind Mingi. They looked stressed out and you could easily tell their plan to keep Mingi away from home didn’t work at all.

The whole surprise party was a dud.

Mingi sat on the couch as he just watched everyone else continue to set up. You excused yourself to go get the cake when Mingi finally sat up, grabbing the vlog camera. He turned it off much to the other’s confusion.

“I need to talk to you guys about something.” He said.

“Without (Name) Hyung?” Hyojin asked.

“Yeah. It’s about him.” Mingi said, waiting for the members to stop what they were doing so they would listen. “I know each of you liked (Name) Hyung. Even if it’s to different degrees.”

The others glanced at each other, not seeming too shocked at Mingi’s revelation. It wasn’t exactly a secret. Even Dawon and Gaeul noticed. It was mainly you being absurdly oblivious to have not noticed by now.

“So?” Kihyun finally asked, “are you worried you have competition?”

“No.” Mingi glanced up, his face devoid of any doubt. “Because I know (Name) Hyung will return my feelings. So, I wanted to let you guys know… or ah, ‘ask’ if you could not pursue him.”

Kihyun shrugged. “Okay.”

Doha rolled his eyes. “So cocky. Fine, whatever.”

Hyojin looked hesitant before sighing. “I miss when you were scared to even upset us. But okay, I wasn’t going to confess anyway. But if you treat (Name) Hyung wrong, I’ll take him from you.”

Mingi nodded, smiling slightly. “The best birthday present you guys could give me.”

Kihyun grinned. “Ah good. I’ll return the other one so I can get my money back.” He chuckled, enjoying the sudden change in expression on Mingi at the mention of his present.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Doha groaned. Kihyun muttered a quick prayer and took a step away from Yohan. Hyojin shook his head, moving to grip Mingi’s shoulder as a way to keep him standing up.

Yohan raised an eyebrow, “huh? Will you try to stop me? How can you be so sure (Name) Hyung will want someone he sees as a kid?”

“A kid? You little—!”

“I’m back!”

The tension immediately diminished as you burst through the front door. You were bundled up in your coat and scarf, little snow on the top of your nose. Your beanie was rolling down, almost covering your eyes.

“I got red velvet, your favorite.” You walked over to the living room and tilted your head. “Something wrong?”

Yohan and Mingi glanced over at each other.

“No. Nothings wrong.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

To say that you were nervous around Mingi was an understatement. You practically felt hot whenever he even brushed up against you. The make out two weeks ago made you see Mingi in a different light. A light you’d never imagine for your maknae.

After the whole amusement park debacle, Yohan and Mingi seemed to have made up.

Or at the very least were hiding any fights they were having from you.

Today, the company had did a pre-album fan meeting. Strange, but you knew they were trying new things.

Each member prepared a short little performance to do as their entrance. Although Gaeul definitely had a hand on which songs for each member.

Gaeul chose Rainism for Yohan.

Bambi for Kihyun.

Any song for Doha.

Deep for Hyojin.

Peaches for Mingi.

Hyojin performing a female solo artist song got a few laughs from Doha. Though Yohan was quick to beat him. You had wondered what Gaeul would pick for you but she actually told you she had too many options.

She had given you a few popular male solo artist songs but you decided to pick the one female artist she had on her list. You mainly did it for Hyojin—so he didn’t feel left out!

But also….

Each member would be dressed up in outfits for the performance that the original artist had.

After the vlog had been uploaded, you had a lot of Miras affirm that you looked good in more feminine clothing. While a younger you might’ve viewed this as an attack on your “manhood” you now viewed it as a new way to express you.

What better excuse to dress up feminine was to perform a female artist song?

You decided on 24 hrs by Sunmi. Why not? The outfit she performed in wasn’t too much, some would argue it wasn’t overly feminine.

A perfect start. You didn’t think you’d be ready to wear skirts or dresses. While you did like the Cinderella dress… it was a cheaply made costume.

Wearing real women’s clothes felt like a big step, especially in public.

You winced as the hairstylist used another clip to get the wig to stay down. It was a short pink bob. You were once again the last one to get dressed.

Gaeul stood not too far away, a wide grin on her lips. “Aaah!!! You look so cute! I’m so happy you’re experimenting with your style! Oh, and, you’re getting some attention from women now, after the vlog. They’ve overtaken the gay men.”

“Re—?” You groaned as the hairstylist gripped your face and turned your head back to face the mirror. “Sorry.”

“Yeah!” Gaeul said. “I mean female fans are always the best anyway! But they love how open minded you were. They even started recommending certain clothing you should try! Ah, I’m sure by next year, you’ll get your own offer in modeling photo shoots!”

“Like Mingi?”

“Keep your head straight.” The hairstylist said.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, like Mingi. See, I told you! You just had to find your audience. If only the company didn’t take so fucking long to stop advertising you as a stoic man.”

When the hairstylist was finally finished, you got up, eager to see what you’ll be wearing. The other members were already backstage, probably starting to perform.

The outfit was similar to the black and white one piece from the video. It was a black and white stripped turtle neck. Close enough. The bottom wasn’t connected to the top. It was a pair of short black shorts.

And no shoes, because she didn’t wear any.

You pulled on the outfit, making sure to keep your new hairdo safe.

“Hm, I think this is a woman’s turtle neck.” Gaeul said, helping you fix the collar. “I’m pretty sure I saw my mom wear this same brand.”

“Oh.” You pursed your lips. “I don’t look like a grandma… do I?”

“Hey, my mom is fashionable. Besides, she’s not a grandma.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do I… look weird?”

“Getting second thoughts? These shorts might hug your butt a little too much.” She pulled the shorts down just a bit to properly cover your ass. “You look cute. You always wore the more revealing clothing anyway.”

“Yeah…”

“What made you want to try feminine clothing?”

“Uh.” You shrugged, glancing over in the mirror. The makeup was similar to the one the older lady did at the amusement park but a bit more heavy. You looked more feminine this way, maybe someone could confuse you for a girl. “Just trying something new… my sister used to dress me up back then so maybe I actually did like it a lot.”

“Ah. Your sister groomed you into appreciating feminine clothing.”

“Uh, I don’t think you should say it like that.”

“(Name).” Dawon called out, opening the door. “It’s almost your turn. Let’s go.”

You gave Gaeul a tight grin and walked away. The performance was easy, you were only doing the first minute of the song anyway.

Performing by yourself for practically most of your teens made you fearless almost. The performance was done before you noticed. You walked off stage right after and let out a sigh, feeling a bit cold now.

“You were great, Hyung.” Kihyun said, smiling at you. He seemed to be the only other member backstage for some reason. Staff members walked onstage and began to set the tables up for the individual fan meeting.

You’d all sit at the table as a person talked to you for thirty seconds to get their album signed and move to the next member. It was quick and easy, Gaeul ran meetings like this like the navy.

“Where’s everyone else?” You asked, reaching up to poke Kihyun on the nose. He playfully sneered at you, pretending to bite your finger. “Are they already changing?”

“Sure, let’s say that.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s go change.”

He grabbed your hand and tugged you to the changing room. You followed behind him, wondering if something happened. But decided against worrying if you had no proof of anything happening.

The next outfit was just “regular” clothing. Mainly, clothing from name brands that wanted a member to promote them. You, unsurprisingly, didn’t have any brand that particularly wanted you so you just wore more average clothing.

However, the outfit looked a bit… different than usual.

It was a brown sweater jacket with a burgundy shirt. Most surprising was the brown jean shorts.

You just shrugged and put them on. Everything but the jacket looked like they were men’s clothing. Maybe Gaeul added the sweater as an extra.

“Ah, should I take off my wig?” You asked, glancing back at Kihyun who had changed into his own clothing.

“Won’t your hair underneath be messy? It’s not like we’re taking off our makeup, just keep it on.” He said.

“Ah. Okay.”

After changing, you and Kihyun left to see the others had reappeared. Mingi and Yohan looked particularly upset. You mentally sighed and shook your head, not even attempting to wonder what the fuck just happened between them.

The staff member guided the group back on stage to sit at the table. You sat at the end, grabbing the pen one of the staff members held out for you.

There was a sound of screeching before someone plopped down beside you. You glanced over to see Mingi acting nonchalant as Yohan grumpily sat down on Mingi’s right.

You were about to ask what just happened when the first fan was already starting.

Everything went into motion. Not to your surprise, a few fans didn’t even stop to get your autograph or not even use the full thirty seconds or one minute to even exchange dialogue with you.

Whatever.

Before you could even properly be angry, someone sat down in the seat across from you. You glanced over and smiled, the first time someone sat down since the almost full hour.

“Hong (Name)-Ssi.” The boy looked to be around Kihyun’s age. He looked shy before he handed over his album. “I’ve liked your work for a while now. But only today have I’ve been able to come to any of your Miracle work.”

“Miracle work?” You asked, signing your name. “What do you mean?”

“Ah!” He bit his lip. “I’ve been following you since pre debut! I went to your high school… but uh!! I’m not a sasaeng!! I’ve never tried to find out anything personal about you… but I do follow your mom… she posts so much stuff about you.. but I can stop if that makes you uncomfortable… I just—!”

You grabbed the boy’s hands that began flapping around. He stared over at you in shock, mouth agape as you gave him a wide grin.

“Really? You’ve been into my work for that long?” You couldn’t help but giggle. “That’s so nice.. I’m really happy. What’s your name?”

“Oh! Kim Pilseung! I never talked to you directly… I was too shy..” he admitted, gazing down at your hands that clasped his. “Your hands… are really small.”

You glanced down and noticed that he was right, your hands hardly covered his. “Oh. Hehe, I guess so.”

“And soft. Do you use gloves while working out?”

“You noticed?” You let out a giggle, pulling your hands away as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I do. I like having soft hands.”

“Woah.” Pilseung smiled. “My hands are rough. I try moisturizing but it’s a bit too late now.”

“Please move forward.”

“Ah.” Pilseung moved to grab his album. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold up the line. Thank you so much, Hong (Name)-Ssi.”

“Hyung… you can call me Hyung.”

Pilseung gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at you. “H…Hyung?!”

“Mhm. You’re not a stranger.” You reached over and wrote a number in his album. “I trust you won’t share it.”

“O..Of course!!! You’re so cool, (Name) H..Hyung! I.. I didn’t want to tell you before but..! Your past performance with your past group… it really meant something to me when you didn’t view love between two men as something disgusting…”

“Past performance? Woah, you really are a pre debut fan!” You grinned, standing up just as Pilseung did. “Why didn’t you reach out before… it would’ve meant a lot to know that you’ve followed me for this long.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t think you’d care… but! I’ll be more vocal now, Hyung!!” Pilseung bowed his head, ready to leave when you grabbed his arm and stepped over to his side of the table. He stared at you in shock as you hugged him tightly.

Everyone else in the room looked over at the display in shock. You knew it was over the top to do this…

But honestly, you didn’t care.

For four years, you thought you were in a group with fans that wouldn’t even notice if you left. Even before that, doing past performances to get attention for your dream to be an idol.

You thought you only had your mom and your sister as your fans.

But to think that to every performance your mom and sister went to, Pilseung was also there. To think that maybe there were even more people that did admire you, that this singing was not for nothing…

You pulled away after a second, smiling at Pilseung. At least he was your height. Pilseung looked red in the face as he tried to say something but only a weak “thank you” left his lips. He quickly bowed and walked off stage.

You ignored the stares of everyone else to look at Mingi.

He didn’t look too happy to say the least.

Ah, you’d get it at home.

For fuck sakes.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Y’know, when you got home, you thought you’d have to deal with a temper tantrum from Mingi. Never in your life did you think you’d be in Mingi’s lap as he fingered you.

You couldn’t even remember how it happened. The two of you got home without talking. Mingi had even went straight to his room first. You thought maybe he’d talk to you in the morning so you decided to shower and go to bed.

Only for you to come into the room after showering to see Mingi sitting on your bed.

Then you ended up here, legs spread as he curled two fingers inside of you, brushing against your prostate. Your body tensed as you let out a whimper, biting your lips to keep your voice down.

“Hyung…” Mingi finally said, resting his chin on your shoulder as he paid more attention to his fingers than your trembling body in his lap. “I know why you did it… you’ve been wanting attention for awhile and Miras just aren’t smart enough to truly appreciate you.”

His fingers curled inside of you, repeatedly rubbing the edge of your prostate. “But did you forget what I said? You don’t need them—you only need me.”

You bit your lip as you gripped at the bedsheets beneath you. Your cock was already leaking and ready to burst. It only took another graze against your prostate when you gasped, cumming against your stomach. You thought he’d pull away now but he didn’t.

No, he kept going. He now began to rub directly on your prostate, his free hand grasping your cock. You let out a whine as your body began to shake from the unknown feelings. No matter the fact you’ve only touched yourself like this before.

It wasn’t him fingering you—you’ve done that many times before.

But it was continuing.

“Mingi.. Mingi stop!”

Mingi quickly pulled away, grabbing your towel as he rubbed the cum coating your stomach. “Are you okay, Hyung? Did I hurt you?”

“No.. I just… I was just..” You sighed, allowing Mingi to pull you to lay down, resting your head on the pillow. “I got scared.. I don’t know why.”

“It’s my fault. I didn’t talk things out with you… you’ve celibate since forever so you don’t know how relationships work. I’m sorry, Hyung.”

“Relationships? Isn’t this… just a sexual relationship?”

Mingi glanced over at you, “sexual relationship? Hyung…” He moved to sit beside you. “This isn’t a sexual relationship. I love you.”

You sat up, staring at him in shock. You didn’t expect him to say it that time that you didn’t get to stop him. Your face felt red as Mingi only grinned. He leaned in and pressed a kiss on your lips.

As he pulled away, you didn’t know what to do. This whole relationship was going against what you believed was right. You as the Hyung and Mingi as the maknae. But Mingi didn’t want that—so who were you to force him into a brotherly relationship?

And deep down, you knew that you couldn’t view him platonically anymore. You haven’t tried hard enough to push away because you wanted it, even if your brain was saying no.

You leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek. When you pulled away, you almost giggled at the shocked look on Mingi’s face.

“I can’t say it right now… but… I’m willingly to try…”

Mingi looked almost relieved as he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss on your forehead. You cuddled him back, burying your face in his neck. The two of you stayed close before he pulled away.

“Now that we’re dating—can I buy something for you? Like a dress maybe..? I don’t want you to be a girl… but I like you being feminine.”

You bit your lip. “Really?”

“Yeah. I want you… to maybe be my Noona… How does that sound?”

“Mingi..!” You whispered, giving him an incredulous look before looking away. “Just… once.”

Mingi only grinned before pulling away. “Well, I gotta go to tell Yohan Hyung to fuck off now.”

“Mingi!”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Four years ago

Mingi didn’t think someone like you could cry. But here you were, crouched down in the corner of the dance practice room. He was here late to practice—against his mother’s wishes.

The first performance for the group’s debut song was tomorrow and he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t scared. He was nervous. Even if the company said he didn’t need to sing live—he wanted to. Sure dancing was important, but he wanted to show off how good he was at singing.

So he had came to practice live singing again just before the performance but then he saw you.

You didn’t seem to notice him for a second until his shoes squeaked against the floor. Your head shot up as you looked over at him and frowned.

The two of you haven’t gotten as close but Mingi could say that you were getting there.

“Mingi-Ssi…” you whispered, your voice cracking as you rubbed at your face. “Do you.. hate me?”

Mingi stared at you in shock. If only you knew that not even two days ago he found your mother’s account and immediately followed it. He liked every post that had to do with you.

But he guessed he wasn’t showing it… maybe… maybe he wasn’t viewing the relationship like you were.

He sighed and walked over to where you were, kneeling down. “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry, I know I was hostile before…”

You frowned as if you wanted to say something but stopped yourself.

Mingi knew he had to be honest. “I didn’t hate you… I was scared.” He whispered, glancing down at his hands. “I had to constantly prove to my parents that being an idol was a serious job that I tried my best to get into bigger companies but I kept getting rejected.

“After so many rejections my parents said I only had one my shot and after that I had to give up… I tried for this company and when they called me back I’m pretty sure I threw up. Ever since I just kept doing my best so they could debut me as soon as possible… and I guess when you got added to the group last minute… I got so scared.. so scared that they could kick me out last minute.

“I… I shouldn’t have taken it out on you but you’re so good, Hong (Name)-Ssi! You’re better at singing at me and I… I didn’t want the company to see my flaws when put against someone like you. I—!”

Mingi froze when he felt arms wrap around his neck. He then realized he was crying. He felt his throat burn as he buried his face in your neck and began to cry. You tugged him even closer, rubbing his head as a form of comfort.

He sat there, in your arms, for possibly close to an hour before you pulled away. You wiped at his face as you gave him a smile.

“Really…? That’s it?” You whispered, “I can teach you, Mingi-Ssi… I can teach you everything I know so you can be on the same level as me.. but honestly, I think you’re cool as is.”

Mingi blinked, staring at you as if you just confessed your love for him. He felt himself about to cry again as you giggled.

“Can… can I call you Hyung…?” He muttered.

You nodded. “I was waiting for you to ask, Minnie.”

The two of you stayed in the practice room for a bit longer. He didn’t end up practicing that night, just snuggled up to you as you both took a nap in the corner of the dance studio.

But Mingi would soon wonder… if you thought Mingi was cool… he couldn’t have been the person to make you cry. It wasn’t like he technically ever did anything wrong to you.

Who were you crying over?

And why did Mingi have a feeling it had to do with a certain someone.

Park Yohan.

I love writing Mingi. He’s fun. Anyway, yall gonna see into the mind of Yohan in part 4, yall ready? Gonna go heavy into more feminization in the next part, so if it’s not your thing… you gotta end it here now lol

Tag list: @euthymiko @iwishtobeacrow @onementally-unstabel-kid @jaxyy219 @hoshimochicchi @honey-valentin3 @bensontrechic @ofclyde @star-3214 @tehyunnie @love-kha1 @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @mooncarvers-world @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @smellwell @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @bangchansdirty-slut @chaevvonders

[snghnlvr]

don’t test me. / park sunghoon

౨ৎ ## i've never felt this before, i can't hide it, my head is spinning, crazy park sunghoon x fem reader!

synopsis: your test on your best friend decided to have your friendship to the next level.

includes: 3.4k words | childhood friends to lovers | inspo was actually the song brought the heat back because they’re all delusional, like look at the lyrics — actually | lyrics mentioned x2 !! | sunghoon is a hopeless romantic | both of them are bold with their actions el oh el.. | oh taesan BND mention ^3^ | ever after high mentioned !!

extra: actually am back from the dead i’m very sorry LOL | the whole romance: untold album gave me me inspiration to write this.. | hot girl activities of being an enhypen stan <3 | ALSO am redoing my tag list since i’m back after a hot minute, lmk if u wanna be apart of it <3 | love u chiptole pls sponsor me <3

likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

what are we doing here at the mall?” sunghoon stares ahead, seeing multiple clothing stores. he sees groups of girls going in and out of them while holding multiple shoppings bags. he sighs, already depicting himself holding bags for you as you go shopping.

“prom shopping, duh.” you proudly stated. your eyes brighten while eyeing each attractive store. 

“what’s the point of going to prom when you don’t have a date?” immediately your mood shut down as sunghoon slammed fact at your face while maintaining his blank stare. he was right, you don’t have a date, like an actual date. your last minute plan was to go with your childhood neighborhood best friend, platonically because disappointingly all of the hot guys in your school got dates. 

“you’re literally my date sunghoon.” you rolled your eyes and looked at sunghoon who seemed to have reddish cheeks. he looked away before you can turn to him, blocking his red cheeks from being seen.

you snickered, knowing that he is embarrassed since sunghoon doesn’t have a date either from his school. well, he rejected all of them. but that confused you more, he rejected all of the girls that asked him out but he didn’t mind going to your prom as your date. you don’t care now because you have a purpose to go prom-dressing.

“ooh windsor seems cute~” you skipped towards the store that caught your eye first. “woah..” your eyes sparkled at the glitterly lavender dress that has a slit on the right side of the leg and have gems around the chest area. this was your dream ever since you were little, going prom dressing and imagining yourself wearing your favorite dresses with your prince charming. 

but it had to be with sunghoon — nothing wrong with sunghoon but he was someone you didn’t expect for him to say yes.

i mean, both of you pinky promised ever since babies that you two would marry each other if both of you stayed single. you wondered if he remembers the same thing.

sunghoon stayed at the corner of the store, eyeing your excited self while scanning the various dresses in front of you as he held your bag after volunteering. he wonders what type of dresses you prefer.

he imagines you in some of the dresses he eyes wander on.

you insisted to keep your bag onto you but he persisted until you give up. his excuse was to “roam freely” — you dead looked at him in the eye replying that it’s bullshit.

you didn’t want to argue with him any further first thing you entered the mall so you let him deal with whatever.   

sunghoon doesn’t know what made him possessed to say yes to you when he received your text. he didn't even pay for prom, he was uninterested, but the thought of going with you - as his date, didn't seem too bad.

he remembered himself blushing crazy when he abruptly received your text message when he was hanging out with his friends. sunghoon took a pause in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his screen with wide eyes. he slowly turned around and started running towards home, abandoning his startled, questioned friends. they heard silence except his shoes hitting the concrete floor.

two hours later, he replied with “sure” to remain nonclatant but little did you know his face was a blushing mess, feet in cold sweat to the fact he had to wear socks in bed, and his heart rapidly beating to the point he had high blood pressure. his mind was occupied onto you as he stared at your bedroom from across his window, wondering what you’re up to.

his parents were so confused as to why their son was acting this way. he was on cloud 9 when you asked him out but felt a bit sad when you mentioned to go together with plantonic feelings. 

you walked towards sunghoon with shrugged shoulders and a frown that made sunghoon be concered of your expression. “what happened?” sunghoon looked down at you, uttering a deep tone to indicate his concern. he was still seeing your pouty lips and your eyes being tight. “none of them are what i am looking for.”

maybe you’re acting like a spoiled child who cannot find their favorite toy but you believed that prom was the most important event in your life. you wanted to find your perfect dress.

then you opened your eyes, being face to face to sunghoon’s chest which made you feel uneasy at the unfamiliar appearance.

you then realized how close you are with sunghoon so you took a step back.

you sighed, looking up at sunghoon. “it’s fine we have multiple stores.” your motivated smile made sunghoon chuckle.

you left the store, then sunghoon behind you.

“that green looks like a swamp.” “that’s too glittery.” “too long.” “i look like a child of divorce with this dress!”

“i guess you’re picky.” sunghoon teased, ruffling your hair as he followed you exiting the last store. you still had an unsatisfied expression.

you didn’t react to his gesture since it was normal between the two of you. you didn’t mind sunghoon messing up your hair.

sunghoon felt bad and fixed your hair carefully, eyeing each strand of hair being back in the right place originally.

you looked from left to right onto where to explore, slightly giving up but not fully. you wanted to go home already and swallow yourself in your favorite blanket, blasting the AC on high volume while watching ever after high.

countless attempts of finding the right dress for you was too difficult. you’re starting to understand why people buy their dresses months before, you believe that the good batch of dresses were already brought before and you started to panic if you can even find one. 

“there’s nothing wrong with being picky..” you murmured, walking around in hopes another store caught your eye. “of course,” sunghoon responded. he continued. “you should keep your standards high, never settle for less.” you lightly scoffed, turning your head towards sunghoon with a mischevious expression. “is that why you’re still single?” 

you’ve always been curious of sunghoon’s standards are since he remains single throughout your high school years. middle school doesn’t count. his last relationship was a fail because he lost feelings for the girl.

yes, you admit he is shamelessly handsome and he knows that but have a personality of a delicate cat. which makes you laugh once in a while.

you still think of sunghoon as a child in an adult body.

sunghoon seems to be taken aback of your question. he tilted his head, thinking about it. “well…i never thought about it like that. i was gonna be more busier with each year, i’m not gonna have time for relationships.” sunghoon confessed nonchantly since it wasn’t a big deal for him. you nodded, understanding where he was coming from. 

“then..have you liked anyone before?” you questioned, also curious as you eyed the store’s figuerines on display. “that’s cute..” you whispered to yourself before looking back at sunghoon with a smile, waiting expectantly.

sunghoon’s heart jumped. he shivered when he felt the cold air passing behind him, glancing at you to see if you’ve noticed but he was so grateful that you were distracted by some damn figuerines. 

he immediately looked ahead when you looked back at him, geez why can’t i answer?

“n-no.” he choked on his words. you decided to poke his holes further when you noticed how nervous he was. you can read your best friend pretty easily. “really?” you stopped walking which made him also stop. sunghoon turned to his right and he held his breath when you leaned closer to his face, eyeing him like a hawk to justify his truth. “do you like someone now?”

“yes.” he muttered, still staring at your eyes. seconds of staring at each other made your heart suddenly fluttered which was weird and out of the norm. you held in your breath when none of you pulled away yet, continuing to gaze upon each other.

you realized the position you were in, especially when sunghoon easily towered over you. you immediately back away, sunghoon now smirking at your sudden nervousness. “wonder who’s the unfortunate girl..” you gulped on your words.

“why are you single?” sunghoon asked, hands in his pockets as he started walking. you coughed, hands rubbing your tight chest. “e-erm,” you tried to find an excuse. “just like you.. i have other priorities.” you didn’t see the little frown sunghoon made at your response. you weren’t lying but at the same time you were telling the truth. dating felt like it could affect your daily routine and studies.

okay, maybe your best friend seem a bit too handsome for your liking. it’s weird. wait

“how about this store?” sunghoon pointed at a store that was near the exit. you sneaked a glance, interested by the pretty dresses on display. you decided to go. “sure let’s go.” trying to distract yourself on what happened earlier. 

now sunghoon was reflecting on himself and what happened earlier as well as he sat down, waiting for you to try on the dresses. he was frustrated, he wanted you. it has always been you, ever since both of you pinky promised as babies.

that relationship he had in middle school - yeah he thought the girl was pretty but it was only to perform a distraction to get rid of his feeling for you.

your extroverted personality intimidated him ever since growing up. he wonders what makes you fearless and mentally strong. in moments where you fell down countless from playing tag with him, you didn’t cry. oddly - you continued to play with tag despite having a bleeding knee.

but when you would see his displeased face, you would offer him a lollipop that you keep inside your book bag just for fun.

he still has the candy wrapper somewhere inside his drawers.

but you don’t know that. he wanted to know if you were feeling the same way. is it worth ruining the friendship? is there any hope to turn it into something intimate? something more? he’s craving a lot of answers. 

as you were adjusting the dress, your hands slowed down on your straps when you also questioned the same thing. then memories of you and sunghoon started replaying on your mind; where both of you were in his bed one summer night after having a bbq dinner from your parents, talking about your futures together — where the both of you have to be involved in each others’ futures; where sunghoon gives you his hoodie without any question whenever you’re cold, where you packed an extra lunchbox for sunghoon because he was craving your pork cutlets. the past, happy memories slowly transitioned to the memories where you’re now questioning your feelings on sunghoon.

where sunghoon wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him when the train was crowded with people. you felt his chin touch the top of your head. you remembered your heartbeat being in the same speed as the train was going and you were glad sunghoon couldn’t see your blush — where sunghoon offered you to sleep on his shoulder on the way home after hanging out together — where both of your hands would featherly touch each other in random times but immediately both of you let go and feel electric shocks all over the body. 

so you’re gonna put your feelings on the test.

“hoon!” you called out on his nickname. sunghoon immediately paid attention to you. “yeah y/n? what happened?” you scrunched your nose when you hear the concern on his tone. 

you huffed out a breath. “can you help me with the zipper please?” you questioned why your heart is already beating fast. you hear the footsteps coming closer to you and you swore your heart was gonna jump out of the ribcage. 

behind you, you slightly opened the curtain, to prevent not only revealing the dress to him but as well as not wanting to face sunghoon. you can feel his eyes glued onto your back.

sunghoon rolled his tongue inside his cheek, feeling unusual even though he’s childhood friends with you. he noticed your hands trying to zip up your dress.

he took a step closer to you, you shivered when you can feel his chest against your back and your breath lingering on your bare neck. you gulped at the intense silence engulfed by the both of you. 

“silly you.” he let out a slight chuckle. you can feel his slight smirk from behind you.

“just help me park.” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, hoping it’s something to ease the tension. 

“stop moving.” sunghoon hand was lightly placed on your waist which made you frozen. your eyes widened at the sudden touch. his eyes were focused on the zipper, his hands being gently so that he doesn’t hurt you. 

breathe y/n — breathe— 

shit.

you looked up from the ground to curiously see the scene with the mirror in front of you. the first thing was his figure, how his white shirt easily makes his body look good with his headphones around his neck. you can see his fluffy hair that you’re eager to touch. you see sunghoon’s tongue on the corner of his lips to indicate his concentration. your eyes slowly followed his hand, you eyed his watch — his hand on your waist. 

you suddenly wanna pass away. 

sunghoon sighed, “there.” you then immediately looked down to prevent any eye contact. goddamit y/n why are you so shy? 

“thanks.” you grabbed the curtain and shut the room in front of him, whining mentally at your shy self. you stared at yourself in front of the mirror, surprised at how red your cheeks are under the light.

sunghoon stood in front the curtain, surprised with his eyebrows furrowed but then his face relaxed into a soft smile before returning back to seat and waiting for you to reveal the dress to him.

him only. 

“so—“ he heard you through his headphones after some few minutes. you opened the curtain. “how do i do?” as sunghoon was pausing his music and taking his headphones off. you presented yourself wearing the dark red, sparkly dress, standing still and with a smile as you waited for sunghoon’s reponse. you smiled so hard, not containing your excitement that you felt while wearing the dress. it really made you feel like a princess. 

sunghoon stared at you for a couple of seconds then slowly looked down at your figure. how the dress was hugging your body, your curves were being emphasized, how it complimented your skin tone, god you were stunning. you literally looked like a goddess in front of him and he was willing to drop everything and pull you close just like earlier. sunghoon was utterly at a loss of words. his mouth wanted to spill out words but he was frozen.

what did you did do to him?

you caught him being speechless so you worried, forming a form. “i-is it not good?” you turned around to face the mirror in worry. 

but before you do it you heard him yell. “wait!” you paused. “it’s good. you look great.” your muscles relaxed after hearing sunghoon’s reassurance. you smiled, turning back around to face sunghoon. sunghoon was too shy to face you, looking away as he was gulping. 

“really great..” he coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. 

well that was good enough for you. 

“great!” you closed back the curtain to change back into your normal clothes. 

sunghoon cursed at himself mentally, hand coming to his head to massage his temples as he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. he felt like this was torture.

as you’ve already bought the dress, both of you were hungry so you guys went to the food court.

“go find a table, i’ll get us something.” you frown at sunghoon’s suggestion. “no don’t pay for me. you’ve already gone through so much, it’s right if i pay for your meal.” you find your wallet through your bag that sunghoon is still holding for you. sunghoon shook his head, shutting down the zipper making you speechless. “no need it’s fine for me.” you insisted. “sunghoon-“ you whined.

sunghoon gave you a look that made you instantly sit down. “fine.” you rolled your eyes. sunghoon smiled as you followed his words, dropping the bags on the chair next to you. what a switch up.

you eyed sunghoon’s back disappearing slowly from your vision. you smiled when he headed to your favorite fast food place.

you were on your phone while waiting for sunghoon to come back. 

“y/n?” you looked up after hearing your name being called. both of you smiled — it was your classmate, taesan. you got out from your seat to hug him as taesan hugged you back tightly. “what are you doing here?” you asked him, going back to your seat.

“i went to the park with the guys.” indicating the basketball on the chair across from you and he turned his back, which made you see the bunch of his friends ordering from a different store. “i saw you sitting by yourself, are you also with your friends?” taesan smiled at you, also wondering why you’re here. 

“mhmm,” you nodded. “prom shopping.” taesan cursed. “shit i realized i have to do the same..” you giggled at his comment as taesan panicked a bit since it’s in a week. “good luck with that.” you saluted to him. “mhm thanks.” taesan smiled at your gesture.

“okay i gotta go and find a table for these hungry monsters. i’ll see you again.” taesan ruffled your hair, before leaving your table. “hey you’re gonna mess up my hair!” you playfully said, fixing your strands. “ugh my hair..” you commented to yourself.

a few seconds later, you’re startled when a plastic bag of food was placed in front of, rather harshly. 

you turned your head towards sunghoon when he pulled a chair next you and sat next to you with a serious expression. “who was that guy?” you’re confused at sunghoon’s question. 

“what guy?” your nervousness made you forget your memory. “why are you smiling to him like that?” 

did he watch the whole scene?

sunghoon kept staring at you, still maintaining a cold look that made you shiver. yeah, that’s the look that he is pissed at you.

you realized something. “park, are you jealous?” you eyed him which made sunghoon realize what he was doing and broke eye contact, letting out a puff of air.

but you are not letting it go until you got your answer. you leaned closer to him, tilting your head so he can look at you again but he’s resisting because he didn’t want to show that side to you. “mhmm are you jealous?” you asked annoingly, making sunghoon blush. you kept teasing him. he was covering his face with his hands but you wanted to see this scene unfold on you. “am not.” he muttered, making you laugh at how grumpy his voice was. “cmon, why are you jealous? hm?” you’re entertained.

he is envious that there are other guys who can make you smile and laugh.

you smiled as your hands were touching each of his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. sunghoon was pretty strong which made you struggle. 

“don’t test me.” sunghoon shot a glare after you removed his hands from his face. you gulped at the sight in front of you. “okay i won’t, i’m sorry.”you’re still smiling.

he crossed his arms, pouting. this wasn’t the sunghoon that you grew up with and you wondered how much he has grown up — and that you two aren’t kids anymore. 

“don’t worry about taesan, he has a girl.” you laid back to your seat, unpacking your chiptole bowl that sunghoon bought. sunghoon stayed silent, eyeing you unpacking the bowl with excitement that made sunghoon instantly forgive you but now he’s too embarrassed to speak to you. 

“uhm..” both of your heads turned to see a guy on your right side. the guy saw sunghoon’s grumpy face which made him gulp and nervous on what he was gonna say as you looked at him with a smile as an act of kindness. “i-i thought you’re pretty and i would like to ask if i can have your number?” the guy looked at you with sweaty glands all over his forehead, not daring to look at sunghoon or he will run away. you widened your eyes at the sudden confession.

“oh uhm-“

your bones became frozen when you felt one of sunghoon’s arms sneak around your neck, his fingers lightly touching your waist while his other arm was leaning on the table, eyeing the guy with apissed expression. he became close, too close when you felt his cheek be pressed onto yours.

he eyed the guy annoyingly, jaw clenched and eyes piercing through his body as you were a blushing mess and your heart fluttering too much. “she has a boyfriend.” sunghoon muttered, causing you to gasp lightly at his words. the way he said, felt like he really meant it.

you saw the guy panicked and apologized, running away from both of your visions. 

“cmon park, you scared the dude.” you turned to him as he removed his arm from your shoulder, leaning back to his seat. you were feeling bad for the guy but sunghoon didn’t feel bad.

“you didn’t decline.” sunghoon shrugged, making you wanna slap his shoulder at his egotistical self.

now that you’ve realized, you didn’t. 

“i-i..” you’re at a loss of words. you swear you’re gonna die in front of sunghoon if you get a heart attack. “right..” you muttered something that was not supposed to be aloud. but you didn’t notice, trying to calm yourself down.

sunghoon leaned closer to you, eyes staring at you as you saw him smiling, causing his fangs to be present. “i wouldn’t mind.”  

you realized where this was going and he indirectly confessed to you. sunghoon tilted his head to the side, entertained to see your blushing state. “i wouldn’t mind either.” his face dropped when you repeated the same thing to him without looking at him, coughing your nervousness out. 

both of your faces relaxed, smiling at each other, relieved that the both of you felt the same way towards each other. 

“so we’re gonna marry each other now?” sunghoon spoke, maintaining a slight smirk. he loves seeing you flustered like crazy. 

you’re surprised. “you’ve remembered?” sunghoon nodded proudly, playing the ends of your hair which made your heart beat even more crazy as if it’s not at its limit right now. 

“of course i remember, it’s you.” 

[yourislandgirl]

⍣*°:⋆ THIS AIN’T NO PHASE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || headcanons

summary: how enhypen would act as reader’s down bad classmate

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, somewhat high school au except it’s not that in-depth, lowkey enha as simps

warnings: can’t think of anything major, attempts at humour, intentional lowercase btw

[archive]

・❥・ 희승 // heeseung

totally the show off type, he sneaks glances at you after he accomplishes something on the first try to make sure you noticed (will end up sulking for like an hour if you were looking elsewhere)

learns new skills just to show you, like you’ll offhandedly mention something about the bass guitar in a new viral song and within a week he’ll have learnt it by sneaking into the school’s music room and using their bass. he has no clue when, if ever, he’ll get the chance to show you, but if that time comes, he’ll be prepared

definitely the kind of guy that likes testing the waters with pick up lines and lowkey flirting, he also knows he’s attractive — which is always bad news when the guy knows — so he would totally give you a beautiful smile and a corny joke of some kind, his eyes darting back and forth to study your reaction

never wanted to make a fool of himself around you until the one time he embarrassed himself a little and you let out the most enchanting laugh, he swears the skies parted. from then on, it didn’t always matter to him how he looked and presented himself, he became less critical of himself, because if he could make you smile, or better yet, laugh? that would make his day

more under cut!

・❥・ 종성 // jay

much more of a conversationalist than you’d expect — totally starts unprompted conversations on various topics just to hear your perspective and he always asks for your opinion because it means the most to him, except . sometimes you have no opinion on some of the things he asks, so there’s just this odd silence afterwards

will usually have homecooked meals that he makes himself or has leftovers from super expensive restaurants that your other classmates have been waiting months to get a reservation to, and he always shares that food with you, like your entire friend group would get their share but he’d save the best part for you and he always asks if you liked it afterwards because he's storing that information away for potential future dates

there are far too many times he “accidentally” bought an extra snack or dessert from the cafeteria and, well, we wouldn’t want that to go to waste now, would we? so he’ll just casually slide it over to you, like it’s the most normal thing to do

very acts of service, all you’d need to do is just grumble under your breath about your pen being shitty and almost out of ink and he’s bringing out his two best pens and handing them to you. or say you guys are doing an experiment in your chemistry class, he’s immediately getting all the equipment, you don’t need to move at all, (oh, but, he loves following your lead for the actual experiment — the kind of guy that goes “whatever you wanna do”, to which you’d reply “um, technically it’s not up to me, jay. if we do these steps out of order, we could blow up the classroom” . “oh, right”)

・❥・ 재윤 // jake

really giggly around you, like, really giggly. everything you say is hilarious to this man. stand up comedy who? he’d actually be so amusing about it too, like bro is randomly chuckling in a class where you’re not even there, just because he remembered something you said

he once tried the move of asking you for help in class. except you rightfully pointed out that he knew much more about the current topic than you did, you had no idea what he expected to learn from you — he then realised the better option is to ask you if he can double check his work or “compare notes”

the first time he caught a mistake/typo in your work, he felt a little bad for pointing it out, but he quickly came to appreciate the clear view of your concentration face when you tried to redo your answer. he'll be constantly flicking his gaze up and back down, trying to keep his eyes on his notebook but ends up tapping his pen against the empty page while he admires the way you furrow your brows while you think

always asks if you’re coming to the school’s soccer game (or football, i guess, i’m australian and we call it soccer) anyway, he spends like five minutes before every game dedicated for scanning the crowd to see if you’re there — if you do ever decide to go, know that your presence is completely unrelated to how he just so happened to score the most goals out of his team . completely

・❥・ 성훈 // sunghoon

stares a lot, but he naturally zones out in class (to the point where teachers ask why he’s staring off into space) so you don’t always question it, except it’s clearly the best excuse he has to keep staring at you

not really outspoken but he definitely would be the type to mutter the most cringe fail jokes to the people around him and takes it as a personal victory every time you scoff out a small chuckle, has a mental list of the kinds of jokes you find funny because man is studying the trends to come up with new material

without realising, he would end up having your schedule memorised, and would totally use that knowledge to his advantage. say your science class is before his — bro is bolting out the door to get to the classroom in time to say a quick “hi” before you leave, he does it so often that you’re convinced he has PE before science, because there’s no other explanation for why every time you see him, this guy is winded like he finished a race (except for the fact that he ran halfway across the school campus for a five second interaction)

would be heavily invested in whatever you take an interest in, he doesn’t even have to understand it, he just wants to know about it because of you. say you’re current interest is modernist literature, he’d snag the perfect opportunity to ask you to explain it to him and let you ramble to your hearts content while he stares at you with the most soft expression, and he isn’t zoning out this time, he’s just pleasantly distracted by the view

・❥・ 선우 // sunoo

would be the type to find the smallest common interest and be convinced that it means your destined to be. like, you could mention something in passing like a show or something, and if he stumbles across it in his recommendations? dude is ecstatic . because what do you mean the universe just happened to show him the exact piece of media you’re obsessed with? (you’re not, it’s literally your most casual interest, but bro is convinced)

he wouldn’t hesitate to compliment you, like he would openly admire your hair if you do something new with it, or if he hears you talk about the new earrings you’re wearing he’d turn around to look at them and give you that nod of approval and say something about how it frames your face nicely, zero shame in what others would think from his forwardness

more subdued when it’s just the two of you, he usually rants about whatever random shenanigans are going on around your school, things that he’s heard or seen, usually retold with editorial humour and a lot of sidebar comments that you wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at, definitely keeps adding to the joke until your sides are hurting from laughing together, he probably has it marked in his calendar on the day he made you laugh so hard your eyes shone with tears a little bit (an achievement in his books)

more subtle when it comes to something as risky as asking you out, he’d try and play it off as simply recommending a certain cafe or a certain movie and if he just so happened to imply that you two should go together, well, that was just out of politeness, of course … unless?

・❥・ 정원 // jungwon

spits out random facts and genuinely believes that they’re the stepping stone to developing a relationship with you (while you sit there confused, because how do the surprise donuts your teacher brought even remotely relate to camels and their ability to drink 200L of water in three minutes??)

i think he would like trying to create a routine with you, something familiar, something that will remind you of him — maybe if you guys sit near each other, he’d always take both your workbooks to the teacher out front for you. or if there’s this special dessert at your cafeteria that he knows you like, he’ll split it with you every time it’s offered. he seems like the type that would find reminders of you in even the smallest of things so he just wishes to create a connection where you’ll feel the same

always sends you the notes when you’re missing from class, his notes aren’t exactly the neatest but they are funny. he adds like little doodles and comments (mostly for himself tbh, he'd add things like “just think of integration as differentiation’s older brother” in the margins of his maths notes or something). honestly, he had considered rewriting them neatly for you, but after you initiated a conversation about the mutilation of a portrait he did of your teacher, well, he figured any chance to talk to you wouldn’t hurt

the kind of guy who will try and send you signals through music and song lyrics, like if you post a certain song on your story, he’d pick the same song but choose a different lyric to play on his story, something more romantically coded. or if you talk about a new artist you’re listening too, he’ll find their most romantic song and say that’s his favourite and asks you listen because he thinks you’ll like it

・❥・ 리키 // ni-ki

very quiet, you’d probably think he was mute if it wasn’t for his low acknowledgment of presence when the teacher takes the attendance. the biggest rush he gets out of his day is when he says a couple words to you in your shared classes. it would always be really quick conversations too, he’d mutter about the teacher being uptight, or complain about the worksheet being printed in black and white instead of in colour, or ask you if you’re cold before getting up to shut the window next to your desks — small, but meaningful

the type to walk up and down the same hallway five times before working up the courage to enter the room you’re in. if you asked him why he did that he’d straight up be like “that wasn’t me. anyway…” adksajd so it’s safe to say he seems a little odd but charming and he’s counting on that charm to help him pull through and land at least a movie date

super competitive in PE class and it’s like a switch will flip and he’s suddenly more suave and confident when he’s in that element so expect a lot of random sidebar conversations while you guys do warm up stretches, he’d totally be the kind of guy to walk past you and drop one of the water bottles near you before walking off to his friends, definitely brushes his hair back like twenty times, gives unsolicited advice on how you can throw better or kick better or whatever it is depending on the sport, you’d be like “[raised eyebrow] i still scored didn’t i?” and he’d backtrack so fast it would be hilarious

has definitely sketched you before, let’s be real. half the time he spends in art class is sketching you in his personal sketchbook — he’d be smart enough to not draw your face (at least in the book he brings to school), it would be something like your side profile but it’s off centre so any other person would think the main focus of his sketch is the window which you sit beside, but to him, the main focus is you. he’d sketch anything he associates with you too, say for example if you mentioned your favourite flower just casually, he’d have a whole page dedicated to various sketches of that flower, no one else would really be able to tell what all his sketches mean, they’re like puzzle pieces that only you’d be able to put together

a.n: this took a while (been so distracted by numerous diff fandoms and a little sad bcs of mama awards but wtv) this is dedicated to my lovely mootie @sheepsgf !! the indescribable beauty that was jungwon’s solo intro in mama will forever live in my head btw, but i figured i’ve done three posts for won already aksjdjs time to do an ot7 one bcs i love them all and they’ve worked so hard !!

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2024 © yourislandgirl

[ambrosia-vinca]

There's a kind of defensive attitude towards criticism re:Lucanis' romance in many corners of the fandom that I partially understand because Veilguard gets a lot of shit thrown at it, and if you enjoy something you naturally want to defend it. But this type of attitude also rubs me the wrong way when people who loved the way his romance played out say that anyone criticizing it must just not understand slow burns/not like slow burn as a genre/not understand Lucanis' character and his trauma properly/must have been expecting explicit sex scenes and a Zevran 2.0.

Maybe some people criticizing his romance don't like slow burns, or were wrongly expecting him to be a sex god, or ignore his trauma. I've seen a few. But that's not all the criticism there is.

Personally, I love slow burns, it's my favorite genre both to read and write (I'm the type of fic writer to think up 200k words enemies to lovers longfics where they've barely kissed after 100k words). I'm also the type of ace person who's not into extremely explicit sex scenes or super kinky romances (especially with male dom stuff, which I personally dislike). And lastly, I'm the type who picks the angstiest possible romance choice.

All this to say that Lucanis and his romance were theoretically made in a lab for me. Slow burn because the character doesn't trust easily and is traumatized by his past experiences and has many things he must resolve, excruciatingly slow to open up? Unexpectedly very sweet, wet, sad man with puppy eyes? Romance scenes that are caring and romantic instead of outright steamy? Perfect, right up my alley! I keep romancing Fenris in DA2 exactly for that reason because I love him dearly, and he breaks up with Hawke for 3 whole years! Still my favorite!

But the whole point of a slow burn are the steps. It's a slow burn, which means little step by little step, the relationship slowly builds to a conclusion, from tentative acquaintances who don't trust each other, to slooowly evolve into something more, and it's precisely these crumbs that make the trope enjoyable.

To me, Lucanis' romance doesn't feel like it does little steps, it feels like it skips steps. I can see the main story beats of a good slow burn, but not the crumbs that make a slow burn. I don't want him and Rook to jump each other after 2 scenes, I want to see more of the fumbling, the hesitation, the dancing around each other. No, dragon age isn't a romance game, I'm aware, but if romance is an option, and it is written to fit a specific trope, I would like it done properly. They've done slowburns and angsty before, and they were good (even Solas', and his romance is super short). I want the evolution of the relationship shown to me, not told in broad strokes and big steps, and I don't want to have to write half the romance in my head or rely on ao3.

We get nothing between the coffee date and the almost kiss, absolutely no reaction of any kind to the flirting, not even a blink. If Lucanis and Rook were capable of having an entire conversation about coffee and kisses metaphors when they barely knew each other, then I think they can flirt a bit more in the following conversations when you pick the romantic option, dance around each other, have Lucanis fumble a little more like he does with Neve when he actually registers Rook is sincerely into him. Even just a sign that he heard Rook when they pick the romantic option in the following conversations, because as it is he immediately resumes whatever he was saying. And if his lack of reaction is because he's suddenly afraid and thinks it's a bad idea, I would like it shown on his face, or as an actual noticeable pause/hesitation. It didn't look like he thought it was a bad idea at Café Pietra, unless he just thought Rook was flirting just to flirt and wasn't serious, but again, none of that is hinted at in any way.

Then there's the almost kiss that follows and is the first actually romantic moment we get after the coffee date, and suddenly Lucanis is all smooth and confident about flirting again. With nothing in between ever since *Illario voice* he got all romantic about roasts. Was he reluctant before and that's why he didn't react to Rook's flirting/caring concern? We have no idea, because while he warns Rook it's a bad idea to be attracted to him, he doesn't seem scared, more amused at their daredevil tendencies. The first time in his entire romance we get a clear indication he's afraid and won't open up for a long time is at the end of this specific scene, when he pulls away, and the way it happens is like Lucanis himself wasn't expecting his fear to overcome him. He wants, he lets himself be pulled forward, and then he suddenly gets drowned by overwhelming terror, and he pulls away.

The beginning of the romance (the date + almost kiss) reads to me as if Lucanis was trying to forget the Ossuary, letting himself flirt and feel attraction and just simply live again as if nothing happened, believing if he didn't think about his trauma and forcefully moved forward then it would stay buried, and then the Ossuary unexpectedly caught up to him, because you don't just bury things like that, it always comes back up at some point if you make no effort to actually process what happened.

And then there's nothing again for a long while. I can imagine Rook leaving space for Lucanis because they're considerate of his feelings and they can see something is deeply wrong, but still, something big and awkward happened between them! Not even one conversation where they try to gently broach the subject and Lucanis immediately clams up? What about some mentions of how awkward things suddenly are between the two? Even through party banter? We got plenty about Hawke and Fenris' situationship in DA2 after Fenris pulls away. The other companions comment on their breakup and how it's painfully obvious they're in love still, no matter what happened, and there are a few banters between Hawke and Fenris themselves. Surely things are a little tense and awkward between Rook and Lucanis as well at that point, and their friends would notice? They don't spend as much time together as they used to, Lucanis doesn't talk directly to Rook much anymore unless he has to, can't quite look them in the eye, doesn't want to stay alone in a room with them. He is still protective of them because he obviously cares very much, but can't bring himself to have an honest talk about his feelings and fears because he's still completely locked in his mind prison and would rather deal with his problems by stabbing his enemies.

Rook being lost because they haven't been inside his head yet and they're not sure if it's because of what Lucanis has been through, or if they did something wrong to get them rejected, and they're stuck because Lucanis completely refuses to open up. There are so many little things that could have been implemented to actually serve as the little steps for the slow burn. You're telling me even Emmrich or Neve, perceptive as they are, wouldn't have noticed their two friends suddenly being awkward and sad and not try to talk to Rook about it at the very least?

And then there's the mind prison where Rook gets all Lucanis' fears and insecurities explicitly told to them. Immediately followed by the scene where you lock in the relationship as he makes them dessert.

Were they in a relationship?? When did they get together? Do they get together right there in the kitchen by the sheer power of cake (ok, relatable)? You don't know! They almost kiss, things are theoretically painfully awkward between them for a while, Rook discovers the substance of his trauma, and poof. They're a couple. Yes, I know that Lucanis' love language is acts of service, but did they communicate at all at any point about what's going on between them? Surely even if Rook helping him out of his head puts him on the road to eventual recovery, it didn't suddenly erase all of Lucanis' trauma and fears and doubts.

I liked Rook calling out the subtext of what Lucanis says in that scene (“it's nothing, or not enough”/”it is, and you are”), I did think it was sweet and perceptive of them. But still, we go from attraction to pulling away to suddenly committing to a relationship with never actually discussing exactly what goes on between them. Never outright deciding they want to try something serious. There wouldn't have been much actual flirting or sincere conversations between them after the almost-kiss, for obvious reasons, so how does Lucanis know Rook hasn't moved on/isn't angry at him after all this time, considering how they didn't communicate at all afterwards and he's not exactly the best at feelings and self-confidence? He just talks as if it's a given they're attracted to him still, and only worries about not being good enough for them. I wanted crumbs of reassurance from Rook, more than what we got, because Lucanis' probable guilt is never actually tackled in any way – he had perfectly valid reasons to pull away, of course, but considering how much he blames himself for anything and everything, I'm pretty sure he would also blame himself for hurting Rook's feelings, even if they're understanding and not actually angry with him at all.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts, especially about the middle of his romance. The last big scene we get is one of my favorites through all dragon age games, it was so sweet, but I still felt like the entire middle part of the romance lacked a lot of slow burn crumbs, and I was still hungry when I got to the end.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 001 ! the left side

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note reader’s official emoji is a panda! also most of the interview dialogue is real (from two videos combined) lol

previous <> masterlist <> next

you and your group had arrived at the scene. the entrance process was rushed seeing as you were all running a little late. but despite being short on time, the six of you still stopped to wave at your fans before heading inside.

“take your places. we are late after all, i would expect that enhypen is already out on stage.” your manager informed, ushering you all out from behind the camera.

and she was right after all. they were in fact waiting for your group, respectfully bowing their heads as you and your members made way to take the spot beside them.

luck was in your favor, as you were instructed to stand next to ni-ki. you couldn’t resist your stares, carefully trying to sneak a glance, only to see he was already looking at you. he smiled at how your cheeks flushed pink.

the mc’s, eunchae and sangmin, quickly adjusted their lifeguard outfits while they waited for the intro music to end before starting their introduction.

“we are the mansaez!” they announced together. “shall we meet enhypen, who is back with a sweet melody?” eunchae read off the script. “welcome!”

“one, two, connect! hello we are enhypen!” jungwon introduced the group.

sangmin quickly greeted them, before going to introduce newjeans. “this time, let’s meet the girls that the world has been waiting for. shall we meet newjeans, who are back with supernatural? welcome!”

“two, three. hello, we are newjeans!” minji spoke into the microphone.

“nice to meet you all. to start off the interview, let’s first go to sunghoon. sunghoon, as a previous mc of music bank, how does it feel to be back?”

“i’m happy to be back after a long time. i’m also happy to be back with our second full length album, romance untold, and the fact that we are able to share this with our fans.” sunghoon smiled to the camera.

“now, hyein. you weren’t able to participate in the last comeback. how does it feel to be back on stage?”

eunchae and sangmin took turns asking you all questions. but as unprofessional as it was, you felt yourself zoning out, still completely stunned by the fact nishimura riki was real, and right next to you. you were so close, your shoulders practically touched his.

the sound of your name being called by eunchae drew you back into reality, pulling you out of the clouds. “y/n! we’ve heard ni-ki doesn't show the left side of his face, but we finally got to see that in enhypens latest comeback. since it's known that you have admired enhypen for so long, how do you feel about this?"

and immediately, all the blood that was meant to pump into your brain, left, and rushed to your cheeks. you felt lightheaded, but you knew your face was burning.

you stood there frozen in shock, your mic jittering in your shaky hands. you suddenly felt more nervous than you were before, as you made the rookie mistake of turning to look at the boy next to you. he stared at you so expectantly, with a glimmer in his eyes.

“o-oh? i didnt know these types of things could be shared..” you awkwardly laughed, playing it off as you just being shy. “i think its charming because its not something we get to see often? i suppose.” you answered, playing it safe. because really, how do you respond to a question like that?

riki smiled at your response, nodding his head in approval.

haerin, who was next to you with her arm pressing into yours, gave you a small thumbs up of encouragement. maybe you didn’t do as bad as you thought.

“ni-ki, how do you feel about this?” sangmin asked.

“ah, me? sorry. i find it cute that you think i’m charming, even if it’s something i don’t do often.” he replied, looking at you the whole time he spoke.

you remained the eye contact for a few moments, causing the air to run thick as it stayed silent.

the mc’s shrugged it off, not thinking too much of it, before keeping the interview going by continuing to ask the other members their questions.

and before you knew it, the interview was over.

as soon as the cameras cut, you thanked eunchae and sangmin, then the enhypen members. riki reached out to shake your hand, his touch lingering for a moment before pulling away.

you smiled as he smirked at you while you both went your separate ways.

the music bank interview had ended 6 hours ago. it was now 10 pm, and you laid on danielle’s bed with your head in her lap as she braided your hair. hanni was sat next to you with her legs crossed, engrossed in some game hyein showed her the other day.

“my god. that was so embarrassing!” you whined as you saw a clip of today’s interview on tiktok, grabbing hanni’s pillow from beside to her as you screamed into it.

danielle quickly moved her hands away in surprise. “hey, i said don’t move! now the mini braid is all frizzy.” she pouted, undoing it to start over.

“it wasn’t that bad. at least you managed to not cause a dating scandal! fans are going crazy over the interaction on twitter.” hanni informed you in a comforting manner, handing you her phone.

“i don’t care about what people online think. it was more about the fact that i embarrassed myself in front of riki.” you mumbled, before scrolling through hanni’s phone to see what netizens were saying.

“that’s so humiliating. not them clipping my every movement..” you sighed with a frown.

at that moment, minji walked in with haerin behind her, from the other room that you three shared.

everyone was now together in the second bedroom of the dorm.

“come on y/n. let’s go get some snacks from the convenience store. you need some fresh air.” minji spoke, taking the phone out your grasp and returning it to hanni. she pulled you up to your feet, gesturing for you to put some shoes on.

“right now? i’m wearing pajamas.” you raised a brow, examining yourself in the mirror. you wore your long sleeve shirt, and your baggy pajamas pants, along with the slides you had just put on.

“so am i.” she shrugged. “come on, just you and me. you’ll feel better.”

reluctantly, you followed minji out the door, dreading the fact you may be recognized like this in public.

“i guess we’ll be back.” you waved to your other members who remained inside.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @itzningning @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona

[honeyhae-svt]

since i write wonwoo fanfics frequently, i often wonder how it would be if wonwoo falls for someone, or what he likes in a woman, or what he actually is when he's in love or smth. i'm not wonwoo to know what and how, but here's what i think. wonwoo has that reserved yet witty charm, doesn’t he? It makes wondering how he’d be in love so intriguing. 😌 if we take inspiration from what we know about him and combine it with a touch of creative freedom, here’s how he might be when he falls for someone: it's a headcanon so don't hate me if i'm wrong. anyways, please enjoy, cuties. wonwoo x f!reader (should be gn, but i think f!reader one is easier sns).

wonwoo's headcanon when he falls for someone (you)

jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags / genre: wonwoo x reader, seventeen fanfiction, slow burn romance, comfort / emotional intimacy, supportive wonwoo, quiet love, slice of life, fluff, soft romance, gradual love, reader insert ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: n/a ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 3200 ੈ♡ a/n: i went with gender neutral because why not. and this may be considered as a fanfiction because it just is. headcanon, drabbles? yes. i make drabbles when i feel like drinking or when i'm tipsy, because it just helps. guess what, i proofread it after i get all sobered up :) enjoy this fantasy i wrote :> (ilovehimsobadthatikeepwriting.seriously,he'sjustsoperfect) - i'll make one for every member :] ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : To You (Seventeen) ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

ੈ♡˚ ༘ wonwoo's headcanon when he falls for someone

when wonwoo falls for someone, he’s not the type to loudly declare his feelings or make grand gestures. instead, he expresses his affection through small, meaningful actions that might go unnoticed at first. his love is subtle, often woven into quiet moments where his intentions are more felt than spoken.

he'd be the kind of person who’s always there for you, especially when you need support. whether it’s offering you his jacket when it’s cold or getting you your favorite snack just because he noticed you were craving it—those little gestures speak volumes. wonwoo is someone who pays attention to the small details, and he loves showing his care in ways that don’t require attention from others.

in conversations, he might become more engaging when you're around. he’ll tease you lightly, showing his witty side, and might even playfully challenge you, just to see you react. it’s his way of getting closer without making things too intense or overwhelming. his sarcastic remarks are softened when it’s you, and he enjoys seeing your reactions to his dry humor. but when he’s truly comfortable and feels secure in his affection, you'll notice he becomes more open—he’ll share things that are usually just reserved for himself.

wonwoo’s shy and introverted nature means that when he’s in love, he might struggle to open up at first, but he finds ways to let you in. you’ll see it in how his gaze softens when he looks at you, how his words become carefully chosen, and how he might seek out opportunities to spend time with you, even if it’s just quietly sitting next to each other.

and when he’s jealous or insecure, it’s not overt. he’ll remain composed, but you’ll catch the slight change in his demeanor—the way he’ll glance at you a bit longer than usual, or the way his quietness speaks volumes. it’s not about controlling or demanding your attention, but he can’t help but feel possessive in a quiet, understated way.

the most vulnerable moment for wonwoo comes when he finally admits how he feels, not with grand declarations, but with a soft, sincere confession when you least expect it. it’s simple but deeply heartfelt, because for someone like him, being open about his feelings is a huge step. when he finally takes that leap, you know it’s real.

it was late, the dim light of the living room casting soft shadows on the walls. wonwoo sat on the couch, his fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. his thoughts weren’t on the story—his mind kept drifting back to the person sitting beside him.

you, as usual, had that carefree smile on your face, lost in whatever you were doing on your phone. you were scrolling through social media, laughing at a meme you'd just sent him, and despite the banter, he couldn't shake off the pull in his chest when his gaze lingered on you. it wasn’t the first time he felt this way, but tonight, it seemed like his emotions were bubbling up just a bit more than usual.

you caught his stare, and your playful grin only deepened. "something on my face?" you teased, nudging his arm.

"no," wonwoo replied, his voice quieter than usual. he wasn’t great with words, especially when he was thinking too much. but there was something about you—something about the way you made him feel calm and at ease, even in moments like this, where his thoughts threatened to spill over.

there were many times he'd been asked about his type, and most would expect him to talk about looks, or about how someone had to be this or that. but truthfully? wonwoo never had a clear answer. maybe it was because his feelings were always slow, building in subtle ways, the way a river quietly carves through stone over time. he liked how you listened when he spoke, how your laughter felt like the quietest music in a world too loud.

he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "you're... distracting," he said, the words coming out softer than he intended. his cheeks flushed lightly at the admission, but you didn’t comment on it. instead, you raised an eyebrow, a teasing look on your face.

"am i now? how am i distracting?" your eyes were bright, playful, but there was something else in your expression—something that made him feel like you could see right through him.

"i—" he stopped himself, unsure of how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous. you tilted your head slightly, sensing the shift in his tone.

"wonwoo," you said quietly, setting your phone down, the playful mood suddenly gone. "you’re acting weird."

he blinked, heart hammering. you had always been straightforward, and that made him nervous in ways he hadn’t expected. but your gaze wasn’t accusatory; it was curious, like you were waiting for him to speak his truth.

"i think... i think i like you," he said finally, his words falling into the space between you two. he didn’t look at you right away, his hands fidgeting with the book again as if somehow it could give him the comfort he needed.

there was a long silence, and for a moment, wonwoo thought he might’ve said something wrong, or maybe that you didn’t feel the same. but then you moved closer, your hand gently resting on his.

"i like you too," you said, your voice soft, but the sincerity in it wrapped around his heart like warmth.

he looked up, surprised, though he had hoped for it. there was no teasing in your tone now—just truth. you weren’t playing around. you weren’t afraid of showing your feelings, and it made his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite name.

for a moment, he just sat there, processing. then, slowly, almost hesitantly, wonwoo reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. "good," he whispered, voice barely audible. "i didn’t want to mess this up."

you smiled, squeezing back. "you won’t."

and in that quiet moment, when everything else faded away, wonwoo realized that sometimes, love wasn’t about big gestures or dramatic confessions. it was about finding someone who understood you, even in your quietest moments, and making space for each other, one small gesture at a time.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ kisses and cuddles with wonwoo

wonwoo isn’t the type to rush into physical affection, but once he’s comfortable with someone, he’ll be subtle in his approach. the first step would likely be a lot of close moments: sitting together in silence, just enjoying each other's company. the intimacy between you two is built on this steady foundation of trust.

one evening, after a long day, you two end up sitting on the couch again, both of you lost in whatever show or movie is playing in the background. wonwoo, as usual, is silent but somehow present—his hand resting just barely near yours. the tension is subtle at first, but it's there. the closeness feels safe, like you’re both cocooned in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

then, the first touch happens almost by accident. maybe it’s when you shift on the couch, and your arm brushes against his. he doesn’t pull away immediately, and neither do you. the brief touch lingers for a moment, just enough to make the air feel a little warmer. neither of you says anything, but the connection is there.

as you two continue watching, you notice him glancing over at you from the corner of his eye. his lips are pursed in that familiar contemplative way, but his gaze softens when it lands on you.

you can feel the anticipation building as his hand inches closer to yours again, just waiting for a response. when your fingers brush against his, it's like the world pauses for a second. his heart beats faster in his chest, but he doesn't let it show—his eyes remain calm, his expression composed. yet, there’s something in his posture that betrays the tension in his shoulders, how badly he wants this but doesn’t want to rush it.

he finally takes your hand, fingers gently weaving through yours. there’s no need for words—everything is said in that simple gesture, the quiet understanding between you two that this is the start of something more.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ the first kiss the first kiss comes unexpectedly, but in a way that feels right. maybe you're both standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner together, and you accidentally bump into him while reaching for the same ingredient. there’s a moment of awkwardness—your hand brushing against his chest, and both of you pausing to look at each other.

he doesn’t shy away, but there’s that slight hesitation. it’s not that he’s unsure—it’s more that he’s being careful, considering everything that comes with this moment. his eyes lock onto yours, and you see that flicker of vulnerability in them.

then, with a soft breath, he leans in. it’s slow—he takes his time, moving closer with careful precision. his lips press against yours in a gentle, almost hesitant kiss at first, as if testing the waters. his lips are soft, and the kiss feels warm, calm, comforting. he doesn’t rush; instead, he savors the moment, lingering with you in the quiet intimacy of it all.

as you both pull away, wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. he simply smiles faintly, his eyes soft with a kind of tenderness that’s rare for him to show. there’s a quiet understanding between you two: this is real, and it’s something to be treasured.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ cuddles with wonwoo when it comes to cuddling, wonwoo would prefer something subtle and relaxed. it wouldn’t be the type of cuddling where you’re all over each other right away. instead, he might start with small touches—his arm casually draping over your shoulders as you sit together, or his hand gently resting on your knee. his warmth and presence are what make it feel like an embrace, even if there’s no immediate closeness.

if he’s had a long day, you might find him leaning into you for comfort, his head resting lightly on your shoulder. at first, the cuddles would be a little awkward, as wonwoo isn’t used to letting his guard down in such a vulnerable way. but once he gets comfortable, he’ll pull you in a little closer, his arm wrapping around you protectively. the closeness will feel like a safe haven for him—like a place where he doesn’t need to speak, but he can feel secure in the quiet connection you share.

as time goes on, he might be more open to cuddling while you’re watching tv or simply laying together. he’d prefer it to be natural—nothing forced. maybe one evening, as you both relax in bed, he’ll pull you to his chest, his arms surrounding you. his body language will show that he’s comfortable and feels safe, his fingers gently stroking your hair or back as he hums softly. his breathing will slow, his heart will steady, and you’ll feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

the first time he lets his guard down completely in your arms, you’ll know. his body language will soften, and you’ll feel him relax into you, the tension that often keeps him stiff and reserved melting away. in that moment, you’ll know that this—this is what wonwoo needs most: quiet, shared moments of tenderness.

┊ ➶ ｡✩‧₊˚ bonus wonwoo's apartment door clicked open, the familiar scent of your perfume filling the air as soon as he stepped inside. he had barely taken a breath after a long day of practice before he noticed you sitting on the couch. it was late, and the apartment was quiet, but there was something so soothing about seeing you here—waiting for him.

you didn’t say anything at first. you just looked up at him, eyes soft and knowing. you could see the exhaustion in his face, the way his shoulders sagged, like the weight of the entire day had been pressing on him. but you didn’t need to ask how he was doing. the moment he locked eyes with you, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, like he couldn’t help it.

"hey," he murmured, slipping off his shoes and making his way over to the couch. "you’re still awake?"

"of course," you replied, teasing a little, but the concern in your voice was evident. "i thought you might need some company."

he sank onto the couch beside you, his body leaning heavily against the cushions. the tension in his frame was almost palpable. without thinking, he stretched out his legs, his head falling back against the headrest, completely drained. but there was a softness in his eyes when he glanced over at you, that familiar comfort settling over him.

you didn’t ask him anything about practice—he hated talking about it when he was tired. instead, you simply reached for him, your fingers brushing gently against his. he didn’t pull away, but his eyes flickered toward you, almost surprised.

"you don’t need to do anything," you said quietly, your voice gentle as you squeezed his hand, "just relax. i’ll be here."

and that was all he needed to hear. wonwoo’s eyes closed, and he let out a long sigh, his body finally starting to unwind in the peaceful quiet of your presence.

for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, and you just let him take his time. he needed it—his head resting against the couch, his hand still holding yours loosely, as if you were the anchor that kept him grounded. it wasn’t long before he shifted closer to you, moving in small increments like he was testing the waters.

you felt him shift again, this time his shoulder brushing against yours. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant, but there was something so endearing about it—like he was giving you the chance to decide, even though he had clearly already made up his mind.

you leaned in just a bit, your hand moving to rest on his chest, and he responded instinctively, his arm wrapping around you. the motion felt natural, familiar, as if the two of you had been doing this for years.

the first kiss came softly—slow, lingering. wonwoo’s lips were warm against yours, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. he wasn’t rushing, and neither were you. it was just the two of you, caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the exhaustion of the day melting away as he kissed you again, this time a little deeper.

his hands were gentle, his fingers grazing your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips parting slightly as he deepened the kiss. there was no force behind it, no urgency—just the need to be close, to feel each other after the long day apart. wonwoo kissed like he was taking his time, savoring each moment as though it could slip away at any second.

and you... you matched his pace. your own hands tangled in his shirt, the softness of his body pressed against yours, grounding you. the kiss was slow but heated, full of a quiet hunger, like he had been wanting this all day but wasn’t sure how to get it.

it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was a way for him to release everything he’d been holding in—his exhaustion, his frustrations, his quiet longing. he wasn’t just seeking comfort. he was seeking connection. and, with you, he found it.

after a moment, he pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath. his eyes fluttered open, and there was something in them—vulnerable and soft, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor.

"stay with me," he whispered, voice hoarse. "i just... need you close."

and, of course, you didn’t need to say anything. you simply nodded, your hand brushing his cheek before you leaned in for another kiss—this one a little more eager, a little more urgent. his lips responded immediately, deepening the kiss until it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

the night would come with small moments

⊹˚. what exactly are you to wonwoo?

to wonwoo, you might be that one person—the one who feels like a safe harbor even through all the chaos of his busy, demanding life. you might be more than just a friend or a casual connection; you're his comfort, his source of peace, and the person who understands him without needing him to explain everything.

⊹˚. how wonwoo falls for you

it’s subtle, gradual, and wrapped up in the quiet moments that define your relationship. for wonwoo, his feelings wouldn’t ignite all at once. instead, they’d grow quietly, almost imperceptibly, until one day he realizes just how much he’s fallen in love with you.

wonwoo, the quiet one, might never explicitly declare his feelings in such words. instead, his actions speak louder than anything. the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention, the way his hand seeks yours when you’re together, the way he makes sure you’re comfortable, even in the smallest ways.

if he does eventually confess, it’ll probably be in his own understated, sincere way, where words don’t need to be loud to express the depth of his feelings.

example: late one evening, as you’re about to leave, he surprises you by pulling you back for a quick kiss—no preamble, just a gentle, unexpected moment. and when you pull away, he whispers, “i guess this is me admitting i’m kind of... into you.”

in wonwoo’s case, it’s a slow burn—nothing rushed, just a deepening connection that sneaks up on both of you. you’re not just someone he likes. you’re the person he starts imagining a future with, not because he can’t be without you, but because you’ve become a part of his peace.

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ when wonwoo is in love he becomes even more of a rock for his partner. he’s the kind of person who’s always there when things get tough, but not in an overbearing way. he just quietly supports you, offering a sense of calm and security. you might not always realize it, but his love is a constant comfort, whether it’s through a reassuring smile, a soft touch, or a shared silence.

like when you go through a stressful day, you come home to find him already there with a cup of tea, just sitting quietly next to you. he doesn’t need to ask, "what’s wrong?" he just knows that your silence says enough, and his presence alone provides the peace you need.

wonwoo doesn’t need to constantly express his love verbally. instead, it’s in the touch of his hand on your back when you're walking together, or the way he watches you when you’re talking. his love is quiet but constant—he’s there when you need him, not just physically, but emotionally. he’d never be the type to have a "grand love declaration," but when he looks at you, you’d know.

maybe his fingers find yours casually when you’re sitting together, not even necessarily for anything romantic, but because he’s used to having you near him. his hand just naturally gravitates to yours, as if it's where it’s always meant to be.

ੈ♡ a/n: you want to know what i think? wonwoo is the type of person who makes efforts so effortlessly but manages to do a perfect job for his love. he might not be the guy who would be attached almost too immediately and takes things slow. these are just headcanons of what i know about him, lmk if i missed anything :)) thankyou for reading ily :>

[200markies]

　　　　chenle ♡ is the type of boyfriend to ... ⁺ (1)

chenle soft hours & headcanons. all are fictional.

pairing: zhong chenle x fem!reader

genre: romance, fluff

part 1 of "chenle is the type of boyfriend to..." series

author's notes: hey y'all........ felt 100% delusional so i decided to do this because all these dreamies soft hours headcanons are literally making me go crazy 😭😭 hope y'all enjoy, i JUST really love chenle (it's obvious)

chenle is the type of boyfriend to come over to your place every evening just to give you kisses, or food, or flowers so that you wouldn't feel alone and so that he'll remind you everyday that he loves you so much! he has every single time to cuddle with you and tell you sweet compliments to enlighten your mood whenever you're stressed.

"i love you so, so much, pretty." chenle says as he kisses your forehead, ruffling your hair softly while he holds you in his arms. he felt cozy wrapping his arms around you, watching you lie down on his chest as you listen to his sweet compliments. "i love the way you are, how pretty you are, how sweet you are, how kind you are... i'm so, so glad you're mine."

chenle is the type of boyfriend to surprise you with gifts at the best times and occasions, giving you gifts and bouquets that expressed his congratulations and how proud he is for you. he always wants and expects you to come home to his gifts after work, all displayed and decorated by him once you get inside.

"i tried my best decorating this for you... do you like it?" chenle smiles as he turns to the balloons on the living room and the flowers that he's holding, chuckling softly as you were still surprised with the way chenle did all this for you. "i know this whole decoration thingy doesn't look good enough, but it's enough to express how proud i am and how much i love you."

chenle is the type of boyfriend to drop everything, whether it's schedules or special occasions, just to attend your special occasions. he wants to be there for you in every single occasion, whether it's major or not, because he wants to witness you do your best, or he wants to be with you if you couldn't find a date for that certain occasion. he doesn't care if dropping schedules would cause consequences, but as long as it's you he's prioritizing, he'll go for it.

"you have an awarding ceremony tomorrow?" chenle asks as he looks at you, immediately thinking of canceling all his plans just to be with you. you nod, asking, "yeah, are you gonna come?" since you really didn't want chenle to miss this out. the moment you ask him, he immediately took his laptop to go and cancel every single plan he has for tomorrow. "i'm canceling all my plans, i'm coming."

chenle is the type of boyfriend to get a little bit jealous whenever he hears or spots you talk with another guy on the phone or right in front of him. just by looking at him while you're talking to someone else on the phone, you already know how jealous he is by the look in his eyes. he would usually deny the fact that he gets jealous everytime, but whenever you catch him, it seems like he can't deny it any longer.

chenle looks at you with a low, death glare, impatiently waiting for you to end the call. "when are you gonna end that?" he whispers, as you look at him and tell him to wait before you ended the call. "jealous?" you ask him with a chuckle, settling your phone on the side as you looked at him with a soft smile. you loved seeing chenle jealous, it's cute of him. "yeah, yeah, can't even deny that anymore... can we cuddle now, please? i'm too impatient, i want you badly."

©️ 200markies / jyanihaes, 2024

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Pick Your Romance Starter- Dark Fae Addition

Plot/Story: Oh no, you've fallen into the Fae Realm through a circle of mushrooms. How convenient, I mean inconvenient! And look, there's some hot Fae men wanting you're attention...how so very clique. But they're not all flowers and sunshine. That would be too damn easy, wouldn't it?

Warnings: Dark Fae, slight non-con touch, blood, 10k words

Notes: The dry-spell has finally worn off and I present to you a little morsel of writing.

Poll is 'here' (Patreon) and here (Tumblr)to choose which character is written for first!

Poll has been finished! Hezirus got the pick. Here is another poll to choose what type of spicey story you want with him.

This is all based on a world built together with a friend. The characters are OCs of mine we play with and use in our stories together. And for your amusement, and torture for my friend, I have started a series where you pick which one I write for first.

This will be a heavy female x male character story. I apologize to my MxM and FxF readers. But I do plan on making these three fuck eventually. Just because it's fun. 

And by all means, give me ideas and feedback. I crave the attention!

Enjoy!

The sharp iron-like smell filled your senses and you felt yourself falling. The warm night air turned bitterly cold and the light from the street disappeared into a wall of black. You blinked. The wind whooshing around you was as loud as a hurricane; before your feet slammed onto stone and you stumbled into something hard and cold. And everything went unnaturally quiet.

You opened your eyes. Blinking rapidly to remove the haziness from your vision as you reached out, calling for your friend. It was dark. Too dark for your eyes just yet.

Your fingers found the cold bars of something circling you. Your hand followed it until you pushed away and stood on your own two feet. Swaying a little, the alcohol still affected your body even as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Finally, after some more blinking and squinting into the dark, your eyes adjusted. And horror filled your stomach as you looked around you.

You were in a cage. An iron cage in the center of a dark room. The floor, the pillars, the walls, all made from gray, smoothed stone. Dust layered the ground like a blanket around your small prison. And thick, but empty, cobwebs lined the corners of the room.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in here for…a very long time.

Your eyes caught the faintest touch of blue light on the floor and you looked down. Finding a glowing ring of sigils carved into the floor, fully encircling your cage. And everytime you moved, the strange letters pulsed with energy and that sharp smell filled your nose once more.

Something in you whispered that it was the same diameter of the mushroom circle you had jumped into… And with that thought, horror filled you. It had happened. It actually…worked. But not in the way you expected.

You don’t know how long you stood in that cage for, calling out into the darkness. It was long enough that the effects of tonight's drinks had worn off and the feeling of dehydration was starting to kick in.

The cold of the room settled on your skin like ice. And you tried to huddle up as much as you could, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible. But the cold iron and the freezing stone was sapping away at your warmth like a hungry beast.

Eventually, just as you started to think you’d be in this dark room forever, a door opened. One you didn’t see at the far end of the room that spilled bright, warm sunlight into the shadows. Making the twilight scatter and your eyes hurt from the blinding rays.

“Well, well, well, I thought all my little traps had been sealed off.” A velvety voice echoed from the doorway. The very sound settled on your skin like the breeze of an autumn afternoon. “What a surprise, indeed.”

Something shifted to your right but when you looked, only darkness stared back. Hiding behind a stone pillar, escaping the bright morning light.

You blinked until the sunlight stopped blinding you and the stranger approached. His boots echoed in the empty room as he closed the distance. His face silhouetted by the soft glow of the blue circle at his feet.

He was handsome. Very handsome. The type of handsome you would take a second glance at because you weren’t sure if your brain properly processed his face. His hair was a slight mess, a dark but silky tangle of blonde and deep brown. Matching a gaze that was fixed, but curious. And you felt every inch of your skin alight with a cold fire when those copper coloured eyes raked over your body. Not an inch of you was left untouched by his gaze. And it left you a little breathless when he smiled.

But your mind was racing. A voice deep within your mind was telling you to run. To hide. Get away from this man and never look back.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” The man asked. The softest curl of a smirk twitching the corner of his lips.

But you didn’t give it. You weren’t stupid. And you remembered what happened. You jumped into a ring of mushrooms and suddenly you were falling. Even if you could blame this on a drunken dream, you still didn’t give this man your name.

When you didn’t reply, the smirk stretched fully across the stranger's face. “Ah, so you’re smart. That’s cute. I haven’t had a smart one in a long time. Come along, then. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re exactly what I need to make up for my little blunder last night.”

The cage groaned around you and three of the metal bars slid into the ground. Allowing you a doorway to step out of your small prison and into the stream of light from the door.

The stranger didn’t look at you as he led the way out of the cold stone room. But still addressed you as you stepped out into the light. “My apologies for leaving you in that cold room all night. We had a little…accident, and I was busy until this morning.”

The man led you into a long corridor of more stone. Though the temperature was vastly more welcoming than the room, it was just as empty and just as dusty. You passed many doors like the one from where you landed. Some were left open, revealing more empty areas with a single cage. Others were closed but something dark marked the metal entryway. It looked suspiciously like old blood.

If this stranger saw you staring, he didn’t give any move to answer your unspoken questions. He led you up a spiraling staircase and a door of heavy carved wood and granite, creaked open before he touched it. Opening up into a sprawling room of many desks and shelves and cabinets.

“Clean her.” The stranger said. And from beneath the desks, dark tendrils launched towards you. Black, clawed hands wrapped around your wrists and ankles. Icy cold fingers latched onto your throat, squeezing just enough to silence the scream of fright from your lungs. Iron strength yanked you forward, making your attempts at fleeing fruitless as you were dragged towards a large basin.

More arms of shadows rose from the stone floor and you watched as steaming hot water was poured into the tub. Buckets of water manifesting from darkness and then disappearing when dropped to the floor.

You didn’t get to take a breath before you were lifted and then dumped into the basin. Hot water burned your skin and drenched your clothes. You gasped for air, but a cold hand slammed your head back under the water and you felt harsh bristles scrape over your bare skin. Something sweet smelling poured onto your hair as your head was yanked back out of the water for a brief moment

You coughed and spluttered, barely getting a breath in before you were dunked back into the water.

Your clothes were torn away. Despite your best effort to keep them against your skin, the material ripped apart under the strength of these shadowy limps. You wrapped your arms around your chest, obscuring the man’s beautiful gaze from seeing too much.

His smile was too sweet. Too wide as you were finally released and you turned your back to him. Your skin burned from the brush and soap. Your hair felt silky and smelled like a field of freshly bloomed flowers. But you were completely bare in front of him.

“That’s much better.” The man said. Leaning against a desk nearby. His molten gaze took in every inch of you before he waved his hand and a shadow presented him with a dress. “Wear this. It suits you much better than…whatever else you were wearing.”

When you didn’t get out of the tub, the man sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he turned around so he was leaning against the desk with his palms on the surface of the table. “I won’t look. Go on, try it on.”

You hesitated. But already the water was starting to get cold and you couldn’t sit in here forever. Curled up and shivering. You sighed heavily and carefully slipped out of the water.

Another shadow appeared beside you with a towel. But it didn’t allow you to take it. Instead, it dried you off, harshly rubbing the soft material against your body until your skin felt sore from the material. But dry.

You grumbled a curse towards the man and snatched the dress from the floating shadow.

Surprisingly, the man kept his word and didn’t turn around. Until you were in the dress and staring down at yourself in horror.

The material was thin…extremely thin… You might as well stand in front of him naked without the gentle glimmer of the sparkly dress. And it was very tight. You could see every curve of your breasts and hips, down to your thighs before the dress spilled out around your feet like a bronze ink spill. The only saving grace to this material was that it darkened around your chest and lower center. Refusing to give a full, clean picture of your body that was hidden beneath the dress.

It didn’t stop the perked peaks of your nipples from the cold air. And the stranger hummed a low sound in his throat as he adjusted the sleeve of the dress and picked at some imaginary lint on your waist.

“Much, much better.” The man said. He started to circle you. His eyes scraped over your body as you stood frozen under his gaze. He picked at the dress and the shadows appeared with trinkets and jeweled chains. Your wrists were wrapped in silk and your neck was decorated by a thin, delicate silver chain with topaz stones resting warmly against your neck. A belt of lace loosely circled your hips and your cheeks were assaulted by a dusting of red. Giving you a small blush before cold hands grabbed your face and the man stepped closer.

His forefinger lengthened, growing a black claw that came to a dangerously pointed tip. And you tried to yank yourself away from him but the shadows held you firmly in place. You could only watch in growing horror as the dark talon descended towards your eye…and cautiously drew a line along your upper lashes. Then the man delicately did the same on the other. Giving you a perfect dark eye-liner flick.

The man then stood back. His other hand held your chin as he tilted your face back and forth, admiring the touches he did to you. The shadows relaxed when you did. And you allowed this stranger to do what he wished with your face.

“What’s your name?” You asked him. Finding this close proximity with the handsome face was filling your chest with sharp flutters. You could see the finer details. The sharp, pointed ears. The tattoos under the collar of his shirt and the dusting of gold along his face. Perhaps a decorative choice?

“Jackal Borcalas, Royal Archivist and Spy Master of the Wilds” His smile was predatory. Proud. Cocky. As if the widening of your eyes gave him a sense of smugness. “But Jackal is fine, sweet thing. And yours?”

He said it so casually you almost willingly gave it to him. Like carrying on a normal conversation. But you clapped your mouth shut and glared up at Jackal. Rewarding yourself with a laugh from the Spy Master.

“Ah, well, you can’t blame a man for trying.” Jackal said, shrugging. Then his hands moved from your face down to your body. Adjusting chains and bracelets and anything else the shadows had placed on you.

But you found his hand barely touched you. His fingers brushed over your hips but didn’t linger for too long. The pads of his fingers glossed over your perked nipples but his eyes didn’t stray any longer than they needed. His attention was too focused on his task that you doubted he even knew where he was touching.

“Gorgeous.” Jackal purred. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, you sensed the genuine compliment behind his words. Or was that just a…Fae thing to get you comfortable around him. “Now, a few things before I throw you to the wolves.”

You felt the blood drain from your face with his words. And that wicked smile returned, alongside the cold touch of shadows as they wrapped around your legs and started moving them. You felt like a doll on strings, puppeteered after Jackal as he turned and exited the room.

Your captor led you into more corridors and halls. Many stone steps and coloured glass windows that bathed you in greens and golds and bronze. You didn’t get to look around. The shadows had you transfixed on watching Jackal’s back as he walked through…wherever you were.

“If you want to live through the day, you will follow these rules to the absolute letter. Do not look directly into his eyes. He gets…crabby when you do it for too long. And keep your hands off of him unless he places them somewhere. He doesn’t like to be touched. Do not turn your back on him unless he tells you to do so, and for the love of the Moon, do not touch his horns. Just…keep your hands to yourself unless you’re ordered otherwise.” Jackal said all this while he led you towards a massive metal door. The shadows relieved their hold just enough that you could finally look around you. But your gaze was transfixed on the entrance before you.

Towering above you was a grotesque, twisted display of melted weapons and armor. Swords Maces Axes Shields Any and all kinds had been liquified against the doors. You spotted helmets and chest plates carved through with spears. All dented, all worn, from battle.

“Oh, and also, for my later entertainment, keep yourself alive.” Jackal whispered, looking over your shoulder at him. “We haven’t had a human here in…centuries. So try to make your stay last a little longer than a few minutes.”

With a wave of Jackal’s hand, the war-torn doors opened with an ear-clawing sound of metal on the stone floor.

A blast of heat slammed into you as a voice as deep as thunder growled from within a dimly lit room. “What do you want, snake?” Your very bones vibrated with the voice. And a knot of fear coiled in your stomach as Jackal entered the room.

The shadows had you follow him and you entered a room that was more like a throne room. It was a vast space of furs and blankets. Blazing fires were cradled in braziers along the walls and candles flickered on hanging chandeliers made of bone and skulls. The scent of sulfur and burning meat filled your nose and you tried not to gag as you passed a body laying on the floor. Three deep gashes tore up the person’s back and blood pooled around their limp body. Their face twisted in agony and terror.

Jackal didn’t even look at it. He continued to stroll into the heated room towards a pile of furs and hides.

“I brought you a gift.” Jackal said. His voice echoing in the massive room. Mixing with the heavy breathing of something huge in front of you. The shadows didn’t let you go. They kept you firmly in place behind Jackal.

Something sniffed the air. And you felt the very air around you shift with each deep breath. You started shaking as the tiled floor trembled. The blast of heat came closer and closer. The heat in the room roared and you felt like your arms were being scorched by a blazing fire. Your ears popped and the tremble through the floor halted, but you heard the distinct sound of bare feet stepping over tile towards you.

And then Jackal stepped to the side and you were suddenly staring at a broad chest of muscle and scales.

The shadows released your head. Allowing you to look up, almost craning your neck all the way back, to meet a burning red gaze of a man. He was massive, much taller than 6ft and broad, rippling with muscle. Scars streaked across his arms and chest, giving a stark pale contrast to his dark complexion. A creature of war and battle.

But what was more terrifying was the plating of black scales that protruded from his dark skin. Horns swept out from atop his head. Splitting apart thick, shiny black hair that was braided amongst the crown of thick spikes. And his gaze was heavy. Watching. Calculating.

Jackal tsked harshly and you quickly dropped your eyes. Remembering what Jackal had said only moments before.

The man in front of you growled, a deep rumble that rippled through you like thunder. “A human?” A voice of stone sounded surprised. And you flinched when a massive hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers almost completely encircling your hips, and yanked you closer.

Black scales filled your vision as the man buried his nose into your hair. You felt him take a deep breath and the growl turned into something like a broken purr as the man laughed a cynical chuckle. “Is this your way of saying sorry, snake?” The scaled man snapped at Jackal. Releasing you before stalking over to the much smaller man.

Despite their size difference, and the display of bared teeth from the other man, Jackal remained perfectly calm. His hands resting behind his back as if he was having a casual conversation with someone.

“This is my way of mending my mistake.” Jackal replied slowly. “Hezirus will want her for himself. But I thought you should get some time with her before she’s claimed entirely. I thought it would be a nice…treat, Maahes, from me to you. From a friend.”

That word brought a snarl out of Maahes. Like he didn’t like how it sounded coming out of Jackal’s mouth. “Watch it, snake. You almost cost me my territory last night. A morsel won’t make up for that blunder.”

“Then let it be the start of my amendment to you.” Jackal titled his chin down in a submissive display. And whatever rage Maahes had, seemed to melt away. You felt the sharp tang of something hit your nose and suddenly the beast in front of you roared.

Claws raked through the marble pillar where Jackal had been standing moments before. Then you felt the shadows retreat and Jackal was standing in the doorway behind you. An amused smile across his lips

Maahes roared again, crimson eyes glowing with a surge of anger. “Keep your filthy magic out of my head!”

The doors slammed closed with a thunderous bang as Jackal laughed. Leaving you alone with a creature that was practically shaking with rage.

Your eyes swooped to the floor when the beast looked at you. You heard the click of claws as he approached. Two dark tree trunks entered your view and you realized he was standing right in front of you. He at least wasn’t naked, wearing a loose pair of dark trousers. But the thin dress did very little to make you feel protected at this moment.

“What is your name?” Maahes asked. You didn’t respond, cowering in front of him. The beast snarled and a rough grip wrapped around the underside of your jaw and forced you to look up at him. You kept your gaze from staring into the pools of rubies, looking at the scar that carved down his neck and to his collarbone. “I am not a Fairy, sweet morsel. I won’t use your name against you. What do I call you?”

You felt him lift you a little. Until you were standing on your tiptoes to stop him from choking you. “(y/n)” You managed to say. And the grip released you.

“Get me a drink, (y/n).” Your name rolled on his tongue like he was tasting you through those words. It sounded awfully sinful to hear it. And you quickly hurried over to the table by the dead body. Where an array of goblets and bottles were laid out. You choose the largest cup and fill it with an amber liquid. You had to carry it with both hands to ensure it didn’t spill and didn’t strain one arm too much. Hurrying back to Maahes, who had returned to lounge on the pile of furs. Which even his massive frame seemed to be swallowed by the vast mattress of pelts.

The beast rumbled. But it wasn’t an aggressive sound. You almost thought he sounded pleased as you carefully climbed onto the furs and offered him the wine. He took the cup from your hands. And as he pressed the wine to his lips, his free hand lashed out and took purchase of your hips before you attempted to step away.

You couldn’t fight him. The amount of strength beneath those fingers alone was enough to pull you towards him with barely any effort.

You found yourself flush against his side. His scales, rough and jagged, pushed painfully against your soft skin. And once you were positioned how he wanted, the hand moved down to cup your ass. His talons caught on the material of your dress as he squeezed hard. Making you wince a little.

“How did the snake manage to catch you?” Maahes asked. Placing his cup precariously on a position of the bed as he moved so he was on top of you. His nose scraped against your neck and you felt his teeth playfully pull at the silver chain around your throat. “Trapping humans was outlawed centuries ago. Did he say some pretty words and you were suddenly here? Or did you fall through a mirror?”

His words were surprisingly teasing for how rough his hands were on your body. The pads of his fingers were calloused and coarse, sweeping along your thighs before moving you so he could settle between your legs. He was massive above you. Obscuring the ceiling and bone chandeliers with his mass.

You explained what happened. Recalling the ring of mushrooms on the side of the walkway on your way home. The stupid decision to test fate and jump into the circle. Laughing, thinking nothing would come of it. And then accidentally said ‘we’ jumped in, and those crimson eyes pulsed intensely.

“There’s two of you?” Maahes asked. Glancing at the door as if Jackal was about to come through it again with another person. You said you didn’t see your friend in the cage and the man shrugged. Returning his mouth to the hollow of your neck. His lips sending goosebumps along your skin as his hot breath bathed along your chest.

It was a long moment of licking and hard nips along your neck before Maahes changed position. Burying his face against your breasts. Even through the dress, you could feel his mouth hungrily take in your left nipple and rake his tongue over the peak.

“No matter. I’ll feast on you first before I worry about someone else's pet.” You felt him shift against you and something huge and hard pressed against your clothed core. Then Maahes raised his mouth and a burning hot tongue seared along your neck, carrying the smell of wine and meat along your flesh, up to your cheek before your lips were harshly trapped between Maahes’.

Your struggling only seemed to amuse Maahes. As you tried to push him off and twist away from him. But just as he forced your lips open with his tongue, the doors to the room blasted open in a cold gust of wind. The flames around you simmered out under the gust and the chandeliers swung wildly above you.

Maahes growled and tore his mouth from yours. He poised above you like a beast protecting a kill. Thick arms caging you against the bed as the sound of his snarl ripped through you. You could feel the vibrations through your core, from where his covered bulge was firmly pressed against your core.

You turned your head, peering around Maahes’ arms to see a gorgeous man standing in the streaming sunlight. Like an angel, wings of bronze and gold framed his tall figure and a thick set of arms were crossed over his chest. Lines crinkled his perfect brow and long chocolate brown hair was kept away from his face by a gold crown of gnarled vines and flowers.

“Maahes,” The man said the beast’s name like a warning. But his tone was playful, teasing. “What have you got there?”

Maahes’ snarl crumbled into a softer sound. But he didn’t move from atop of you. His talons ripped into the furs as his hands turned to fists beside your body. “She’s mine.”

“Not anymore she isn’t.” The angel said. Stepping into the dark room, closer to the creature that was bent low over your frozen body. “I caught her scent on my way to breakfast. I don’t know how Jackal got her, but she’s a guest in my palace. I won’t have you break her on her first morning here.”

Soft, bronze eyes fell upon you and his smile softened. But those warning bells in your head were singing again. Even more so than they had with Jackal. “Give her to me, Maahes.” The man said, his wings opening a touch to make him seem so much bigger than he was. “I won’t ask again.”

The beast above you growled deep and threatening. You braced for something to happen. Another gust of wind. A fist. Claws. Something.

But then the heavy, hot weight of Maahes disappeared as he crawled off of you. And you scrambled off the bed to stand beside the winged man. Hiding behind him as his wing opened to protect you from Maahes’ heated gaze. “Good boy.” The crowned stranger said. A very careful smile placed over his lips. “Do not let me catch you playing with her again.”

Maahes’ gaze lowered to the furs. But you could see the tension in his body and the thick, throbbing vein that was protruding from his neck. He bowed. “Yes, Prince Hezirus.”

That seemed to be enough for the…prince. And he turned, his wing shifting to envelope you in a warm embrace against your back and guiding you out of the room.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind you both. And the wings of the prince moved to lazily return to his back. A different type of heat simmered in his gaze when the prince turned to you. A striking difference from the softness he offered you before. “Now, human, you will tell me how you got here. And why you’re…dressed the way you are.” Despite the quizzical tone, Prince Hezirus’ eyes were just as hungry and heavy as Jackal’s when you first got dressed. You instinctively tried to cover yourself but a narrowed glare from the person in front of you made you halt.

Your arms dropped to your sides as you explained everything. But this time, you kept the ‘we’ out of it. Only insinuating that you alone jumped into the very obvious Fae trap.

“But you know our customs,” The prince hummed. Tilting his head like how a dog did when it was intrigued by something. “You won’t give me your name. You even called the circle a trap. So…you knew what it was.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. The drunken stupor of a joke was now very obviously a suicide sentence. “I didn’t think it would work.” You argued. “I was…drunk.”

“Superstition has kept your people alive longer than you’d think. You should start listening to your fable stories, there’s a reason they exist.” The prince began walking and you hurried to follow. The tall man, possibly as tall as the beast on the furs, didn’t shorten his strides to let you keep up. Instead, you had to fasten your steps to almost jog alongside him.

“Where am I?” You asked. Finally looking at your surroundings. There were large paintings that covered the towering walls. The ceiling looked like marble with many hanging candles and torches to illuminate what the sun couldn’t. Massive glass windows bathed your walk with the prince in color. But at least this time you could see the shapes of beasts and battles and fields of flowers as you passed them.

It was all very beautiful.

“You’re in the Fae Wilds. My kingdom.” The prince replied. His chin tilted up with pride as he spoke. “I am Prince Hezirus of the Wilds. Son of Queen Melusine, the Lady of the Forest. You’re in my palace in the deepest forest of our kingdom. My…holiday home, I guess you would call it.”

You stalled for a moment to peek through one of the windows. Spying the grounds of the estate that sprawled out in grassy knolls and flowing creeks that sliced through lush gardens and tumbled through the gnarled roots of mountainous trees.

There were people working in the gardens and some walked the earthy paths through the estate. Someone even started flying into the branches of a nearby tree. With wings like an insect.

A soft cough from the prince made you turn. Finding him standing by the cliff of a long stairwell that led down and into the center of the palace. You quickly hurried back to his side and started descending next to him.

“It’s beautiful.” You said. Unable to keep your eyes on one thing at a time. A man walked past you both, bowing deeply to the prince before walking briskly away. His features reminded you of a rat.

“Thank you. But you will have time to see everything soon. I want you to join me for breakfast.” The prince said. And you followed him down a corridor and into a grand hall. A long table was presented before you. Its surface was chock-full of plates and bowls of food. All steaming, like the dishes had just come out of the oven.

At the end of the table sat a beautifully crafted chair of twisted roots and vines. The cushions looked as soft as clouds and a plate of sourdough bread, bathed in eggs and bacon with a drizzle of white sauce, was sitting awaiting the prince.

Hezirus waved his hand and a chair pulled itself from the table next to the prince. And Hezirus gestured for you to sit, before he flicked his hand and the chair pushed you snugly against the table. A plate was placed in front of you by an owl-faced woman and the prince seated himself in his chair.

Leaning his cheek on his fist, propped up by his elbow on the table, he watched you curiously. “Please, eat. Enjoy.”

The smells of everything laid out in front of you was maddening. Your stomach twisted in hunger and the slight hangover that had plagued you with a headache, wished for water. But you didn’t reach for any of it. And watched the prince take his gaze off you just enough to take a bite out of his egg smothered bread slice.

“So now you start to believe in your fables?” The prince asked. An amused smile twitching his lips as he chewed. “I do not need to charm you to keep you here, lovely thing. You may eat freely. This food is not poisoned and untouched by magic. Other than what is needed to prepare certain dishes.”

You still didn’t reach for anything. Not even the water. Which sat chilled in a glass pitcher in front of you. Like it was teasing you. You shook your head. “Thank you. But I’ll skip breakfast.”

The prince’s eyes flashed gold and suddenly you were reaching for the water. You tried with all your might to stop yourself from pouring a glass, but your hands worked just like they did when the shadows had hold of you.

Puppeteered.

Helpless.

You tried to cry out as your fingers brought the glass of water to your lips. But your body defied you. And you sipped cleanly, without choking, a long draught of water down your parched throat. Once you had placed the glass down you felt your body return to your control and you stood. Almost knocking the chair over as you jerked away from the table.

“Like I said, I do not need to charm you to make you stay.” The prince said. As if you had asked about the weather. So casually glossing over what he just did. “Your tales of us are true…in some sense. But we hold more power than we allowed you to believe. Please. Eat. You look like you’re about to pass out. And I won’t tell you again. You won’t like it if I have to do it myself.”

It was true. You could feel the edge of your mind falling into a dizzy spiral. And the thought of you passing out in front of him made the hunger turn to fear. You shook your head, clearing it, and sat down before your legs gave out. And begrudgingly served yourself some pancakes.

And it was the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Whether it was because of hunger, or the Fae chefs, it was delicious. Even the fruit you ate was sweet and juicy. Perfect. Also too perfect.

But if you didn’t eat, you were sure he’d probably force you too. So, you gave in. As much as the logical side of the brain was screaming at you to stop.

The prince’s gaze never left your lips as you ate. His eyes were persistently on you, even as he devoured his own breakfast and poured a cup of something that smelled strongly of coffee.

“Did Jackal explain anything to you before he shoved you into a room with a horny Drake?” The prince asked. An eyebrow raising when you told him of the rules Jackal gave you. And you added on that you were meant to be a treat, as a means of amendment from Jackal.“At least he wanted you to live through the morning. And yes, Jackal made a small mistake last night. Maahes exaggerates, it wasn’t so bad he’d lose his territory. He’s just angry he lost a bet at all. You were lucky I found you before Maahes went too far. I do enjoy it when Maahes is rough with me. But your delicate body would snap apart the moment he pulls down his pants.”

The rush of heat that exploded in your body, crawling up your neck and into your cheeks made the prince chuckle. “That’s adorable. But also very dangerous. Don’t do that around Maahes. If he gets whiff that you’re into things like him, you’ll be chained to his hips and riding his cock until your body breaks.”

You tried to argue. Maybe say something that it wasn’t arousal, but shock at the prince’s choice of words. But the prince shot you a look that silenced your rebuttal before it began. “I can smell it on you, pet. Don’t even try lying to my face. It won’t end well for you.” His words carried a threat that made your skin crawl with a chill. Even if his tone was light and teasing. Something in his gaze had your heart racing.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked. You wanted to know, so you could at least brace for whatever was about to happen to you. How many books have you read about similar scenarios? You had the hot, sexy men part ticked off. A strange, weird place in the Fae realm, checked. But this wasn’t a romance. You were just left to the mercy of a creature with scales. Given a hint at the power that could make you do anything the man in front of you wanted.

Your life very much was in danger right now.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” The prince said. Leaning back in his chair as he regarded you with a critical eye. Like he was appraising a piece of art. “But I’m sure you’re asking if I’m going to kill you. Eat your bones. Turn you into a…I don’t know. What do we Fae do to humans? It’s been centuries since I’ve talked to one. But you never forget the scent.” The prince breathed in deeply and released it slowly with a long sigh. When his eyes opened, his pupils were blown wide like he was intoxicated.

“Such a delicious fragrance. It used to drive me mad in my youth. The lust. The hunger. Oh, fuck, the sex…” The prince finally looked at you again. As if suddenly remembering you were there and had asked a question. “No, dear pet, I am not going to kill you. Some of my court might try. But I’ve already ordered them that you are to be untouched. Left only for me to squeeze.”

He flashed you a smile that made his already handsome face become even more beautiful. “Anyone that tries to force themselves on you will meet my wrath. You are welcome to wander the palace. I do suggest staying as far away from Maahes as possible. And don’t go into the gardens until-”

“If I may, Hez.” The sudden voice of Jackal made you jump as he appeared by your side. Seeming to appear out of thin air as he joined you at the table. Sitting to your right. “I suggest we keep her caged until the staff and court get used to the scent of her in the estate. Already there has been enough unrest that Maahes has had his fill of Fae blood. She will be safer in the dungeons until you solidify the order for her to remain untouched.”

The prince played with the fabric of his tunic as he thought over Jackal’s words. His eyes following the line of your neck to your shoulders and then to the material that smothered your breasts into a perfect soft mound. “You make a good point, Jackal. However…because it was your trap that brought her here, she is your responsibility.”

Jackal’s jaw twinged as he glanced at you. “Hez, I cannot afford to be distracted from my work. I cannot continuously check on her in the cells-”

“Then have her in your office until you ensure she won’t be touched down there.” The prince smiled. A sense of amusement flashing over his face as he winked at you. “Jackal will take fine care of you until I have time for you, pet. Stay close to him and do what he says.”

A sharp scent ripped through your nose and you winced as your mind latched onto the words the prince spoke. An order. An order given by a Fae prince laced with…magic.

“I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try and run from me.” Jackal said. Sighing heavily as he took a sausage from one of the plates and took a bite from it. “Come on then, Lily. Time to watch me do paperwork for hours on end.”

“Lily?” Hezirus asked as Jackal stood. You felt your body follow suit. But it wasn’t anything like the cold touch of shadows or the constricting power from Hezirus. You wanted to follow Jackal. You were told to do as he said, and damn well you will do it.

“It’s not her name.” Jackal assured the prince. “She’s as lovely as a lily. So, that’s what I’ll call her.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that suits her.” Hezirus said thoughtfully. Tilting his head as he looked you up and down again.

“Well, she’s your pet. You pick a name for her.” Then Jackal smiled viciously and tapped the tip of your nose. “Or are you going to introduce yourself?”

When your glare was the only reply they got, the two men laughed and Jackal clicked his tongue. You followed him like a puppy on a leash, up many staircases and through many corridors. Until you found yourself back in the room you started in. Where the basin had now been emptied of water but the room still smelled of the shampoo in your hair.

“Sit.” Jackal ordered. And your body slumped into a wooden chair by a large desk. One that was covered in many long pieces of parchment and piles of books. A few empty ink pots were put to the side. While a stack of new ones awaited to be used. “You might want to get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You looked around. Attempting to get comfortable in the wooden chair next to Jackal’s desk. Much unlike the plush, armchair-like seat he possessed, the wood was hard against your ass and the surface cold to the touch.

A few minutes passed as Jackal opened a few books and arranged them to stand in small holders to keep them open. He arranged paper out in front of him and then opened a thick, leather bound book by his left hand. You tapped your fingernails against the wood of the chair. Already insane from the quiet of the room.

“Can I have a book or something?” You asked. And Jackal scoffed a laugh.

“I doubt I have anything here that you can read. It’s all documents and spellbooks; all in languages you can’t read.” Jackal waited for you to argue. But when you didn’t give a rebuttal about knowing more languages than one, he left it to rest. “If you’d like to pass the time, you’re more than welcome to pass the time on me.” The smile was playful. Menacingly teasing as he smirked at you when your cheeks flushed pink.

“You’re not going to order me to do that?” You asked scornfully. And Jackal shrugged, plucking a quill from its seat in an ink pot and started writing.

“I could. Since Hezirus gave you the order to do whatever I say. Or I could force you to do it with my servants. But it’s not as much fun when the giver uses teeth and tries drawing blood every second.” At the word ‘servants’ the shadows from beneath the desks nearby came alive and crawled over the floor towards you. You pulled your dress away from the curious clawed hands and the room filled with whispered laughter as you gasped in horror.

Jackal tsked and the shadows scattered. Returning to being nothing more than dark spots under the desks. “Now hush, I have to concentrate.”

You must have dozed off somewhere after the third hour mark of sitting and doing nothing. The room was bitterly cold now and you shifted in your seat. Trying to find a comfortable position when a touch of fire brushed over your thigh.

You jerked awake. Startling when you came face to face with Jackal. Who had turned his chair towards you and was sitting almost directly between your legs. Both of his hands were coiled around your right thigh. Molding the cool skin with his fingers so gently that it almost tickled.

“Get your hands-”

“Shush, I’m thinking.” Jackal barked back. And the harshness of his voice froze you in place. Or was it the order to do as he says? You had no idea, but you knew that you were helpless in that chair as he squeezed your leg like he was kneading dough into shape. Scraping his palm along your skin through the velvety material of your dress. You had to lean back as he lifted your calf and draped your leg over his lap. You were left completely open to him in this position. But Jackal didn’t seem to notice.

He never went any higher than your upper thigh. His eyes were distant, staring at your chest but not actually paying attention to the shape of your cleavage. It was just the last place he looked before his thoughts trailed off.

You kept quiet. At least welcoming the warmth from Jackal’s lap and touch over your chilled skin.

Any longer here and you were going to freeze. You’d even welcome the harsh treatment of the hot bath just to warm you up. The dress was useless against the breeze that blew in from the open window. And the sun was beginning to go down.

Shit…have you already been here the entire day? No wonder your back was killing you.

Jackal startled you by humming and dropping your leg from his lap. Non-delicately letting your bare foot slap against the stone and you shuffled back onto the chair. He returned to his desk and started feverishly writing something down.

You stayed silent. Kicking your leg over the other to try and savor some of the tingling warmth from Jackal’s fingers. You hated how tenderly he had touched you. Because your core kind of enjoyed the attention.

The sky outside was pitch black and somewhere in the castle, you heard distant screams. It had started some hours ago and had long since lost its pitch. But the volume was still there. Telling you of the absolute agony that was ripping through someone.

“It’s no one you know.” Jackal assured you. Seeing your worried expression. “Maahes told me that there was a second human that jumped in the trap with you. And so far, I haven’t found them. Even if someone already claimed your friend, there would be traces of her. When a Fae consumes or fucks a human there’s…changes.”

That was at least comforting. But hearing such visceral cries turned your blood cold and nausea twisted in your stomach.

They were cut off rather quickly some hours after nightfall. And you weren’t sure if the silence following it was worse or better.

Jackal leaned back in his chair and stretched. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the toned body beneath the fine black tunic. But you tore your eyes away just as Jackal glanced at you.

“You’ve been rather quiet…Oh, right, I told you to shush. You can talk now. I don’t need to think for a bit.”

“I was going to say to get your hands off me.” You snapped. Suddenly finding an urge to speak now Jackal told you so. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“But you’re so soft and warm.” Jackal practically purred. His arms hanging over the back of his chair as he stared at you. And this time, he really stared at you. With an intensity that had you looking away and a fresh wave of heat flooding your center. And that little nibble of his bottom lip was an added unfair flare.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled.

“I’m sure you'll change your mind eventually.” Jackal chuckled. The molten copper turned sharp once more as he returned them to the desk full of freshly scrawled paper. “If you were literate I’d have you read these so I can rest my eyes. But you’re unfortunately not that useful.”

“I can read.” You hissed and Jackal rolled his eyes. Lowering his arms so they came to rest on the desk.

“Can you read dwarvish?” Jackal asked. Then he clicked his tongue when you huffed a curse at him and turned your head away again. “Like I said, illiterate. Shame…it would have been cute having you sit on my lap while you read this over.”

“Fuck off.”

Jackal laughed and sighed. The breath was heavy as it filled his lungs. “I better get you to your cell before I let your arousal do anymore to me. Get up, little flower. And stay close. Maahes is wandering the halls looking for a chance to drag you under him again. And Hezirus is busy ensuring the court doesn’t devour you through the night. So, I’m all you have keeping you alive until we get you to your cage.”

You stood before your mind could think of doing so. And then you were walking beside Jackal through the palace, a step behind him. “What is stopping Maahes from…getting in my..cage?” It sounded weird to say. And you dearly hoped it wasn’t going to be a cage in the middle of a room like the one you appeared in.

“Hezirus.” Jackal replied, as a matter of factly. “Our prince holds alot of power. And not even a Drake as powerful as Maahes can disobey his orders while in his own home. He’ll try to lure you to his bed chambers, or the floor, I’m sure. But as long as you keep saying ‘no’, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s all that is stopping him from…you know…”

“Words hold more power here than your world, sweet flower. And Hezirus has explicitly ordered your words are the rules to your body. So, be mindful when speaking to anyone here. It might save your life.”

You trailed alongside Jackal as he took you deeper into the palace. Down even more stairs and corridors, until he stopped outside of a steel door. You weren’t stupid. This was a dungeon, deep under the palace. You could smell bile and filth from the other locked rooms. And the air was cold and thick.

But there were no guards here. Only the flickering torches along the walls and the soft, pained whimpering of the other prisoners.

“I had your cell cleaned before I brought you down here.” Jackal said. As if his words made it all better as the door to the cell opened without him touching it. Revealing a cramped, dark room. A cot was pushed into the corner. Merely a wooden pallet with hay stuffed into the crevasses and a thin blanket covering the splintering wood.

The pillow looked thin and splotched with gray marks.

“I’m going to freeze down here.” You said. Pulling at the stretchy material of your outfit. “This is barely going to keep me warm.”

“That’s Hezirus’ problem, not mine.” Jackal replied.

Then a hard cold force slammed into you and you stumbled into the cell. The door creaked shut and you heard a lock click into place. You rushed to the door as Jackal opened the little slit, allowing you to see his copper eyes through the darkness.

“Whenever Hezirus remembers his pet is down here, I’m sure he’ll provide you with all the best luxuries your little human body needs.” Jackal said with a roll of his bright eyes. “I, however, do not have time to babysit you at every minute. So, you’ll sit down here, in the dark, like a good girl until things settle. My servants swarm this place, so you’re safe. Just don’t make too much noise. Or you’ll attract some unwanted attention. Get some sleep, little flower. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

You beat your fists against the door as the slit slid closed. Calling after Jackal in a colorful array of words and sentences. Some even got an impressed whistle out of the spy-master before you heard his boots disappear.

You retreated from the door when someone screamed from a nearby cell. The whispering laughter of shadows echoed through the darkness in response.

You went to the cot. The wood creaked under your weight as you curled up against the corner of the room. Gathering the thin blanket around you. Ignoring the itchiness from the hay and tried very hard not to think of bugs crawling in your hair or down along your arms.

You tried to stay awake. Something was moving beyond the cell door but it never came any closer. Someone would scream or start crying. Another would start begging. Only to be silenced by a harsh hiss that made your blood run cold.

You curled up tighter and closed your eyes. Hoping the sun would scatter the shadows when it rose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Continuation: Prince Hezirus: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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[mywritersmind]

DOOMED FOR ONE ANOTHER - LN4

summary : Forced to never forget. He loved her, she loved him. It seemed easy but the moment those words met the cool air, everything changed. They had the type of love that wasn’t in story books about romance, it was the type that was in horror stories.

listen up : crazy moody today ig. hope u like bc it’s actually interesting and deep for once. dual pov!!

word count : 2040

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time they met, he saw her sitting at the bar.

She was alone, in a cocktail dress with her legs crossed, sipping on a martini. There was a faux fur coat hanging over her chair. She wasn’t on her phone, or listening to music, she was just sitting with the world around her.

Lando Norris was well acquainted with the female species. He’s met pretty woman, he’s dated pretty women, he’s fucked pretty women.

She wasn’t just a pretty woman.

“I’m Lando.” She didn’t shake his hand, didn’t smile or giggle… she just nodded.

“I know who you are.” She brought the martini to her lips again and Lando felt his mouth open a bit, “Do you know who I am?”

He slipped into the seat next to her, “No. Should I?”

Then it happened, the corners of her perfectly lush lips tugged upward. “Nope.”

And thus started a beautiful friendship. Yes, I say friendship because neither of them expected to fall in love with each other. Even if everyone seemed to hope they would.

⋆༺

Her apartment was a mess like usual. I pushed open the door with two coffees in my hand, house keys, and the purse she made me bring all the way from Monaco to New York.

I managed to get to her room without stepping on any of her loose clothes, books, or instruments. She was lying on her bed, her head hanging off the side and her hands lazily strumming her guitar.

She was wearing a pink nightgown that scrunched up on her thighs, a faux fur coat, and headphones. Her head finally tilted back far enough to see me standing there, staring at her.

I used to worry about her a lot because of her reaction time and how she never realized I was staring. Yet I stopped thinking about it after it allowed me to watch her before we would hang out.

That sounds creepy, I know. But just like the first time I met her, I could get a read on her body language or emotions, I would look at her outfit and how much jewelry she would be wearing, I would just look at her for one quiet moment.

“Lan!” She screamed far too loud and stood up at lightning speed, hugging me. “My angel, you’re back!” She grabbed the coffee she knew was hers from my hands and spun around, hopping back onto her bed and sitting on her feet.

I pushed the clothes off her chair and sat on it, “Someone came up to me and asked if I was your friend today.”

I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee, “One day, we’re going to be walking around and people will swarm around you and ask who the idiot next to you is.”

She sighed, sipping her coffee, “And I’d tell them that if they’re true fans, they’d know who my best friend is.” She leaned back on her pillows and stuffed animals.

“Right!” I let out a laugh, “You would definitely say I'm some freak following you.”

Her eyes got serious for a second, “I’d never pretend to not know you, Lando.”

I shook my head, “How’s the writing coming along?”

“If you’ve come here just to bug me about my music, then I will kick you back onto the streets.” She’s a musician.

I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know her… but she had just put out her debut album and I had just officially become an F1 driver.

She claimed she wasn’t a fan of the sport, yet would text me non stop about ‘gossip’ she heard from her ‘credible’ sources. Her sources were F1 twitter.

She let me listen to her music, humming along to the songs without lyrics and singing without any instrument to the songs without background music.

I don’t remember when I fell in love with her. It wasn’t a specific time or place, I just sort of knew one day.

⋆༺

I always loved him in a suit.

I liked his hair and the way the curls just fit with something so neat and tailored to him. Lando looked bored, an expression I didn’t see on his face a lot when he was with me.

But that day and that banquet… it was so slow and I was so off my usual game. I had secrets and Lando could tell. I thought he was going to confront me about them when he brought me outside.

“Lan, there’s a speaker!” I whispered to him as he took my hand.

“When have you ever cared about shit like that? Come on.” His hand was cold, I remember that. I actually remember everything from that night.

We slipped out the back door and he started laughing. I didn’t know why, but I also didn’t ask a lot of questions.

The banquet was in a stuffy hall, but the back garden was beautiful and miles long. I laughed with him, hurrying down the steps as fast as I could in my heels.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “I couldn’t breathe in there.” He runs a hand through his curls, tilting his head back so his Adam's apple is more pronounced and his eyes are looking to the sky.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked because I was getting cold and could tell he needed a change of scenery.

That’s when I noticed a difference. The way he looked at me just then, it was like everything I had dreaded came true in one singular moment. “No.” He had said it quietly but I felt like he had a megaphone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Lando…” I said his full name that time because I wanted him to know that for once in my life, I was being serious. I was warning him.

“I love you.” He was breathless and I'll never forget the look on his face. It was almost as heartbreaking as the look he gave me five seconds later, when I didn’t respond.

I loved him, of course I had.

But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for a relationship or for him. I wasn’t ready for everything to change or for him to suddenly start kissing me instead of hugging.

I wasn’t ready to be loved.

“Please…” He was holding my hands now, “I can’t not love you. I know you love me too.” That made me feel nauseous.

How could he know?

I kept everything close to me and had never tried to kiss him, I never even joked about it!

“I can’t…” Is all I said before pulling my hands away.

His face turned sullen, his arms limp at his sides, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not!” I didn’t mean to say it as defensively as I did.

“Bullshit.” Lando never raised his voice at me, but he did then.

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings!” I stepped farther away, ignoring every instinct to get closer.

His eyes were piercing me, “Tell me you don’t then.”

I was shaking my head as he begged, “Tell me you don’t love me! Say it to my face.” I couldn’t say anything, and he knew me too well because of it. “Break my heart, then. Do it.”

“Lan…”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me!” He stepped closer, his hands going to my arms again, “Fucking break me or never talk to me again! I can’t pretend I don’t love you and I know you can’t stay friends with me when you know that I do.”

His voice broke and my tears started. Lando Norris knew every part of me. He watched my facial expressions, my body language. He watched me get dressed and he watched me break a million guys' hearts.

He watched me loudly do what I love but that was always music, and never him.

That’s why I had to walk away. It’s why I couldn’t admit loving him. It’s why I cut all contact, It’s why I hated myself. It’s why I pretended I didn’t know him, even though he haunted everything in my life.

⋆༺

I love my friends. But I think I'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

Carlos forced me to come to his girlfriend's party. Rebecca is nice and all but as I watch Franco get surrounded by models and Charles whispering in Alexandra’s ear, I’m seriously regretting saying yes.

I’m in a suit and zoning out with champagne in my hand, leaning against the bar as the noise around me gets louder.

“Lando!” I already know it’s Carlos, glancing back to see him hurrying over to me, “Lando!”

“What?” I ask, tired and wishing I was more drunk.

“Rebecca has a girl for you!” my immediate instinct is to run but he slaps his hand onto my shoulder and grips it tightly, “Hey! You’ll love her! She’s a musician and very pretty!”

I groan, “Carlos, no.”

“Mate, come on! You never date and I think you’ll actually love her!” He’s right. I don’t date. I have sex, I hook up, I have benefits but no friends. “It’ll be good for you.” And for a second, I believe him.

Maybe it would be good for me. It’s been over a year since my heart was ripped apart and stomped on by a type b, adhd, singer.

“Just meet her.” He says and I hesitate before shrugging, “Yes! Oh, here they come!”

I stand up straight and sip my champagne, hoping the alcohol will hit me fast. The moment I turn, The moment Rebecca smiles and starts to speak, I can’t breathe.

“Lando this is-” I don’t need to keep listening to know. She’s right there. In front of me.

The girl who ripped my heart out is right there, wearing the same shoes she stomped on it with. I’m not prepared for this, for her. Her face tells me she feels the same way but is far more calm than I am.

When she holds out her hand for me to shake, I feel sick. I shake it, not saying anything. She looks the same… but different.

Her hair is longer and her makeup is done differently. She’s wearing barely any jewelry but I can smell her perfume and I just know it’s the same one I got for her at some corner stone in brooklyn.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” She sounds strong. She sounds like she’s lying, but maybe that’s because she is.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” No one else would be able to tell, but after years of examining her, I don’t miss the way her mouth quirks. I say it because I would never pretend to not know her, no matter how hard it was to make eye contact with her today.

I know Carlos is horrified, “Norris!”

But I don’t care.

For once, I didn’t see her coming. I didn’t get to have that moment of peace where I could revel in her.

I avoided her, mostly. We never ran in the same circle… except for now, I guess… but I saw friends of friends posting about her concerts or new music. I saw her on Dominic Fikes album and I saw her kissing his cheek two days after that.

I heard the rumors and the second that one of the guys called her pretty, I clocked out.

I never saw her in person though. I would be paranoid every time I was at a music festival or even saw someone wearing close to the same faux fur jackets she adored. But I haven’t seen her for over a year, until now.

Rebecca looks uncomfortable and Carlos looks straight up scared. I’m lucky that they get pulled away but I'm unlucky that she gets closer to me. She used to tease me the same way she’s looking at me now.

I expect her to say something profound, maybe even an apology. But then I remember who she is. That Cheshire-like smile greets her lips again as her thick lashes blink, “I’ve always loved you in a suit.”

[eddith]

After watching the fan letter i kept thinking how one piece is a masterclass of showing how a story doesn't need to be driven by romantic love to explore the beautiful romanticism of relationships in a real and heartfelt way.

Fiction is so oversaturated with romance that relationships between characters are most often than not so superficial and goddamn repetitive, I swear if it were another author writing marineford I would 100% expect the the plot to revolve around the main character saving their romantic interest.

I feel like writters dont really give platonic bonds this type of love and attention, and I do believe a part of it revolves around a societal context to what we as a society considers beautiful, romantic and worthwhile telling a story about.

And also the epidemic of loliness, the lack of connection and the isolation are all factors to why we see romantic love stories being pushed this much, this attachment of the idea of romance that most people seems to have.

And this is why i dont like the narrative of “separating the artist from their art” because I think this it is such a poor way of analyzing art. You can’t create a story like one piece, who explores platonic bonds and prioritizes them again and again and intentionally puts them at the forefront of your story if you, the writer, don't view those bonds as something special and worthwhile writting about.

Because after being caught up with one piece I kept asking myself why did this story had such an impact on me? The backstories, the bonds, they all shock me to my core.

Me being a older sister who wasn't ever that close to my little sister and who always felt this disparaging loliness since i was a child, watching mariford hurted me in a way that no story ever could, I can't imagine the impact one piece would have on me if i watched this when i was younger.

And I believe it's all because of Oda's view on relationships, how he seems to have a deeper understanding of people and how they work.

One piece transforms the “ordinary” bonds that most of us have in our lifes into something so extraordinary.

This why I not only respect Oda as a writer, but also as a person.

A person who could so beautifully show us the true beauty of life, that is, the people around us who love and support us.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Omg congratulations on 700! 🎉 It is so so we’ll deserved. I must admit that I reread your work a lot because it is just so good and some of my favorites! 🥰

For the prompt, as always I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope, but I’d like to add another fun element so….

Blue + Lion + Hummingbird perhaps? 😈

Okay this one was a request by many, including my cutie pal @thirstydiglett and @truebluesanji and HOT DOG is it a good one!

Just One Bottle (+18)

Pairing: Sanji x Strawhat Fem!Reader

Prompt: Only One Bed x Aphrodisiac

WC: 2000 lol

Warnings: Open for interpretation on how the pals ended up ingesting the aphrodisiac, forced closeness, unprotected sex, p in v sex, morning after pill discussion, drug use, creampie, Sanji being a gentleman!

— — 

You strolled the aisles of the bookstore as you waited for Sanji to finish up his snail call outside. You ran your fingers across the labels gently as you passed by each shelf. You glanced towards the shop windows and saw that Sanji was outside giving some choice words to whoever was on the end of his transponder snail. The sun was setting and you found yourself captivated by the way the low light reflected off his blonde hair. He looked handsome. 

But he wasn’t your type. He was always fawning over you, even more obnoxiously so than for Nami and Robin. You never gave him half a thought in terms of a choice as a romantic partner, he was just a crew mate that you cared for deeply… as a friend. You turned down another aisle of bookshelves as you could clearly tell that Sanji wasn’t finishing his conversation any time soon. 

You found yourself stopped at the romance section and pulled a bright purple tome off the shelf. “Part Time Human, Full Time Lover…” You read the title to yourself before flipping it open. You find yourself reading a rather graphic passage describing an intimate encounter between the human protagonist and her well-endowed centaur lover. “Goodness…” You whisper to yourself as you find yourself flipping the page in interest. 

“Y/n!” You snap the book closed instinctively as you hear your name called. Sanji was rounding the corner of the aisle and came up to you. 

“Sanji! Hi!” You hurriedly put the book back on the shelf. “Any news?” 

“Well, the sun is going down fast and the moss head idiot got his group lost so we have to stay on the island for the night. We’re all too far apart to get back to the Sunny. We can find an inn around here and get some rooms.” Sanji explains to you. 

“Fine, hopefully somewhere with a restaurant. I’m starving.” You smile. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a night off from cooking?” You raise an eyebrow at the tall blonde. 

“I guess. Don’t expect the same quality of food that you’d get back on the ship. Shall we?” Sanji remarks as he gestures to the door of the bookstore, letting you go first. 

— —

After wandering the small village for awhile, the two of you find a small inn that had a tavern on the first floor. You ducked in, trying not to draw attention seeing as the two of you were highly wanted pirates. 

Sanji strode confidently to the front desk. 

“We require two rooms for the night. Money is no issue.” Sanji stoically demands of the innkeeper. 

“Sir I’m sorry… but we only have one room left tonight… I’d be happy to give you a discounted rate…” The mousey old man behind the counter said as his voice trembled. 

“This kind of dump has no vacancy? You’re telling me that this hole in the wall has only one room available-“

“We’ll take it.” You pushed past Sanji’s shoulder and placed your stack of Beri on the counter. 

The innkeeper’s eyes danced from your smile to Sanji’s scowl. 

“We’ll take it.” Sanji echoed, lowering his voice. 

“E-e-excellent news! I will issue you your keys now. Would the couple like one set or two?” The old man sputters out. 

“Two.” “One.”

You say two and Sanji replies with one. He clears his throat. 

“Two, please sir.” Sanji changes his response. 

The old man issues you two sets of keys and hands you your change after you pay for the room. 

“Please, enjoy our restaurant. You may find that sharing a room is not uncommon among couples at this hotel.” The innkeeper mentions. 

You look up at Sanji. 

“I am kind of hungry, Sanji. Shall we?” You question. 

“Can’t go to bed with any empty stomach, can we?” Sanji shrugs. 

Sanji put his hand on the small of your back and led you in the direction of the small restaurant. 

“Two of you?” The stout hostess asked and you nodded. She led you and Sanji to a candlelit table in the back of the pub. Of course, Sanji pulled your chair out for you. Once seated across from one another, you picked up the drink menu. 

“The room was so cheap… should we get the champagne?” You smirk over the menu across the table at Sanji. 

“Nami would kill us… what’s the label?” Sanji gestures to grab the drink menu from you and you hand it to him. His brows furrow. “I actually haven’t heard of this brand before… but it’s expensive… must be from the South Blue…” Sanji quirks a curled eyebrow up at you. “Should we?”

The sides of your mouth curl up. 

“Yes.” 

Sanji breaks into a grin as the waitress arrived at your table. 

“Anything I can get you two tonight?” The cute redheaded waitress asked you both. 

“We’ll start with a bottle of the champagne.” Sanji says to the waitress. “And for food… anything your recommend for a night on the town?” He says with a smirk. 

“Oh, I think our chef can do something for you.” The waitress says with a smile. 

“Perfect.” Sanji says as he snaps his menu closed and hands it to the waitress. 

— — 

The two of you had finished your bottle of champagne and dinner and were waiting around for the waitress to bring you your bill. 

“No no, it really was lovely. I just have never had a champagne like this…” Sanji says as the two of you discuss dinner. 

“The oysters were a nice touch, I thought.” You remark. 

“Mr BlackLeg sir thank you…” The waitress interrupts as he places a large stack of Beri on the tray containing your bill. 

“That was a nice tip you left…” You say as Sanji ushers you softly out of your seat, covering your back with his suit jacket. “Far more than most would.” You didn’t feel drunk, but you felt some strange warmth growing in your lower half. It started building when you drank that damned champagne. 

“It’s nothing for someone who used to work in hospitality. Their service is worth far more than the champagne.” Sanji says as he guides you to the stairs, leading you up to your room on the third floor. 

You reach your room and Sanji fumbles with the keys before getting the lock open. The door opens to reveal a small room with a queen size bed and an ensuite bathroom. 

“I-I can sleep on the floor.” Sanji says immediately. You turned and saw that his cheeks were bright pink. Was it from the alcohol?

“It’s fine, we’re adults. Let’s just get to bed.” You respond and begin stripping off your pants. You then unstrap your bra and take it off through the front of your shirt. Sanji hesitates for a second before stripping down to just his boxers. 

“I’ll take this side.” You said awkwardly as you slide into the bed. 

“Right. Goodnight then.” Sanji shuts off the lights and hops into bed on the side opposite you. 

“Yep. Night.” You curl up into your side, so that you wouldn’t encroach on your crew mates sleeping space. 

All you can hear is labored breathing. 

Was it your own?

Was it Sanji’s?

Something was off. You couldn’t sleep. 

Why was your pulse thrumming in your privates? Why was there slick gushing out of your slit to soak your underwear? Nothing even remotely sexual has happened tonight and yet your levels of arousal were off the charts. You tossed and turned for several minutes trying to ignore it, having the ache between your legs only grow more intense. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Sanji?” You whisper out into the darkness. 

“Gods, Y/N, tell me you feel like I do right now.” Sanji responds in between pants. 

“What the fuck happened to us?” You breath out to the dark ceiling above you. 

“Something in that drink…” Sanji breathes out. “It fucking hurts…” 

You peer over to your left and see Sanji grabbing at his crotch beneath the sheets. 

“They drugged us.” You pant out, right hand delving into your panties and rubbing at your clit, trying to get some relief from the burn this mysterious wine was causing you. 

“I-I don’t know how to say this, mon cherie… But what if we… helped each other…" Sanji said as he saw you pleasuring yourself beneath the bed covers. 

“Right… it’s just helping a friend…” You say softly as you touch your sex further, reaching your left hand out under the sheets to wrap around Sanji’s erect penis. 

“YES- I mean, yes-“ Sanji jerks at your touch. “It’s just relieving each other…”

“Okay… fine…” You relent. 

Sanji jumps up and positions himself above you in a nanosecond. You take this time to push your panties down and your t-shirt over your head.

“Spread your legs for me, my love…” Sanji whispers as he hovers over you. “Show me what you need…” 

“Sanji please, I need you inside of me.” You pleaded as you brought your hand down to spread your pussy lips. “Sanji why does it hurt?! Please help me!” You bucked your hips in his direction. You were desperate. 

“I’m gonna fix it, okay? I’m gonna stop it from hurting. Do you want that, y/n?” Sanji asked. 

“Yes! Please help me!” You cried out again as you saw Sanji pull himself fully from his boxers. 

Sanji dances the head of his dick across you clit as you whimpered. 

“I’ve got you, mon amour…” Sanji assures you as he leans down and pushes his cock into your trembling hole. 

“OH-!” The moan is ripped from your lungs as you feel the throbbing head of Sanji’s member push past your g-spot to fill you completely. “Fucking finally-“ You groan as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the fullness you’ve been craving in your bones finally being fulfilled. 

“More, more, more….” You chant as Sanji bucks his hips into yours with a fervent pace. Whatever aphrodisiac was in that wine had fully engulfed your brain and all you wanted was a thick cock inside of you stretching you out. The only thing you could focus on was the wet glide of Sanji’s heavy dick in and out of your hole. “Please, more!” You cried. 

“My love, I’ll give you everything you want…” Sanji’s eagerness to please came through as he pushed your thighs up towards your chest, allowing him further access to your favorite spot. “Need you to cum on me… please..” He begged. 

“M-More.. want more..." You whimper out. 

Sanji takes one of his hands from the crook of your knee and places it around your neck gently. He leans in and places a tender kiss on your lips. He moves his other hand to the top of your sex. Sanji slips two fingers inside of you next to his own cock, assuring you're full to the brim and your favorite spot is being stroked with every thrust.

"San-ji! So- Fuckin- Full!" You cried out in the throws of pleasure, finally feeling exactly what you wanted.

“I can’t do this much longer, mon cherie, so wet and so tight…” Sanji groans into your lips as he ruts into you like an animal. “Need you to cum…” 

“I’m…cumming… fuck!” You scrunch your eyes shut and scratch at Sanji’s naked back. 

“So perfect….” Sanji whimpers into your sweaty neck as he shoots his load into you. You stroked his neck all the way down to the base of his spine. 

“Aaah- Fuck- Ah!” You hear the cook grunt into your flesh as he digs his hips into yours further. 

“A-are you cumming again?” You ask with a heavy sigh, coming down from your own orgasm. 

“Sh-shiiiit….” Sanji groans. Tears prick at your eyes as overstimulation sets in. “M-my love…” 

You feel Sanji’s hips drive further into yours, impossibly deep. He was emptying yet another massive load in you in less than a few minutes, it was spilling filthily out of your hole around his cock. Sanji collapsed almost immediately on top of you without pulling out. 

Sanji wrapped his arms around your torso and settled in.

“You know you’re going to have to ask Chopper about a ‘morning after’ situation, right?” You muse as you stroke Sanji’s lower back. 

“I think the embarrassment is worth it.” Sanji smirks as he nuzzles into your breast. 

You smile and pull your love-cook close to fall asleep.

— —

Hope you ALL enjoyed!

xx

Mo 

[sxfterhearts]

keeho dating a shy bookworm headcannons, i feel like hed be so sweet <33

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ highschool!au - theatre kid!keeho x student librarian!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff fluff fluff (i miss writing soft fluff and just writing in general omfg)

♡ word count: 1,171 words

♡ author's note: im crying anon thank you so so much for sending this!! it's my first ever p1h request and it made me so happy :") i'm sorry it took so long (life has been crazy lately) but i really hope this meets your expectations <33333

//

omg this is kinda giving our beloved summer (if you havent watched it, its my fav kdrama ever!!)

ok this might be cliche but i <3 highschool!au so let's roll with it

yoon keeho as a theatre kid (are we surprised) who practices his lines everywhere around school, has friends in every single class and is always being his friendly, extroverted self

y/n as a diligent, reserved student who is also a student librarian - you're usually stacking shelves or scanning books at the library after school on most days

your relationship blossomed through shy glances and soft whispers - keeho used to take note of the days you were on duty and purposely stayed behind to get closer to you

you were in the same english class - and being a theatre nerd, he was quickly intrigued by your ability to not only analyse shakespeare to a tee but also recite the plays word for word, line by line, without missing a single beat

keeho felt his heart speed up whenever he saw you in class, losing yourself in your work. in his eyes, you were always beautiful, but with the sunlight shining through the windows, illuminating your concentrated expression as you muttered to yourself and scribbled in your notebook - he thought that was when you shone the brightest

in the early days of getting to know each other, keeho would disrupt your peaceful reading sessions behind the library reception desk with endless requests of book recommendations earning many shushes from the head librarian

"i really like romance novels... what's your favourite?" hah, very smooth, keeho

you were confused, at first, because why was yoon keeho of all people taking an interest in you?

but then as you got to know him better you realised you shared more in common than you thought. despite your seemingly opposite personality types, the two of you had similar tastes in books, and music, and food, the list goes on

"hey y/n, have you tried the new bakery across the road? they're doing an opening deal - iced americano and a croffle for really cheap. should we try it together tomorrow for breakfast? only if you want to, of course..."

"y/n, have you listened to the new sza album? what's your favourite track? i love all of them, it's so hard to pick..."

"y/n, y/n, do you remember the author i was telling you about last month? they're writing a new book in the series! we should read it together when it's out, i wanna hear your honest review!"

even as a child, you were quiet and mostly preferred to read a book or draw and colour quietly while others played outside. this was both a result of your personality and also a few friendship fallouts that made you more wary (kids can be so mean...)

fast forward to high school, you retreated further into your shell, only keeping a handful of close friends. you preferred to bury your nose in your books and lose yourself in the fictional world of your favourite characters

that is, until keeho came along

the boy was as warm and bright as a summer's day. he had a way about him that just made people feel at ease. perhaps it was because he was so comfortable with being himself, that it helped others open up too

you were no exception. initially you were unsure of what to make of his unexpected friendliness and kindness, but you quickly realised that he was just a genuinely nice person who wanted to get to know you better

and you had to admit - after one too many mornings sitting on the bench overlooking your school field together, munching on your breakfasts and sharing an earbud each, listening to the summer's latest tunes under the gentle morning sun - you wanted to know more about him too

you could feel your cold walls getting dissolved by the warm, toothy smiles he always wore around you, and his melodious laughter

a few weeks into your daily ritual (consisting of breakfast in the morning and doing homework or stacking shelves in the library after school together), keeho finally made the first move

one morning, the two of you were nearly done your with your breakfast croffles when all of a sudden, the cloudy sky turned ominous and lightning flashed before your eyes

before either of you could react, the skies opened up, unleashing heavy raindrops all around you

"quick, y/n!" keeho grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers with his. the two of you ran to the nearest school building, trudging past wet grass and muddy soil, staining your white school shoes

when you finally made it under the awnings, you both looked down at the state of your uniforms - mildly soaked, and burst out laughing at how ridiculous you looked

naturally, your gaze wandered towards your joined hands, and you slowly looked up, only to find keeho staring at you as if you were the only person in the world

you couldn't read his expression - there was a hidden intensity behind his eyes

he hastily unbuttoned and shrugged off his button-down shirt, leaving him in his white t-shirt, and promptly placed it around your shoulders to keep you warm

"keeho, you'll get cold, i - "

but he cut you off, "i can't help myself anymore, y/n..." it's now or never, he thought to himself

"huh? what do you mean, keeho? i don't - "

"i like you, y/n." he whispered softly, so soft that it nearly blended in with the sound of rain. he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting

"what?" you thought you misheard, cos there's no way...

"y/n, i... i like you!" keeho closed his eyes and repeated again, already blushing red, embarrassed

you had an inkling that he was interested in you, but you never allowed yourself to daydream for too long whenever keeho entered your thoughts, for fear that you would only disappoint yourself. but now that you knew his true feelings...

you inched forwards and stood on the balls of your feet. why is he so tall, you thought to yourself as you bravely planted a brief peck against his warm cheeks

keeho's eyes shot open in surprise. it was so quick, his brain failed to process it. "wait, did you just - "

you giggled, eyes crinkling up into the little crescents he adored, and held onto his wrists before leaning in once more

the first meeting of your rain-stained lips was clumsy, as most first kisses are, but the two of you made it up with an eagerness that mirrored your initial desires to learn more about each other

when you both ran out of air, you laughed against each other's lips, basking in the tenderness of a new relationship, blossoming like a flower bud after a bit of sunshine and rain

"so... will you be the juliet to my romeo?"

"they both die, keeho!"

"oh, true... but it's romantic, right?"

[dynazrll3]

The Look Of Love (ViktorXFem!Reader)

Chapter 2

this is my friend's idea (@cecilliaz272)

There might be some grammar + spelling mistakes

Leave a like after reading this, please:)

Chapter 1:

Viktor was in the lab, hunched over his desk before he heard footsteps. He assumed it was Jayce, but when he turned and started to discuss about the recent improvements of hextech, he saw you instead.

His words stopped for a moment before he spoke. "Oh, Y/N you're just in time...I want you to look at this hextech that Jayce and I made."

"Ooh, impressive... How's the progress?" You said, looking quite impressed with what Viktor and Jayce have created.

Viktor grabbed the notes, glancing through them for a second before speaking. "It is slow as expected..Jayce has some issues working with me, which is holding it back a little..."

He continued "He is always off to do something else and leaves me with it, which I assume he doesn't think I'm capable of handling it. I can handle twice the work he does. But unfortunately.. I have to wait around."

"Ah, that sounds promising, about our project... I'm almost finished and I'll leave the last touches to you." You said with a sigh of relief.

Viktor smiles to himself, impressed by your hard work. "Already? I expected it to take longer than that. Quite impressive... I'll start working on that as soon as you're finished."

You smiled softly, your eyes warm and reassuring as they met Viktor's. "No need to rush, Viktor." You said, your words gentle yet firm. "We still have plenty of time."

Viktor glances at you, observing you for a moment. "Hm.. you're right. I tend to lose myself in my work quite often." A faint, almost wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Jayce thinks I spend too much time working on inventions and not enough time on...other things."

"Well, he's not wrong."

Viktor let out a sigh and rubs his forehead. "Perhaps, but I'll still get the work done in the end of the day. So I don't see any issue with that."

Viktor picks up a few of his notes and begins to look through them again. You looked through his books then said "Mm.. that's a lot of books you got here."

"Yes...I'm a frequent reader. I tend to spend hours engrossed in the words sometimes." He said as he glances at his books. He picks up a black leather book, with golden symbols on the cover, flipping through the pages before pausing, staring at a page for a moment.

"Same here. Though...the books I read are more interesting." You said.

Viktor chuckles before looking up to you. "Oh really? And just what types of books do you usually read?"

You hesitated to give an answer. "Oh well... It's really unnecessary for me to tell you." Viktor raised an eyebrow, feeling intrigued. "Well, it might seem childish but...I do love a good old romance books.."

Viktor smirked slightly, amused by your answer. "Really? I didn't expect you to read such thing..And here I thought you were a mature intellectual reader with good taste."

You gasped a little. "I am!" You huffed. Viktor chuckles again by your reaction. " Calm down. I was only teasing.. There's nothing wrong with reading those types of books. Plus, you're already mature for your age."

You blushed. You couldn't believe it...Viktor? Teasing you? Gosh, is this a dream? "...I see."

Viktor notices your blush, which made him curious, amused by your reaction. He walks over to the other side of the table, a smirk still on his face, before he said; "That's a cute blush." His voice was smooth and soothing...

You shoved his face with a book. It took him by surprise so he stumbles, almost falling because of his poor leg. You noticed and immediately tried to catch him. There was a loud thud.

As you open your eyes..you saw that you have fallen on top of him. Both of you were close. A little too close. You could hear his heartbeat, and so can he. You both got lost in each others eyes before you asked "...Are you alright?"

Viktor was stunned. His heart was pounding in his ears from the sudden fall and his chest was rising with rapid breaths, feeling your body pressed against his. When you asked if he was alright he just stared up at you for a few seconds before talking, his voices suddenly much lower and softer than before. "I... I'm fine... a-are you?"

"Yes..." You immediately got off of him, embarrassed. "I apologise for my.. behaviour." Viktor watches you get off of him, missing the feeling of you body against his, before sitting up. He runs his hand through his messy brown hair.

His heart was still racing and he tried to calm himself down, but with the way you looked at him, it made it even faster.

"It's alright. No need to apologise. It was an accident.."

You gave him a hand, wanting to help him up. He grabs your hand as you help him up, a small blush appeared on his face. Luckily for him, it was barely noticeable. Once he got up, he didn't let go of your hands. He held onto them loosely, not wanting to let go.

He looked down at you. The height differences between you both made you look small in comparison, not that it was a bad thing though.

His hands felt...warm. "...Viktor, uhm...are you perhaps-" Jayce suddenly came in, and your words stopped.

Viktor quickly lets go of your hands, the moment disturbed by the sound of the door opening. His heart dropped as Jayce walked through, he was relieved and yet annoyed to see Jayce walking in at that exact moment.

"Ah... Jayce. Perfect timing as always." Viktor said, clearly saying it in a sarcastic way.

You looked away, with a slight blush on your cheeks. Meanwhile, Jayce was confused. Why did the atmosphere in the room changed all of a sudden? Did he do something wrong?

"Uhm..since Jayce is here, I should get going. Goodbye, Viktor." You said before you waved off and left

Viktor watches you leave, silently wishing you could have stayed a bit more. He let out a sigh as the door closed shut. He turned to Jayce with his arms crossed. "You have...bad timing."

Jayce looked at him with an even more confused expression. "WHAT DID I EVEN DO???"

***

It's been three days, and Viktor was standing right infront of your house. He couldn't believe he's here. Well, how did he get himself in this situation? This was because the lab was occupied by Heimerdinger and Jayce. So, Viktor had to do the finishing touches at your place.

He took a deep breath before knocking on your front door. You were in your room when you heard the knocking. You put down the book you were reading and got up from your bed. You were wearing a white tank-top with black leggings. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun. You headed towards the door to see who it was.

When you saw it was Viktor, you gasped and ran back to your room to find any decent clothes to wear. You even brushed your hair quickly to make it look more neat. It's been five minutes and Viktor was getting a little impatient, so he was about to knock again when you suddenly swing the door open. "Oh V-Viktor! What brings you here-?" You asks, your heart still beating like crazy from the rush.

Viktor looked up from his cane as the door opened. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you in the doorway, looking as beautiful as always. He tried to maintain his composure, leaning against his cane as he smiled at you.

"Ahh..you see, I had a small issue with Jayce and Professor Heimerdinger at the lab, so I was wondering if it would be alright to work here for the meantime?"

"Yes of course, no problem at all but uhm..." You hesitated. "It is quite messy." Viktor chuckled, a small grin appeared on his face. He tilted his head as you spoke, looking at you with curiousity. "It's alright. I won't be bothered by a small mess. I've stayed in much worse places before." He said, reassuring you.

And so, he came inside and saw that your house was simple, yet very beautiful. He was also surprised that you lived at a very decent yet rich house since you were from nobility.

He glances around the place, examining your home. A sense of wonder and curiousity in his eyes. He walks a bit further in before turning to look at you again. "You have a...lovely home. It's quite different from what I expected though."

"What does that mean?" You asked with curiousity. "Well, it's just.." Viktor paused for a second, thinking of the right words to use. "Judging by them..family you come from, I expected you to live in a more... extravagant place as you might say."

"Ah, well..I did live in my family's mansion. But after I became an adult, I decided to live my own life and settle in a simple place as it's just me.." Viktor nods as he listens, a look of understanding on his face, it makes sense that you would do such a thing. He glances at you again, a small smile forming on your face. " I can understand that. Everyone wants to be... independent after they reach a certain age. I know better than anyone about that."

There was an awkward silence so you asked, "Uhm..would you like some tea?"

"Yes, I would love some tea." Viktor lets out a small sigh of relief, his leg starting to hurt from standing for so long. So, he took a seat on the sofa behind him. You went to your kitchen and brewed some tea to serve.

***

Viktor took the cup of tea from you and nods in thanks before sipping some of it. The warmth of the tea made him feel a bit better. He sets the cup down on the coaster on the table infront of him, before leaning back on the sofa a little bit, looking at you.

You then went to take the machine that you both were working on and sets it on the table. "Here it is. Did I do well?" Viktor looks at the machine on the table, a proud look appeared in his eyes.

"Mm..you did brilliantly as usual. And all that was left is the modifications I have planned for." He began to examine every part of the machine carefully. Soon, Viktor started to work on the final touches. He worked diligently, his hands working precisely and quickly. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he fiddles with the parts, his mind focused solely on the work at hand.

You watched him as he worked. God..you just can't help yourself but to think of how handsome he looks...looking all serious and passionate. Your cheeks flushed red, warmth spreading across your face as you watched him.

Viktor's slender fingers gently touched the cold surface of the machine, his eyes darting across every detail, working thoroughly. His expression focused and determined, completely immersed in the work before him. The silence of the room was strangely calming. The only sound being the soft hum of the machine and the occasional rustle of the pages on Viktors notes. As he continued to work, he felt a pair of eyes that kept staring at him.

You made eye contact. Oh shit, he caught you. "...sorry...did I look weird?" Viktor looked up at you, noticing your nervous expression. He then chuckled faintly, a small smile on his face "No need to apologize... and no, you don't look weird. I was just a bit distracted, that's all" You gave a little nod as he continued working.

After finishing the final touches, he finally took a breath to relax. He sat back on the sofa, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the tension in his shoulders relaxing a bit. He let out a small sigh before opening his eyes and looking at you again. "There...finished at last."

He sets his notes down on the table and ran his fingers through his hair, which was now messed up from all the work he had been doing. He shifted his seat on the sofa, his leg was starting to hurt again, so he winced slightly. "Are you alright?" You asked.

Viktor looked up at you, trying to hide the slight pain he was in. He didn't want you to be worried. "Yes, I'm fine..my leg is just being annoying as always. I've spent too much time working on the machine and not enough time resting, that's all."

"...Do you even rest at all?" You asked, concerned.

He laughed a little, slightly taken off guard by your question, and he knew he couldn't lie to you. "You want the honest answer, or a lie to make you feel better?"

You huffed. "That just explains it. Rest is important too, Viktor." He chuckled at your reaction, amused by your concern. "I know it's important...I just get too immersed in my work. I often lose track of time, not to mention the lab isn't the most... comfortable place to relax in."

"...Why don't you stay here for awhile? It's not evening yet." Viktor was surprised by your offer. You too was surprised when you suddenly blurted it out. Viktor didn't expect you to suggest he should stay the night at your place, but the idea was certainly tempting. "Oh...Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble? I don't want to impose on your hospitality."

"Not at all." You had a warming smile on your lips. Viktor thought about it for a second, knowing that he didn't want to go back to his cold and empty apartment. Though..sleeping on your sofa is more comfortable than on his. He eventually nodded, accepting your invitation. "If you're sure, then I don't mind staying over."

Viktor laid on the sofa, the soft fabric of the cushions against his skin. He tossed and turned for a few minutes before finally relaxing and closing his eyes. It didn't take long for him to fall into a deep sleep, the exhaustion from working on the machine finally catching up to him. His normally brooding features looked soft and relaxed as he slept, the sharp lines of his face smoothed out and his messy hair fell over his forehead.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him. His sleeping appearance looks so... soft and peaceful. You giggled a little by how cute he was. Gosh...you wished that you could just leave kisses on his whole face. But.. you knew he would be weirded out, especially since you both aren't in a relationship. You sighed.

As Viktor continued to sleep, unaware that you were watching over him, he shifted a little in his sleep, rolling over and burying his face into the sofa cushions. His breathing was soft and steady. His body was completely relaxed as he slept through the night. You felt relieved though. You were glad that he is resting well now.

A few more hours had pass, and the sunlight slowly gives way to the soft dark of moonlight peeking through the windows. Viktor slowly opens his eyes, squinting a little. He groaned quietly as he sat up.

"Did you get a good sleep?" You asked, making Viktor turn to look at you. He rubs his eyes and yawns quietly before nodding in response to your question. "Yes...I did." He lets out another yawn before stretching his arms above his head, his muscles relaxing from the movement. Your eyes soften. "Be safe on your way home.."

He looks over at you, noticing the softness in your eyes. He stands up slowly, grabbing his cane from beside the sofa and walking over to you. "I will. And...thank you for letting me stay the night. It was more comfortable than the lab or my apartment.."

"Your welcome. Oh, and here." You gave him a container filled with some food. "I made it while you were asleep..Please do eat them at home." Viktor was little surprised as you give him the food. He smiles faintly, touched by your thoughtfulness. "Thank you... you didn't have to do that." He takes the food, holding it in one hand, before looking at you again. "I... guess I should get going now"

But as he was about to leave, you stopped him. "Wait! Viktor..." When he heard his name being called out, he stopped in his tracks. He turns around, tilting his head and looked at you curiously. "Yes?"

"Ahem..uhm, you know there's going to be a party, right..? Are you..going?" Viktor's expression hardens slightly at the mention of the party, he's never been good in social situations. He took a deep breath, mulling over the idea in his head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go. Parties weren't exactly his scene, but at the same time... "To be honest... I don't know if I'm going"

Your smile faded slightly. "Why not...?" Viktor leaned against his cane, sighing. "Parties aren't my...idea of a good time. I'm not a fan of large crowds and I'm not exactly the best at talking to people.." He said honestly. "Oh, I see.." You felt a pang of disappointment. You had been looking forward to seeing him there, imagining how his presence would brighten the atmosphere and make the event more enjoyable.

Viktor is silent for a moment, mulling over something in his brain. He glances at you, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Maybe he should just ask... what's the worst that can happen? "Although... if you're going... I wouldn't mind going with you." Eh..? Did you hear that right? "...Really?" Your expression immediately softened.

He nods slightly, a hint of blush on his cheeks. "Yes. Although.. I'd understand if you'd rather go with someone else... but I thought... we could go together, if you'd like to that is..."

As soon as you heard him say that, you wrapped your arms around his body, hugging him. "I would love to!"

Viktor was a bit taken off guard by your sudden embrace. He smiles faintly as he feels your arms wrapped around him. He hesitantly hugs you back, feeling a bit strange but also...warm and comfortable.

You realised what you did, and blushed. You immediately backed away. "Sorry-"

"No, don't apologise...it's alright." His voice was unusually gentle as he spoke. His heart was still racing after the brief moment of unexpected physical contact. He looked at you with a slight smile on his face, his blush still faintly visible on his cheeks.

"...see you later then?"

He nodded, still feeling the warmth of your embrace lingering on his body. He adjusted his cane in his grip, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Yes, I'll see you later...and I'll be looking forward to the party."

After Viktor left, leaving you alone, he was a blushing mess, and so were you. He walked out of your house in a slight daze, his mind still replaying the moment of you embracing him. His thoughts were a mess, both ecstatic that you agreed to go with him to the party, and nervous out of his mind at the thought of actually going to the party with you. Meanwhile, you were giggling and couldn't even sleep from too much happiness. You squealed and buried your face in your pillow.

Let's just say...you both were really looking forward to the party.

[palajae]

episode two. | park jay

PAIRING ▸ host!jay x reader

GENRE ▸ ouran high school host club!au, high school! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WC ▸ 4.2k

SUMMARY ▸ host park jay: the cool and calculated type. as the vice president and brain of the en-host club, jay is more than quick and entertaining. you’ll never get bored with all the things he does and says—if you ever get the chance to meet him.

AKA episode two of the kiss, kiss, fall in love! series

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of food?? toxic family issues (specifically daddy issues), not proofread

sorry for the wait but here is the second part! <3 also i swear i love jay and his father this was just for the plot okay don’t come for me 😭🙏

EPISODE 2. The Job of the Class Top Student! 

you get up, making sure to push the chair back with a loud screech so that everyone could hear. you feel the eyes boring holes into your back. if anyone looked closely, they would notice how your eyes flickered across the room. searching—checking. 

but no one was, most were still on the first page of the exam and had six more pages to go. 

you keep a straight and composed face as you walk up to the teacher’s desk, inaudible whispers and shocked stares going in one ear and out the other. 

after all, who finishes the midterm with 50 minutes left? 

you don’t falter, you don’t let your mask slip. however that rule is excused when it comes to one person. your eyes fall on his hunched over silhouette, smirking just the slightest as he flips to the last page of the exam. 

you and park jay. park jay and you. the class’s designated number one and two ranked students. who was which was yet to be confirmed. 

everyone wondered who would end up on top. there must’ve been a rivalry, a game, a secret enemies to lovers? 

to you, it was anything but that. 

it was an offense—being compared to park jay. sure, he was brilliant. you could at least admit that. 

but he was also a member of the en-host club. the vice president, at that. 

you shivered in disgust the first time you found out that he co-founded the club along with lee heeseung. you would expect no less of him, but jay, seriously? 

what would his father think? 

you had no time for trivial stuff like acting as a host and pleasing those who weren’t worthy of your company. 

he wasted hours every day, every week, at and for that club. 

you didn’t understand. 

why was jay pretending to be someone he wasn’t? 

every time someone would mention his name, you would snort and turn your head to the side. 

“that player? don’t count yourself special or lucky. he just wants attention from anyone he can get it from.” 

you vowed to beat him. how could you ever lose to the host, park jay? 

“how are you, mr. park?”

you bow gracefully, a practiced smile plastered on your face. 

you hated it—how jay was a splitting image of his father. you hated any and every reminder of him. 

and just like the two of you, your families were rivals. they had to have been, after all they both competed in the same industries and markets. 

it was only natural that jay’s father took a liking to you. the one who was as gifted as his son, if not better. 

the one who was diligent, compliant, and charismatic. you were the one raised properly. you didn’t make rash decisions that wasted your time and future. 

“good. i heard my son has been troubling you recently. in physics, was it?”

your smile tightens. “of course not, sir. i’m not sure if jay told you, but we recently received a group presentation. he got paired with the kang family’s son.”

when jay got put with the kid who barely paid attention in class, let alone showed up to class, you couldn’t hide your triumphant smile. 

he pats you on the back, “of course. you know i just say that as a joke.”

you pretend to laugh it off, bowing again before excusing yourself to the bathroom and taking your leave. 

when you reach the mirror, you stare at yourself. you looked aggravated, confused, lost. because you were. all because you knew what mr. park was implying. he thought the same as you—it’s why the two of you grew close.

were you really going to let mr. park’s son overtake you in a class? 

while you spent most of your time studying and working, his failure of a son who spent his time messing around had the same grades as you, if not better?

he was challenging you and your future. 

you despised park jay. 

gasps and whispers of awe fill the room. you stand near the back, face unreadable. 

chapter 9 test scores: 

park jay - 99 

y/l/n y/n - 96

…..

yujin nudges your shoulder with a concerned look. “are you okay? i know you spent four hours cramming for that test…”

you don’t say anything and stalk off. 

your room gets the brunt force of your emotions. you rip, crumple up, and trash your notes. your binders and notebooks go flying as you shove and fling them onto the ground with as much strength as you can. 

it was a mess. you were a mess.

how did he do better than you? you know for a fact he didn’t study as much as you did. he didn’t waste hours and hours reviewing the material and practicing. how did he do it?

there must be a reason, you resolve. something must be going on in that host club. 

you vow to figure the truth about jay. 

“what do you think he does there? seduce the girls into giving him answers?”

ningning laughs, “don’t be ridiculous.”

she pauses, “unless…?”

you huff, rolling your eyes. “i need to find out. this isn’t right.”

“you really don’t. you know you’re kinda—what’s the word? obsessed.”

“with jay,” she adds, “do you like him or something?”

you point a finger harshly, accusatorily, at ningning. 

“you know how i feel. my mother and father won’t be pleased. let’s not forget about his father.”

she only laughs, reaching out to put down your hand as you groan in frustration. 

“you sound like draco malfoy, you’re so funny. but go ahead with your plan, i’m not stopping you.”

you rub your temples in frustration. “am i about to make a mistake? is this a bad idea?”

ningning only shakes her head like a parent chiding their kid, “oh, y/n. you know you don’t ever have bad ideas or make mistakes.”

anyways, she was wrong. 

the moment you walked—more like burst—into the en-host club, all eyes were on you. 

you were used to it, but not like this. not like everyone was seeing a ghost. your eyes flit around the room, studying the infamous place. the host club was surprisingly spacious and intricate. you supposed it wasn’t that bad of an area. 

“y/n,” heeseung is the first to greet you and extend out his hand. you almost glare at it. 

“certainly did not expect to see you here. a pleasant surprise nonetheless,” he adds after flinching at your icy gaze. heeseung was the one to turn jay—disillusion him and make your life that much more difficult. 

“have the rumors finally piqued your curiosity? who exactly-“

you hold out a hand to cut him off, “save it. i’m only here to speak to jay.” 

saying his name out left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. more whispers break out and you grit your teeth. 

heeseung’s eyes widen as jake appears with a grin. great, now you were starting to attract even more attention. 

“so you finally succumbed, huh?”

your eyes narrow. 

“to what, exactly?”

“you know, for being one of the brightest students in our grade, you can be quite dense sometimes.”

“and for being one of the most popular students in our grade, you can be quite pitiful sometimes, did you know that?”

“y/n.”

you bite back your next words at the appearance of the person of your request. jay sends a look to the other hosts, and they leave you two alone reluctantly. 

“what do you want?”

at first, you don’t say anything. 

when you don’t respond, his gaze hardens. “did my father send you?”

you ignore him. “i’m here to observe the club. and you.” 

you hold eye contact until jay finally breaks it and sighs, “fine. i could care less.” 

to your surprise, jay doesn’t say anything else. and in your awkwardness, you realize you have no choice but to follow him around or stand there like a loser. and you were anything but a loser. 

you didn’t know how this whole club thing really worked, anyway. 

you check the clock. how long would this take? how much time of yours would be wasted?

you can’t believe it. the fact that you wasted two hours or that jay was busily working, you’re not sure. probably both. 

all he did was sit down at one of the tables with his laptop. no words were exchanged when you sat stiffly across from him. it’s still a bit uncomfortable, being in this place with no purpose or goal other than to spy on jay (not to forget the girls absolutely shellshocked at your presence in the club.) 

he typed quite fast, you note by the sound of the keys clicking harshly. jay looked focused, significantly more than when he took chemistry quizzes. 

you attempt to sneakily glance at his screen. eventually, you get a crick in your neck and you sigh. 

“what are you doing?”

“running the statistics for the club’s activities this week,” he responds curtly. 

after about an hour, you frown. where were all the girls? where was his cheesy flirting and hosting that they all supposedly did?

there’s no way he was actually just that busy working?  

you walk off without another word. 

“it doesn’t make any sense,” you furiously chew your salad, “i need to go back.”

“really?” ningning replies with an edge in her voice. 

you slam your fork down. “i-i mean, he stays there until five! that means he doesn’t arrive home for another thirty minutes and that reduces his study time to around five to six hours, considering dinner and washing up. then i have to take into account the fact that his bedtime must be around twelve since he has nonexistent eye bags—“

ningning stuffs a tomato into your mouth. 

“if this isn’t obsessed, i don’t know what is.”

you glare at her as you chew. “is not. being obsessed means you have to have interest in the person or subject.” 

ningning mutters something under her breath. 

somehow, your eyes fall on jay sitting with his host club friends. his arms are relaxed behind his head, as if he was purposely flaunting off to everyone in the room. you want to slap the tinted glasses he wore, you could barely see his eyes. you never knew what he was thinking. 

you curse jay internally. 

ningning gets up. “anyways, i’ll see you in calculus later.”

you come to your senses again, nodding at her. “let me know if you need any more help on the problem set.”

she grins, patting your head. 

“thanks, good luck getting his attention.” 

“whose?” you call out but she’s already gone, leaving you to ponder your own thoughts. 

the sound of silverware scraping the plates makes you cringe. besides that, there was complete silence in the dining hall. 

you knew what was coming. 

“i heard jay scored the highest on the last physics exam.” 

you look down. “yes, father.”

you were used to it. 

“how long did you prepare for it? i thought i raised you properly,” his cold voice never failed to put a shiver down your spine. 

“i’m sorry. i’ll do better next time…” you barely manage to get out. 

you pray he’s finished. 

“i heard he barely studied. spends all his time at that horrid club, yet he scored better. interesting.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up. “i’m going to finish my homework. i promise i’ll work harder, father.”

you leave the table with clenched fists. every freaking time. 

you want to punch the wall, scream and kick. it wasn’t fair. you gave your all to make your parents proud, and it was never enough. when would you be enough for them? 

you told yourself every time, that you weren’t affected. it didn’t matter.

yet it still hurt. 

you’re on autopilot the entire day at school. you’re in and out, brain fuzzy. indeed, those were the consequences of a sleepless, turning and tossing kind of night.

“-y/n?” 

you swear, it was so bad you could literally hear your parent’s disappointed voices in your ear. 

“y/n!”

you jolt up in your seat, accidentally knocking a pencil off your desk. your professor eyes you along with the rest of your classmates. along with jay. 

it wasn’t like you to zone out. 

“i’m sorry,” you stammer. “could you repeat the question?”

“i didn’t ask a question,” they raise an eyebrow, making you look down in embarrassment. 

“are you alright? do you need to go to the nurse?”

you decline and apologize hastily, straightening your posture and grabbing your pencil off the floor. your teacher resumes their lecture and you hate how you can still feel jay’s eyes linger on you. 

when class is dismissed, you’re packing up your last notes when you feel eyes on you, once again. it was just you two left in the room.

you already know who it is.

“that wasn’t like you.”

“i know. i don’t need your fake concern,” you spit out. 

his eyes widen as you stand up and shove past him. 

“hey-“

you stop in your tracks, turning around to face jay—the root of all your issues. 

“are you happy now? seeing me like this? you embarrassed me, you won. there’s no need to pretend you care when it’s obvious you don’t. can you even?” 

he isn’t able to get in a single word in as you stalk out. 

by the end of your last class, you hate to admit it, but you’re actually regretting your words. you constantly replay that last moment in class, when you actually saw an ounce of emotion on jay’s otherwise stoic face. when it actually seemed like he got hurt by your words. it couldn’t be, though. 

jay didn’t show his emotion. he didn’t care, unlike you. no matter how much his father compared the two of you, jay did what he wanted and he did it well. 

while you hated to see that you were the weak—the jealous one.  

you didn’t mean to take your anger out on him—you knew jay would never intentionally beat you. 

you would. you were the one who needed the validation, and therefore, you had to do your best. you had to be the best in order to beat jay. and yet, you find yourself in another moment of weakness. 

standing in front of the music room, you sigh. here you were once again. when you walk in, you head straight for heeseung.

he’s sitting rather comfortably, cozying up to two random students you’ve never seen before. 

when you clear your throat, heeseung sits up as his eyes widen at the sight of you. “y/n?” 

“i need to speak with jay,” you can’t seem to look him in the eyes. 

“again?” he smirks. 

you exhale slowly, trying your best to keep your cool. “please. it’s urgent.” 

and suddenly, you’re standing in front of him. your hands clasped together, eyes downcast. 

at first, no words are exchanged. you know jay—he won’t be the first to say anything. it takes a minute for you to collect your thoughts. to finally let it sink in that you were here, in this situation, in front of him. 

“i… i didnt mean what i said.” 

“earlier,” you quickly add.

you take a quick glance, only to see the same emotionless expression he always wore. 

“alright.”

you swallow. he stands there. 

jay proceeds to push his glasses further up his nosebridge , “if that’s all, then, i’m a bit busy.”

“r-right. yeah.” 

your eyes follow his back as he begins to walk off. 

“wait! wait.” 

he slows, but doesn’t turn around. 

you scrunch your face up, cringing. “can i-just like, stay? for a moment?”

jay being jay only shrugs. 

and for the second time, you find yourself sitting across from jay. again, he’s simply typing away on his computer. 

no flirting or messing around with the guests. 

your curious eyes wander around the giant room. if you weren’t in the position you were in, born into, maybe you would’ve come here. 

your eyes fall back on jay. maybe you would’ve requested him. his looks weren’t that bad, and when he wasn’t talking school-

you clap a hand over your mouth, horrified at the thought. jay looks at you from over his screen, but his fingers never stop moving. 

you shake your head, as if to physically remove the thought from your head. 

“so… uh, what are you doing?”

“club work. finances, promotion, sponsors. basically everything behind the scenes.”

your eyes squint, “then how are you the vice president?”

he sighs as if he’s used to the question, “beats me.”

“then, you’re not a host? every time i’ve been here, you haven’t done anything host-like.”

“the two times you’ve been here,” he corrects and you roll your eyes. 

“it’s because you’re here.”

“what?”

“you scare off my usual clients, so i cannot host,” he states as a matter of factly. 

your mouth forms a “o,” but you soon cock your head at him. 

“why would i scare off your clients, though?”

his cold eyes glint up at you. “i think that’s a question to ask yourself.”

you stifle a groan. 

“either way, i don’t have many requests since i’m usually busy keeping the club alive.”

you knew it wasn’t true. there were plenty of girls who whispered about him in the halls and glared at you. not that they would ever do anything—you knew they were rightfully scared of you. 

“you’re saying that you’re not popular then.”

“if that’s what you want to think, then sure.”

“and yet, i’m here.” you cough awkwardly. 

“but you are not here for the same reasons,” 

jay stops typing abruptly. he looks at you, and you start spluttering at his implication. 

“there is no way i would ever waste my time here to-for you-“

“yet you’re still sitting right in front of me,” he smirks, “you said what you had to say earlier, no?” 

curse him for being your one weakness. there was no one who could beat you in an argument except park jay. he was so infuriating. 

you slam your hands on the table, “yes. thank you so much for the reminder. but don’t you dare think i’ll go easy on you after today.”

you turn your nose up before leaving. you hated how he always got your heart rate up, palms sweaty and knees weak. jay always riled you up, it was just because of how infuriating he was.

that was the only reason, right?

ningning smoothly slides into the seat next to you, “i heard you went back to the host club?”

your eyes widen. 

“just admit it, you like jay. you realized all the feelings you felt about him were actually, in fact, for him. no need to be embarrassed, everyone else already knows,” she teases. 

you choke but attempt to cover it up with a small ahem, straightening your back. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. i only went there because of my curiosity. you know the saying: keep your friends close and enemies closer? yeah, i’m just sizing up my opponent.” 

she sighs, patting you on the head. 

“it’s alright to spend time with jay, you know. you and your families have known each other for a while. plus, you guys are literally the same person—just in different bodies.” 

although she didn’t mean it in that way, you begin to realize she’s right. 

you and jay are a lot more alike than you realize. same overbearing parents putting immense amounts of pressure on the two of you. if anything, you should have been friends—not enemies. 

who were you trying to protect yourself against? jay?

or your families who caused this whole mess in the first place? 

you suddenly get out of your chair, leaving ningning to stare at you. 

“where are you going? study hall isn’t over for another hour!”

“i…i have to go somewhere.” 

“and skip studying? what has possessed you, y/n?” she says incredulously. 

as you run off, you silently agree with her.

your feet lead the way, automatically taking you to the place you need to be without even realizing it. 

you open the doors rather harshly, stomping over to the familiar table. you already knew he would be here. he always was here if he wasn’t in class. 

jay sits there, and to your surprise, he’s strict and gazing out the large tinted glass windows. as you approach him, he pushes the bridge of his glasses up, looking at you with inquisitive eyes.

“how do you do it?”

he blinks at the question. 

“pardon?”

“how? how do you not care?” you almost demand him to answer, feeling all the pent up frustrations bubble up to the surface.  

“about your family, your duty, about everything!?”

you’re almost panting, glaring at him with glassy eyes. you needed to know. 

“it just doesn’t make sense. we’re in the same boat, yet you don’t care and you don’t seem affected. after everything that has happened, how can you feel so normal? how can you pretend like everything’s going to be okay?” your voice cracks.

to your surprise, jay sighs. he quietly gets up and looks up at you. clearly, like it’s the first time you’ve ever looked in his eyes. they draw you in, an endless void of darkness. 

you can finally feel the tension in the air. you finally notice that the two of you are alone. 

“if anything, i used to care more than you. i was worse off than you. it wasn’t always easy. it still isn’t.” 

you cross your arms. 

“you’re not lonely? stressed? is that why you decided to join the host club?” 

“i just decided to. i decided that i won’t let them dictate all parts my life. i chose to do this along with heeseung. he showed me a different world, a new path to life. not everything has to be for your own future benefit and success.” 

you look down. the sight of your own clenched fists surprises you. 

you know jay. you’ve known jay, for a long time. you’ve seen how he used to be. what an arrogant and selfish know-it-all he was. then, he changed. he became a host and suddenly, he was having fun with friends and doing everything he could for the club and them. 

but, you were in different positions. he fought back against his parents for his life, while you couldn’t even imagine coming close. why did you think you could come to him? 

“then… we’re not as similar as i thought we were. nevermind any of it.”

as you turn away, jay speaks up again. 

“you think you’re selfish. spoiled and special, perhaps.” 

you stop. 

“but you give tutoring to those who need it. and it’s not just for your reputation and the hours because you do it outside of school. you’re friends with ningning but she’s the second daughter, set to inherit nothing. you secretly give your packed lunch to the one person in our class who can’t always afford it.”

you quietly gasp. 

“i know. because you’re just like me.” 

you stand there, silently debating before walking out.

there were too many emotions. how did he know? how long has he known—noticed all those things about you? 

worst of all, it feels like you’ve reached a deeper level, a mutual understanding, in your relationship with park jay. 

whatever relationship you both even had. 

people are more than shocked to see the sight in front of them. this type of news—gossip—would reach the headmaster in a day or two. but those fan girls filled with jealousy would never do anything about it in fear of getting on your or jay’s bad side. 

park jay, helping y/n organize notes before class? 

y/n y/l/n, showing up to the host club on a weekly basis to sit with jay? 

and if your parents had anything to say, you turned the other way and pretended not to have heard. 

no one understood, like there was a silent understanding between just the two of you. 

jay scoots over, almost as if he was saving you the seat. almost like the seat was yours, it always had belonged to you. your heart warms at the thought. 

“our families are having another dinner.”

“i know. probably to discuss our futures, don’t you think?” 

you hum, passing him a honey citron drink and he gratefully accepts it without a word. for a minute you both enjoy the drinks in peace.

“maybe. probably. your mother was the one to invite us over, you tell me.” 

“i suspect to talk about the latest business affairs. then our grades.”

“oh goodness me,” you sigh and jay can’t help but genuinely smile. you liked the fact that you were one of the only people who could do that.  

“at least i’ll have you—or we’ll have each other,” he remarks rather normally, but the fidgeting of his hands with his pen tells you otherwise. 

you glance up at him, face warming slightly. he was right, though. it was a hard fact to get adjusted to. you did have someone else now. 

of all people, jay. he was the person you least expected, and yet… the only person you knew it could be. 

and maybe, you guys could heal together. you scoot your chair a bit closer to his, leaning to look at his screen. he doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

you knew you could and would heal together. 

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