#i decided there needed to be some happiness after all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

igbylicious · 2 days ago

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asdjksdjksdjk ISAK!!!!!! (ฅ́˘ฅ̀)

ahhhhh pls you already said it yourself but yeah, no explanation is owed <3 above all else, it just sucks that you've been doing bad, i hate that for you :// i hope this is a sign things are improving, and that it keeps getting easier for you to do fun things and do fandom stuff the way you want to again ♡♡♡

(and if that means that i now get to kick my feet and flap my hands over a 'proper' Isak reblog™, then that is just an amazing treat as a secondary side-effect for me askjdjkds (≧◡≦)♡ (fr, big big flappy hands <3<3))

(heck, i've been kinda stumbling around too; i totally get that sometimes life forces you to put things in the backseat :// manifesting a better 2025 for us both OR ELSE!! *squares off w/ the universe* (૭ˇò_ó)૭ )

ANYway! <3

San pretending to be tired of him too hdjnfhjs<3 sillie

San was just being a lil grump for having to fight down a boner when like half of their friends were right inside uwu ♡ Wooyoung remains forever and always the MVP of this trio (´꒳`)♡

Not them actually having a moving day bingo card pffff that’s amazing

hehe the trio is all abt using some silly life hacks to put a bit of fun in Big Stressful Happenings like moving! ♡

:’))))))))))

they've both come so far together :')

Mullet woo!!!!! thank you igby for this gift :’D

i had to do it asdkjsdjksdjk this haircut has a tender death-grip on my sanity <3 originally he was gonna dye his hair red again bc Halazia-Woo-my-beloved, but then the comeback happened and ugh the mullet is just so beautiful on him :') i'm consumed by the wistful yearning to twirl & play w/ his hair forever :')

oh m y god. fuck. that’s so hot. i’m glad Reader had a peek and was able to describe this very important scene.

lbr, totally worth the 'punishment' <3 esp since she got to watch them in the end anyway hehe :3

Reader is so cute here = u= just a little silly

reader being like [surprised pikachu.jpeg] when her usual tactics to butter up the dom don't get her what she wants :o

The “crescendo” of this first round was so fucking good, with Reader and Yunho watching woosan = u= San was the perfect amount of mean and rough. He smacked Woo’s cock into orgasm?? hello???? And Woo was beautifully wrecked. Such a little mess <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH <3 fr i'm always SO happy when you're happy w/ how Woo gets ruined!!! (°◡°♡)

DYING for the way they talk about Woo like he isn’t there. Vague objectification vibes, which is a sure 10/10 kink for me personally.

i feel you, ngl this type of talk might be one of my top favourite things abt writing moresomes (♡ ˙ ︶ ˙ ♡)

IGBY!!! Wooyoung all but sobbing underneath Yunho as he’s trying to fit inside him, the emphasis on how small he is in comparison, ho wrecked he is 😭it’s so good

again: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! <3 the two moments of Woo having his turn w/ San & then Yunho were def two highlights for me to write asdjkskdjsdjk SERIOUSLY I'M SO EXCITED YOU ENJOYED THOSE (also true story i often use 'is Wooyoung wrecked enough to suffice as an offering to Isak?' as a mental check-point to decide if i need to amp up a sub!woo scene more asdjksdjksdjk <3)

The brief YunSan praise and kiss were so lovely = u= i bet it’s so nice for San to have that bit of verbal approval from his “mentor” even though he’s a full fledged dom of his own now!

asdjksdjksdjk i'm super stoked you liked this & the lil San roasting moments!!! imo sometimes there just needs to be space for a bit of laughter during sex :'3 and yes San can handle the teasing, but he def still deserved some validation after all that ♡ plus, Yunho knows perfectly well that his protégé has a big ol' praise kink hehe (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

(besides, i couldn't not have a Yunsan moment! they're one of my favourite ships after all <3 (tho ironically i usually prefer my Yunho's in that ship as the biggest softest sweet pleasure doms lol))

Of course theyre watching spiderman ahahaaah <3

whiway yunho may be a hard dom in the sheets but still a total spidey nerd in the streets! (⁀ᗢ⁀)

welp time for me to get a lil a lot sappy ilu Isak and genuinely i hope nothing but good things come for you in the new year ♡ ik i'm kinda... distant within the fandom bc of my own messy stuff but pls know you're legit one of my very fave ppl here (which btw you also would've been if you never even read my stuff lol, i just love your sense of humour and the amazing vibes you & your blog bring to my dash <3 the fact that one day you came across whichever way and decided to give it a shot? yeah i consider myself real damn lucky for that one <3<3<3)

whichever way: crossed roads [yunwoosan x reader]

pairing: yunwoosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 15k

summary: Yunho never got to have the threesome he wanted with San and Wooyoung — but he sees no reason to complain, not when he gets to have a foursome with you instead.

note: this is a oneshot sequel to my series whichever way. imo it’s prob more fun w/ context & the start will be less confusing, but this fic is like 90% sex so if you’re just here for the smut then i’m sure you’ll still have a good time ♡(>ᴗ•)

warnings: OH BOY GET READY. foursome, dom Yunho & San, sub Wooyoung & reader, m x m, triple penetration (you have three holes for a reason), bigdick San but monstercock Yunho, voyeur reader, soft cnc play, body worship, hand kink, dirty talk, subspace, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hand-on-throat, choking, dumbification, objectification, praise & degradation kink, spanking, pussy slap, cock slap, fake sweet Yunho my beloved, reader wears a babydoll, tie as an improvised blindfold, partially clothed sex, blowjob / face fucking, cum play, footjob (reader receiving) (sorry not sorry), dacryphilia, thigh-fucking, cockwarming, vaginal/anal fingering/sex, cumshots, creampies, buttplug (for Woo), mention of fisting, lowkey marathon sex, no condom in sight, nicknames for reader (good/pretty girl, sweetheart, baby, pervert, cockslut, toy, cocksleeve), aftercare, off-screen kink negotiation

a/n: features a soft-bodied aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns & is in an established QPR w/ Woosan. she’s called ‘little’ but like cute/demeaning, not a reflection on physical size

a/n²: anyway this fic is for the readers who love their rightful place on the fujoshi throne, but also want to be worshipped in the center of attention like the royalty they are <3

“So uh… is having sex together still on the table?”

Wooyoung looks around him expectantly. The grin on his face is cheeky, but the question completely serious.

“Woo, really?” San pinches the bridge of his nose, his cheeks still flushed, but he’s slowly recovering from the the series of curve balls thrown past him in the past minute.

Meanwhile, you are struck by the most intense feeling of deja vu, a memory echoing through your head of that fated question Wooyoung once asked you:

“Did you like the view?”

…Well. You had just been staring at Yunho’s hands. You glance at him again, his handsome face and soft tousled hair, the easygoing confidence with which he holds himself — and you can’t deny that you also like this view very much indeed.

Yunho bursts out in a surprised laugh at Wooyoung’s question, hiding his mouth behind one of those distractingly large hands. “Hey now, you aren’t saying that out of pity, are you!”

“Pity?” Wooyoung snorts, offended at the suggestion. “Come on Yunho, you know me better than that.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right, I do,” Yunho hums, contemplative. His eyes, usually bright and alive with joy, are now pinned on you with dark interest, studying your reaction to all of this.

You shiver at his intense gaze, wondering if the hard glint in Yunho’s gaze is a glimpse of what he’s like as a dom.

You’ve asked San questions about his past with Yunho, of course, but never pressed beyond what he willingly shared. Instead you buried your curiosity; you always assumed you’d never experience them as a team in the bedroom anyway, so why torture yourself with impossible fantasies?

But that is where Wooyoung is different from you; the bold, wise, Wooyoung, who knows better than to make assumptions. Who knows you can always just ask.

(Fuck, you need to thank him later.)

Now all your dormant curiosity comes flooding to the surface, giving your vivid imagination free reign. You swallow and reflexively reach up to brush your hand over your throat, wondering what it’d feel like to have those long fingers there instead.

Yunho’s eyes follow the movement, burning heat into your skin. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek, so briefly you almost miss it, then he turns to San.

“Well, how about it, San-ah?” he says, a playful grin curling around his lips. “A reunion, for old time’s sake?”

San lets out a deep, slow sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. But it’s not a ‘no’; you recognise the look in his eyes for what it is. Fluster, yes — but his embarrassment is rapidly overwhelmed by something else entirely, sharp and smouldering. You’ve often seen that look on him before, for the first time right after Wooyoung asked you how you liked the view, so long ago by now.

Seems like San likes the view too.

“Fuck, you guys are unbelievable,” he breathes with a wry chuckle, biting his lip as he looks over you, Wooyoung and Yunho. “Yeah. Why the hell not? Let’s fucking do it.”

It just doesn’t seem right, but somehow life still goes on as normal after an earth-shaking conversation like that. So there you are the next afternoon, unpacking the last boxes from the move like it’s a perfectly ordinary day.

Wooyoung is already back to work at the flower store so it’s just you and San, filling up the half-empty bookcase. Each of you are going through a pile of games; you are sorting tabletop games, while San handles the console ones.

But while life might appear to go on like normal, there are definitely a few charged looks between you and San. Like you’re sizing each other up all over again, imagining all the ways he could wreck you with the help of his old partner-in-kink. A faint buzz of anticipation tingles across your skin, your mind constantly gliding away from the stack of cardgames that you’re supposed to organise.

Not much has been set in stone yet; you couldn’t exactly hash out all the dirty details on the spot, on a balcony with the door wide open and half your friends right inside. Instead Yunho promised he’d check his work calendar and text to set a date for a proper talk tomorrow, and that was the end of it for that day.

(The end of talking about it, at least. Your thoughts had still been going a thousand miles an hour, even into the night. You did have a relaxed morning with San and Wooyoung, quietly celebrating your first breakfast in the new apartment with a big spread of food, but now those thoughts are picking up speed again.)

“So. Yunho, huh?” you finally say, trying to sound casual as you speak the unspoken between you and San.

He snorts. “Yeah. Yunho. Gotta say, didn’t have that on my bingo card for our official moving in day.”

“And what a shame too,” you shake your head with a dramatic sigh. “You came so close to winning!” (But Wooyoung had taken the victory when ‘Seonghwa knocks over a pot of paint’ gave him a full column down the middle of his card.)

“Don’t remind me!” San pouts. “All I needed was you breaking a glass or a mug, I thought I had it for sure. You really let me down there.”

“Pff what? Sorry I guess??” you say, rolling your eyes, but then give him a cheeky little grin. “What are you gonna do, punish me for not being clumsy enough?”

San raises an interested eyebrow. “Could, yeah…” he says, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip in consideration. “Could even ask Yunho to lend me a hand, I suppose.”

A heat creeps up your neck. “A hand, huh?” you say, trying and failing to sound casual.

“Yeah, you like his hands, right?” he grins.

You let out an embarrassed groan. “Ugh, am I really that obvious?”

“Eh, to be fair, not many people who don’t likes Yunho’s hands,” San says, but his grin widens before you can rejoice too much. “But yes, yes you are. Totally obvious.”

You shoot him a heavy side-look. “Don’t get too cocky, mister ‘openly checked out my ass the day after he moved in next-door to me’!”

“What can I say, it’s a good ass!” he laughs, rosy blush colouring his cheeks. Still, San gives you a thoughtful once-over. “So, is that the kinda direction you’d like this to go in? Might be useful if we hash out some of that stuff among ourselves before we do any negotiation with Yunho.”

“Oh! Actually, about that…”

“Hm?” San encourages you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bite your lip. A thought had struck you yesterday, after you and the guys had gone back to work. A thought that hasn’t let go of you since then.

“Well, you trust Yunho, right? As a dominant?”

“Completely,” San says without hesitation. “Wouldn’t let him in the room with you and Wooyoung if I didn’t.”

“Then… are you okay with it if I sit the negotiation out? Leave things up to you guys?”

San frowns, a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You… don’t want a say in what’ll happen?” he says, looking at you so intently that a wave of self-consciousness washes over you.

“Yeah, kinda? It’s just— It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone but you and Wooyoung, and there’s something exciting about an unknown factor in the bedroom, you know? Not that I’m bored with you!” you add quickly, not wanting San to get the wrong idea. He can be a little sensitive, sometimes. “But… I just like the idea of not knowing Yunho. What kind of dom he is, what things he’s into, what he will do. Does that makes sense?”

Even now, you absent-mindedly rub your thighs together, feeling yourself get worked up at the thrill of the unknown. To have no idea how San and Yunho plan to break you down into bite-sized pieces for their enjoyment, or all the ways you’ll get to watch them do the same to Wooyoung, fucking the brat out of him until even the insatiable is sated.

“Hmm, yeah, makes sense,” San nods, looking you over thoughtfully. “So you want me to talk with Yunho for you then? …You trust me that much?”

There is a softness to his question, touched to have your safety and pleasure placed into his hands — but the flicker of heat behind his eyes does not go unnoticed either. Trust is important to San, more than anything else, and you can tell this does something to him on multiple levels, some of which have nothing to do with softness.

You give him a crooked grin. “Hey. Wouldn’t let you in the room with me if I didn’t.”

San rolls his eyes at your teasing, but his lips can’t help a happy, pleased grin. “Okay, yeah I’m in,” he says, anticipation deepening his voice as his gaze wanders over your body, your skin prickling wherever his eyes go. “I’ll ask Yunho if he’s alright with it too.”

Excitement flutters in your stomach at his intense look. Maybe these cardgames can wait a while longer before putting them away…

Just as you’re about to super subtly suggest to take a break, both of your phones suddenly buzz in quick succession. Must be Wooyoung, you think, sending you a selfie from work or something — but no, it’s not Wooyoung.

The text is from Yunho; he has added you, San and Wooyoung to a new groupchat so you can discuss a date together.

“Woah, he’s quick,” you say, taken aback by Yunho’s reliability on the follow-through. When he said he’d text tomorrow, you figured he meant that in the traditional ‘I fully intend to text tomorrow but I’ll probably forget and get back to you in like a week or so’-way.

“You know what? I’ll try calling him right now,” San says, getting up on his feet. “Ask him how he feels about surprising you.”

You bite your lip as San heads to the balcony to make his call; tempted to stop him so he can help you out with this unrelenting heat building up in your core. Damn, maybe the men in your life are a little too reliable on the follow-through.

Undoubtedly they’ll be one hell of a pair… and you’ll have no idea of their plans for you and Wooyoung.

Wooyoung whistles lowly when you step into his and San’s bedroom, and he looks you over with an admiring grin. “Very nice,” he says, drinking in every detail of your sheer lace babydoll in the dimmed light. “Knew I made the right choice.”

The lace, a see-through deep purple, leaves very little to the imagination. Thin straps hold up the negligee, the cups snugly hugging your breasts. Wooyoung lingers on the plunging neckline, his fingers twitching when he notices how your nipples show through the lace. Then his eyes trail further down, to the skirt that barely covers your upper thighs.

You do a little twirl just for show; and it lifts the hemline even higher, giving Wooyoung an unobstructed glimpse of the matching panties underneath.

Usually you don’t fuss too much with lingerie, but it is a special occasion. Wooyoung even picked it out himself. He casually admitted a curiosity for seeing you dolled up in something sexy, after which you obviously had no other choice but to drag him into a store for some shopping.

(He’d been unexpectedly serious about the task, with not a single pervy comment during the whole shopping trip. Instead he perused the store with his brow deeply furrowed, committed to finding something that’d suit you perfectly — and that he did.)

“Now I get why you didn’t let me take a peek in the changing room,” Wooyoung hums, eyes dark. He steps in closer to run his hands over your sides, getting a feel of the textured lace. “Looks even better on you than it did on the rack. Well… the store rack.” He licks his lips, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts.

Ah, there are the pervy comments. “Lech,” you snort in amusement, but still push his hands down. San had clearly instructed you and Wooyoung to wait, and you’re not about to get into trouble just because Wooyoung can’t keep his hands to himself.

“What? I’m just being appreciative,” Wooyoung says with a wide grin, his fingers now playing with the bottom edge of the babydoll. “Don’t get to see you like this every day.”

“Hm, this isn’t a bad view either,” you admit, eyeing Wooyoung. He’s temptation itself, every inch of him seducing you to defy San’s instructions yourself.

He’s wearing black leather pants, the pair he only hoists himself into when he’s extra keen to impress, combined with an ivory white mesh shirt, oversized and clinging attractively to his shoulders. Usually Wooyoung wears another shirt underneath the mesh, but now only his tan skin peeks through the loosely woven threads. He even got a fresh haircut today — you’d been sceptical when he said he wanted ‘a mullet, kinda’, but now? Now you feel strongly compelled to write his hairdresser a passionate thankyou-note.

You didn’t think it was possible for Wooyoung to reach even higher levels of allure, but the way the long black strands curl against his neck, enough length left on the bangs to fall into his eyes… You haven’t been able to stop touching his hair all day, much to Wooyoung’s poorly-faked chagrin.

(He definitely has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen, constant smiles bullying their way onto his lips whenever you ‘nagged’ him to play with his hair.)

“So you still don’t know what’s gonna happen today, huh?” Wooyoung asks, a dangerous spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Well,” you say, tapping your bottom lip as though deep in thought, “I do have this nagging suspicion we might be having sex. Just an educated guess.”

Wooyoung lets out a breathy chuckle. His fingertips skim over your plush thighs. “Yeah. Maybe.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, looking you up-and-down like you’re a tasty morsel for his consumption. “Or maybe they’ll only let you watch. Sit back while they have their way with me.”

He tugs you a little closer, his mesh shirt brushing up against your lacy bodice. Is he trying to rile you up, or himself?

Your stomach clenches at the thought of only being a spectator. “San wouldn’t be that mean to me, that’s more his style with you,” you argue, but there is a flicker of doubt in your mind. San knows damn well how much you get out of a little voyeurism, so it’s not an impossibility. Often it’d be a source of excitement — but today you’re definitely aching for a little attention yourself.

Wooyoung ignores your objections, too caught up in his little fantasy. “Apparently Yunho is a big boy,” he breathes in your ear, raising goosebumps on your skin, “big everywhere. Sannie says I might not be able to handle him. Want to watch me prove him wrong, see how Yunho stretches me open with that monster cock?”

He giggles at your soft whine, your back involuntarily arching into him.

“Yeah, you’d like that,” Wooyoung murmurs, and presses a firm kiss on your neck. “But it’d be mean to neglect you completely, wouldn’t it? Maybe we should have some fun now, just to be sure.”

Your breath catches as his hands slip under your babydoll, squeezing the back of your thick thighs. His fingers graze against the edge of your panties, perilously close to where heat has started to pool between your legs.

“Wooyoung, no,” you say, reluctantly pushing back against his chest. “S-San told us to wait for him and Yunho.”

“Yeah, so? We can do stuff while we wait.”

Your exasperated laugh comes out as a moan when he nips at your earlobe. “Pff, come on Woo, that’s not what he meant and you know it!”

You make a noise of surprise when Wooyoung suddenly falls down to his knees. “Did he really?” Wooyoung purrs, dangerously, staring up at you with hunger burning in his eyes. “How do you know this isn’t part of today’s plan?”

Wooyoung does not give you time to think about it, pressing his face against your stomach and moaning in adoration of your curves. He mouths at your skin through the chemise, sucking at a soft stomach fold before he gives it a cheeky bite. Wooyoung has never made a secret of how much he loves your body, loves all the places he can sink his teeth into; he made that perfectly clear ever since the first time he laid his hands on you.

“F-fuck, Wooyoung…” you gasp. “I-is it? Part of their plan?”

Wooyoung just hums, continuing to worship you through the lace fabric. Nudging you to spread your legs, his mouth slowly travelling down.

It’s when his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties that you snap back into reality. “Oh my god, it totally isn’t, right?” you laugh, tangling your fingers through his long hair to pull him away. “You’re just trying to get me into trouble, you pest!”

You playfully scold him, lightly smacking at his wandering hand.

Wooyoung pulls back reluctantly, not a trace of remorse in his wicked smile. “What can I say? Damned if I do, bored if I don’t,” he grins up at you. “But in my defence… it was part of the plan.”

He tilts his head to shoot a meaningful glance past you, at the bedroom door behind.

You turn around on reflex — and startle at the sight of San leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, with Yunho towering right behind him.

“See? Told you,” San says to Yunho, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Yunho cocks his head as he studies the scene in front of him, interest shining in his eyes. “Yeah, you did,” he says, his gaze settling on you.

Both of them are dressed smartly, to the point of intimidating; San wears a crisp black dress shirt and black trousers to match. The top buttons of his shirt are opened, and a simple silver chain hangs around his neck with a small, rectangular tag that rests neatly on his bare chest. He’s rolling up his sleeves, drawing attention to his muscular forearms.

Yunho is also in black, decked out in a full suit. His slacks and fitted jacket have a subtle pinstripe that make him look even taller than he already is, with a dark tie and waistcoat underneath. Thick silver rings glitter on Yunho’s long fingers as he rubs his chin, his eyes burning into you.

“In front of the bed, Wooyoung. On your knees,” San orders sharply. “You had your fun, now it’s our turn.”

Wooyoung shoots you one last, brash grin. He pinches your thigh before he does as instructed, eager to let the others have their ‘fun’.

But San saunters over to you first. He has one hand stuffed in his pocket, running two fingertips over his bottom lip as he circles you, inspecting you almost casually.

“Pretty,” he finally says, coming to a stop right in front of you to rub the sheer fabric between his fingers. San’s arm flexes as he moves, his black shirt wrapped snugly around his biceps — and there is something maddening about the knowledge he needed to have it custom fitted, his shoulders too wide for most off-the-shelf dress shirts.

“Be nice to Yunho, hm?” he says, not even looking at your face, more interested in the generous exposure of cleavage. “Don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you just because Wooyoung’s got my cock down his throat. Best behaviour.”

“I will, Sannie,” you hum, a warm flutter in your chest at the hidden reassurance of him watching you. “I’ll behave.”

San pecks your cheek and walks past you to sit down on the bed in front of Wooyoung, legs spread as he runs his hand through Wooyoung’s long hair. Excitement sparks through you at the thought of what they’re about to do — but you’re distracted from the thought when a big, warm hand comes to rest on the small of your back.

“Come,” Yunho rasps by your ear, giving you a little push towards the bed. “Let’s get to know each other a little more.”

You follow meekly, hypnotised by the heavy gravitational pull of his aura, intense and shrouded in mystery. Everything about him is unknown, except that San trusts him implicitly; which means that you do too.

The dark sheets rustle as Yunho tugs you onto the bed with him, guiding you into his lap as he sits up against the headboard.

You settle on Yunho’s thighs, your heart thumping a little louder at the close proximity. You’ve only ever seen Yunho in casual clothes; and he’s already devastating enough like that, a walking personification of the ‘sweet boy next door’-vibe — but the fitted suit hits different.

There’s a cocky, pleased smile on Yunho’s lips at your blatant ogling. He strokes your cheek, his large palm easily cupping your face. A budding fire sparks to life under his touch, fuelled by the skitter of excited nerves at his undivided attention.

Behind you, you hear the faint wet noises of Wooyoung presumably sucking San off; San is groaning lowly, mumbling filthy encouragements to Wooyoung that you can’t quite make out. It’s more than a little distracting, your gaze threatening to drift towards them — until Yunho clasps your chin and guides you back, not as gentle as he could have been.

“Eyes on me,” Yunho warns, raising an eyebrow. He slowly rubs your leg, causing the skirt of your babydoll to bunch at your hips. “You can do that for me, can you?” His thumb digs into your inner thigh. “San told me you’re his good girl. That you listen well.”

You bite your lip at his intense gaze. The sounds behind you fade away into background noise, completely overpowered by the loudness of his thumb grazing against the lace of your panties. Your brain feels a little frazzled already.

“S-San treats me right,” you say, like you owe Yunho some kind of explanation.

Dark eyes pierce into you. “Oh? What if I don’t want to treat you right, though?” Yunho muses, reaching for your neck. “What if I want to tease you until you can’t take it anymore, and then a little more, just because I think you’ll look cute when you squirm and cry?” Ringed fingers drag over the delicate skin of your throat, like he’s testing the fit of his hand. “Would you still be good for me?”

Heat pulses through your blood, focused on where his hand rests. Your lips part to answer him, but all that comes out is a small whimper, your hips shifting in his lap through no choice of your own.

Yunho’s smile widens.

In the past, you’ve caught glimpses of something darker behind Yunho’s golden retriever brightness; but the sweet pup has now disappeared completely, leaving you face-to-face with a shadowed predator, hunger in his eyes. Ready to sink his claws into you.

“You don’t know?” he asks, tilting his head, a taunt hidden in the question. “Hm, you’re a little slow, aren’t you? Guess I’ll have to find out for myself. Let’s see if you can follow one simple instruction.”

“O-one?” You jolt when the nail of Yunho’s thumb scrapes over your panties, dangerously close to your clit.

“Just one,” Yunho hums. “San told me you like to watch him fuck Wooyoung and, well… clearly that’s true. But you’re all mine for now, and I want your full attention. You’re not allowed to look until my say-so, understand? I think you owe me that, for getting to play with them before I did.”

A flash of distress shoots through you at the thought of severing that visual line of connection with San, your trusted, familiar dominant. “But— But San—”

“I’m right here, baby,” San interrupts, his voice coming from right behind you, breath laboured. His hand brushes over the small of your back. “I’ll be here, the entire time. Told you I’d be keeping an eye out, didn’t I? Do as Yunho says.”

San’s firm tone wipes your mind blank, his order flooding through you with tingling warmth. Any illusion of control is gently taken from your hands; you are not in charge here.

“I won’t, promise,” you say, breathless already as your eyes catch Yunho’s, gleaming in dark approval. A pleasant floatiness starts to fill your head like cotton candy. “I won’t look.”

Yunho squeezes your thigh, taking in your show of submission like he’s searching for something. Whatever it is that he needs, Yunho seems to find it in the hazy smile spread across your face.

“Yeah. I’m going to kiss you now,” he says quietly, matter-of-fact; already knowing you will let him.

Despite his warning, your breath still hitches in surprise when Yunho leans forward and — instead of kissing your lips like you expected — his hot mouth presses against your neck. He cradles the back of your head, tongue darting out to taste your quickening pulse.

You whine and instinctively roll your hips into his lap, gasping a quiet “oh fuck” when you press against a sizeable bulge through Yunho’s slacks. The outline only gives you a suggestion of scale, but that is more than enough already; Wooyoung was not messing with you when he called Yunho a ‘big boy’.

Yunho huffs a laugh against your neck as you rock into him. “Needy girl,” he chides, but his hand on your thigh slides back to your ass, encouraging you to move as you please.

And what pleases you is urgency, swirling your hips in rapidly growing desperation. You moan against his mouth when Yunho’s lips finally meet yours in a series of hard, messy kisses, only spurring you on more. His cock twitches against your clothed cunt, and you’re struck with the daunting realisation that he’s not even fucking hard yet.

Behind you, Wooyoung whimpers loudly again, piercing through the fog — but this time you don’t turn around, kissing Yunho harder instead, sucking his tongue into your mouth. You grind into his lap with single-minded need, chasing sharp sparks of pleasure as Yunho matches your frantic rhythm.

Slowly, slick leaks through your panties and dirties his fancy slacks. All inhibitions gone, you push his jacket off his shoulders. Yunho temporarily breaks his hold on you to throw it aside, ignoring how the jacket lands on the floor. You fumble with his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, but eventually manage to reveal a smooth expanse of skin for you to run your hands over. Yunho groans at the touch, his head falling back.

Somewhere in a far distance you can still hear Wooyoung, his moans mingled with dirty wet squelches set in a fast, ruthless pace. You can’t help but respond to his whiny moans with your own, like a desperate call-and-answer between you, but you still don’t look away from Yunho.

“San was right,” Yunho says, eyes lidded as he smiles lazily at your resolve to obey his rule. “You are a good girl after all. So well-behaved for me, aren’t you?”

He delights at how you cry out when he grabs your waist, forcing you to stay in place. “Y-yeah, for you, only you…” you gasp, slumping in surrender of his strong grip.

“Then tell me,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your face, “which hole do you want my fingers to stretch out first?”

Something short-circuits in your brain at the word ‘first’. You whimper as Yunho nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it with his teeth. The decision comes easily, driven by a desperate need for release. “Pussy, please Yunho, need you inside me…”

Yunho’s dark smile widens.

“Good,” he rasps, and boldly cups your clothed mound, “I’ve always wondered what’s so special about this pussy. Just one look at that needy hole and those two couldn’t stay away from you, could they? Always coming back for more until they couldn’t let go of you at all.”

He absent-mindedly toys with your sodden panties through his musings, rubbing his fingertips over your covered slit. You whine and arch your back, shuddering at the indirect contact.

“So sensitive,” Yunho grins. “This’ll be fun.” Finally he pulls the lace aside, and plunges his middle finger right in your drenched cunt.

Immediately Yunho sets a hard pace. He alternates between hard thrusts and delicious curls of his finger, quickly sliding in a second. The stretch has you keening; already you feel the difference between Yunho’s fingers with his thick rings compared to San or Wooyoung’s, hitting deeper inside your twitching cunt.

Yunho keeps your chin tilted up to ply your lips with languid kisses, intense and breathtaking; and a dizzying contrast with the ruthless slam of his wrist. You match his thrusts with shameless abandon, your loud moans almost enough to drown out the wet smacking sounds coming from San and Wooyoung behind you.

Your voice cracks on a strangled cry at a press of Yunho’s fingers against your g-spot, and he giggles at the discovery. “Yeah? That feels good right there?” he asks, his voice sweetly mocking as he hones in on the bundle of nerves. “Fuck, I was right; you do look cute when you squirm. Give me a little more, you can take it. Let’s get you nice and loose for me.”

Dizzy on the burn, you pant slack-jawed against Yunho’s mouth when he adds a third finger, your throbbing walls straining against the intrusion. Your toes curl with every brush of his thumb against your clit, warmth spreading through your body as the overwhelming barrage of sensations crashes over you. Your moans go up in pitch, thighs shaking — until suddenly Yunho’s fingers slow down, shifting away from that perfect angle.

“Poor thing, were you close?” Yunho coos when you sob at the receding high. Gently he strokes your hair, like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you. “So clumsy of me, not letting you cum. Here, let me make it up to you, hm? Yeah, that’s it.”

You arch into him with a needy whine when his free hand palms your breast, squeezing harshly. Yunho bends down to suck your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the lace-covered bud. The textured fabric adds to the intensity of his attention, scraping over your skin as he sucks and bites at your tit, drenching the lace with his spittle.

He starts moving his fingers again, curling them in the exact way that had you trembling earlier, and this time he does not stop. You clutch onto his shoulders for dear life, whimpering helplessly as the sharp sparks of overstimulation set in. Your body is hypersensitive from the denial and Yunho gave you no time to come down from it, ruthlessly pushing you towards your limit.

“Too much,” you whine when a fourth finger prods at your entrance, its burn setting you aflame. “Fuck, Y-Yunho, I’m—hmn!— ‘s t-too much, ah ah ahh—”

Yunho releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet ‘pop’, looking up at you with dark, glimmering eyes. “Don’t give me that,” he chastises. “It’s not. Because when I asked San if you could handle this, he said you can. And we both know that he knows your body better than you do.” Yunho’s voice is low with a hardened edge. “So no. It’s not ‘too much’. Just be good and take one more.”

San. San said you can take it. Your brain is like mush, a dazed fog clouding your thoughts. You take it. Not your place to think about these things. It’s not too much. San said so.

You sink freely into the needling blend of pain and pleasure, surrendering yourself to it as you fuck yourself open on four of Yunho’s fingers. San was right; it’s not long before the pain fades, and the only burn left is that of pure bliss.

(There is rustling behind you, the bed sinking under added weight. San growls something inaudible, Wooyoung mewls wretchedly in response. You want to look. You don’t look.)

“See?” Yunho chuckles as you pant against his shoulder, shamelessly humping his hand. “You don’t know the first thing about what you need. Drooling on my shirt while that pretty pussy drools on my fingers. So fucking wet, what a desperate cunt you have. Fucking filthy.”

Your hips jerk when his thumb finds your clit again. The haze of pleasure coils into a tight wire, thrumming through your body. Your pace grows sloppier, erratic, but Yunho is right there, picking up the slack. His free hand kneads the nape of your neck while the other slams into you with rough snaps of his wrist. White-hot pleasure bursts in your core, flooding your system as you cry out hoarsely, your fingers clamping onto Yunho’s jacket as you clench around him with stuttered thrusts, tears brimming on your lashes.

Slowly you ride out the staggering waves, whining pitifully with every aftershock. You slump against Yunho’s chest, breathless and spent, but still moaning in dissatisfaction when his fingers slide out your cunt, stretched open beyond what you thought you could take.

Your head spins as you gasp for air — and though you and Yunho have stopped moving, the bed still creaks underneath you, with familiar whiny moans filling the bedroom. You don’t even think about it, can’t think, when you peek back over your shoulder.

Vision blurred from unshed tears, you just barely make out the forms of San and Wooyoung.

San is still mostly clothed, only his trousers undone and shirt halfway open, while Wooyoung is stark naked in contrast. San is hunched over him, grunting as he finger-fucks him hard, his free hand pinning Wooyoung’s thigh to hold him down as he jerks and cries out at the punishing pace.

He’s completely lost in the throes of pleasure, head thrown back and spine arching, his unpinned leg kicking out and spasming. His cock is hard and leaking on his stomach, his hand harshly smacked away when he reaches down for relief. San revels in his whines with a toothy grin… a grin that widens when he glances over and sees you looking at him.

“Oh baby, no.”

Your memory jolts back to life with a shock, eyes widening, but it’s too late.

A hand closes around your throat, silver rings digging into your skin, and you gasp as Yunho forces you to look at him. You whimper, fully expecting to see fury in his eyes — and are thrown completely off balance when Yunho is pouting cutely instead, an unnerving contrast to his rough hold on you.

“And you were doing so well,” he sighs. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you? What a little pervert you are, you really love watching them that much. What about me, hm?”

“I-I—” You stammer, blood rushing down your core you as his thumb slowly presses down on the side of your neck. “Yunho, ‘m so—”

Your breath goes wheezy at the pressure, all while Yunho stares you down with those big, beautiful eyes. His pout fades away, leaving nothing but cool disappointment. “I get jealous, you know,” he murmurs, leaning in to nose at your cheek, lips brushing against your jaw. “Don’t wanna share just yet. What’s a guy gotta do to keep your attention?”

You suck in a tight breath when Yunho smacks his other hand against your ass, and then again, warming the skin. You whine at every impact, reflexively arching into it. Needing more.

“Ah, so that gets your attention,” Yunho says, his eyebrows raising with interest. “You know what I think?” His fingers tighten around your neck ever so slightly. You feel dizzy, drowning in heat. “I think San has been too soft on you. A spoiled little cockslut like you gets to do whatever she wants around him, don’t you?”

You weakly shake your head ‘no’; a bald-faced lie. San is soft like whipped cream when it comes to you.

Predictably, Yunho doesn’t buy it for a second. His palm connects with your ass again, a little harder this time. “No? You really expect me to believe that?” Yunho scoffs. “I bet all it takes is one needy look from those pretty eyes and he’s right down on his knees for you.”

Wooyoung’s whines are suddenly replaced by a loud cackle of his laughter — but a smacking sound rings through the bedroom and he yelps sharply, giggling apologies to San.

San mumbles out a sulky, “Seriously, Yunho?” and you can’t help but choke out a giggle of your own. Even Yunho’s mask breaks for a split second, his cheeks lifting as he bites down a laugh.

The intense, heated atmosphere lifts for just a moment as Yunho’s grip on your throat relaxes. But the respite does not last long, his bright smile morphing into cool, mocking amusement as he looks you over.

“But I can’t let this slide,” Yunho says, smoothly putting things back on track. “You had one simple rule to follow, and you couldn’t even do that? What, did I fuck the sense out of you with just my fingers?”

You cry out when he slaps your cunt, taking a beat too long to respond for his liking.

“Well?”

“J-just felt too good, please please, Yunnie…” You weakly grasp at his rumpled shirt, fiddling with the few remaining buttons. “Didn’t mean to break the rule, I swear,” you babble, “made me feel so good, filling me up like that, I couldn’t think…”

They’re exactly the kind of pleas that would appeal to the soft gooey center hidden underneath San’s hard dominant exterior — but Yunho is unimpressed, raising an eyebrow as he watches you clumsily undo the rest of his shirt. “Couldn’t help yourself from being a dirty voyeur, is that it?”

“Y-yeah,” you pout at him. “Didn’t mean to, Yunho, please…”

He tsks. “So it’s that easy to fuck you dumb, huh? Came just once and already your head is wiped clean. Fine, if you can’t follow orders on your own,” He slides his dishevelled tie from his neck with a sharp snap of fabric, “then I’ll have to make you.”

You moan weakly when Yunho covers your eyes with his tie as an improvised blindfold, the world going dark. Your heart beats in your throat at the absence of one of your senses, while the others intensify; the heady smell of sex in the bedroom, Yunho’s arms brushing against the sides of your head. (San’s grunts, Wooyoung sobbing out his name in growing desperation. Just from the sound, you can tell he is close.)

“It’s not too tight?” Yunho checks in after he ties the knot, giving the nape of your neck an unexpectedly gentle squeeze.

You shake your head. “No, no it’s good.”

“Good,” Yunho echoes lowly. “Take your panties off.”

Seated on your knees in Yunho’s lap, with no sight to guide you, you’re forced into an awkward shuffle to slip out of the ruined lace. Yunho doesn’t lift a hand to help you — but eventually you manage to discard the panties and settle back into Yunho’s lap. You can only imagine how your cunt must be making a mess of his slacks, slick leaking into his crotch.

Your breath hitches in surprise when Yunho’s hands suddenly run up your sides, dragging along the sheer fabric of your babydoll. He makes a noise of approval when you raise your arms without a verbal prompt, and he takes off the lingerie while careful to keep the improvised blindfold in place.

Yunho’s tie is now the only scrap of fabric on you. You shudder when his hands run over bare skin, feeling exposed, unable to see his face as he takes in your nude form for the first time. But insecurity gets no chance to grab hold, not when his exploration of your body is eager and impassioned. He maps out your shape with rough squeezes, fingers digging into soft flesh, like his eyes alone can’t fully appreciate the sight of you.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groans, and you jolt at an unexpected open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. He huffs a laugh at your surprise, raising goosebumps as his hot breath falls against the wet patch he sucked into your skin. “Now, let’s see if this next instruction is easier for you to follow. Touch my cock. Show me you’re a good girl after all.”

You obey with almost embarrassing swiftness, blindly seeking out the bulge in his crotch with your hand. It’s an easy target to find. You start to rub Yunho through his dirtied slacks — but Yunho tuts, his teeth nipping at your shoulder in admonishment. “Not like that. Touch it.”

You hesitate for a moment, but your head has cleared enough that it does not take long to catch his meaning. It takes you a little longer to fumble with the button and zipper of his trousers, but then you’re able to tug them and the waistband of his underwear down. Satisfaction coils in your abdomen at Yunho’s moaned sigh when your fingers wrap around him. With slow strokes, you finally get a proper feel of what he’s packing, and a heated rush of gratitude shoots through you for how thoroughly Yunho stretched you open. Fuck.

He’s warm under your touch, but also a little dry. You raise up a hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to messily slather your palm and fingers with saliva. Spit smears over your chin, but you don’t care. Yunho does care, hissing a swear under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re a nasty little thing,” he mutters appreciatively, grabbing your wrist to guide you back to his cock. “Both hands now, baby. Yeah, just like that. There’s a sweet girl.”

You can’t even make your fingers meet, using one hand to slide up and down his length while focusing on the tip with the other. Even without seeing it, the thought of that fat cockhead pressing inside you is both daunting and mouth-watering. Yunho lets out a deep groan as you twist your fist and you hone in on the motion, licking your lips when his cock twitches in your hands.

His breath picks up as you jerk him off, and you’re itching to tear away the blindfold, wanting to see how his face contorts in pleasure at your hands. Images flit through your head, of his heavy lidded eyes as he bites his lip, a pretty flush creeping up his neck.

Your pace falters for a moment when suddenly Yunho’s large hands press into your thighs, his thumbs slowly inching inward. One of his thumbs parts your sticky lower lips, the other teases just above your clit. Whining, you cant your hips into him, expecting Yunho to withdraw — and so you gasp in surprise when he actually obliges you, pressing his thumb firmly against the sensitive nub.

You moan in gratitude, moving your hand quicker. “P-please, Yunho…” you whine, tilting your head forward in search of his lips, shamelessly needy.

“So eager,” Yunho giggles, noses bumping into each other as he meets your lips for a clumsy kiss. “Such a sweet thing when you just listen. That’s all you need to do for me. Don’t think, just sit there and show me what an obedient little toy you are. So good to me.”

Even blindfolded, the world spins dizzingly around you. Yunho’s thumb rubs sharp sparks of electricity through your swollen clit, and you can barely parse what he’s saying. Just enough to know you are being good, and that’s all your addled mind needs, the praise swelling hotly in your chest.

You whine, just the touch of Yunho’s cock in your hands not enough. You ache to see him, taste him, hear the wet squelch of him filling up your empty, stretched cunt.

“God, you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate,” Yunho mumbles against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “It really is a damn shame, I was gonna let you watch San make a mess of Wooyoung’s pretty tits, but no, you just had to get greedy. Oh, I know, sweetheart, I know,” he laughs breathlessly at your distressed whine, his thumb on your clit replaced by two fingers, teasing at your entrance. “But at least you still get to listen in on the fun. Lucky for you, Wooyoung can’t keep quiet even if he tried.”

“Could gag him,” San interjects from behind, a cocky grin folded into the suggestion. Wooyoung makes a wet, garbled noise that summons visions of his mouth stuffed with San’s fingers.

Yunho giggles darkly at the suggestion. “What’s this mean streak all of a sudden, San-ah? Trying to prove you’re not such a softie after all?”

“Don’t got a thing to prove, just ask Wooyoung,” San grunts, a sharp smack of skin on skin sounding through the bedroom, followed by a ragged gasp for air. “’Youngie, am I being soft on you?”

Wooyoung’s voice comes out hoarse. “Ngh, please, wanna cum… Sannie…”

Another smack fills the air, followed by a loud whimper as the mattress bounces underneath you. “Answer the question, Woo.”

“Mhn n-no —ah!— no! ‘S being mean, please please—” he whines, his mindless babbling searing through you.

Yunho giggles again, casually, like he isn’t sliding three fingers deep into your needy cunt. He holds them still, simply buried inside you. “Fuck, look at that mess, he’s just eating this up, isn’t he?” Yunho says, enjoying the view he’s so cruelly denying you. “What a fucking wreck. Could make him lick the dust off your boots and he’d be panting like a dog.”

Wooyoung’s whines rise in volume and pitch, dripping with blissful agony — until the noise is suddenly smothered. But San can’t silence him completely, and you quietly whine along with Wooyoung, starting to feel neglected as you gently swivel your hips to try and find some friction against Yunho’s fingers.

Instantly Yunho’s other hand connects with your ass, hard, his silver rings adding an extra bite to the impact. The pain is heavenly.

“See?” he chides, roughly groping at the sore spot as you squirm in his lap. “Not so fun when the person you’re fucking won’t pay attention to you, is it?”

You moan something that tries to be an apology but Yunho’s fingers slowly curl inside your aching cunt. He presses right against your g-spot, sending your every nerve ending on high alert, only making your body beg for more. You whine at his teasing, blindly clutching at his unbuttoned shirt in silent plea.

“Aw, there’s no need to pout,” Yunho says, that deceptive sweetness seeping back into his voice. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart, we can have some fun too. Let’s play a little game. If you can make me cum before San, then I’ll let you watch him.”

Acutely aware of San’s low groans and Wooyoung’s muffled sobs, you perk up at the opportunity. “Th-then, can I suck you off? Please?”

Yunho’s cock twitches in your hands. “Fuck, baby. I can see why San likes to spoil you so much, asking so nicely,” he grunts, filling your head with a fuzzy heat as his fingers stroke against your sweet spot. “Does your throat take cock well, pretty girl? Would you choke on it for me?”

“Yes, y-yes please, Yunho please—”

Still blindfolded, you welcome Yunho’s assistance as he helps you to settle between his thighs. Your legs are folded underneath you, your chest resting on your knees as you bend down, ass perked up. Your breath catches when Yunho’s hand returns to your throat, guiding you until something hot and sticky bumps against your cheek. Your tongue darts out, and you moan in satisfaction at the salty tang of precum.

His cockhead slides past your lips, where your mouth confirms what your hands already suspected; he is thicker than San, and every added strain to your jaw is felt at this size.

You moan at the heft of him on your tongue, taking his cock as deep as you comfortably can for the first pass. Without sight, it’s hard to judge how much of him fits in your mouth, but you try not to overthink it, simply easing yourself into a rhythm.

Yunho’s soft sighs and hissed curses burn through you, the sound mingled with Wooyoung’s muffled noises. San’s attempts to silence his moans do very little to make them less enticing, desperation dripping off every smothered whine. Still, you slowly forget the goal behind this game, distracted by the satisfying challenge of sucking Yunho off.

You take him a little deeper with every bob of your head, your hand covering what your mouth can’t manage. “A little more,” Yunho murmurs in heated encouragement. “You want me to cum, don’t you? Then work for it.”

Breathing becomes a challenge when the tip of him breaches your throat, your pharynx instinctively contracting at the intrusion. Yunho groans, his fingers tensing around your throat when you gag on his cock with a wet, lewd noise.

You faintly register a shuffling sound, weight shifting as Yunho repositions himself — and suddenly there’s an odd pressure between your thighs. Drool leaks past your stretched lips as you make a garbled noise of surprise. The ball of Yunho’s foot is pressed right against your core. He holds it still there, almost like an offer.

Experimentally, you swivel your hips into his foot. Pleasure bursts through your veins, a trickle of drool spilling down your chin as you moan at the much-needed friction. You’d been pretty worked up by Yunho earlier, and it doesn’t take much to get you back to that high. He groans at how you’re shamelessly humping against him, and he grinds the ball of his foot back into you, only spurring you on more. Your control slips away, eyes tearing up as you gag and choke on Yunho’s cock over and over again.

“F-fuck, hang on baby. Want you to look at me while I fuck that pretty mouth,” Yunho says tightly, shaky fingers releasing the tie covering your vision.

You blink away bleary tears as the dimmed bedroom light hits your eyes. Yunho throws the tie aside and cups your stuffed face, thumbs catching the tears streaming down your cheek. You glance up, moaning loudly when you see Yunho’s face.

Somehow, he looks almost exactly like you pictured him — but at the same time, the sight of him is a pale imitation of your fantasies at best. A deep flush colours his neck and ears, beautiful eyes blown and heavy-lidded, bottom lip swollen from the way he gnaws at it.

“There, that’s better,” he says, a lopsided smile gracing his lips. “Don’t wanna miss that needy look on your face. Just hit my thigh if you have to tap out, alright?”

You moan in confirmation, then Yunho puts a large hand on the back of your head, pushing himself deeper down your throat. His other hand comes to rest on your throat again, right underneath your jaw. He groans in satisfaction when the light squeeze of his fingers meets his cockhead at the back of your throat, your walls spasming around him.

Quickly Yunho sets a rough pace — rough, but still controlled; he pushes at your limits, always testing them, but never too far beyond how deep you took him before. The ball of his foot pushes against your cunt again, and you let out a garbled, wet moan at the sharply building pressure, spittle and precum forced past your lips with every obscenely loud gag of your throat.

“Oh fuck, this won’t take long,” Yunho grunts tightly. “Doing so well, what a good cocksleeve you are.”

You keen around him, light-headed from both your partially obstructed airways and his breathless praise. He’s too generous, you think; you can now see the neglected part of his dick, unwarmed by your mouth. You ache to feel him stretch out your cunt, longing to prove no inch of him will be neglected there.

But Yunho clearly does not mind. His face is contorted with sweet agony, breath picking up as he throbs in your mouth. He curses under his breath when you grind back against his foot, his jaw falling slack like your mindless rutting is getting him off as much as your warm, willing mouth is. You whimper as the coiling heat inside your abdomen overflows into intense release, flooding your system with piercing surges of pleasure, going limb in Yunho’s hold as you shake and tremble. It’s too much for him. With beautiful, ragged moans, Yunho tenses as he spills hotly down your throat, thick ropes of cum that almost make you choke all over again.

The tears prickling behind your eyes go sharp, and you give Yunho’s thigh two quick taps of your hand.

Immediately his hold on you relaxes, allowing you a dizzying pull for air as his cock slides out. You don’t let him go too far, holding him at the base while you kiss at the tip, smearing your lips with a white sheen.

“God, you’re too much,” Yunho groans, his softening cock twitching under your attentions. “C’mon, you earned your reward. Just in time to watch the end of the show.”

Yunho helps you to sit up, gathering you in his arms. First he sweetly sucks at your lips, his tongue swiping them clean of his cum, then he lets you rest against his flushed chest, rubbing a soothing hand over your back. Your jaw feels a bit sore, but you tiredly nuzzle into Yunho with a satisfied sigh, pressing a soft kiss on his sternum. He lets out a breathy laugh at the gesture, almost a little flustered.

Only then do you turn your head to look and San and Wooyoung, and this time there is no punishment; only a glorious reward.

The buttons of San’s dress shirt are completely undone — a few of them torn straight off. He has Wooyoung’s ankles thrown over one shoulder, fucking his thighs with hard thrusts, a hand splayed over Wooyoung’s mouth. San’s teeth are gritted, his tight dress shirt doing nothing to hide how his muscles flex with every slam of his pelvis against the back of Wooyoung’s legs. The wet smacking noise of San’s cock pushing between supple thighs easily overpowers Wooyoung’s weak whimpers, an angry flush to the glistening tip.

Wooyoung keens louder when he realises they have an audience, squirming against San’s hold. His cock slaps against his stomach in time with San’s thrusts, covered with crusted, dried cum. You can only guess at who came already, both of them hard and desperate.

“You can stop holding back now, San,” Yunho teases him. “She took her punishment like a good girl, just like you said she’d be. Her pretty eyes are on you now. Give her something good to look at, hm?”

San jerks his head to look at you, something wild and primal burning in his gaze. To think of his aggressive rut as ‘holding back’ feels impossible… yet he proves Yunho right all the same.

San’s hand lets go of Wooyoung’s mouth, who whines loudly when he’s released. His face is red and puffy and wet; and he sobs harder when San angles himself lower so his cock slides against Wooyoung’s with every thrust. Overwhelmed, Wooyoung’s eyes squeeze shut — but they snap back open with a cry when San harshly spanks his outer thigh.

“Look at her, Woo,” San grinds out. “Show her what a desperate wreck you are.”

Wooyoung hiccups, shakily wiping his face as he meets your eyes. The thick tears spilling down his shiny cheeks are mesmerising, causing a warmth to brew underneath your exhaustion. The heat is further stoked by Yunho’s long fingers kneading into your own thighs, like he’s contemplating the thick softness of them pressed around his own cock.

“Tell her what you want, Wooyoung,” San demands, the bed shaking underneath as he speeds up.

“W-wanna cum, mhn, need to cum so bad—”

Another smack lands on his thigh and Wooyoung cries out, his back arching pitifully. San scoffs at his whines. “Is that all? Our girl choked on Yunho’s dick so she could watch you, and that’s how you thank her? Thinking only about yourself?”

Wooyoung makes a strangled noise as he shakes his head, unable to get a word out.

“C’mon, we both know how much you get off on slutting yourself out like this,” San presses, relentless. “You fucking love it, love how much she loves it. How good you look like this, a depraved, flushed mess. Fucking gorgeous.”

The sudden praise jolts through Wooyoung, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “Y-yeah, that’s what I want—” he slurs, his tongue thick in his mouth. His long hair is sweaty and sticks to his face, throwing a shadow over his eyes as he pins his gaze back on you. “Want you to see, want you to watch me cum please, please—”

“I’m watching, Wooyoungie,” you say. You’re filled with something not unlike awe as you drink in his desperation, his unconditional surrender as he loses himself in the search of pleasure. “Watching everything San’s doing to you. So pretty.”

Right as you say that word, pretty, San smacks Wooyoung’s flushed cock. He sobs wretchedly, convulsing as the sudden pain sparks through his crossed wires. The first globule of sticky whiteness already forms at the tip before San wraps his fist around the darkened cockhead, forcing Wooyoung into a violent release. He mewls and spasms, jerking against San’s hold — but San doesn’t let up until his own breath falters, breaking on a whiny moan as he spills over Wooyoung’s thighs and still-leaking cock.

San slowly lets Wooyoung’s shaky legs down, ankles sliding from his shoulder. He’s panting hard, a sharp glint in his eyes as he admires the mess on Wooyoung’s torso, who basks in the attention of three pairs of eyes on him.

He stares up at San with a blissed-out, empty-headed smile, “So good… made me feel so good…”

Fondly, San chuckles and cups Wooyoung’s cheek.“You haven’t had enough yet, have you?” he hums, rubbing his thumb over Wooyoung’s swollen lips. “Yunho’s been looking forward to having his turn with you.”

Wooyoung nips at San’s thumb and grabs his wrist, his dark eyes glittering at Yunho as he presses a kiss against the palm of San’s hand. Anticipation crackles in the heady air, Wooyoung’s hungry gaze answering San’s question loud and clear. Never enough.

There is a brief moment of shuffling as San and Yunho swap places, but Yunho kisses the side of your head before he goes. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t think I’m satisfied with just my fingers in that tight hole.”

Your stretched cunt clenches around nothing at the promise, but you’re not empty for long. As soon as Yunho leaves your side, San embraces you in the comfort of his strong, familiar arms.

“Come, let’s cuddle,” he mumbles, pulling you on top of him as he lays on his back.

You let San manoeuvre you to his liking, knowing better than to object against resting your weight on him. You snuggle up against San, savouring the low, content rumble in his exposed, sweaty chest.

Both of you are a bit sluggish, but San still nudges you to lift your hips before you can settle entirely. He wraps his hand around the base of his softened cock, and you moan quietly when he presses into your waiting cunt. “Fuck, Yunho opened you up real nice,” he groans at the easy slide. “So fucking wet, baby. Just keep me warm like that for a while, ‘lright?”

With a gentle hand he strokes your hair, and you relax into him with a sigh.

San’s heart beats underneath your cheek as you turn your head to see Yunho has half-helped, half-dragged Wooyoung to lay parallel to you and San. Now he slowly crawls over Wooyoung’s prone body, drawing whines from him with even the lightest touch. Wooyoung shudders when Yunho scoops up some of the white fluids on his heaving chest, then offers it to him. He sucks on Yunho’s fingers on pure instinct, not a single thought behind his dazed eyes.

Maybe Yunho had a point when he called you a pervert earlier; your inner voyeur purrs at the meals she’s being fed tonight.

But it’s a badge you wear proudly, indulging yourself without shame. Your hungry eyes take in the way Yunho’s tall form is hunched over Wooyoung. The stark difference in their height makes Wooyoung look small, helpless, moaning at every drop of his and San’s seed that Yunho feeds him. You lick your lips every time Yunho’s fingers slip back into Wooyoung’s mouth.

Meanwhile, San runs a warm hand up and down your spine. His fingertips leave gentle sparks wherever they go. “Woo looks good like this, doesn’t he?” he says, a grin in his voice. “Can’t wait to see if our babygirl really has what it takes to handle that big cock, or if it’s just empty bragging. Yunho’s not gonna take it easy on him.”

(Wooyoung whines a little louder, his hips canting up.)

Carefully, San squeezes the nape of your neck. “Yunho didn’t take it easy on you either,” he hums, his fingers brushing over the sensitive parts of your throat where Yunho choked you earlier. “You made such pretty sounds for him… Did you have fun, hm?”

San’s gentle voice envelopes you with warmth, though it’s hard to focus on his question when Yunho curls his long fingers over Wooyoung’s thighs, the shapely muscles glistening with lube and cum.

“Yeah,” you manage to sigh out with a dopey smile. “Thank you… for holding back for me.”

You rub your cheek against his firm pec in gratitude; and you can feel as well as hear San’s abashed chuckle.

“Thought you deserved a proper reward. Did your punishment so well, what a sweet girl you were for him,” he says proudly. His praise sends a twitch through your cunt, and he lets out another breathy laugh as you clench around his cock. “So easy to work you up…” he teases fondly.

You whine, but there’s no denying the fresh slick leaking against San’s pelvis. It really can’t be helped; not when San is praising you, when Yunho pushes Wooyoung’s knees up to his chest, folding him in half. He spreads Wooyoung’s asscheeks, a pleased glint in his eyes at what he finds.

“Prepped him for you, Yun-ah,” San says, his own hands mirroring Yunho’s as he grabs at your ass, his thumb grazing over your rim. He pecks your forehead sweetly, whispering “Your turn soon.”

“Fuck, San, you sure did, he’s fucking gaping,” Yunho groans, and he turns Wooyoung at just enough of an angle to show you his loosened hole, remnants of lube glistening between his cheeks. Arousal smoulders under your skin at the brief glimpse, inflamed further when Yunho slides his half-hard cock through the crack of Wooyoung’s ass.

“Please,” Wooyoung keens, hooking his arms underneath his knees to keep his legs in place while he squirms at Yunho’s fat cockhead catching on the edge. “Please just put it in, please please—”

Yunho giggles at his impatience. “Ah San, you really got lucky, getting your hands on a pair of such cute playthings,” he says, squeezing Wooyoung’s ass. “I haven’t even lubed up yet — you so eager you’d take it dry, Woo? Don’t think that’s smart, even for a trained cocksleeve like you. Be good and wait a little longer, ‘m gonna need a second to recover from your girl’s pretty mouth.”

“Y-yeah, I get that,” Wooyoung says tightly, glancing at you with watery eyes.

Yunho grins. “I bet you do. Does she suck your dick often?”

“Wooyoungie’d rather drown in her pussy, actually,” San interjects casually, giving you a buck of his hips. “If anyone’s fucking that tight throat, it’s usually me.”

You whine as you get jostled, clutching onto San’s shoulders. Light-headed at how they’re talking about you like you’re just some toy for them to play with, passed around for their pleasure.

Yunho bites his lip, grinding a little harder against Wooyoung. “At the same time?”

San lets out a pleased hum. “Sometimes, yeah,” he says, and tips your chin up with his thumb and forefinger to meet his grin. “Remember last weekend, baby? Looked so pretty sitting on Wooyoung’s face while I fucked yours. Fuck, you were so noisy… made such a mess on him…”

Your nerve-endings ignite with pleasure at San’s reminder; your garbled moans around San’s cock while Wooyoung sucked the juices from your leaking cunt, even his nose covered with the shine of your slick after you finally pulled him away. You’re so lost in a daze that you almost miss it when Yunho asks you a question.

Did you like it?

Yunho huffs a quiet laugh at your noise of disorientation. “Did you like it, baby?” he repeats, slower this time; with the charitable patience one might have for a pet that’s cute, but not all that smart. “When Wooyoung eats you out? Is he any good, sweetheart?”

Your eyes trail up Wooyoung’s body, noting the veins bulging in his flexed forearms, still dutifully holding his legs in place. When you reach his face, he is staring right back at you, mouth fallen open and his long hair in a mess, strewn on the bed, a few sweaty strands clinging to his neck.

“The best,” you sigh sweetly.

The ‘o’ of Wooyoung’s lips stretches into a wide, fucked out smile, moaning out a breathless giggle as he preens at your answer.

“High praise,” Yunho says with a teasing glint in his eyes. He grabs for the bottle of lube that San left on the bed earlier and pops the cap. “He must’ve got one hell of a silver tongue to have earned that.”

You can’t help a moan, your clit throbbing with memories of Wooyoung’s tongue flicking and suckling at you, dissolving you into a puddle.

“She likes his nose too,” San chuckles, adding more fuel to the fire. He steadily kneads at your ass, giving it the occasional smack just to admire the bounce of his hand and the jiggle of your cheeks. “Don’t you, baby?”

“F-fuck, so much,” you whine. “Feels s-so good, riding his face… Grinding on it…”

Wooyoung suddenly trembles and gasps while Yunho runs a glistening finger down that beautifully hooked slope of his nose. It only takes you a beat to realise his strong reaction is not just because of the downpouring of praise — Yunho has forced the tip of his cock past Wooyoung’s rim.

“Ah ah ah—!”

The sound is torn from Wooyoung’s throat as his body snaps taut. His legs almost drop to the side before Yunho grabs onto his thighs, large hands kneading into the tense muscles. “Fuck,” Yunho swears, jaw clenched. “Relax for me, Woo. I’ll take it slow but— fuck.”

Wooyoung pants with hard, huffy breaths, his eyes rolling back as he struggles to take the sudden intrusion. It’s subtle, but San’s hold on you tenses for a moment, until Wooyoung’s voice breaks with an obscenely loud moan, leaving no mistake that the tears springing in his eyes are the right kind.

San relaxes again, his soft amused laugh rumbling through his chest. “Time to see if our size queen has bitten off more than he can chew,” he says; a taunt mixed with genuine fascination. “…And time for us to move on too.”

Unable to look away, your eyes are glued to Wooyoung’s face, contorted with agonised pleasure, and the slow press of Yunho’s hips, giving Wooyoung time to adjust. The idea of taking Yunho in your cunt is already daunting enough, you can’t begin to comprehend the ways Wooyoung’s body is forced to stretch and yield to his outrageous size.

Utterly transfixed, you barely register how San grabs for the lube and slicks up his own fingers — but you’re snapped back into your own reality when his index finger circles your tight hole, and quickly presses in. You moan at the slight pressure on your walls; not uncomfortable but always a little odd at the start.

Meanwhile Yunho groans tightly, a thick vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding back. “Fuck, Sannie, you weren’t kidding about his recovery time,” he grinds out, a sharp curve to his lips. “I’m barely even inside him yet and he’s getting hard again already.”

Wooyoung whines pathetically, clawing at Yunho’s thighs like he’s trying to pull him in deeper.

“Please, hah mmh, please please,” he babbles, all coherent thoughts wiped from his mind. Yunho bends over him as he pushes deeper, and Wooyoung looks tiny underneath his tall frame, sobbing with delirious pleasure.

Lazily San fingers your ass open while you watch them together, his eyes big and shiny, gleaming with curiosity. Your body is pliant and relaxed for him, the thickness of two fingers a breeze in comparison. Awestruck, you witness how Yunho finally bottoms out.

Wooyoung hiccups as he tries to catch his breath, whimpering when Yunho wipes sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Yunho murmurs, with none of his earlier faked sweetness. “What a champ. Not many who can take me like this, fucking incredible. Ready for me to fuck you, or do you need a moment?”

“M-move, please fuck please,” Wooyoung pleads. “Moving is better, please, hmgh—”

Slowly Yunho starts to move — and you can’t help but instinctively match his pace, squirming against San. His cock twitches in your warm cunt, almost back to full hardness already. He groans softly by your ear, smoothly pushing a third finger inside your other hole.

Soon, the noise of skin slapping against skin fills the bedroom every time Yunho buries himself to the hilt, lewdly harmonising with Wooyoung’s hitched moans. Yunho’s fingers dig harshly into his thighs to keep him in place, and you salivate at the thought of kissing Wooyoung’s resulting bruises later.

The harder Yunho fucks him, the more you hump into San, leaking around his cock. He bites down a whine, using his free hand to hold you steady. “Careful baby,” he says hoarsely, “I don’t know how many more I got in me. Let me save it for later, alright?”

Reluctantly you stop moving, targeting San with a small, needy pout instead.

He chuckles fondly, promising it’ll pay off later — but your further pouting is interrupted when Wooyoung’s moans suddenly rise in pitch.

Your eyes snap back to the others, where you see Yunho has hooked Wooyoung’s leg around his waist. This way, he’s given you full view of Wooyoung’s cock, flushed a deep dark red and oozing precum. Unintelligible curses and butchered gasps of Yunho’s name tumble clumsily off Wooyoung’s tongue, until no sound leaves his lips at all. His mouth is caught in a silent cry when Yunho bucks into him at an angle, and then again, his entire body shaking as watery strings of cum soil his stomach all over again.

Yunho only needs a few more thrusts himself before he doubles over with a loud grunt, moaning sweetly as he rides it out until he stills inside Wooyoung, hunched over his smaller form.

Burning gratitude coils in your abdomen when Yunho angles them again so you can see how Wooyoung’s hole is obscenely stretched around Yunho’s big cock. It leaves him gaping open when Yunho slowly pulls out, cum bubbling at the rim and leaking down onto the bed.

Wooyoung makes a weak noise at the emptiness, but Yunho wipes up the dribble of cum with his fingers and stuffs them back inside. Then he turns to San, wordlessly holding out his free hand.

You frown in confusion, but San seems to know exactly what Yunho is asking for. He reaches for something that’d been set aside unnoticed; and you bite your lip with a quiet moan when you realise he’s grabbed a thick buttplug. He hands it over to Yunho, who gives the toy a liberal coat of lube, then easily slides inside Wooyoung.

Wooyoung moans contently at the effortless fit, and barely fusses when Yunho helps him into a sitting position against the bed’s headboard. Wooyoung lets his head fall back, covered all over in the shine of sweat and other bodily fluids. He’s still breathing heavily, eyes lidded as he watches with exhausted interest how San guides you to get up as well, his cock sliding out of your cunt. And when San instructs you to sit on Wooyoung��s lap, you obey eagerly.

As you settle in Wooyoung’s lap, you make sure not to press your stomach against his dick. “You… that was… woah,” you sigh in admiration, gently combing your fingers through a tangle in his mussed up hair. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

He just gives you a breathless giggle, too fucked out for a verbal response — a rarity. The air between you is giddy, like you’re both high on the pleasure of having your bodies pushed to their limits. But he seeks out your pussy with his fingers, four of them effortlessly pressing inside. His own silent admiration of how Yunho stretched you out too.

You grin teasingly at Wooyoung’s ruined state, pressing a light peck on the tip of his nose. “You done for tonight? You kinda look like you might be done for tonight.”

“Fuck… definitely gonna need a minute,” Wooyoung groans, but you feel the smile on his lips when he tilts his head to catch you in a kiss. It’s a tired, heady meeting of lips, closer to an exchange of breath than an actual kiss, but you savour it all the same.

“Take your time, Wooyoung,” San assures him, interrupting the moment of affection to make sure you both drink something.

He grabs a bottle of water from the bedside table that he’d readied beforehand with liquids, a few snacks, wet wipes, all the usuals — but instead of handing you the bottle, San clasps your jaw, gently coercing your lips to part.

San pours a generous sip straight from the bottle into your mouth, careful not to spill. Your head buzzes at his tender yet forceful care, glowing with a syrupy warmth when he pats your cheek in approval after you swallow the water down.

He gives Wooyoung the same treatment, until he’s satisfied you both drank enough. He asks if either of you need anything else, and bursts into a flustered, dimpled laugh when the unanimous answer is “you finally taking the rest of those clothes off.”

He obliges, of course, shucking off his dress shirt with the ripped buttons and throwing it aside, soon followed by the rest. Tan skin and firm muscle, his cock still hard from earlier. San can’t help a tiny, flustered smile when you and Wooyoung lavish him with tired attention, nipping at the corded muscle of his shoulder, palming at the swell of his tits. Your hands bump into each other when you both reach for San’s cock, leading to another shared, giddy laugh.

You glance at Yunho, wondering if he is amenable to obliging you as well — and see he’s been discreetly cleaning himself up while San took care of you and Wooyoung. Yunho lets out a little embarrassed laugh when he realises you’re watching him wipe his softened dick. But you’re not laughing anymore, remembering his words from before.

“Don’t think I’m satisfied with just my fingers in that tight hole.”

You swallow tightly, biting your lip in anticipation.

Seeing your reaction, Yunho’s embarrassment quickly fades into a slow smile. Even without your asking, he treats you to the unhurried discarding of his clothes; not built like a brick wall the way San is, but fit and lean, moving his long limbs with a controlled grace that sparks a flutter in your stomach.

He crawls back onto the bed to join you and the others, and you hum a soft moan as his chest presses against your back, arms encircling your waist. Four fingers slip back inside you and Yunho gives them a careful wiggle, like he’s checking if you’re still ready for him.

You gasp at the tight press of Yunho’s fingers with their thick rings, your head falling back on his shoulder.

Just like that, the quiet lull in the bedroom dissipates, replaced by the wet squelch of Yunho slowly sliding his long fingers in and out of your sopping hole, coaxing your body to remember the stretch of them. A whine falls past your lips while San and Wooyoung watch in rapt attention, their eyes burning into you.

Wooyoung’s dark gaze is pinned on the heave of your chest as you gyrate in his lap, rolling your hips into Yunho’s hand, pushing back into his cock. Yunho surges forward with a groan, mouthing at your neck while he grinds against your ass. You whimper when Wooyoung bends forward to latch onto a pert nipple, licking thick, hot stripes as he laps at your tits.

San takes it all in with a light flush on his cheeks, unable to look away from your stuffed cunt. It’s obscene how easily Yunho’s fingers fit now, wet and slippery. “Fuck, Yunho, I bet you could fit your whole fist in there if we really took our time with her,” San groans softly, nothing but awe dripping from his voice.

You sob desperately at the idea, clenching around Yunho — but underneath the excitement, there is a weak jolt of anxiety. Your weeping cunt is burning, pushed to new limits, and suddenly every nerve ending in your body remembers; you had no say in what’d happen tonight, all power relinquished to San.

“Mh, I— I don’t— dunno if I can, ah, ah—!” you slur out, mewling when Wooyoung picks exactly this moment to suck harshly at your nipple. He whines happily as your hand flies to his hair, yanking at the black strands.

San’s hand joins yours to pull a squirmy Wooyoung away. “Breathe baby, deep breaths,” he says, sweetly kissing a fresh tearstreak on your cheek. “You don’t have to. Already doing so well, taking so much for us.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Yunho hums, rubbing his nose against your other cheek. He takes out his fingers and gives your slicked folds a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be careful with you. A pretty thing like you needs taking care of, don’t you? Gonna stuff you full, just the way you need. God, I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock…”

You whimper, feeling hazy from their praise. Allowing you to slide back into that fuzzy safety of subspace, no thoughts of your own; Yunho and San know what’s best for you.

“T-then do it,” you moan. “Stuff me full, please.”

Yunho lets out a soft, delighted giggle at your eagerness. “We will, don’t you worry. San, lets see if your little troublemaker can get it back up again.”

The little troublemaker in question perks up, and then hisses when San reaches between you and Wooyoung to slick up his hand with your arousal before wrapping his fingers around Wooyoung’s worn-out cock. “F-fuck, Sannie,” he gasps, his body reflexively trying to jerk away, but pinned in place by you on his lap.

Yunho nuzzles your shoulder while he watches in approval how Wooyoung’s dick plumps back up. “Doing such a good job, San-ah…” he says with a pleased smile. “Look at you, almost can’t believe you’re the same guy as that timid rookie I took under my wing. You know just what your submissives need and always give it to them, don’t you? What a good boy you are.”

San whines at the praise, stroking Wooyoung a little faster. His eyes widen in surprise when Yunho clasps his chin, but he gladly melts into the offered kiss. It’s brief but intense, San’s tongue sucked into Yunho’s mouth, a thin trail of saliva connecting them when Yunho pulls away again, leaving San panting.

“Good boy,” Yunho smiles again, brushing his thumb over San’s flushed cheek. “Time for the next part.”

Yunho helps you to turn around, sitting reverse cowgirl on Wooyoung’s lap. Even in your dazed state, you quickly realise where this is going when San slicks up Wooyoung’s cock with a coat of lube. So you’re ready and relaxed when his cockhead prods between your asscheeks, lifting your hips to help San guide him inside, your jaw falling slack as you slowly lower yourself down.

Wooyoung groans a muffled swear against your shoulder once you’re fully seated on him, tightly circling his arms around your waist. Thankfully San prepped you well — but your nerves still momentarily spike back to life when Yunho bears down on you, swallowing your mouth in a deep kiss as he lines himself up. You whine against his lips, scrambling to grab onto something as his thick cock rubs through your sticky folds, then starts to push inside. One of your hands finds Wooyoung’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, while the other delves into Yunho’s hair.

Just by himself, Yunho would already be enough to overwhelm you; but buried alongside Wooyoung, their cocks pressing against each other through the thin barrier of your inner walls, you are drowning, completely overcome before he’s even fully sheathed inside you.

“Hngh, f-fuck, Yunho, hm can’t— too much, please—” you gasp out, but this time Yunho is less receptive to your pleas.

He tuts, unyielding. “This again? Sannie, what do you think?”

San cups your cheek, intently looking you over as you nuzzle pitifully into his palm — but when he speaks, his tone is cool and dismissive. “She’s fine.”

You sob weakly as Yunho sinks deeper, unyielding, but safe-wording is the farthest thing from your mind. Your head falls back against Wooyoung’s shoulder, mouth agape and spit dribbling down your chin. There is a bliss to being pushed like this, all control stripped away from you. Your cunt greedily sucks Yunho in, gushing around him, your body so wired you almost think you could cum just like this. Almost.

San observes you with feline curiosity, tilting his head as he seems to realise the same. “See, you like it,” he says smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Isn’t that right? No, no don’t be like that,” he teases when you let out a strangled moan. “You should tell them. Let them know, baby, say you like it.”

“L-like it…” you whimper, panting for breath when Yunho’s cock is finally nested inside your snug cunt, walls twitching around him. “Like having your cocks fill me up, feels so full…”

“Not full enough yet,” San says, quirking his eyebrows. “You got one hole left that needs to get stuffed. Hold her for me, Yunho.”

He shifts on the bed to reposition himself, and you don’t have time to process his words before Yunho’s large hand suddenly wraps around your throat again. It’s not tight enough to obstruct your airway, but your brain is instantly light-headed all the same, and you’re helpless to do anything except let him guide your mouth to San’s waiting cock.

With every inch of him going down your throat, you sink deeper into that fuzzy heat, your entire sense of self melting away until there is nothing left but that blissful pressure, filling you up from the inside. Static buzzes through you, and San grunts at how you moan gutturally around his cock

“You like this too, baby?” he asks with a mocking lilt, knowing damn well you can’t tell him.

But you still try your best, muffled moans escaping past his thick girth. You cry out louder when Wooyoung suddenly makes himself known again, angling for your attention by palming your chest. He plucks at your hard nipples, his teeth grazing against the nape of your neck as he lavishes you with open-mouthed kisses. His lips brush against the tips of Yunho’s fingers, who gives your throat a light squeeze, just to hear you whine.

Then, Yunho begins to move.

He starts off with slow, deep rolls of his hips, testing how he pushes you back on Wooyoung’s cock, how you almost gag around San. He bucks a little harder, and then you do gag, your throat convulsing around San’s fat cockhead, tears springing in your eyes.

Still mocking you, San coos at the sight. He brushes your tears away as they fall, but a low groan escapes him when he feels at your stuffed cheeks. You whimper, trying to curve your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock — but Yunho fucks you harder now. Jostled by his rough thrusts, you’re forced to feel every inch of every cock that’s shoved inside your body, until you’re losing yourself in them, seizing up as wet heat pulses through your core, a dam bursting with delirious ecstasy, overloading your senses.

Their sweet moans fill your ears as you clench and spasm around them with intense release, low grunts and high whines, their arms holding you upright as the high passes through you, your body starting to sag.

It takes you a moment, still coming down to earth, to realise Wooyoung is clinging onto you desperately, his fingers digging into your sides. He whines and trembles, a faint buzzing reaching your ears. Confusion fights through your pleasure-addled brain — until you see the small remote in San’s hand, and a memory makes its way through of Yunho putting a buttplug in Wooyoung’s used hole. A vibrating plug, as it turns out.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung grinds out, his sweat-slicked forehead pressed against your shoulder as his nails leave crescents in the soft meat of your waist. “I— I—”

“Gonna cum, Woo?” San asks, looking unimpressed, but the words come out tightly. He runs his hand through Wooyoung’s hair, forcing his head back. “Hold back, as long as you can. Understood?”

Wooyoung’s answer is nothing but a strangled sob, but it’s enough for San. He releases Wooyoung’s hair, cupping the back of your head instead, making sure he always stays good and deep in your mouth even while Yunho brutally fucks into you.

You’re burning, barely come down from your last orgasm when you feel the next one creeping up on you. Wooyoung is on the brink, San throbbing inside you, while Yunho never lets up on his punishing pace, a vein popped in his neck from the exertion of pistoning that obscenely big cock into your sopping cunt.

Sweat beads down Yunho’s temple, and a faint wish flits through your mind to suck at that bulging vein in his neck — but his hand is still firm around your throat while San uses it for his own pleasure, and the wish fades away.

“Touch her, Wooyoungie,” Yunho grunts. “Touch her clit. Wanna feel her cum again while we stuff her full.”

Wooyoung mewls weakly, but obeys with a shaky hand. The touch is directionless, weak swipes without clear purpose, but you��re on the edge in a second, not needing much at this point — and neither does San. His low moans choke up into a whine when you keen around him, sticky heat bursting on your tongue as he curses, almost doubling over. Wooyoung follows him in seconds, like San’s release was the permission he needed to finally let go, biting into your shoulder while he shudders and spills deep inside you.

Wooyoung pinches your clit just as Yunho hits right against that sweet spot, and you topple over again, toes curling, arching into him, a soundless cry reverberating around San’s cock as pleasure ripples through your body. Yunho swears hoarsely as you clamp down on him, pulling him over with you. It’s slightly weaker than the last one but the release lingers, quaking through you and elongated by every spurt of seed that the three men give you.

The buzzing of the buttplug stops in the wake of silence that follows, and San unceremoniously drops the remote onto the bed, his sweaty chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Gently he frees your mouth, and you let out a weak cough at the sudden free pull of air. The lower half of your face is absolutely drenched with spittle and now, unable to swallow it all down, a trickle of cum leaks past the corner of your lips — just like it dribbles past Yunho and Wooyoung’s cocks, every hole leaking.

Wooyoung slumps against you, his arms still around your waist, and his weight forces you to slump into Yunho in turn. Yunho chuckles tiredly, helped by San to stay upright under your combined weights while they let you catch your breath. Pressed between their solid bodies, you can’t even tell whose hand runs over your arm, sighing contently. Exhausted to complete satisfaction.

Afterwards, San and Yunho both took a shower while you shared a long bath with Wooyoung; and now you’re bundled up in a soft bathrobe and San’s strong arms, curled up against him on the couch. He’s dozing off behind you, his chin nodding onto your shoulder, his drowsiness undeterred by the movie that’s playing on the TV.

(It’s Yunho’s favourite way to wind down after a long scene, so here you are, watching Into the Spider-Verse together.)

On the other end of the couch, Wooyoung is nestled comfortably between Yunho’s legs. The two of them frequently burst out into giggles, either from a joke in the movie or one shared between them. The atmosphere is easy, bright, all pieces slotted into place. You can’t help a smile, snuggling deeper against San, watching Yunho and Wooyoung’s antics, a simple thought settling warmly in your stomach as the four of you fit into this comfortable space together. This feels good.

#whiway #q

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aemondapologistfrfr · 3 days ago

Text

Is it broken?

aemond x betrothed!f!reader

Summary: Aemond finds out just how much care you need in the mornings.

Warnings: 18+ innocent reader testing aemond’s composure, bathing, masturbation(f), fingering, oral(f), humping, slight cum play, unintentional edging and teasing bc aemond is fighting to hold onto his control he fails every time

Authors Note: my first aem request from @jacaerysonlywife 🥹💞 apparently i’m giving my innocent readers a soft pink mood board and ykw it’s what they deserve 🤗 i put some plot in this bc i can’t help myself when it comes to this man

Word Count: 4.4k

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Every morning Aemond has the same routine of waiting outside of your chambers for you to greet him with a smile. Today he was able to spend an extra couple of minutes training because of your morning bath. After every bath he listens to your complaints of your handmaidens not seeing to all of your needs. He’s tried to help you come up with what to tell them but you still come to him with a fresh pout. The only way he can make you feel better is give you a hug and take you to the gardens.

You’re a little later than normal, not that he minds, he hopes your handmaidens have finally gotten something right. He leans against the wall fiddling with the hilt of his dagger waiting for you to come out and join him. He sighs when he sees your company of handmaidens walk out of your chambers with red faces.They avoid his gaze and wait to the side of the door as he walks up to it before turning back to them.

“Is she ready?” he asks lowly.

“No, my Prince.” one of them whispers.

“Why not?” he sighs.

“She’s not happy. She won’t say. She told us to come get you.” he clenches his jaw at their words.

How hard could it possibly be to bathe you? He knocks softly on your door before stepping into your chambers and softly clicking the door shut behind him. He looks around your chambers and his eye stops when he finds you still in the tub. His steps are slow and deliberate as he watches you sink lower into the water. He stops and grabs a stool to take a seat next to the tub. You scoot closer to the lip and rest your arms on it looking up at him with a small frown.

“Why do you keep kicking your handmaidens out?” he hums, brushing your hair back over your shoulder.

“They don’t know what I like.” you pout when he takes his hand away from you.

“Did you tell them what we came up with?” he tilts his head picking up the cloth that’s resting over the tub, deciding to finish bathing you himself.

“No.” you whisper, shaking your head.

“How are they going to know what you want then, sweet girl? Hm?” he sighs, reaching for your hand to begin washing you.

“I don’t know.” your voice small as you look up at him. “Can you tell them to get my oils and my soaps?” you grab his hand. “This is just water that’s tepid.” you purse your lips and he dips his fingers in the water.

“Mm,” his finger trails up your arm leaving droplets and goosebumps in their wake. “Is there anything else you need?” his eye meets yours and he tries to avoid looking at your heaving chest from his touch. He knows he should leave and call your handmaidens back in but he can’t find it in himself to go.

“Milk for my bath.” you whisper.

“I’ll tell them.” he nods. “When they come back with what you desire I’ll let them bathe you.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “Then we’ll go on our morning walk.” he starts to rise.

“Aemond,” your voice a plea as you reach out for his hand. “Can you?” you chew your lip.

“Can I what?” he watches as you play with his fingers.

“Bathe me. Your touch is softer.” you bring his hand to your mouth and press your lips against it. “Please,” your soft plea is music to his ears and he nods once. He doesn’t care if it’s indecent, you’ll both be wed by the end of the month.

“I’ll be right back.” he walks to the door and cracks it open and sees your handmaidens still waiting with their hands folded and heads down. “My betrothed requires soaps and oils, not just warm water. Bring another bucket of steaming water along with some milk and petals. Surely it’s not that hard to figure out what she needs.” he hisses, watching as their heads lower even more. “Go on then, with haste.” he clicks his tongue before sealing himself back in your chambers with you.

“Thank you.” you watch as he slowly walks back over to you. “Can you just bathe me from now on?” you blink up at him as he stares down at you.

“I’ll tell your handmaidens what you like.” his eye trails over the length of your body and he groans as you reach your hand up for him.

“I want you, Aemond.” you grab for his hand. “Please, please, Aem,” you pull his hand down to you and he grunts taking a seat on the stool. “Aemond, please,” you get on your knees and he inhales sharply as he’s greeted by your breasts, willing his cheeks not to flush.

“I’ll see-“ a quick succession of knocks has Aemond standing up. “Lay back down.” he nods at you before going to the door and letting your handmaidens in with the baskets and buckets. They leave the extra supplies near the tub and are out the door before you can even offer them a small thanks.

“What did you tell them to bring?” your eyes look over the baskets.

“Hot water.” he picks up the bucket and empties it into your bath and you lean back, sighing as the warmth licks up your body. “Milk as you requested.” he trickles it down the length of the bath and watches you squirm as the cool liquid mixes with the water. “Your soaps and oils.” he brings the basket to the side to let you shuffle through and smell them.

“I like this one best.” you place a small jar of sweet smelling soap in his hand.

“And what oil would you like?” he tilts his head.

“I don’t know yet. That’s for after the bath.” you look up at him and he chuckles softly.

“Of course, I should’ve known.” he nods his head. “I had them bring some petals for you.” he brings the small box to the bath and takes his seat on the stool again.

“Thank you,” your soft tone causes him to internally groan.

He spreads the petals throughout the water and watches you mix everything together in the water. He picks up the cloth, adding soap to it and slowly starts to clean you watching you lean back against the tub. When he gets to your legs you allow him to lift them out of the water one at a time. He only washes up to your mid thigh not trusting himself enough to go further. You pout when he puts both of your legs back in the water and starts washing your back.

“You missed a spot.” you turn your head to look at him.

“Where did I miss?” he chuckles at your furrowed brow.

“Between my thighs.” you grab his hand with the cloth.

“I'm not supposed to go between your thighs, sweet girl.” his eye darkens as you pull his hand under the water.

“Why not?” you pout. “My handmaidens clean me there.” his back straightens when you brush his fingers against your center.

“Okay, okay,” he steels himself. “Let go of my wrist and I’ll take care of you.” you bring your hand back up to your chest and watch his face as he slowly slides the cloth against you. Aemond can’t help but let his fingers slide up your slit after the cloth and watch your cheeks flush. “Like this?” he hums and you nod your head.

“They’re usually less- Aem,” your hand reaches for his wrist again as he abandons the cloth and slides his fingers through your slit, unable to help himself. “Aemond,” you whine as your thighs clamp around his hand and he watches you suck your lip into your mouth. “Feels so- yes,” he groans at your soft whimper when he brushes against your bud.

“Shh, shh,” his fingers swirl around your bud and your fingers dig into his wrist. He scolds himself and starts to pull his hand out from between your thighs. He knows he shouldn’t have even been in this position in the first place but you tug his hand back down. “What are you wanting me to do?” his voice strained.

“I don’t know,” you whimper as his finger trails down your slit once more. “Feels so good Aem,” he watches your body tremble as he brings his fingers back up to your bud. “Mm, right there, yes,” your soft pleas go straight to his cock.

“I should stop.” he brings his lip between his teeth watching you arch out of the milky water.

“No, please don’t stop.” you hold his arm under the water. “Aemond please,” you gasp as he circles his fingers faster making the water start to slosh. The warm feeling in your stomach coils and your hips start to roll against his hand. “Why?” you let out a soft cry as he starts to remove his hand.

“Let me finish washing your hair and get you out.” he pulls his hand out of the water despite how you claw at him. He shakes his head at himself that he allowed his control to slip and touch you so intimately before your wed. Despite that fact, he desperately wants to hear more of your noises.

“Aem, it hurts.” you put your hand under the water to replace his and gasp as you copy his movements. “Oh,” you gasp, feeling the difference in wetness from the water. “Aemond,” his name falls from your mouth breathlessly and he readjusts himself in his trousers.

“Leave your little cunny alone.” he tsks pulling your hand from between your legs. “Lean back and let me wash your hair.” you whine, squeezing your thighs together as you do as he says.

Aemond has no idea how to steel himself for the rest of your bath if you’re going to keep up with your pouting and whining. He slowly trickles the water down your hair and listens to your soft hums as he runs his fingers through your hair. You slip your hand beneath the water hoping to recreate the feeling Aemond was offering you with his fingers. You start to squirm and tremble as he washes the soap out of your hair.

“Aemond,” you whine as your hips chase your fingers. He flares his nostrils seeing your hand under the water once more.

“Gods,” Aemond groans, pulling your hand out of the water. “What did I say?” he stands and you look up at him with flushed cheeks.

“But it hurts.” you whimper and he pulls you out of the bath and wraps you in a towel. “Is my cunny broken?” you turn and look up at him as he starts to rub the towel against you.

“No, it’s not broken.” he chuckles, walking you over to your wardrobe.

“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at it.” he clenches his jaw and closes his eye to try and collect himself but when he looks down at you once more you have your towel dropped to the floor. “Can you check, Aem?” he watches you lay back on your chaise.

“I’m not supposed to until after we wed.” he groans as you pull your legs up to your chest.

“But you can touch it?” you tilt your head and his eye widens. “Please. Do you want them open like this?” you spread your legs apart.

“Gods, you’re going to kill me.” he watches your slit glisten in the morning light.

“If you won’t check can you call someone else in? Maybe a maester? I don’t know Aem, please.” you reach out for him.

“I’m not calling a maester to come and play with your cunny.” he shakes his head at the thought.

“Tell me how to make it feel better then.” you bring your fingers down between your legs and trail them up your slit. “Aemond please,” you look at him with flushed cheeks. “Your fingers felt better.” your body trembles as you swirl around your bud.

“I shouldn’t.” his voice low and he knows he’s going to give in soon. He watches your legs start to shake around your hand as you start to move your fingers faster. His name is on your lips like a prayer and he decides he wants to make you come for the first time and for the rest of time.

“Aemond,” your plea breaks his will and he’s on his knees in front of you pulling your hand away.

“Let me check for you, sweet girl.” he looks up at you and you nod your head quickly. “Show me where it hurts.” he watches you nibble your lip and point to your bud. “Shall I kiss it to see if that makes it feel better?” he spreads your legs more, softly squeezing the flesh of your thighs.

“You want to kiss my cunny?” you squirm as he dips his head down.

“I would like nothing more.” his eye flicks up to you. “But I’m asking you. Would you like me to kiss your aching cunny?” his breath fans over your center and you scoot closer to his mouth and he chuckles.

“Yes.” you nod. “Please,” you squeak when he presses his lips to your thighs. He watches you dig your fingers into your blankets the closer he gets to your core. “Aemond,” you cry when he licks his tongue up your slit.

He circles your bud and your breath catches when he starts to flick his tongue quickly. His lips encase your bud and you whimper above him rolling your hips against his face. He chuckles at your soft gasps and relishes in the way that you grind against him. He licks down to your core and pushes his tongue in and groans at your sweet taste.

“Aem,” one of your hands grabs onto his that’s gripped on your hip when he licks back up to your bud and lashes against it quickly. “Mm, I- Aem, something’-“ he listens to your broken words as your body jolts. He licks faster and your whimpers become more high pitched. “Aemond please, I-“ intense pleasure washes through you and you hold onto his hands as if you're falling. He licks at you softly before moving back and looking at your heaving chest.

“How does your cunny feel now, sweet girl?” he chuckles as you grab on his arms and pull him up to your lips. “Yeah? Did that feel good?” he mumbles against your lips slowly molding to you. His tongue slips into your mouth at the same time his fingers slide through your wetness. You whine into his mouth as his fingers start to swirl around you faster.

“More.” you grab his hand and push it further down. “It hurts inside now.” you whine against his mouth and he groans.

“Let’s get you dressed and see if it’ll stop.” you whimper as he lifts up from you and you wrap your arms around him, clinging to him. “Sweet girl.” he tries to keep his voice firm but it falters when you curl against him as he stands up with you. He has no choice but to hold your ass and he groans as you wrap your legs around him and bury your head in his neck.

“Aemond please,” you whine. “I think my cunny is begging for you.” his heart starts to beat faster and you squirm in his arms.

“What about your oils? I had them brought up here.” he tries to coax you into doing something else.

“After my oils then?” you press your lips to his neck.

“We’ll see.” he chuckles as you start to untangle from him. He sets you down and you look up at him with a soft pout. “Enough with the pouting.” he grabs your chin.

“Aem,” your voice dripping with need.

“Go pick out an oil.” he turns you around and scoots you over to the basket. He’s thankful for the minute reprieve because if he doesn’t readjust his cock he’s sure it’ll split out of his trousers from how hard he is.

“I picked this one.” you hum and walk over to him.

“Remind me where we put this.” he plucks the jar from your fingers.

“Everywhere.” you smile up at him. “It keeps me soft.” you step closer to him.

“Very well.” he hums and twists the lid off. “Arm.” he holds his hand out for you. He tips the jar slightly and you jump when it meets your skin.

“It’s cold.” you look up at him with furrowed brows.

“It’ll warm up when I rub it in.” he nods slightly and gently massages the oil into your arm. He repeats the process on your next arm and he starts to kneel down to your legs when you stop him.

“Aem you keep missing places.” you sigh loudly.

“My apologies.” he chuckles. “Where have I missed now?” he watches you with a smile.

“My chest.” his eye widens when you grab your breasts. He clears his throat and nods once. He brings the jar to your neck and slowly lets the oil drip down your chest and tries to calm his breathing. He watches your nipples harden as the oil meets them and you clench your legs. “Rub it in. It’s cold.” he can’t take his eye off your breasts.

“Yeah, okay.” he nods, swallowing. He brings his hands to your breasts and stills. He startles slightly when your fingers wrap around his wrists and starts to move his hands.

“Aem, you have to move your hands to rub the oil in.” you giggle.

“Yes, I know, sweet girl.” he chews on his lip and starts to knead his hands into you. He spreads the oil up your neck and back down past your navel. His hands wrap around your waist before bringing them back up to engulf your breasts once more. He swipes his thumbs against your nipples and chuckles when you gasp.

“Do that again.” you pant. He takes the hard peaks between his fingers and rolls them. “Oh,” you gasp. “More, Aem.” your breathing deepens as he softly pinches them.

“No more.” he internally scolds himself for getting lost in you again. “I have to oil your legs now.” he removes his hands to grab the jar once more. He kneels down before you and drips some oil into his hands and starts to massage it into your legs. He makes sure to go to the tops of your thighs so you don’t pout that he ‘missed’ a spot. He even goes as far to rub some oil into your ass trying his hardest to ignore your pleas. “Let’s get you dressed.” he stands and leads you to the wardrobe.

“But Aem my cunny needs-

“I need you to get some type of covering on. Even if it's just a slip. Sweet girl,” he sighs. “It’s hard for me to control myself around you right now.” you look up at him with a furrowed brow.

“Why?” you whisper.

“Go sit on your chaise and I’ll start bringing things over to you.” he exhales shakily and walks over to your wardrobe. He grabs out a pair of stockings and stops when he hears you whine. “What’s wrong?” he prompts.

“I want my pink ones.” he nods at your whisper, not trusting himself to turn to you. He starts to pull a slip down when he hears you whine again.

“Use your words. Tell me what you want.” he fists the silk of the current slip he’s holding.

“I want a white slip. That pink one doesn’t match my stockings.” you chew your lip as he pulls down your white slip.

“What color small clothes then?” he doesn’t even attempt to pick them out.

“None. My cunny still hurts.” he closes his eye trying to find the restraint not to walk over to you and flip you over and take you.

“Which dress would you like?” he trails his fingers across the line of dresses hanging.

“I want to match you.” your words sink into his chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a black dress.” he chuckles thinking about it. “Do you even have one?” he looks around your wardrobe.

“I do.” you get up and walk over to him. “It’s in the back there.” you point and he pushes the other dresses aside. “I had them make it for me. See it has darker blue for your sapphire and some silver because you like to train with swords. I was going to have them add some green for Vhagar but I think she deserves her own dress.” you look up at him and see his red cheeks.

“I don’t..” he shakes his head. He never expected you to have a dress made that reminds you of him. “You’re too sweet to me.” he whispers and you pull him against you in a tight hug.

“No I'm not.” you cup his face and bring him down to your lips. His hands rest on your waist and squeezes softly into your skin.

“Let’s get you dressed.” he pulls back and sinks to his knees before you once more. He would never be on his knees for anyone else and the sight of you looking down upon him could send him down to his hands too if you so desired. He grabs the first stocking and taps your calf. You lift up your leg and he slides it up your leg before placing a kiss on your knee. He repeats this action with your other leg and looks over you only clad in stockings. “Gods you’re so beautiful.” you flush at his words.

“So are you.” you whisper, brushing his hair back. He stands and grabs the slip, waiting for you to lift your arms. He slides the silk over your body and groans that seeing you like this is even more indecent than when you were bare.

“Can I put your dress on or is your cunny still hurting?” he straightens out the neckline of your slip.

“It still hurts.” you whisper, stepping closer to him.

“Come on.” he tugs you over to the bed. “We’re going to try something.” you nod your head quickly trailing after him.

“Does your cock hurt too?” he stops at your words. “It’s been pushing against your trousers for a bit now.” you pout, pressing your palm against him. “Are we broken?” you squeeze your hand and he groans wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

“We’re not broken.” he chuckles. “Go lay on the bed so we can make your cunny and my cock feel better.” he nods and watches you crawl into the center of the bed.

“Can I see?” you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“See what?” he tilts his head.

“Your cock, Aem.” you push your bottom lip out. “Please,” he’s undoing his belt at your words and you sit up and scoot towards him as he pushes them down enough to free himself. “I wanna-

“No, no,” he bats your hand away. “Lay back down, sweet girl.” he smiles when you listen and he crawls over you hoping that he has enough restraint to do this properly. “Gods,” he presses his forehead to yours when his tip slides up your slit.

“Aemond,” your hands grip onto his shoulders as he slowly starts to slide up and down your slit. “Mm, Aem- yes,” your breathless pleas have him starting to hump against you faster trying to elicit more of your whimpers.

“How does it feel?” he presses his lips to your neck while you squirm beneath him. Your hips buck up into his every time his tip brushes against your bud. He moves his hips faster listening to the sound of your wetness coat his length. “Tell me.” he smiles at your soft sounds.

“Feels so good- I, Aem, please,” you tremble beneath him and he starts to move his cock through your wetness faster. “Aem it feels- something like,” your voice breaks into a soft cry. “Please,” you cling to him as you start to shake from your pleasure washing through you.

“My cock thinks your cunny feels good too.” he smiles watching your face scrunch up as he becomes more coated as your pleasure pours out of you. He moves his hips faster looking for his own release. The sounds of your soft pleas and whimpers push him over the edge and his come starts to coat your cunny.

“What’s this?” you reach down and swipe your thumb against his tip and he almost collapses on top of you as you rub his slit while he’s still coming.

“Oh Gods, sweet girl.” he stills and grabs your hand. “It’s what I’m going to fill your sweet little cunny with once we’re wed.” you bring your hand up to your mouth and he watches you taste your mixed pleasure.

“Why can’t you fill me with it now?” his cock twitches at your soft words.

“Stay here so I can clean us up.” he closes his eye and slowly stands up. He walks back over to the tub and grabs the discarded cloth. He wipes off his cock and situates himself before he walks back over to you on the bed.

“Thank you.” you say softly as he wipes up your pleasure between your thighs. “Can we still go for a walk in the gardens?” you look up at him and he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Of course we’re still going to the gardens. Let me help you dress.” he helps you up off the bed and at last, finally begins to lift your dress up your body.

“Do you think my flowers have finally begun to bloom?” you turn and look up at him once your dress is laced up.

“Let’s go see.” he offers you a soft smile as he intertwines your fingers and leads you out of your chambers.

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masterlist 🔌

i want him to take care of me in the morning 😔

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers

#i can never be chill abt aemond :/#i love him so fkn much #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #x reader #x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x you

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limethefirst · 19 hours ago

Note

So one, your fics are amazing like omg. Two can i make a request? For movie shadow x a reader who maybe has been seriously injuired and maybe gets close to death just like maria did after shadow had gotten close to them so shadows rushing them out to try and get help from gerald or just anyone after they infultrated gun. Not wanting the next person he cares about to die.

Pain

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader (platonic)

warnings: minor sonic 3 spoilers, mentions of death, injury, bodily harm

summary: after a mission gone wrong, Shadow finds you and tries his hardest to save you before it’s too late

a/n: im happy you enjoy my shadow fics I genuinely cannot express how grateful I am to see so many kind words coming from so many different people🥹 here’s your request! I hope you like it <3

You weren’t asked to infiltrate GUN, no, that was something volunteered to do. You planned to sneak in and insert the chip needed to deactivate the system for the Robotniks to activate the vault.

Simple in and out with no casualties, but you weren’t able to get out, caught in the cross fire that your boss was causing up above in the vault.

Your chest began to tighten as you tried to get out, but every hall had a surge of security roaming, per orders of the new lady in charge. So there you were, suck at the bottom of the building that you had no idea how to get out of.

Then there it was, a loud booming noise causing the entire structure to rumble; slightly knocking you off your feet. You fell to your knees trying to stabilize yourself as the rumbling stopped, but before you had a chance to use this a way of escaping the ceiling above you began to crack.

Quickly snapping your head up you cursed yourself for even volunteering to do this, a testament to try and prove your worth to Robotnik was the whole idea behind it.

Slowly the ceiling above you collapsed in some places, narrowing your route of escape. Your mind was racing with millions of plans on how to get out. You sent a small distress signal to your team, alerting them of your location in case they could get you out.

Just as you’d done that the small bits of ceiling that had fallen were right above where you were trying to run. The door was in front of you and freedom from this was nearer than you’d originally thought.

Not wasting anytime you bolted for the door, once you made it you tried to open it, only to realize that there was something holding it shut. You were trapped with no way to get out.

You stood there, still trying to push at the door when a sudden crack got your attention, before you could even react a chunk of the ceiling at hit you. It was painful and hard to see, the dawning reality of the situation making you panic.

Laying there felt like waiting for death to come, it was so scary, slowly you felt yourself losing consciousness. The stress and pain mixing leaving your body to shut down on itself.

Shadow saw the distress signal, he knew something was up, but he hesitated. He was about to leave, deciding maybe you could handle yourself. This was his chance to finally get revenge for Maria, then he stopped.

It was when he saw the building crumble in certain places, due to team Sonic’s muscle man, that he thought back to the signal you’d sent. He was torn but ultimately knew what he was going to do.

Teleporting there was mayhem, the bottom area where you should’ve been was terribly dirty, pieces of debris left and right. Then he saw you.

Your eyes were closed and your breathing was heavy, it looked like you had a cut in some places where the ceiling had hit you. His quills began to glow, indicating his intense emotion and rage that replaced his gloomy expression.

Shadow found himself at your side, trying to remove all of what was covering you without causing you any harm. He was fast but tried to stay calm, he knew he would be of no use if he rushed it.

Shadow was still kneeled at your side, this scene reminiscent of one he’d been at before. He tried to lift your back and head into his arms, he hadn’t teleported with humans before, but he had to in the moment.

Because Shadow knew he had to save you, and he only knew one person who would. So he rushed, rushed together find Gerald and plead with him to save you, that you were worthy of being saved, you had not wronged them there was no reason to let you die. Shadow would not let you die, he would not let the person had grown to care for die.

#Sonic 3 #sonic 3 spoilers #sonic 3 x reader #shadow the hedgehog #sonic movie universe #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #x reader #Sonic #shadow

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valalice · 1 day ago

Text

݁₊ DECISION TO DECISIONS ARE MADE. ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

pairing. ellie williams 𝑥⠀fem!reader

✦ summary. new year's is just a few days away and your roommate, dina, plans a party to celebrate the new year, inviting a certain special someone. ellie wanted nothing more to do than lay in bed, ignoring the fact that she's starting out yet another year without a kiss. however, she gets roped (or threatened) into attending a party she didn't even want to attend, for the sake of being a "good friend". now minutes before the clock strikes 12:00, both you and ellie are left without a special someone to embrace as everyone else welcomes the new year. what decision will the two of you make? w/c. 6k

warnings. fluff. angst. modern!au. loser ellie if you dare. reader is a socialite. roommate!dina. drinking (everyone is of age). ellie smokes. mentions of joel. the both of you are lowkey crushing on each other so bad. self sabotaging. talk of new year's resolution & the future. kissing.

a/n. my little treat to you all, happy 2025! i was going to make this set in tlou universe, but i can't stop thinking of city living and ellie, so here we are. ellie definitely has a loser girl, self sabotage mindset in this, but trust all she needed was to get kissed silly by a pretty girl! anywho, happy new years, lovely's, and i hope 2025 brings you success, peace, and treats you gentle 🤍 remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list | tlou m.list

The TV screen illuminates the dark room, the whistling wind swirls around flurry flakes into the night. It’s the first big snow of winter, and you hope it sticks instead of turning to the grey mush that’ll occupy the crevices of the city streets. You push your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head against your knee and letting your cheek squish into it, allowing you to observe the storm and the snow building up on the window seals. It’s unfortunate you think, and perhaps a little funny that the snow storm decides to happen the day after Christmas. Maybe even a little poetic or just a big fuck you from nature. However, you’re content by it.

Your name's being repeated, it takes a moment for you to fully comprehend that you're being called upon, still wrapped within the thoughts of your own mind. Till something small and light hits your head, "What?" lifting your head up from where it rested upon your knee to turn to face the culprit, eyes flickering down to see the lone popcorn fallen on the couch cushion. "Dina—" you scowl, letting an arm fall from around your legs and picking up the kernel, throwing it at Dina's face. Her face scrunching up as it bounces off her forehead and lands in her lap. "What was that for?" it sounds closer to a whine than a question, the storm outside is now forgotten.

"You weren't answering me," she responds, her focus falling to her lap to pick up the popcorn kernel and pop it in her mouth. "and you're not even paying attention to the movie, you picked it out."

Twisting your lips, eyeing the TV screen, "Yeah, I guess you're right." It wasn't a movie you've never seen before, in fact it was a one you've seen more times than you can count. A safe pick for you as Dina let you choose the movie this night, and when picking it your mind was already elsewhere. So, even now with just a glance at the screen you can tell exactly what point the movie is at. "What did you ask me?"

Dina's hand piles into the bowl, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shuffles it in her mouth. Watching her demolish the delightful crunchy-buttery snack made you outstretch your arm, a silent ask for some popcorn. She takes hold of the bowl and passes it to you, taking your own handful of popcorn and eating it one by one. Dina swallows, "Was thinking of hosting a New Year's Eve party."

As if she could already sense your hesitance for the idea she continues on, firmly placing her hands on the plush couch to give her leverage to twist her body, making it face you as she tucks her legs underneath her. And as she leans forward, "C'mon it'll be so much fun. And we have yet to have a party in our new place, there's far better room here for one." she exclaims.

Your eyebrows raise at the last statement, "Barely." you remark, eyeing the room straight ahead into the kitchen. It was a nice place, far nicer than the shoe box you and Dina lived in months prior, but by no means is it more spacious.

"Okay, so maybe not by much. But, think about how much fun it'll be."

"I guess." You ponder the thought of it, dozens of people boxed in your guys' apartment like sardines in a tin can to welcome the New Year. Then you grimace at the thought of everyone drunk and sweaty, the booming voices counting down the clock, people scrambling to find someone to messily kiss. "I retract my statement, actually."

"Oh, c'mon." Dina huffs.

"Why can't we just invite over some small friends? A small gathering? Yes, a small gathering sounds far better." Nodding your head at the idea, trying your best to convince Dina of your idea.

"That's boring. It's gotta be a party, and besides, aren't you supposed to be a socialite?"

You let out a groan at her words, "Reluctant. It's a curse that I'm good with people."

"And that's why you're going to invite some of your fancy socialite friends over."

Your brows furrow deeper than you think they've ever done before. "I'm doing what now? And they're not really friends, just—" you pause to think of a nice name to call them rather than the ones you're currently thinking of. "acquaintances. And I thought you were just thinking of having this party?"

That cracks a smile onto Dina's face. "Well it's decided now." she muses, bunching up her shoulders and throwing up her hands.

"Really?" feeling unfazed by her.

"Yep!" Dina quips.

"Why do you always invite? They're not very good people." you confess.

Dina shrugs, "They suck but at least they bring good booze."

A laugh erupts from you, enacting a full body shake, pointing your index finger at the girl. "I like the way you think."

"I know." she smirks.

The mattress underneath Ellie vibrates, causing her to groan and flip over, giving her phone the cold shoulder. Sighing when it stops, feeling herself mold further into her pillow. Till the bzz bzz bzz begins again, she tries to ignore it and focus on getting back to sleep, but at this point it's been ringing an eternity. Dramatically turning her body back over, taking a hold of her phone and holding it up to her and squinting; Dina. A finger presses answer and she brings the screen up to her face.

"Hello?" she groggily asks, running a hand over her sleep ridden-face. Her body aches from the travels.

"Where are you going to be on New Year's Eve?" Dina demands.

Straight to the point she guesses, rolling her eyes at the lack of "Hello, to you too, Ellie. How are you feeling from your long travels?" Ellie lets her arm fall over her face. "In my bed. Is that okay with you?" she grumbles, hoping this isn't one of Dina's schemes.

"Wrong answer."

Ellie's head pushes further into her pillow, confusion written all over her twisted up face. "How?"

"You're going to be coming to my party." The girl on the other side of the phone corrects.

"Is that an invite where I can accept or decline?"

"No, you're attending this party."

Ellie lets out a long string of groans in retaliation. She didn't even why she bothered to ask if it was an invite, of course she'd be forced to attend another party.

"Oh, stop being dramatic. You always have fun."

A chuckle falls from Ellie's lips. "If you think me having a few beers and listening on to some random conversation is fun, then sure."

There's some rustling on the other end of the phone, like a faint jingle of keys. The noise alone alerts Ellie to check the clock on her night stand, moving her arm from over her face to peek at the clock; 2:54 p.m. She throws her arm back over her face.

Dina huffs and takes a breath, "You just never put yourself out there. That's why. You could easily spark up a conversation with a rando and they'll love you!"

Ellie scoffs at the image of her talking to some random person, let alone her initiating it. "Yeah, right. Besides, I don't really like any of the people that are at your parties, they're all outsiders from our group." Remembering a time at one of Dina's parties when she planted her ass on some couch then out of nowhere a small crowd started to surround her. One of the guys in the group had some weird bullshit rhetoric he was spewing, so she called him out, correcting him in the meantime as well. Everyone around her froze and started looking at her as if she grew another head; she carry's that memory with her to not fuck with any rando's.

"They're my roommates, friends, or acquaintances, whatever they are." Ellie perks up at the mention of you, her arm falling off her face once more, and this time she shuffles in her bed to sit up. "But, they bring that good beer you like."

"Ah, right. All's forgiven, I guess." she doesn't think her voice could get any sarcastic.

There's a moment of silence, Ellie clears her throat. "So, uh, how's your roommate?" It's an innocent question she asks, a hand coming up to her head to smooth over her messy bed head. She knows your name but she still calls you Dina’s roommate.

"Oh! She's good. Neither of us went home for Christmas this year, so we spent it together."

"Cute." Ellie hums. Whenever she hears Dina talk about you it makes a small part of her ache for a roommate, someone to always be around and grow a close bond with. But, not everyone gets as lucky as Dina in the roommate lottery, and the thought of it always gets pushed out of her mind in favor of a space entirely her own.

"She's going to be at the party." Dina blurts, knowing what Ellie is trying to do, she knows the brunette girl too well.

"Well, I would hope so." Her response was casual, holding her phone away from her face and unplugging it from its charging cord, deciding to press the 'Speaker' button and not succumb herself to holding the hot screen phone to her face. Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she stretches, a few small noises falling from her lips when doing so. Is it so wrong for her to ask such a question?

"I just bet you do." Dina teases, not convinced with the facade Ellie's putting up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellie quirks, pushing the shirt that's ridden up her abdomen and pushing it back into its rightful position. The socks on her feet shuffling against the ground to move her body out of her room and to her liven area; it's living area and kitchen combined, she thinks it's a cool name since the entire area is open, but everyone else just calls it the dumbest name ever.

"You don't need to skirt around asking about her. I know about your little crush on her."

Ellie chokes at the word crush, playing it off back hacking up a lung. "I don't have a crush on anyone." she argues, still trying to recover from her coughing fit, wiping away the few dribbles of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"It's all that damn smoking." Dina retorts at Ellie's fit.

"You sound like Joel." Ellie snorts.

There's a beginning of an insult Dina begins to say until she gets interrupted. Being nosy Ellie tries to listen in to what it could be. “Uh, hold on a sec, Els.”

"Yep, it's not a problem." Ellie says, her mouth falling into a tight line. She takes a seat on her couch, listening intently to the chatter happening; as best she could, it's extremely muffled, almost like whispering. Placing her phone to be perched on her thigh she takes hold of her hand, picking at the skin around her nails. Picking at a stubborn piece of skin before she pricks herself and starts bleeding, "Ah, shit." bringing her finger up to her mouth to nurse at the bleeding spot.

“Ellie?” Your voice startles her to remove her finger from her mouth urgently, and straighten her hunchback.

She picks up her phone for some reason, clearing her throat. “Hey.”

“Hi!” You exclaim, enacting a small jump in Ellie's heart. Are you happy to talk to her or are you just like this? She'll settle on the latter. “How are you doing?” the simple question makes her feel embarrassed, a soft pink hue forming across her freckled cheeks.

“I’m doing all right. I just- uh," she pauses momentarily, and she thinks of lying, and telling you that she just got home from running errands, and before that she went to the gym for a few hours; to make herself seem productive. "I just woke up.” she tells the truth.

“Rough night?” there's something endearing in your voice and how it seemed to drop when you asked if she had a rough night, as if you're trying to work a dirty secret out of her by telling her you wouldn't tell a soul. And truthfully if she did have some wild night, it wouldn't take much for her to tell you about it.

Ellie shuffles on her couch, leaning forward, placing her elbows on her spread knees, leaning her head on her unoccupied hand. “You could say so. I landed back here at like 3 a.m.” Although the flight had not been her worst by close measure, she was still sleep deprived and being on a plane always managed to make her body ache.

“Oh, from Christmas. You visited your family, right?” Yet, again her heart leaps. Dina must've told you her plans in passing, but it's the fact that you remembered that made her heart thump a little faster.

She knows she's cheesing way too hard, but maybe you could somehow sense her happy mood through the phone, or at least she hopes. “Yeah, I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, so it was good to see them.” Her family wasn't large, nor typical, but she held them dear to her heart.

“That’s very sweet.” you say, and just as Ellie hoped, on the other side of the phone you sit on your couch mirroring an identical dopey grin. She pushes her head into her palm, she hates that you have such an effortless effect on her, and she hates how your voice sounds airy, much like the noises doves make as they fly around. “Did you get everything you wished for, for Christmas?”

The question takes Ellie by surprise, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “Oh, c’mon.” She's sure she'll bore you with the niche presents she got, and she's even more sure that you wouldn't care.

“Sorry, sorry.” you chuckle.

Ellie shifts once again, letting her body fall into her couch, a hand running through her knotted hair as her leg bounces vigorously. “I hear you're hosting a New Year’s Eve party.” She's making conversation.

“Well, it’s really Dina doing it all. I’m helping out, though.”

“That’s good. You're a real trooper helping Dina with all her shenanigans?" The smile she once had now turns to a crooked smirk; anything to send harmless jabs at Dina.

"Need a trophy for it really. But, I don't mind, she's lucky I love her." Your words strike something within Ellie, she doesn't know quite what it is, but there's something at how comfortably the word love falls from your mouth, it makes her feel bitter.

“You coming?”

It's a yes or no question, but Ellie still takes a moment to think. Dina's already made it clear that she has to attend, but she could also use this as an opportunity to back out of it and just spend the first few weeks of the new year hiding out from Dina like someone hiding from a hitman. “Uh, yeah. I am.” She's fucked.

“Fantastic!” You amuse her, not in a silly way, but in a way as in she's never met someone who genuinely uses the word fantastic quite like you. She finds it cute. “I was a little reluctant about it, but I’m coming around to it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Oh. So you weren't on board for this either?

“I’m sure I will, too.” She's beyond fucked up.

You don't respond, but that inaudible whisper is back, the two of you must be talking. “Oh, um. Dina wants her phone back," Ellie can feel herself deflate, slumping into the couch. She felt childish that she wants to whine and say she wants to keep talking to you. "but how much longer do I have to wait to get your number, or do you just not like me?” Your words bring life back into her, placing a hand on the soft cushion and pushing herself up. The two of you have known each other for about four years now and you two don't interact without the influence of Dina. And she feels embarrassed that not only do you think she could possibly not like you, you're also the one asking her for her number. But, of course you are, she's not as outgoing as you.

“What? No, no, it’s not that." It could never be that. "Just, uh, get it from Dina.” She panicked, but then again she didn't know if you had your phone on your or paper and a pen near you to write down her number. Dina comes in clutch, she guesses.

“Okay, I will. See you Tuesday night, Ellie.” You said her name again.

“See you Tuesday.” There's silence and she almost thinks you hung up till she taps her screen to see Dina's ID screen.

“And you say you don’t have a crush?” Dina's voice quips.

Ellie groans, her hands slapping at her face before they drag down.

Ellie's phone buzzes in her pocket, reaching for it she frees it from her jacket and unlocks it.

You

Hi! Hope you're excited for the party tonight, can't wait to see you! x

4:23 p.m

Ellie

Hey! Can't wait to see what Dina put together, and right back at ya :)

4:24 p.m

She stands in the store aisle as she watches a blue text bubble appear with three little dots, it abruptly stops, and instead of whatever you wanted to say you replaced it by hearting her message. Ellie stuffs her phone back in her pocket. Sighing as she throws her head back, squinting at the fluorescent lights. Rolling her neck she looks straight forward, swiping the golden figure from the shelf into her hand, taking it and the complementary beer for the party to the register.

Chatters overtake the living space, looking over it you see how certain people group together, it's endearing really how certain types of people naturally gravitate towards each other and stick together like magnets. You take another sip of your beer, looking down in your lap, flipping over your phone to check the time, 10:40 p.m on the dot. You huff, unlocking your phone and picking an app to mindlessly scroll through.

Someone says your name, causing you to lift your head in an instant. “Oh, Mack.” Lifting yourself from off the couch to hug the girl, letting your phone fall into the cracks of your couch in the process. “Hey.” She breaths into the embrace.

“How are you? You enjoying yourself?” you ask, you've gotta be a good host, although you've asked the same questions over ten times now when greeting each person. But, with Mack you don't mind all that much. She's one of the more tolerable socialites you know, and maybe even a friend if you dared.

“I’m doing good, and uh. Yeah! I just got here a little bit ago, saw Dina and everything. I love the new place.” she answers, looking around the room at the last part to take in the space once more.

“That's good, and thanks. Dina and I have been really enjoying it.” Flashing her a polite smile. “She was actually the one to push the idea of a New Years Eve party.” You're creating conversation that you're not sure you want to create.

“Well it's a nice party. You guys really went all out with the decorations.” Motioning to all the gold and black decorations littering the living space.

You hum, forcing another smile, “Why don't we sit down? I heard you just joined a startup from Jonesy, congratulations!” And there you've done it.

Out of your sight, Ellie shuffles into the apartment, searching for either your or Dina.

“Ellie!” A familiar voice yells over the chatter, Ellie looks out to see a tan hand up surfing through the crowd, it’s Dina. She pulls Ellie in for a hug, and she wraps her unoccupied hand around Dina.

“Hey.” Ellie’s greeting was faint, something only Dina could hear.

“Was worried you were gonna flake.” An elbow nudges into Ellie’s side, and she squirms, swatting Dina away.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” she grimaces, green eyes flickering around the sea of people packed into the small space.

“Yeah, I’d hunt you down if you did.” Dina’s words are playful, but there's some truth to them. Ellie focuses back on the girl in front of her, and she remembers the beer in her hand.

“Oh, I bought some beer.” Lifting up the case and showing it off.

“Great! Can never have too much of it.” Taking a hold of the case from the brunette and walking to the kitchen. Ellie follows after her, watching as Dina opens the fridge and places the case of beer next to another one, the one she knows one of your fancy friends brought, the one she likes. It makes her chuckle thinking that her case of beer will feel at home with the rest of the alcohol in the fridge.

“Did you want one?” Dina asks, still bent into the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Dina reaches and grabs a beer, extending her arm to Ellie. But upon one look, “Not that one, the one I bought.”

Dina removes her head from the fridge to stand up straight, questionably eyeing her. “I bought it with my money so I’m going to drink it.” Ellie shrugs.

“Whatever you say.” Dina mumbles, placing the beer back and grabbing the one from the other case, handing it to Ellie; she says a quick ‘Thanks’ looking behind her on the counter she's leaning against, grabbing a bottle opener and piping it open, pocketing the top in her jeans pocket taking a swig of the drink.

“Uh, where's roomie?” It's an ice breaker she tells herself.

Dina pouts, leaning so she looks over Ellie's figure into the open space living area that's completely filled with people. She shrugs as she sets herself back in place. “She's somewhere in there, y’know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Taking another, longer swig of her beer.

"So," Dina begins. Ellie squints at her, the look in Dina's brown eyes tells her something is up. "Who are you kissing tonight?" Of course.

Ellie swallows. "Who are you kissing tonight?" She's deflecting, but she's also genuinely curious.

Dina looks off somewhere then back at Ellie. "I'm sure I can find someone. Now, stop deflecting. Who are you kissing?"

She rolls her eyes at the stupid question. "You know the answer. No one." It's been no one for years, it would be something she's embarrassed about but she's too used to it to feel that way. A reason she didn't want to attend the party, she didn't want to have to come face to face with the fact that she's so content with feeling alone, even when there's countless people who kiss other people with no strings attached on a night like December 31st; Ellie just couldn't do it.

Dina could see the question get under her friend's skin, the aversion of her gaze as it flickers around, focusing on anything but Dina, and the hand layer unoccupied on her jeans, a nimble finger scratching at the fabric. "Okay, okay. Stay lonely and un-kissed, loser."

Lifting herself up from leaning on the counter, "Have fun finding someone random to kiss." Ellie swings her beer up in the air, a solute to Dina's findings. The moment she turns her back to Dina she feels a twinge of regret, maybe she's being too sensitive about the topic. . . Nah. She knew what her friend was trying to insinuate when asking who she's kissing tonight, and with her hounding to know if she has a crush on you, it's too much. Ellie Williams isn't kissing anyone on New Year's Eve and she doesn't have a crush on you.

Your butt feels numb, you hadn't moved much since you sat down in an effort to seem interested in whatever Mack is talking about. It's routine really, ask someone about something recent, often something new or life changing and the person will talk your ear off, litter a few Ah's and Oh, Really's?, maybe a few questions of your own if you're feeling frisky. But, at this point you're starting to worry about how long someone could possibly talk about a startup.

Stretching your neck side to side you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, opening them to put your attention back on Mack. And as quickly as it happens, you lose it. Eyes roaming the window you were staring out of just a few days ago, you couldn't see it about an hour ago, you guess people have congregated elsewhere. You're just about to focus on the girl sitting in front of you, again, till a bright little flickering flame catches your eye. Squinting as you watch the flame be brought to something then be gone, the moonlight and the city lights allow you to see silhouette, Ellie.

Turning back to Mack, you place a warm hand on her knee, "I'm really sorry, Mack. But, I think Dina is calling me." you lie, a very tiny fabricated lie that shouldn't hurt her too much. Rising from the couch and walking towards the window.

"Oh, but—" Mack's head twists behind her, a finger pointing to the opposite side of the room where Dina's at, talking to a few people.

Both you and Dina had thought it was a good idea to keep the balcony window open during the party, knowing that everyone would be packed in tightly together and some fresh cool air could keep the environment comfortable. The sheer blinds flap from the wind and you catch them, entering the balcony, but not quite. You were right, now faced with the back of Ellie staring down to the city streets, taking drags of the cigarette she just lite, expelling the smoke to let it be carried away by the wind and be swirled around. Everything about her is so signature, from her half up half down hairstyle, the chunky tan jacket she wears everywhere, the jeans she has on, down to the boots she exchanged during the winter season instead of wearing her converse; and there's a beer at her feet.

"Smoking and drinking? Pick a struggle." You remark, folding your arms over each other.

Ellie's startled by your voice, again. Turning around to see you standing in the opening of the window. The sheer cream blind sway behind you, but the moonlight illuminates to make them appear brighter, it gives you a halo that hitches Ellie's breath. And there's a toothy grin on your face, it's a telltale that you're clearly teasing her.

She tears her gaze away from you and turns back around to lean on the railing of the balcony, nodding her head.

The grin on your face drops at Ellie's action, and there's a few short clicks of your footsteps before you're also leaning against the railing next to her. "Was it too far?" you ask, in a softness close to a whisper.

Ellie turns to you, brows furrowed. "No, I just um—" She eyes the cigarette between her fingers, bad habits die hard. "My New Year's resolution is to quit." she stated, she doesn't exactly know when she decided this, but she always felt the need to say something unnecessary around you in hopes to impress you.

Your eyes widen at her words, "Oh, wow, Ellie. That's huge." you beamed, you feel proud to know this, and you wonder if Dina knows about her resolution. "You know we're all here for you."

Ellie huffs out another drag, she does it by looking in the opposite direction from you. "Yeah, I know." she agreed, turning back to you. "It's going to be fucking hard, been smoking for years."

"You're strong, Ellie. It is going to be hard, but again, just please remember that you have a support system. Even if you don't want to go to Dina or whoever, I know we're not super close, but I'm here." You're sincere in your words, and you just hope Ellie can tell that you are. Comfortable silence, or as close to silence falls over the two of you, eye contact not breaking as you gaze into each other. As Ellie looks at you she lets your words soak in, everything about you is soft right now; the kiss of your lashes on your cheeks when you blink, the small smile on your face and how it reached your eyes causing them to twinkle, the faint aroma of your perfume, to your words. Just alone with your comforting words she likes to think she could quit smoking cold turkey, despite knowing she'd probably roll over and die if she did.

"Thank you." A smile now mirrors yours. And in response yours stretches wider, a silent, No problem. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed a breather." You needed more than a breather, you needed to escape from the Hell that is uninteresting conversations.

"You got one." She quips, she's sure you have better things to do, better things to talk to than her.

Your eyebrows rise, you weren't expecting a response like that. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Williams?" Quirking your head to the side. Feelings of Ellie not liking you come washing back, and your body burns, but she said she does like you, and you trust her.

"Not a chance." She confirms.

"Sounds like you are." You press, still hung up on such a response.

"I would never." Ellie consoled, she feels bad for her snarky remark, so she places emphasis on the word never. "It's just that—" She stops mid sentence, your sharp gaze waiting for the next thing to come out of her mouth, she feels hot and looks away for a moment, releasing the hand on the railing to come up and pull at her collar before smoothing to rub at her neck. "I just thought you'd be doing your socialite thing right now."

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?" You groan, and everyone as in Dina and now Ellie.

"What? You are." she proclaimed.

"Not by much," you grumble, looking down to the streets of the city. "Can I confess something to you?"

Ellie walks around you, to the little table and chair you and Dina had set up on the balcony, you could only fit those two things without taking up the entire balcony, so whenever the two of you come out here one sits on the chair and the other sits on the metal staircases. She buds out her cigarette into the ashtray Dina keeps outside before returning to her spot next to you. "My lips are sealed."

"I don't really like my life." you admit. It's a heavy topic that's been looming over your head in dark clouds. You would have talked to Dina about it, but she thinks your life is the best thing ever, and you know if given the chance she'd gladly jump into your shoes, and you'd let her.

"Oh."

"Yeah." you sigh, "Sorry if it's too much. I don't have many people to talk about this to." This is a bad idea.

"No, it's not, trust me. I just don't know if I'm the best person to talk to this about," She feels under qualified to talk about such a topic with you, although she understands the feeling all too well. "maybe Dina will?"

"Dina won't understand."

"Ah." she acknowledges, she agrees with that. "What's the matter?"

"I just feel unhappy and unfulfilled." you say, and you feel ungrateful doing so. "I shouldn't be that's the thing."

"How so?"

"Because, I guess I have everything. And I'm lucky and thankful." You break, collecting your thoughts. "But it's like everything I do is to please others. I'm tired."

Ellie frowns. She thinks of a decent way to try and comfort you, but each one doesn't sound right, and she doesn't want something she says to make you feel worse; there's even a passing thought of pulling you into a hug, but she decides against it; you guys aren't there quite yet. "Fuck that." A little brash, but she hopes it'll get the message across.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a breathy laugh. "What?" Confusion written all over your face from Ellie's response.

"Fuck that. Fuck people pleasing. And fuck not being happy your life." You're startled by her words, not knowing where she's trying to go with what she's saying; Ellie doesn't know where she's going either. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her phone, "It's 11:43, and we're leaving all that bullshit in the past in about 16 minutes. You're turning a new leaf in 2025." she retorted, feeling a new kind of adrenaline from her words.

You break out into a loud laughter, sure enough that the few people walking on the streets could hear you, but positive enough that no one inside the apartment could hear you. Ellie watches you fit, laughing a little herself, but not too much to take in the scene in front of her. You; mouth wide, curled open, cheeks plump as the press up into your closed eyes, the little birthmarks on your face and how they move as you express joy, she's taken aback by you.

When you calm down, there's still some giggles exiting your mouth. "Fuck all that."

A weight is lifted from off Ellie's shoulders, she twists and leans over the balcony railing. "Fuck all that!" she yells into the night.

You follow her actions. "Fuck all that!" you repeat louder.

A random person on the street heard the two of you and yells in retaliation. "Shut the fuck up!" their booming voice roars, but it only makes you and Ellie whip your heads to each other and erupt into a shared fit of laughter.

The two of you lean on each other to have support from the full belly laughs you guys are having. Ellie brings a finger to swipe at her eyes, "God, I'm crying." she croaks out. But you notice commotion happening inside, and you sober up from laughing quickly.

"You hear that?"

Ellie turns to look into the apartment just as you're doing, she can't see much, but she can hear the countdown.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Ellie stays strained looking, the blind are sheer enough, and there's still wind picking them up and flapping them, so she's able to see everyone inside with little party gadgets and jumping up and down as they count. "Well happy-" Words leave her mouth when she feels a hand on her cheek, pushing her to turn it to look back at you. Her green eyes widen when she feels the tip of your noses touch.

Three.

Two.

One.

It doesn't take much to move just a smidge closer, and kiss Ellie, letting your eyes flutter shut. Fireworks rocket off inside Ellie's head and her body tenses, this was the last thing she expected to happen, but her panicked state begins to match your relaxed one, a hand coming up to cup at your jaw, while the other comes to rest on your waist, pulling you further into her. She swears your lips is the softest thing she's ever felt, the way at which you two kiss has her chasing for more.

The noises of cheers rings through your ears, and you're the one who lets up first, giggling when Ellie still has her eyes closed, leaning into you for another kiss. You swipe a finger along her bottom lip, breaking the string of saliva that connected you two.

When her eyes peer open again, they're dazed, probably much like yours. "Happy New Year." you whisper, a coy smile on your face.

You watch as Ellie seems to remember something, and you're disappointed to feel her touch be removed from your body. She stuffs both her hands in her jacket pocket, like she couldn't remember which one she put an item in. And she lets out a little Ah Ha, as she pulls out a golden statue, or trophy. She hands it to you, and you take it in your hands, examining it, there's a little ripped piece of paper taped on the stand of the trophy with Ellie's scribble handwriting on it.

#1 Trooper of Dina's Shenanigans

"Happy New Year."

You caress the little trophy, holding on to it, and looking back up at Ellie.

2025 is going to be a good year.

‧₊˚ taglist. @samcvrpenters @bready101 @opt1mistic @honeygiii123 @elsn @aliceellieswife @oceangalore

#𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 alice writes.#ellieྀི txt.#the last of us #tlou #tlou pt 2 #tlou x reader #tlou fluff #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader

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lukolabrainrot · 3 days ago

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End of Year PSA and Thank You

As 2024 comes to a close, and I know it's NYE in some parts of the world already, I wanted to talk about a few things:

Privacy PSA

i just want to say that yesterday is everything I hate about this fandom. It was disgusting and unacceptable behavior. Period. No argument. It is not alright to go on private spaces and share information to the whole world WITHOUT PEOPLE'S CONSENT. And what did you prove?? NOTHING!! Except that you're a shitty person who likes to invade people's privacy... Karma comes back to bite people, remember that.

No wonder L hardly shares ANYTHING anymore. I'm honestly shocked L OR N even have public SM accounts anymore after the BS of this year tbh. WE COLLECTIVELY NEED TO DO BETTER AND GIVE THESE PEOPLE SPACE AND PRIVACY. Focus on what they publicly share, and eventually we will publicly have answers.... Do not go on a witch hunt to try and "prove" your point, THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN PROVE!

The events of yesterday is another big reason I haven't been posting as much. This fandom has just turned SOOOO toxic, and honestly, I could write a whole psychology dissertation on why that is... but y'know what, it has almost NOTHING to do with L or N. But people are dumping ALL this stuff on them, and still claiming to be their "fans". L/N is what brought all of us together. And with the state of the world, I think there is something truly positive about the energy L/N put out there when they are with each other that really resonates with a lot of people and makes them happy and more hopeful. But L/N are their own people, and we'll get confirmation at some point about the big things in their lives. We can't force it, even if we're feeling frustrated at times.

So as the year comes to a close, let's think about the following... If you call yourselves fans of L and N, think about the energy you want to put out in the fandom, and think about how you would want to be treated if you were in L or N's position (or their family members' positions). And if you're just around to create chaos or shit on people, it's time to do some internal processing of your past and go to therapy and heal.

Now, on to the more positive part of this post...

2. Thank You to All My Followers

I want to say I am truly grateful to all my followers on here! I have over 1,300 followers atp, and I barely post anything anymore 😅 I was going through my own stuff earlier this year when I stumbled upon the Lukola magic in May, and then I was just hooked. I decided to start the blog because I had a LOT of things I wanted to talk about regarding these two. And although there is a lot about this fandom I really don't care for, I have met some amazing people on here through our mutual interest in L/N, have had some amazing conversations, and this whole experience has had a significant impact on me. I will always remember this year as the year of Lukola lol

As we move into 2025, I likely will not be posting as much until we get more substantial information related to L/N. I'll still post when I'm able though, and my Asks are always open ❤️️

Wishing everyone a happy New Year!! 🥂

#lukola #thank you everyone ❤️️#2024 was quite a year #Excited to see what 2025 brings for these two #I have a feeling it'll be a very big year for them 😉

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hannie-dul-set · 2 days ago

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나비 / NABI — THREE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, somehow also a christmas and new year’s au, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, rumors as a plot device, bullying, alcohol consumption, cheesy shit, a few makeout scenes WAHAHHAHA. WORD COUNT. 28k (out of 49k).

NOTE. whoa.....HAHHAHAHA. this was long overdue, so i saved up my yapping for the afterword. anyhow, here it finally is 😭😭😭 my blood, sweat, and tears. mostly tears. enjoy. please let me know what you think, and happy new year to all!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

#3: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HOW MUCH OF YOUR IDENTITY HE’S STRIPPED AWAY. Your title has changed from Choi Beomgyu’s girlfriend to Choi Beomgyu’s cheating girlfriend. Such an upgrade. It’s like you have a sign with that title label hovering and pointing to your head every time you pass through a decently crowded hallway, or enter an occupied area. Like Horangnabi, for example. You’re minding your own business, sipping on your iced mocha, and the people on the next table keep snagging glances at you.

Julie shows up with a loud cough, practically slamming your cinnamon waffle onto the table. The group snaps their eyes off of you and jumps into a sudden conversation. Julie rolls her eyes. “If I hear anyone talking crap, I’m kicking them out of the shop.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?” You’re pretty sure the cafe belongs to the school. And Julie seonbae is still a student here.

“No one’s ever here to supervise. This is my store now,” is her logical response. She takes a seat in front of you. You’re also pretty sure she’s still on duty. “Anyway, how was your break, pretty? Did you get some rest?”

Last week was the rest week after midterms, so you were able to spend the last six days at home in Daegu. Beomgyu wasn’t able to join you because he and the coding club— and this was hard to believe at first— had decided to join a game development contest hosted by TXT Inc. Shocker, you know. You couldn’t believe your ears after hearing the news from Beomgyu.

But he crushes your feeling of pride just as quickly as he triggered it. They’re not doing this entirely out of passion and willingness, he said. The extracurriculars office threatened to shut down their club if they fail to show any tangible results before the end of the semester.

Well, you guess if there’s anything that can get a bunch of boys to actually start properly operating their club, a dissolution threat will work wonders. They scrambled to find something they could do— a proposal to improve the MIS, events, anything. Fortunately for them, the TXT Inc. competition advertisement showed up on Yeonjun’s feed right when they needed it. Unfortunately, the deadline for the contest is mid-December. It’s now the last week of October. They’ve got like two months to cram an entire game from scratch, so for the entirety of the one-week break, they’ve been in a self-imposed isolation in the clubroom. To say that they’re on a tight schedule is an understatement.

Which is why you’re at Horangnabi right now. To buy a fuckload of coffee for those poor, sleep-deprived chumps. Another barista walks up to your table with a dozen cups of coffee, halved into two takeout containers, and you bid Julie farewell before heading out to make your way to the clubroom.

It’s concerning how they haven’t even locked the door. It’s even more concerning how you’re met with pitch darkness the moment you swing the door open— save for the singular glow of one computer screen on the opposite end of the room.

You flick the lightswitch on. Groans erupt. It’s like you’ve just revived the dead.

“Turn off the sun,” you hear Heeseung groan from below. He’s laid on the worn out couch by the door, shifting around underneath a blanket. Looking around, you see the other corpses strewn about. “Turn it off.”

“What a mess.” Navigating through the sleeping bags on the floor (sleeping bodies included), you notice that it’s littered with a distressing amount of plastic bottles and takeout boxes. You grimace. “I got you guys coffee. Come and get it.”

The first person to be revived is Yeonjun. The sound of the containers set on the table stir him up from the couch, next to Heeseung, and he stumbles over to you, finishing out an americano from the box. “Thanks,” he drawls out, patting you on the head before making a turn towards the door. “Ugh. I need to wash my face.”

“You go do that,” you say. “Everyone, come get your coffee then get out. This place is a biohazard. Go out and get some sunlight while I clean up.”

If they keep working in this environment, you’re pretty sure one or seven of them are gonna catch a disease. After a few more moments of coaxing and physical threats, most of them eventually evacuate from the clubroom. You had to physically kick Heeseung out before locking the door. The only one left is a certain Choi Beomgyu, still curled up on a chair against the half-wall. He’s stuck behind the table, one remaining cup of coffee left behind for him. Poor guy. He looks like absolute shit. You decide to pick up the crap on the floor first before kicking him out.

To get some more light in this damned cave, you pull open the curtains and turn on the lights in the back. Copious amounts of rustling and two full trash bags later, Beomgyu is still knocked out. You’re not surprised. He sleeps like a corpse.

You set the bag aside against the door, spraying some sanitizer into your hands before walking up to him, quietly wedging yourself behind the table because he’s still got his headphones glued to his ears. That can’t be healthy. You try to remove it from his head, sitting down on the chair next to him, carefully placing your hands on the sides of his face, but this stirs him awake.

Beomgyu grumbles and shifts in his seat. And then you hear him mumble out your name with a question mark at the end. “Morning, idiot,” you say, retracting your hands. “I got you coffee.”

“It’s...it’s morning?” he groans, barely coherent.

“It’s five past nine,” you tell him. “What time did you sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he grunts, pulling up his legs to the chair and scrunching himself up even more with a yawn. “I just decided to nap when my eyes couldn’t distinguish the ones from the zeroes anymore.”

You laugh. “Get some more rest,” you say, getting up from the chair. “I’ll close the curtains, hold on—”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re tugged back onto your seat, and you feel Beomgyu drop his head onto your shoulder. “I’m gonna—” he releases another yawn. “I need’ta get up in a bit anyway.”

A breath slips past your lips. His head is so god damned heavy and you struggle to squirm into a comfortable enough position, all while trying to make sure you’re not moving too much to keep his head steady on your abused shoulder. While you’re doing that, you hear a knock from the other side of the clubroom door. Which is weird, because none of those fuckers knock at all. They tend to just barge in whenever they want.

Beomgyu recognizes this anomaly as well. He jolts up, relieving you from his weight. “Ah, shit,” he remarks, and— for some reason— starts...crawling underneath the table? “Can you answer the door? If someone’s looking for me, tell them I’m not here.”

You’re more than a little confused. Beomgyu’s face wrinkles into a grunt when another round of door knocks echo into the space, and he ducks further under the table, shielded from whoever the hell is on the other side of the door in case they walk in. Despite not receiving any answers on an explanation, you do as he says. Opening the door, you’re immediately slapped in the face by a loud, over enthusiastic voice that you don’t recognize.

“Choi Beomgyu, you can’t keep running from us anym—”

The guy cuts himself off, eyes wide at the recognition that you are not his person of interest. You don’t recognize him, but he seems to recognize you, confirmed by how he coughs up your name with so much weariness that it almost feels like he’s wronged you somehow.

“Yes?” you say, brow raised. He gulps. Who is this man, how does he know you, and why is he scared of you?

“Oh, uh— Yeonjun told us Beomgyu would be here…?”

“He’s not,” you reply, crossing your arms and tilting your body to the doorframe, just to give your friend some extra coverage. “But I can send the message. What do you want from him?”

You’re very aware of the amount of attitude you’re expelling right now. “W—well, you know the autumn festival is next month, right?”

“Get to the point.”

He flinches out a nod. “I, uh, I came here to try and convince your boyfriend to join the Battle of the Bands competition for the festival. The ICT department still needs some vacant slots to fill, so...do you think...you can maybe…?”

Ah. Right. There’s that thing. The festival. Your seniors have been sending messages in the group chat about it and Heeseung did mention that off-handedly at one point. They scouted him for your department’s band, too, but he’s still on the fence about it because of the competition deadline they’re trying to catch. That doesn’t answer why Choi Beomgyu is currently hiding under the table though. “Who are you again?” you ask in an attempt to get some hints. This question sends the guy frozen and standing perfectly upright.

“S—sorry, I’m Choi Soobin,” he introduces. “I’m Beomgyu’s senior from the department.”

Your face stiffens. Well, god damn, you’ve just been totally rude to a senior. You clear your throat, brushing your embarrassment aside by inhaling a sharp breath. “I’ll see what I can do,” you simply say before shutting the door. Once the lock clicks, you immediately taunt Beomgyu out of his hiding spot. “You piece of shit, you could’ve at least told me I needed to be respectful!”

“Wow. You’re so brave for talking to someone older than you like that.” He snickers, shuffling out from under the table before grinning at you, now standing at full height. “Your temper has mellowed out lately. I forgot that you’re inherently Satan’s underling whose default setting is to be mean and cranky.”

“Shut it,” you roll your eyes, moving back over to the door to take a peek if Choi Soobin had already left the premises. He has. The hallway is more or less empty. You turn your head back, looking over your shoulder at Beomgyu, who has his hands in his pockets, face scrunched in a yawn. You can’t help but notice the bags underneath his eyes, the gaunt paleness of his skin. A sinking feeling hits you. “C’mon. All your clubmates have left. Let’s get you photosynthesized, fuckface.”

The both of you trek the relatively barren path from the ICT building to the courtyard, planning to circle all the way back because god knows when was the last time this guy had been able to do some exercise. Pace slow, you cock your head to eye Beomgyu. He’s silently sipping on the coffee you got him, the mid-autumn leaves crunching underneath the soles of his feet as more cascade down from the trees lining your path. When your gaze shifts up, Choi Beomgyu still looks as tired as ever underneath the sun. You frown, biting on the straw of your own drink.

“Why didn’t you want to join the band thing, by the way? You usually say yes to these things.”

Beomgyu looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” you start. “Last sem’s E-Sports Fest. The conference thing. Not to mention all throughout highschool, you’d never miss the opportunity to be the center of attention. I’m just a little surprised.”

He lets out a hum. “Well, my priorities have changed.” Beomgyu reaches out for the top of your head with his free hand, plucking out a stray orange leaf from one of the trees above before flicking it away. “I’m already busy with the game dev contest as is. I’d rather focus my time on the important things.”

“Wow. So mature. I’m gonna tell your mom her son is all grown up.” All he does is roll his eyes at you. You laugh.

Despite that conviction of his, however, Choi Beomgyu is pretty quick to change his mind.

The next day, you’re back at the clubroom again with another set of coffee orders. It looks a lot more livable than yesterday. You call out their orders one-by-one, “Heeseung, iced mocha,” and they come up to the table to snatch it from your hands.

“Thanks, dear friend of mine,” Heeseung says, tipping your service with a firm smack on the back.

“I spit in your drink,” you retort back. He ignores your threat and saunters over to his spot next to Beomgyu, who’s busy doing god knows what with the computer, aggressive keyboard noises filling the room. You have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you try to find out. The most help you can offer to these losers is being their coffee intern.

When you finish handing all of them their drinks, ready to disappear and head off to your own business for the day, Hyunjin’s voice perks up your ears. He announces something to the entire club, eyes glued to his phone like he’d just read something very interesting. “Hey,” he starts. “Apparently Jang Seung is the drummer for the econ department’s band. You know. For the festival next month.”

They all stop doing whatever they’re doing— all heads pivoting to Beomgyu’s corner, who has now stopped typing on the keyboard.

Beomgyu promptly gets up. He marches over to the couch, near where you’re at, and fishes for his phone from the scattered bags on the cushion. “What are you doing?” asks Yeonjun. “I thought you won’t stop coding until nature starts calling the need for you to piss.” Beomgyu simply waves him off, successfully retrieving his phone. You watch as he taps and scrolls and taps and puts the device up to his ear.

Everyone is looking at him. There’s a moment of silence before he finally says, “Hyung,” into the phone. You eye him curiously. He meets your gaze— a flicker of a second— before turning his head just a centimeter away. “You still haven’t found a singer and guitarist yet, have you?”

Your eyes widen. Holy shit.

“Cool. I’ll see you later.”

Beomgyu throws his phone back onto the pile. “You’ll be in the band?” you manage to quickly get in before he scuttles off into his station again.

He turns to you. A smile. “Yeah?” he says. “You’re gonna cheer for me again, right?”

“But I thought you said you didn’t want to—” you stop yourself. “Nevermind. I will cheer for you as long as I don’t have to wear an ugly tangerine cosplay again. Why do your department colors have to be orange?”

He laughs. “Wear whatever you want.”

The news finally settles into the rest of the club. “Oh my god. Oh my god, holy shit, fuck, wait— I’ll prepare the posters—” Heeseung frazzles. The rest of the idiots start freaking out too. Jeongin says he’s going to design a lightstick. Jesus christ. Beomgyu’s fanclub has greatly diminished since, well, the issue, but you’re amused to see that his biggest fanboys are still standing strong. You bid the coding club farewell as they prepare for their fanchants on top of having a deadline to catch.

This changing of his mind just made seeing your friend’s face throughout the following weeks a lot more difficult. He gets home late almost everyday, sometimes not even coming home at all. You know this when there’s no invader unlocking your door and sauntering into your home at 11 p.m. just to complain about how tired he is. But he still texts you often. Too often, and he gets cranky when you don’t text him back even though all he sent is just a photo of his forehead with a sad face emoji, and you’re in the middle of taking notes for a class, and he gives you a call not long after to complain about his grievances out loud.

“Are you ignoring me?” You hear him huff over the phone. You’re on the way to leave campus now. Usually, you’d hitch a ride with Choi Beomgyu, but he’s been occupied lately, so it’s the bus for you today. The sun is setting. The moment you walk past the gates, there’s already a bus waiting for you.

“Cut to the chase,” you gripe, hopping onto the vehicle. “What do you want?

“Free up your schedule tonight,” he demands. Wow. Does he think you’re a pushover? “Band practice is finishing up early because of the Lantern Festival downtown. Let’s go check out the night market.”

“Sure,” you say. “If you’re late again, you have to pay for the equivalent of my wasted time.”

“I won’t be late! I promise, I’m gonna rush out as soon as—”

“Yeah, whatever,” you laugh. “See you later.”

Funny guy. Despite his packed schedule, he still manages to squeeze in some time to hang out with you. Whether it’s by knocking at your door at two in the morning for a sudden drive, or this. On holidays and special occasions. The Lantern Festival is celebrated annually in the city, matching the schedule of your own university’s autumn fest. It’s now early-mid November. You freshened up at your apartment before heading back out once the sun had fully set, waiting under the streams of brightly lit posts downtown.

You look at Beomgyu’s last text saying that they’re finishing up and he’s gonna head out in a bit. That was twenty minutes ago. You begin counting his debt as you walk down the lantered streets lining the path towards Gwanghwamun Night Market, a thousand won every minute he’s late. There are countless stalls and pop-up bars, pitched up tents selling souvenirs and food and trinkets. There’s a lot of things to keep you busy while you wait for him.

Your eyes catch one particular stand upon closing into the area. On the table and display at the far end of the tent are countless second hand, vintage digicams for cheap. You walk up to it, fiddling with the displays before asking the store owner for his recommendations. He hands you a silver, retro looking camera, the Canon logo stamped on it, with its price tag dangling behind. It’s pretty affordable. You make the purchase, carefully storing it inside your tote bag just in time for your phone to buzz.

A text from Choi Beomgyu. You whip your head around and stop the moment you see him looking lost amidst the crowded square, brows furrowed as he tries and fails to find you. You feel a laugh bubbling. You respond to his text. [eyes ahead, doofus] He follows your instructions, face brightening the moment he sees you. Beomgyu then quickly jogs up to your spot, a little sweaty and breathless and quite frankly disheveled. “Hey!” he calls out. “Sorry, there was traffic and I had to run away from my bandmates. They wanted to have dinner together, and, uh—”

“Thirty minutes.”

Your flat tone causes him to flinch. He presses his lips together, guilty.

“I waited for thirty minutes,” you tell him. “You owe me thirty thousand won.”

Beomgyu lets out a grunt and an apology and starts towing you away. “Fine,” he whines. “Let’s eat first. I’m starving.” You let him drag you to the lines and lines of street food stalls, quickly finding something to settle your appetite, and before you know it, he’s scammed you into filling his 30k quota on nothing but snacks.

You realize this just as you and he are standing in front of a stall, sticks of fishcakes in hand and you’ve already half chewn yours. “Cheater!” you exclaim the moment it hits you. “You made me use up all your debt in less than an hour!”

He mocks you with a close-mouthed smile, cheeks still filled with fishcakes and he waves his stick at you, taunting.“Cry about it,” he muses. You roll your eyes. “Why? Did you want me to buy you something? I might consider it if you say it nicely.”

The sounds of nighttime festivities fill your ears. It’s very bright for eight in the evening. You buy another two sticks from the vendor. “Yeah. I do,” you reply, handing one of the sticks to Beomgyu. He takes it and starts nibbling. “I wanted you to buy me a turntable.”

And then he coughs on the fishcake. “The fuck?” he leers at you. You cackle and enjoy your own food without choking on it. “That’s— five times more than thirty fucking thousand won. You don’t even own any records? Wait, where did this even come from, you’ve never been interested in this kind of stuff, what the he—”

“I was joking, doofus,” you roll your eyes, but your lips remain smiling. Smiling because he looks so appalled, it’s funny. He doesn’t share your sentiment— the corners of his mouth downturned into a frown with knitted brows, and you snort at his expression. You throw away the empty sticks, ask the vendor how much you both owe, pay the equivalent, and your eyes wander off to the sound of chatting and laughing passing you by, groups of people funneling into the direction of the stream nearby. “Hey,” you tap on Beomgyu’s arm, before taking the liberty to grab a fistful of his sleeve, tugging him closer. “Let’s go check out what’s going on.“

Beomgyu allows himself to be dragged along by you without much protest into the shuffling crowd. You manage to squeeze into a gap, not even being able to turn your head and check on him when the pace of the crowd pushes you forward, moving further away from the bright and warm stringed lights of the night market, now into a dimmer portion of the area that greets your cheeks with cold brushes of the wind.

The crowd fizzles out near the ledge overhanging the stream, allowing you to patter your steps across the pavement, running up to get a better view of what’s underneath with Beomgyu’s still in tow. On the water, you see a line of intricate floats slowly making their way downstream. Historical arches and buildings, dragons and folklore. You can even see a Doraemon float way back in the line if you squint and the air is knocked out of your lungs, from sheer awe and amazement. It’s so pretty. What catches your attention more is further down, there are people releasing their own orbs of light into the water, and some letting the lanterns loose into the sky.

“Whoa,” you breathe out. “That’s so cool.”

You feel a nudge on your shoulder. You turn to see Beomgyu, engulfed in the cold evening light, and he cocks his head back into the direction of the market. There you see a tent filled with similar looking lanterns that everyone else was releasing, not too far away with people queuing up in rows. Your head snaps back to Beomgyu, eyes sparkling. He huffs out a smile and leads you to the tent, getting in line to have your own.

“Please wait for any available spots by the table to write your wishes down.”

“Thank you,” you smile at the stall attendant, a paper lotus lantern in hand with Beomgyu right next to you, and you take a spot on the table the moment it becomes vacant.

It doesn’t take you long to ponder your wish. Good health. A fucking boyfriend. The works. Not that you’re superstitious, but it’s a cute idea. You peer over at Beomgyu, who’s still holding an unopened marker with a thoughtful expression. His brows are furrowed, lips pursed, and all of a sudden, he snaps down and quickly scribbles something you can’t see. Wow. He’s serious about this, you laugh a little. “Are you done?” He jolts, a little surprised before looking up at you.

“Oh, yeah.” Beomgyu sets down the marker, picking up the lantern from the table. “Are you?”

The both of you get off to get your lanterns lit up, and the once pink-tinted paper now burns a warm orange in your hands, toasting up your palms in spite of the cold weather. You head off back to the stream, all the way underneath the overhanging bridge to its shore. Carefully, you crouch down near the water, Beomgyu following your lead, and you look at him, the contours of his face tempered by an almost sunset-like glow amidst the frigid glimmer of the moon all around you.

“Do we just...drop them here?” he asks. You blink. You turn your head to the surface of the shimmering stream as it waits for your burning offering.

“I—I guess so,” you cough out. “Should we count?”

“You’re so lame,” he laughs. You glare at him. “Sure. On three. One—”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The lanterns escape from your grasps at the same time, pulled away from you by the current and the breeze. You watch as the two orange orbs slowly float away above the water, bumping into each other, drifting away from each other for a mere moment before colliding again, and remaining at that same proximity as they both follow the same current, pushed by the same breeze.

You look at Beomgyu, who watches the two lanterns until they fully escape your line of sight.

“What did you wish for?” you ask.

His gaze shifts over to you. It’s heavy. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

“You can’t just ask those kinds of questions,” he jeers, bringing up a hand to your retreating face just to punch your nose. “That’s gonna nullify my wish. Stop trying to sabotage me.”

“I’m not! I was just curious!” You swat his hand away, annoyed. You two are still crouching by the stream, hands resting on your knees. There’s a lot of people around you too, also indulging in the festival tradition. At this point, your lanterns have been completely swallowed by the multitude of other glowing lotuses on the water. You’re pretty sure that the government is just gonna clean it all up come morning and throw them into the dump. So much for lantern wishes. Whimsy destroyed. Romanticism ruined.

Before your nihilism can completely take over, Beomgyu starts speaking again. “The game deadline is nearing,” he suddenly starts. “And the uni autumn festival is like, next week.” For some reason, you can hear a sigh in his voice. Poor idiot. He must be so tired. “I seriously can’t wait for everything to be over. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even been able to drive you home lately.”

You stare at the water. You feel a knot in your throat which you cough out, bumping your shoulder against his before your arms stretch out, fingers locking and elbows hitting your knees to release the tension in your muscles. “I can get home by myself, you know,” you tell him, allowing your hands to hang languidly in the air.

“I know,” he says, reaching out for your pinky finger, a jolt of warmth running down your spine as he plays around with the contours of the joint, tracing down to the tip of the finger when he continues, “It’s getting colder. We should go.”

Beomgyu pulls you up with him when he stands, fully enclosing his hand with yours.

He drives the both of you home that night. First time in a while, and the last time in an even longer while because he gets even busier. Band practice. Club meetings. Game dev contest on top of your also staggering amount of coursework. Most of your time is spent with Minjeong and Sungchan because Heeseung has also been swallowed by work. Poor pathetic guy number two. He deserves all of his misery.

It’s a weekday, and you’re at the library with Minjeong and Hanbin this time. He’s been liberated from coding duty because he has an exam tomorrow. These two have just been formally acquainted with each other, as far as you know, but while taking a bathroom break with Minjeong for a brief moment, she suddenly tells you, “I like him better than Beomgyu.”

You cock a brow at her through the mirror, shaking your wet hands over the sink. “Hanbin? What’s the point of comparison here?”

“Yeah,” she answers, retouching her lip gloss. “He doesn’t make fun of you and he’s less annoying. You should date him instead.”

A laugh leaves your lips. You walk over to dry your hands and once the restroom is relieved from the echoing whirs of the drying machine, you quip back. “Hanbin is nice, but he’s not my type. Just because I want to date doesn’t mean I’m just gonna try it with every decent guy I know,” you nag as you walk out the restroom and back into the library. “And I think he has eyes on someone else. And quit hating on Beomgyu. He annoys everyone he likes. If you think he’s annoying then you’ve fallen into his trap. Congratulations, you and he are friends.”

On the way back to your table, you notice a group of students eyeing you. While passing, you hear one of them whisper. But it’s too loud of a whisper. Like you were meant to hear it.

“I can’t believe she still has the guts to show her face on campus.”

Minjeong stops in her tracks. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Leave it be,” you sigh, tugging your friend away before she starts a cat fight in the library premises. Yeah. You’ve already been branded as a cheating whore. Maybe you should just give up dating altogether.

“Why do you keep letting these fuckers talk shit about you?! Let me at ‘em—”

It’s less of you being a pushover and more of you not wanting to waste energy, really. You’ve gone through this bullcrap in high school (though at a lighter degree). People believe what they want to believe and it doesn’t matter what you tell them. So, why bother. You have a group of nerds plus Minjeong and Sungchan behind your back, anyway. And of course, Choi Beomgyu, who got into a fight with his friends (former friends, he insists) that were involved with the anonymous post issue. The funny thing is, they all apologized to him with their foreheads scraping the ground not even a day after the event, but none of them even bothered trying to receive your forgiveness— until Beomgyu pointed it out and they eventually, reluctantly, came to your feet to mumble out incoherent sorrys.

It’s whatever. The post got taken down, but you still hear some snide remarks here and there like just now. Again, it’s whatever. It’s not gonna stop you from enjoying your uni life. Which is why you’re here, right now, at the uni autumn festival with a trove of nerds who are all arguably vitamin D deficient, all carrying banners and flags with Choi Beomgyu’s name in one way or another, waiting for the Battle of the Bands to start at the campus courtyard.

“Put this on!” Hyunjin shoves a bright, orange bandana into your hands with bold, white text text BAMTORIS 4 BEOMGYU on it. They came up with a fucking fanclub name. Your head rings. The bandana wrinkles in your hand as you shove it into your coat pocket, never to see the light of day.

“Hey, it’s starting!”

The large, heavy speakers boom through the crowd. Indeed, it is starting, and you already can’t wait to go home. But you persist. You’re going home after Choi Beomgyu’s stage. His text said they’ll be performing fourth, after the economics department. You can handle that much noise and chaos. Your social energy needs to last, else you’d have to coax a sulking dog tomorrow for ditching him. The host screams a welcoming spiel into the mic, and everyone else starts screaming. You wince. Yeah, you can deal with this.

When the performances started, you were actually able to vibe a little with the music. Having Heeseung shaking you around and screaming lyrics into your ear does help a bit. When the third band comes up however, you feel the mood around you shift. The coding club boys are so much louder now. No, they’re not cheering. They’re hell bent on sending an overpowering amount of boos and jeers at Jang Seung the moment he got up on stage.

The guy was so flustered at the non-cheers that he was offbeat for half the song. You’re thoroughly enjoying this. Heeseing continues yelling different iterations of, “Get off the stage! You suck!” until Jang Seung finally does with his bandmates drilling dirty looks at him. You laugh. Absolutely deserved.

The boys’ jeers shift again the moment the host calls out the ICT department onstage. They start cheering. Very loudly. Ferally, almost. You see Beomgyu walk his way into the center, electric guitar hanging from his neck as the lights focus on him. You hear nothing but yelling. Jesus fucking christ. It’s an assault at all fronts with Heeseung, Yeonjun, Jeongin, and Hyunjin surrounding you. Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t have joined these damned nerds.

It hushes down when Beomgyu grabs the mic to give an introduction of the band. Heeseung is still screeching, though. You grow concerned.

“Anyway, sing and dance along if you know the lyrics.”

Beomgyu’s hands grip the microphone as you hear his voice continue through the speakers, staring down at the crowd as if he’s looking for something. Then his eyes land on you. You’re taken aback for a moment. Just a moment, because you manage a smile. Good luck, you mouth, hands cupping your lips.

He smiles back. “This song— is you.”

The instrumental is familiar. A guitar sings. Drum beats crash. You’ve heard this numerous times from Beomgyu’s playlist before. In his car. Along the streets. On the floor of his apartment at three in the morning after he called you out to do nothing in particular until you fall asleep on the couch. Then his voice resonates in the night, carried by the still familiar melody and you feel your heart thump along with the bass vibrating from the speakers.

Time and time again, Choi Beomgyu proves to you that he’s always meant for the spotlight. He belongs there, to receive all the attention and adoration of everyone that catches sight of him. Seeing him up there brings an unconscious smile on your face. That is until you feel Heeseung shove his shoulder against you, prying your attention away from the blinding stage lights to the dim glow of your friend’s lightstick. “Hey, lovergirl,” he says, grinning widely. “He says he’s nothing without you.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, cheeks stretched by a flurry of heat. “It’s just a song.”

It’s over before you know it. You were able to snag a few shots of your friend at the near end there as per his request for his Instagram feed, but your plan to run away after their performance is ruined because the boys have decided to hold you hostage because, “There’s no way you’re missing tonight’s celebration!” as if the winners have already been announced. There’s like three bands left. Tonight, you suffer.

Still, your waiting and leg aches for standing too long aren’t wasted because when the winners are indeed announced, the ICT department are called as the victors, and the rest of the night is a blur of hoots and yells and many, many bars and clubs all throughout the city.

Unfortunately for you, this is only the start of your series of night outs leading up to the end of the year.

After finals, Sungchan dragged you and Minjeong out for another night out to celebrate. When TXT Inc. announced the winners for their game development competition not long after, you’re dragged to another night out since the boys managed to scrape by 3rd place and save their club from the threat of administrative shut-down.

You’re exhausted. Absolutely drained. You sleep the entire car ride home to Daegu with Beomgyu, recharging just enough for the joint Christmas eve dinner with your family and his. Your friend manages to notice your pitiful state and saves you from conversations by answering questions from the parents on your behalf over the meal.

“Ah, I heard from our daughter that you performed at your festival last month? Oh, how was it? You used to sing and dance during our village Christmas parties all the time when you were still in elementary school.”

“He was trying so hard to look cool, dad.” Regardless of your exhaustion, your system always has enough energy to jump at the opportunity to make fun of him.

Beomgyu glares at you from across the table, and you feel a kick from underneath. “I was cool. We won, if you forgot. Just so you know, I only joined to put that Jang Seung back in his—” You kick him back. Beomgyu jolts, eyes widen. Oops, he sends you an apologetic look. You send him a silent warning in return.

“Who’s Jang Seung?” his mother asks, curious.

“Some annoying guy from our department. He likes to think he’s cooler than me and I needed to give him a reminder,” Beomyu responds. You release a silent sigh and sip on your drink. “Which I am. Proven by my victory during the competition.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

“Auntie! She’s being mean again!”

By the time you reach your apartment building, the clock at around eleven at night, you are barely alive. The rest are walking ahead of you. You are but a bamboo stick getting brushed along by the wind and Choi Beomgyu’s stops you from falling face flat into the floor because you bump into him.

“Idiot,” he scolds, balancing you by the shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go. I’ll be your navigator up the stairs, you withering stick of bamboo.”

“Wait,” you protest (verbally, because you have no strength left in your body and could not physically stand your ground). Beomgyu eyes you, halting from bodying you all the way up the apartment. You look over his shoulder to yell at your parents up ahead. “You go in first! I’m gonna talk to Beomgyu for a sec!”

“It’s late,” your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Can’t you two talk tomorrow?”

“It’s—it’s important,” you stammer. You look at Beomgyu. He raises a brow, confused and suspicious.

You step on his foot. He gapes his mouth and lets out a silent swear. You make a face. He makes a face back before letting out a defeated grunt, spinning his heels to confirm your initial sentiments. “We won’t be long. Mom, you can toss the keys to me. I’ll lock up.”

Not long after, you and Choi Beomgyu are left alone at the foot of your apartment building. He stuffs his apartment keys into his pockets, swirling around to look at you with a face stoned by disapproval. “What is it?” he gnaws. “You’re about to pass out any second. What could be more important than getting some sleep right now?”

You ignore his nagging. “Come to the playground with me,” is your unrelated response. His face jitters— disapproval churning into a shock of anxiety, but he attempts to brush it off.

“You’re not gonna ask me to do something along the lines of pretending like we don’t know each other, righ—”

“No! Fuck off! I’ll go alone if you don’t want to.”

“I’m coming,” he sternly says, trailing behind your heated steps to a corner of the apartment square, on the way to the playground at the back of the building. “At least tell me what you want to talk about first.”

“It’s—it’s nothing bad.”

“You’re being suspicious.”

“I’m not!”

Your foot stomps over the dirt of the playground, pressing your lips together as you scramble out your phone to check the time. 11:13 p.m. Dammit. Your coat pocket feels heavy, the thing inside snuggled deep and concealed. How do you distract him for forty-seven more minutes? He’s already yawning. Your eyes flicker around— the spring riders catching your attention first. “Come here,” you say stiffly, just as mechanically hopping onto what you assume is a duck on the spring.

Beomgyu is evidently weirded out by you, but he follows you anyway, unquestioning whenever you lead him from one equipment and ride in the playground to the next— the swings, spinners, monkey bars, tubes, slides, even the fucking climbers that probably can’t handle your weight. It’s not the most appropriate age and weather to be doing this, but you needed something to kill the time.

The only thing left untouched are the seesaws. It’s 11:55. God damn it. You’ve been willfully avoiding this contraption in case it reawakens your moment of shame and weakness, but having been caught in the pattern you’ve started, Beomgyu is already plopping down on one of the ends.

You bite your tongue. You follow and take your spot on the other end, quiet. The both of you see and saw in silence, most likely carrying the same thing in your minds.

The moment your feet hit the ground again, you stay there. You flip open your phone. Three more minutes. Beomgyu springs you up in the air. You’re brought back down.

“Whatever you’re planning on saying—” he starts, from above. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s not what you think!” you argue. Two more minutes. “Stop moving. Hold on a sec.”

You and Beomgyu are on both ends, both on the ground. One more minute. He eyes you suspiciously, maybe even nervously and you don’t blame him. You dig into your coat pocket, feeling the crumple of the smooth fabric of the pouch you pocketed before leaving for dinner earlier, the item hard in your hand.

“Choi Beomgyu, you’ve been working hard all semester.” Your phone alarm rings. Fucking finally. You pull the pouch out of your pocket. “I thought maybe you deserve a treat.”

You toss it at him. He lets go of the seesaw handle to catch it.

“Merry Christmas, fuckface.”

The pouch lands in his hands. He just stares at it for a moment, eyes wide in surprise and your heart rattles. Why are you nervous right now? You begin to palpitate even further when he actually pulls the strings open, revealing the vintage digicam you bought during the lantern festival. From the moment you saw the stall, you knew the sentimental idiot would like one of these. It’s been waiting in your drawer for this occasion. You start to feel even more self conscious every second he takes to examine it.

“I—I know it’s a bit cheap,” you stammer. “But I already spent so much money on your birthday gift, so don’t you even dare—”

Click!

You look up to see the camera in front of Beomgyu’s face. You blink. He puts it down, tinkering with the buttons with a smile on his face. “I like it,” he says, flashing his eyes at you. “It’s pretty.”

Without a second to waste, you jump off the fucking seesaw and Choi Beomgyu’s ass lands on the ground. “Hey, delete that!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” he fends you off, swatting away your hands as you straddle him on the dirt ground. “You gave it to me so this is mine! I can do whatever I want with it!”

“My portrait rights! You’re violating the law!”

“Ow! That hu— owww! Fine! Okay, fine—”

It’s Christmas, and the both of you are on the dusty ground of your apartment complex’s playground, a little breathless from squabbling. Beomgyu has one forearm shielding himself from your attacks, the other keeping the camera safe to his chest.

“I’ll delete it! I’ll delete it on one condition.”

You slump back, already tired. “What?” you wheeze.

He grunts and picks himself up, dusting his clothes and you follow not long after once you’ve caught your breath. “Come to my place for a sec.”

This time, you’re the one eyeing him with suspicion. Still, he humored you tonight, so you shall humor him too. You follow him into the building, up the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. Beomgyu grumbles out a few swears under his breath as he puts more effort than necessary to unlock the door to his place. “Need a little help doing simple movements there, buddy?”

“Shut your mouth,” he grunts, finally managing to unlock it.

Their festive living room greets you upon entry. The rug is different from what you remember. The curtains shielding the interior from the moonlight have gingerbreads and snowmen on them. Beomgyu leads you up to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, painted with tinsel and ornaments and stars. He sits down on the carpet, patting on the spot next to him without looking at you and you gingerly cross your legs down. He digs into the mix of real and fake gift boxes for decoration. You know because some have names, some are blank.

“I didn’t expect you to throw me a gift right at midnight. That was an unprompted attack.” He finally leans back with a pretty big box in hand, setting it down on the floor right in front of you. “Still. I refuse to lose. Here.”

There’s a name on it. Yours. From your pretty and handsome and amazing most favorite person, Choi Beomgyu. You snort.

“Open it,” he nudges.

“Now?”

“Duh.”

He’s annoying, but you let him off. Carefully, you unwrap the ribbon, a pang of nervous anticipation hitting your bones as your hands hover over the box lid.

You open the present.

You see the gift.

Your hands instinctively jerk back down to fucking close it.

“Choi Beomgyu! I said it was a joke! Why would you—” you hiss out, a quiet scream as you throw your head around to look at him, only for the words to fizzle out your throat upon seeing the expectant look on his face. His eyes are big and sparkly and looking at you with so much expectation. Your face grows hot, the burn even more palpable amidst the December weather, and you suck in a deep breath, looking down in acceptance and defeat. “A fucking turntable. You’re insane. Why would you get me this? You said it yourself that I don’t even own any records or LPs or whatever you use for this. What’s wrong with you?”

“You said you wanted one.” He’s grinning. He’s grinning very proudly. “Merry Christmas, dipshit. Now, we’re even.”

Ah. God damn it. He really is insane.

“He got you a what?”

Within the last week of December, you and Beomgyu return back to Seoul. There’s some crap to do at uni regarding your scheduling and classes, and Jung Sungchan is throwing yet another party to celebrate the incoming new year. Not at his parent’s place this time because he got an earful after the previous party. He’s hosting it in his apartment, so the invitation list is smaller. More bearable, because you and Minjeong are forced to attend again.

“Girl, you don’t even own any records.” Minejeong’s head pops up from the other side of the clothes rack, looking both appalled and amazed from the information she’d just received from you. “Have you even used it yet?”

“No!” you remark in response. “The thing has been catching dust in my apartment and I’m starting to feel bad. Is it okay if we stop by a record store after this?”

Which is why you and she are out shopping right now to buy a cute new year’s outfit to match Sungchan’s black and gold party theme. You don’t understand why he has to have a theme, but it’s a good excuse to treat yourself to some new clothes. You and your friend have been thrifting and boutique hopping, spending a good chunk of your holiday money for a one-day millionaire spree.

A few shopping bags in hand, a bell jangles when you push open the door to a vintage record store you saw in passing earlier, in between thrift stores. The scent of rubber, dusty wood, and pressed vinyl hit your senses, along with the dull hum of music from the store’s speakers from the background. You walk in with no plan on what the fuck you should buy, so needless to say you are overwhelmed by the gigantic selection on display.

“Hey, how may I help you?”

The singular employee present in the store has probably noticed your swirling eyeballs trying to take in everything. “Oh, I’m just looking around,” you say with a smile. The store clerk smiles back, telling you to feel free to browse, and you thank him. He’s tall, presumably college-aged with sandy hair, and your mind wanders around the idea that it would be nice to find another part-time job for extra allowance. But your break is almost over. And you’d have to look for somewhere else because it won’t be a great idea to work at Horangnabi again and deal with the rest of the studentry considering your current, uh, reputation.

But you’re not here to dwell on that. You’re here to finally put Choi Beomgyu’s fucking gift to good use. Minjeong stays by the door with her phone while you walk further into the store with the clerk trailing behind you. As you run your hands over a few familiar covers, familiar names and titles, he shoots you a few questions here and there— are you looking for a specific artist? What kind of music do you like? I can give you some recommendations if you’d like? Clearly, there’s something more than customer service going on here.

As you check out a selection of two records (because holy shit, these are expensive), it dawns on you that it’s almost the end of the year, and you still have yet to find a god damned boyfriend. Granted, you don’t believe doing so will help salvage your image in any way at all, but it kind of sucks to think that you’ll be spending another new year single and lonely.

“Come again any time.”

Well, maybe not too lonely because you won’t have time to think about any nihilistic bullshit at Jung Sungchan’s party. Minjeong scolds you as you walk out the store with a new paper bag and no new number in your contacts. “He was clearly trying to hit on you,” she says.

“He’s not my type,” you deflect back. She clicks her tongue and nags you that every shot you don’t take is a miss, and you simply brush her off with a laugh. But she has a point. Maybe you’re the reason why you’ve been single this entire time. Perhaps the universal false assumption that you and Choi Beomgyu have been dating for the past one-hundred years has nothing to do with it.

Lee Heeseung agrees with this new speculation of yours. “You’re too prickly,” he says over brunch at a local bed-and-breakfast. You and Minjeong meet up with him right after your shopping spree because he just happened to be in the area. “And a little scary. Everyone from the club used to be afraid of you at first because you’re so mean.”

“You nerds are just losers,” Minjeong defends you.

“Wow. Two bullets in one shot,” you say in between enjoying your bacon, fried rice, and eggs.

“Hey, you have no right to say anything. You’re single too.” Heeseung points his fork at her. “It can’t be helped. This is unsalvageable. It seems like I must share this secret trick I found on TikTok to solve all of your problems.”

“That source sounds very credible,” you snort.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Heeseung proceeds to explain the secret trick: eat twelve grapes under the table within the minutes passing into the new year, and your wish will be granted. You nearly cough out your brunch. Minjeong bursts out laughing right next to you. You can’t even begin to imagine how Heeseung managed to land himself into that side of the app.

“Incredible,” she chortles out. “What do you plan on wishing for, Hee? For you to get back together with—”

“No!” he screeches out. “No way. That era of my life is over now. I’m gonna get accepted at HYBE Inc. for my fucking internship.”

“Wow,” you gape, taking a sip from your iced tea. “You’re maturing.”

“Right? This is crazy.”

Heeseung’s outburst melts down, and the redness slowly starts seeping out from his cheeks. He looks at you, a little proud and rubs a finger under his nose with a grin. “Heh. It’s nothing.”

“You’ve got some rice on your face, Mr. Maturity.” You hear an ‘oh shit,’ from across the table as you look down to your lit up phone from a message notification coming in. Your eyes narrow, letting your utensils clatter on your plate to make a few taps on the phone screen. “You asked Beomgyu to come?” you ask, looking back up at Heeseung. “Why is the idiot telling me he’s on the way here?”

Specifically, it was a shot of him from the eyes up and a bus ceiling with [omw 2 u 🛵🛵] plastered on his forehead. “Oh, he’s coming?” Heeseung responds, unsurprised. “He asked if I wanted to hit the PC room with him. I told him I’m still with you two and sent him my location.”

“Ah, fuck me. Now I have to change seats.” You watch in slight confusion as Minjeong pushes her food over to Heeseung’s side of the table before following suit, leaving the space next to you cold and barren and empty, and your look of confusion muddles into betrayal. “Hey, don’t give me that look. Beomgyu always follows you around like a puppy with severe attachment issues and I don’t really want to be caught in between the both of you.”

“He does not!” you defend, your fist bouncing on the table with a clatter, just in time for your eyes to flicker off to the direction of the restaurant door opening, welcoming a Choi Beomgyu, who’s whipping his head around to look for you three, inside.

“Hey, dude, over here!”

Unfortunately, he proves Minjeong correct. Beomgyu turns his head to you at the recognition of Heeseung’s voice, blank face shifting into an easy smile. His next set of movements are programmed right into his system: he walks up to you, he plops down right next you, and he dips his head down to take a long sip from your iced tea, right before releasing a refreshed lip-smack and sigh with his shit-eating grin, directed right at you. “Thanks for the treat.” His hand meets the top of your head, utterly ruining your hair.

“Fuck off. No one even invited you here.” You wrestle him off with your elbow. Beomgyu retreats by letting his arm stretch behind your back, causing the cushion of the booth seats to sink down while he calls a waiter for the menu. You feel your throat dry. You reach for the ice tea Choi Beomgyu just drank a third of to rinse down the dryness. Minjeong’s eyes are on you. Heeseung is pressing his mouth together, and his face is pissing you off.

“Do you want me to find another table then? I see you’re almost done with your meals.” The bitch is trying to play victim. You give him a look of aversion. He’s unfazed, looking at Heeseung with a subtle quirk of his lips inching towards victory, because the latter took his bait.

“I’m ordering another meal,” Heeseung announces. “You. Sit. We’re hitting the PC room after this.”

“Sure thing.” All you can do is sigh while Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at you. “Quit grumbling,” he snarks. “And quit acting like you don’t want me around. Didn’t you say it yourself? Should I give you a refresher? Ahem, what makes you think I can’t live without—”

“Moving on!”

Your face is now hot. Beomgyu is still grinning like a bastard, but he doesn’t finish the statement. You can still see the amusement on the corners of his lips even when he leans down to sip from your iced tea again. “I hate being here,” Minjeong breathes out, gulping down the last of her drink before slamming the glass down onto the table.

Beomgyu’s order arrives. “Why are you two so moody today?” He points a pair of chopsticks at Minjeong before stabbing them into his salad. “Did your shopping trip go badly or some shit?”

“For your information, our day was going great until you showed up,” you glare at him.

“Yeah,” Minjeong doubles down. Heeseung’s second meal also arrives. He ignores the squabbles and starts happily digging in. “Our shopping trip was great. You should see the dress she bought for the party. It’s really pretty.”

At that mention, Beomgyu’s head tilts, eyes flickering over to your direction. “Is it?”

There’s something in the tone of his voice that forces you to swallow something down. “Mind your own business, buster,” you hiss at him. He shrugs and continues eating. “What the hell is Jung Sungchan thinking dress coding a college party, anyway? It’s not like he’d kick me out if I end up wearing bright green.”

“Is the dress you bought bright green?” Beomgyu chimes in. “Now I’m even more curious.”

You look at him, face scrunched up. “If you want to wear my dress, just say so.”

“Hey, I think I’d body it.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

Indeed, no one gets kicked out for wearing the wrong thing. The moment you walk into Jung Sungchan’s blasted apartment, you see red, pink, purple, maroon amidst the gold foil decorations and fuzzy warping lights. No, Choi Beomgyu did not show up in your dress. He’s in a beige wool blazer, white undershirt, and lazy black trousers with a beer can in hand, waiting for your arrival by the door. “Oh, hey.” You do not recall beige being in the goddamned dress code. At least his pants are black and his necklace is gold. “You’re here.”

“I wish I weren’t,” you grunt, wiggling out of your coat because although it’s currently the cold season, Sungchan’s apartment is humid. Though it’s significantly less people than his house party last summer, it’s still thirty people more than to your liking. You grimace, hanging the garment on your forearm. “Where is he? Where’s the host of this shithole?”

You point up your chin, looking around for Sungchan, but to no avail. Maybe he’s at the balcony, but your friend over here isn’t answering you.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” You whip your head back to Beomgyu. He hasn’t left, no. He’s just standing there, a faint buzz tinting his cheeks. You peer at the drink he’s holding. You click your tongue, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Luckily, he isn’t fully checked out yet. He swats your hand away and clears his throat. “I think he’s on the balcony. C’mon.”

Sungchan greets you with a barreling hug and nearly bulldozes you into the floor because he’s a dramatic bastard who hasn’t seen you since finals week. “Now that you’re here, we can officially start the party!” he yells, as if it hadn’t already started, and drags your limp body back to the living room. Right now, it’s around ten in the evening. Minjeong clocks in not long after you and gets roped into the mess of drinking games happening on Sungchan’s carpeted floor, already a few rounds in.

In between all the yelling and the music and the chants to chug, chug, chug it, Heeseung stands up with a microphone in hand. You have no idea where he got that from, but he has it, and has decided that it would be a great idea to start singing your hearts out.

“Sing or drink! Sing or drink!”

Yeah, no. You’re downing that fucking shot.

“Boo! You’re no fun!” Heeseung jeers at you. You toss him the now red solo cup with the droplets of whatever the fuck they mixed into that, gagging slightly. The microphone eventually gets snatched by a very drunk Yeonjun, who already got his necktie wrapped around his head. This is a big mess. Yeonjun gets his solo moment. He starts singing Through the Fire by Chaka Khan.

“Yeonjun hyung! Yeonjun hyung!”

“Hyung, why do you have to graduate?!”

“Hyung, I’ll miss you!”

You’re definitely not drunk enough for this. By eleven-thirty, you’re already fucking exhausted, so you ready to escape to the kitchen. A lot of people have left, the ones remaining consisting mostly of Sungchan’s close friends. Minjeong sees you escaping and runs after you. “Going down for a bit. I need some fresh fucking air.”

“Don’t die,” you hum, patting her out the door.

“You don’t die.” She nudges back at the directions of the living room, where the boys are gathered in a sudden emotional huddle. Choi Beomgyu included. The year’s coming to an end. Meaning a few of them are gonna be graduating from uni soon like Yeonjun. You swear you can hear someone wailing. “I don’t want to deal with that. Good luck. Hide safe, soldier.”

She salutes you off, marching out the door. You turn back to look at the mess of the apartment. Sungchan’s prettily hung gold foil have either been ripped off, their remnants tattered on the floor, or barely strewn. There’s still music playing, the bass thrumming through the walls. Cups and plastic and confetti and a few pairs of shoes are scattered all over the floor. You grimace and walk over a wet spot, heading over to the kitchen to help yourself with whatever wine’s still left over.

Pouring yourself a glass, you can’t help but notice what’s left on the moderately sized dining table. Jung Sungchan put an effort to drape it with a pretty sheet of fabric stitched with metallic gold, serving as a bed for the display of various round fruits at the center. A single melon. A bowl of oranges and kiwis beside the bed of green and red apples. You huff out a small laugh, teeth clinking against the rim of the wine glass. Even Jung Sungchan is a little superstitious. You’ve heard about the round fruits for good luck on new year’s before. It’s a miracle none of these were massacred. Save maybe for the half-eaten apple abandoned right by the sink.

Your eyes notice the package of untouched shine muscat grapes sitting soundly on the table, still covered in plastic wrap. You check the time on your phone. 11:45 p.m. Heeseung’s dumb voice echoes in your brain. Twelve grapes. Wishes. Good luck. Superstitions. God, this shit has been haunting you since November.

“Hyung! Promise me you’ll still visit the club even after you graduate, okay? Promise that you’ll—”

“Dude, you have to learn to let go! If you love someone, let them go!”

“No! I don’t want to let Yeonjun hyung go!”

Still. Just like the paper lanterns last month. Just like the damned alarm you have on your phone that rings every night when the clock strikes eleven-eleven, you find yourself falling for this bullshit again.

This is fine, right? No harm in humoring the teeniest-tiniest possibility that these affirmations will hold true? Before you know it, you have the grapes in your person, the tablecloth flung open for a glimpse of a second, and ten minutes before the new year, a singular thought runs laps inside the pitch darkness of your head in the form of the question— can you get any more fucking pathetic?

“What...what the hell are you doing?”

You wince, light leaking into your safe space under the dining table, at the same time as the intrusion of Choi Beomgyu’s voice. You look up at him. He has peeled back the tablecloth— your cover— and honestly you’re not even offended by the look of pure and absolute judgment littering his face right now. You’re judging yourself too for listening to Heeseung’s fucking stupid trick, crawling underneath the table at new year’s party for god’s sake, sitting on a dirty ass floor, a bowl of grapes on your lap, a glass of wine next to your folded up legs, and an expression not befitting the holiday spirit because you’re looking up at him like you want to die.

“I’m—I’m manifesting,” you say petulantly with a squeak, cheeks burning and refusing to explain any further for the sake of your shame and pride. It’s eleven-fifty. You hope he’d politely fuck off before midnight so you can do your business in peace.

Your eyes should be sending the message right now. Beomgyu continues to stare at you with a less than amused expression, a contemplative pause that you hope is a sign that he’s going to leave you alone. But, no. Your message does not come across because Beomgyu decides to plop down, cross-legged, right in front of you.

“That doesn’t explain anything,” he says. Why can’t he just mind his own business? He should leave you and your grapes alone. “Sungchan’s looking for you and before I left the living room, he picked up a megaphone. Tell me what you’re scheming or else I’ll rat you out.”

“You, bitch!”

Eleven fifty-five. Shit. Choi Beomgyu doesn’t seem like he’s going to budge any time soon. His lips are pursed and he’s got the base of his palm holding up his chin. You bite down your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a sharp inhale before airing out your pathetic desperation in its rawest form.

“Like I said. I’m manifesting.”

His eyes narrow, brows furrowed. “Manifesting what exactly.”

“A fucking boyfriend.”

Whatever. Fuck it. He can make fun of you all he wants.

“Heeseung said if you eat twelve grapes from eleven fifty-nine to twelve o’one on new year’s, your wish will be granted. I—I—I looked it up because it sounded stupid, but—” You pause. You take a half a second glance at Beomgyu’s expression and decide that you are unable to look him in the eye. “Listen, Beomgyu, I’m desperate. I’m grasping at the straws here. I’m sick and tired of being single and misunderstood by all those damned fucking rumors and I know you’re nowhere near responsible, but I’m very annoyed right now, okay? So, if you’re just gonna make fun of me, please leave because there’s only, like three minutes left before twelve, and I really don’t want you deliberately ruining my chances this time, Choi Beomgyu.”

You breathe in. That. That took you an entire minute to say. Maybe you drank a little too much. Maybe you were rattling on like a maniac just now, but you can’t quite decipher Beomgyu’s reaction to your insanity.

Is he judging you? Is he weirded out? Pitying you? Because you sure are pitying yourself right now, but you don’t fucking know because all he’s doing is looking at you dead in the eye, face unmoving, totally blank expression, and you gulp. What the hell is he getting at?

Two minutes left. You hear the premature hiss of fireworks outside. “Scoot over,” he finally says. “I can’t believe you’re doing something stupid by yourself and leaving me out.”

“Wh—what are you doing?!”

The tablecloth falls. Your vision is darkened. Choi Beomygyu is wedged right next to you underneath Sungchan’s dining table, on the dirty kitchen floor of his apartment, two minutes before the start of a new year. A new point in history. And here you are, with your friend of over twenty years who’s plucked a shiny green grape from the stem, rolling it between his fingers with an unsure look. “Twelve? We have to eat twelve of these?”

“You don’t have to do it if you’re just gonna make fun—”

Beomgyu pops the grape into his mouth.

“How many minutes do we have again?”

You pause a little, staring into space before coughing out, “Th—three.” You put a handful of grapes into the cup of your palm to toss it all in there in one shot. It’s twelve fifty-fine. “Three minutes. Starting now.”

“Got it.”

Now, you can’t even begin to fathom the absurdity of this scene. You can hear the boys making a ruckus from the other room, yelling into the megaphone, counting down while you continue to shovel the fruit into your mouth. Eight. You have eight left.

“Woohoo! Happy new year!”

Fireworks are bursting, music is blaring.

“Six! Five!”

Four. Four grapes left in your hands. The juice spurts into your mouth. You glance up at Beomgyu. His brows are knitted together, counting the remaining grapes he has to swallow down before the time is up.

“Two!”

You seriously can’t believe you two are doing this. You’re about to choke, stuffing the remaining grapes into your cheeks and god forbid your obituary say that you died asphyxiating on round fruit on December 31, 11:59 p.m. Seriously. How did you get so pathetic? You swallow down the last bit of fruit while the rest of your friends are having fun outside. So single, so desperate, so pathetic. You’re never gonna eat another grape again.

“One!”

And the thought hits you

“Happy new year!”

If you’re so single, so desperate, and so pathetic, then—

“Done!”

Beomgyu’s sudden voice causes you to jump and bump your head against the table. His eyes widen, and firm hands clasp your shoulders to pull you in. “Sorry, are you okay?” he sputters out, little panicked while one hand travels up to the top of your head— where he’d usually ruffle, tousle to ruin your hair and annoy you, but this time Beomgyu’s touch is gentle, checking to see if he’s caused any damage, while your face remains pushed down, eyes trained on the ground where your tight knuckles are pressed into.

The fireworks haven’t stopped. There’s still a lot of noise outside, but Beomgyu’s soft voice manages to ripple through everything you hear.

“Nothing hurts, right? You’re good?”

He guides you to look at him, hands gingerly placed on the sides of your head, and you can feel his index fingers grazing the helix of your ears. You look at him. His former blank, judgemental stare softened with a concern that almost sounds like he’s carrying the weight of the whole universe on his shoulders, as if accidentally causing you to bump your head against the table would endanger the fate of the world.

You’re so single, so desperate, so pathetic, and also so, so stupid because why did you even waste your wishes on that paper lantern, those twelve grapes, and all the countless eleven-elevens these past months when the answer to your wish has been right in fucking front of you this entire time?

“At this point, we should just start dating.”

You gasp.

You cover your mouth, jolting up. Your voice was a little louder than you thought, and your heart sinks down into your stomach as you try to focus your rattled gaze at Beomgyu— at his face, his expression, but you don’t get to do any of that. You don’t get to laugh it off, take it back, say it was just a joke. A joke. Because just as when you open your mouth, the words threatening to jump out of your throat—

“You’re right.”

Beomgyu says something first, and none of it comes out.

“We should just do that.”

You’re not sure what you’re feeling, but it’s like your heart that got dropped right into the pits of your stomach just burst into a million, fluttering pieces.

Your breathing is ragged. Your eyes flit back up to Beomgyu. Your face flushes. Why isn’t he laughing? Why isn’t he saying it’s just a joke?

“Jesus christ—! There you two are! What the hell are you doing— oh my god, were you hooking up under the table?!”

“It’s new year’s, baby! Everyone, get crazy!”

You can’t feel your legs. You’re fished out from down there and into the mess of noises and singing and firecrackers bursting and you never get to clarify anything to Beomgyu, because he’s tugged along by Heeseung and Hyunjin for a group photo with the boys, and Sungchan and Minjeong are asking you a million questions that you can’t hear over the unfamiliar sound of your heartbeat. What...what is this? What the fuck is going on?

“Don’t tell me you actually did Heeseung’s stupid fucking trick.”

And then it hits you.

Butterflies. There are butterflies in your stomach.

This cannot be normal. You douse them all dead with a shitload of alcohol.

“Whoa, holy shit, that was half the bottle!”

That ought to kill the fluttering and buzzing insects. Only temporarily because the next morning, you’re hit with a different kind of buzzing.

Your head is ringing— buzzing— brain fuzzy, and when you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the mess of Jung Sungchan’s apartment. You’re in yours. In your bed. Still wearing your dress from last night under the covers. You have no idea how you got here.

It takes a moment for your mind to settle. You groan, vision swaying when you lean over to the bedside desk to feel around for your phone. You don’t feel it. But you do feel your purse that has your phone in it. What the fuck. Seriously, how did you get home? When you turn it on, you see on your lock screen message notifications from Heeseung and Sungchan, asking if you got home safe, pictures from last night. Some of the events caught on camera, you remember happening. Some, you definitely don’t remember happening and you grow all the more concerned.

One text in particular pulls in the only memory you need to remember, though. It’s from Minjeong, saying [choi beomgyu hauled your ass home in case you’re wondering btw HAHAHHAHA i never saw you drink that much before. jesus christ].

And you freeze, the blood draining from your face as you recall just what happened during the new year’s countdown.

You might have asked out your friend of twenty years.

And he might have said yes.

Your face drops into the plush of your pillow, lurching over to let out a long, distressed scream. That fucking grape trick was more effective than you hoped. Instantaneous. Heeseung should’ve warned you of its effects, what the fuck. Your moment is ruined by the sound of dull knocking, which you can locate coming all the way from your front door.

You pause, face still muffled into your pillow. The knocking is followed by a short pause. Then the sound of your door code beeping. Then your door unlocking.

Motherfucker, shit, fucking crap.

You throw your covers over yourself. You’re buried underneath. Choi Beomgyu can’t hurt you from down here. Maybe. God damn it, you don’t know what to do, you haven’t had the chance to think yet. The sound of footsteps from outside your room causes you to jitter. It’s still pretty far off, shuffling into the kitchen, you think, and they stop for a moment. Cupboards draw open. The sink turns on then stops. Footsteps resume. They enter your open bedroom door and you bite down a swear. Fuck it all, you’re so fucking fucked.

The desk chair behind you is pulled out, the sound of its legs screeching against the floorboards, ending with a quiet clatter. You hear a second clunk. Then the voice of someone sitting right behind your curled up and pathetic, vulnerable frame.

“I know you’re awake.”

Fuck. Fuck everything.

“C’mon, get up. It’s past two in the afternoon. I can’t believe I woke up earlier than you.”

Begrudgingly, you peel yourself out from under the covers, and just as hesitantly turn yourself around to face the face you aren’t quite ready to see at the moment with squinting eyes from the bright sunlight. You hear Beomgyu let out a sigh. “You drank way too much last night. Or this morning. Whatever.” Instead of looking directly at his face, you choose to look at whatever he’s brought to your desk instead. A tray. A tray with oatmeal, aspirin, and a glass of water. Your stomach is starting to act up again. You’re not sure if it’s whatever the fuck you drank last night, or something else. “How’s your head?”

Not well, thank you very much. You can’t even manage to verbalize your comeback. Shit, just how much have you fallen after just one slip-up. Why isn’t he bringing it up anyway? Why is he acting so normal? You grunt as you sit up from your bed, head still ringing as the aftermath of last night, and set the tray right onto your lap.

You drink your water, eat your meal, and take your medicine in silence. Beomgyu doesn’t do anything to bother you. All he does is watch you with steady eyes, gaze following the movements of your hand especially when you bring the water to your lips, leaned slightly forward as if he’s ready to jump in in case you drop it because your hands are shaking a little.

Thankfully, you don’t do that. When everything’s done, Beomgyu gets up and ducks down to get the tray off your lap, and— much to the demise of your entire nervous system— you’re forced to look at his face in such a close proximity, that you hiccup and jump back into the headboard.

Beomgyu turns up to look at you, still hunched over you. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Th—thanks?”

His eyes are fixed. His nose scrunches a little before setting the tray back down and returning to his seat. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, asshole,” you correct, getting riled up. He’s fucking smiling. Seriously, why is he being so normal? “Now, leave. I’m gonna wash up so I look less like shit.”

“Sure,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you at around four?”

You look up. “Why?”

“To take some pretty photos around the city.” He’s up again, tray in his hands to return to the kitchen.

“Why?” you continue to squint at him.

“Why not? I didn’t bring the camera at the party because some of the guys might’ve used it as a ping pong ball, so I wasn’t able to take any photos for the new year. But it’s still the first day of the year today. Let’s go make the most out of it.”

Cheesy as hell, but you’re already all dressed and ready to go out when he barges into your apartment again. He makes an impressed holler upon seeing you, saying that you look like a human being again, and you land a kick on his shin before locking up your door, Choi Beomgyu trailing behind you with an anguished yelp.

It’s late afternoon, the streets of downtown Seoul are uncharacteristically free. Most are probably still behind the shutters, nursing their post-new year’s hangover. Some are probably back in their hometowns for the holidays. You and Beomgyu trail down the walkway. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, him holding up the digital camera to his chest while he whips his head around, probably looking for a pretty scene to capture. You laugh, racing up your steps as you walk ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, loser,” you call out, turning half-around to provoke him with a snicker.

Your lips quirk just in time for the sound of a click to stop your backwards walk. Beomgyu has the camera up to his face. He puts it down, grinning.

“Hey!” You’ve halted in your steps, stomping down a single foot. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Like I said.” Beomgyu hums and looks down at the shot he just took, a satisfied look on his face upon inspection before flicking his eyes back up to you. “Taking pretty photos. Let’s go near the crosswalk. I think a shot would be nice there.”

You thought you were just going to accompany him on this excursion but somehow, you got roped into being a subject in the countless photos he’s taking. On the sidewalk. By a tree in the park. In the arcade. In the middle of walking into the facade of a cafe. Most of his shots are taken without warning, causing you to throw a mini-tantrum immediately after the taunting sound of the shutter. But all he does is laugh and shield the camera from you, assuring you that you look fine, that it’s pretty, that you guys should hurry off because the evening is nearing, and you’d just have to huff and and surrender and move on, else he’d notice the warmth on your cheeks and the stirring in your stomach.

“Ah, I want to try the mocha cake.”

“Then order it?”

“Now, I don’t want to because you’re telling me to.”

“You’re ten years old.”

“Nyenye, you’re ten years— hi! We’d like an iced matcha latte, iced americano, and a coffee mocha cake, please. Dine in, yes. Thanks.”

The things he’s always done that seemed so, so natural that you never even put a second thought to them suddenly linger in the forefront of your thoughts. The way he puts his lips on your straw even though you know he hates matcha just to annoy you. The way your hands rest on the table, his fingers tapping on your knuckles while droning on a rant about some game you don’t even know the name of. The way he naturally brushes a crumb off your face, shares a dessert with you, holds up the last bit of cake and icing on the fork in front of your mouth for you to have. Really, nothing has changed. Nothing has, but it feels like your entire life just got turned upside down thanks to the event of last night— of which neither of you are even addressing.

You still show up to each other’s places unannounced. You still go to 7-Eleven ice cream runs at three in the morning. You still shove your face into his arm while watching horror movies and screaming bloody murder, but nothing happens beyond that.

Not once have you brought up the conversation you had under the table at the strike of the new year. Not even after a month has passed since then.

It’s now the beginning of February, and you’re on campus to register for your classes next month. While there, you’re forced into the coding club room by the pest named Lee Heeseung. He rattles into your ear on the way there, talking about how they’re currently polishing the game they submitted to TXT Inc. (Which won. He never fails to emphasize that). When you get there, you’re jumped by three more boys wanting you to try out the said winning game.

“C’mon, just give it a shot!” Hyunjin bulldozes you into the computer corner.

“We’ll walk you through!” Yeonjun chimes in right after.

“I’m not— I’m not interested in your—” Jeongin sits you down on the seat. Heeseung is covering your path to escape. Yeonjun and Hyunjin are on the other side. God damn it. Where’s Hanbin? Where’s the only normal person here? Heeseung is messing with keyboard and mouse, the screen immediately loading, and you’re greeted by what appears to be a first person shooter game that honestly looks...pretty good? Wow. They actually worked hard on this.

“What are you guys doing?”

All five of you turn your heads back to the door. It’s Beomgyu. He’s got a backpack on him, which he tosses off to the sofa before walking up to your huddle. “Great! You’re here!” Hyunjin welcomes him in. Beomgyu finds a spot in between Heeseung and Jeongin, curious eyes glancing down at you. “We’re trying to get her to play our game!”

“Oh?” Beomgyu hums, leaning down against the back of your chair. “Sounds fun. Go ahead. I want to see this too.”

Do they enjoy fucking with you this much? Is this their favorite hobby? For some reason, clicking start is making you more nervous than you expected. Your hand is literally shaking on the mouse and you can hear Heeseung snorting at the way your other hand is positioned on the keyboard. “I hate all of you,” you announce, the stage loading. “I really hate all of you.”

“This is gonna be fun,” Jeongin assures from behind you. “The controls are simple. You just—”

“No, let her figure things out by herself.”

“Okay, it’s start—”

“Go, go, go! Run! Start shooting!”

“What?! Shoot what?!”

“The enemies! No, no, you’re going the wrong way don’t—”

“What is this?! What’s going on?!”

“Oh my god, this is hilarious.”

“Am I dead? Is it over?”

“Dude,” Heeseung lurches over, laughing and wheezing. “You’re so bad. You suck.”

Beomgyu is also laughing with them. You give him a side-eye. He immediately shuts up, clearing his throat, but obviously still smiling in avid amusement. “Let’s try that again,” he says. “I’ll help you this time.”

He cracks his knuckles, teiling Jeongin to scoot over so he’s the one directly behind you now. No, you don’t want to try again. You start turning around, but are immediately stopped with a quiet squeak because Beomgyu leans forward, pushing the office chair further into the desk, and you stiffen when his arms stretch out to cage you in. “What—what are you doing?” you sputter.

“These guys aren’t gonna leave you alone until you finish a level,” he simply says. His hands rest over yours on the keyboard, on the mouse. He’s pressed up against your upper back, your shoulders. He’s way too fucking close.

“Awh. This is way less fun.”

At this point, your eyes aren’t even registering the screen, and Beomgyu is basically playing the game himself. The shooting noises and fighting sounds from the speakers run dull. Dizzy. You feel dizzy. “Nice! Good job,” he says. His low voice is a rumble right into your ears. “Hey, you’re doing it. Nice shot.”

You shoot up, nearly headbutting him in the process.

“What’s up?”

“Restroom,” you squeak out. “I need to go to the restroom.”

The cold splash of water against your face is very effective. You’re at the restroom, hands gripping the edges of the sink as you stare at your drenched face at the mirror. There are things that you can’t ignore anymore. You two should address what’s up as soon as possible. Otherwise, you’re going to go insane.

“Choi Beomgyu.”

Not now, though. You...you just haven’t gathered enough courage yet to talk to him about it yet.

“Pass me the pillow.”

Right now, you’re on your living room floor, the aftermath of your takeout lunch on the coffee table, and Beomgyu grabs a cushion from behind him on the couch and pats it down onto your laps, eyes glued to your laptop screen, a dog grooming YouTube video playing.

There’s still a little bit less than a month before the semester starts. Beomgyu is supposed to leave for Daegu in a bit. The Chois have a family event back home, and they invited you as well, but you promised to accompany Jung Sungchan for a seminar later this afternoon, so you had to decline. Beomgyu’s brother is in the city, so he doesn’t have to drive or commute all the way there. He’s gonna get picked up in like, thirty minutes, so he decided to wait around and loiter at your place for the time being.

The entire time he’s been here, seemingly unbothered and unchanged even after the new year’s thing, you’ve been trying to get your shit together and just clear the air. What the fuck are you two now? Does he even remember what happened? Or is he just trying to sweep it under the rug? Is he overthinking about it just as much as you are right now? What the hell is going on?

“What are you thinking about?”

The video he’s watching has ended. His attention is now completely on you.

“Uh,” you stammer. “Yeon—Yeonjun seonbae is the only graduating student from the club, right?”

“Ah. Yeah,” he hums in affirmation. He twists his body a bit, crossed-legs slightly turned towards you, and he places an arm on the sofa seat, head resting on the knuckles of his hand. “The guys are planning on throwing a party this weekend to celebrate. To, you know, send him off.”

“He’s probably gonna end up crying again, isn’t he.” You attempt to dissuade your brain for now.

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “We’re gonna set up cameras in the clubroom. He won’t be safe.”

Bzzt bzzt. The both of you look at his vibrating phone on the table, right next to your laptop. Beomgyu grunts in annoyance (and slight back pain), pulling himself up to grab the device. You silently watch while he takes the call. He looks so annoyed. You’d be making fun of him right now if your brain wasn’t in so much of a mess.

“Hyung,” Beomgyu whines into the phone. “What do you mean meet you at the gas station? That’s so inconvenient. Ugh, fine. What time are you gonna be there?” You shoot him a thumbs up. He pushes it down, hand enclosing the back of your fist, and he continues complaining into the phone. “Just text me before you start driving. Yeah, she’s here. Do you wanna say hi?”

He hands you his phone. You clear your throat and put it up to your ear with your free hand. “Hi, hyung, how have you been? Yeah, he’s at my place again. A freeloader— exactly!” Beomgyu squeezes your knuckles at that remark, visibly pouting and offended. You brush him off. “Ah, yeah. Sorry I can’t join you guys. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Beomgyu snatches the phone back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wait for you there. Bye, hyung. Later.”

The end of the call signals that you two should maybe start cleaning up. You throw out the boxes, wash the dishes and cups you used and tidy up the living room floor and couch. Beomgyu is grumbling the entire time, asking if you really have to attend the stupid seminar later. “I’m not gonna flake on my friends, Beomgyu.” You lean against the doorway with your arms crossed, seeing him out. He frowns. “You’re gonna be gone for three days right?”

“Yeah,” he responds, audibly deflated.

A huff of air blows past your lips. Three days. You should just talk to him once he gets back. “Have you packed already? Need any help?”

“No, I already took care of everything last night.”

“Wow,” you laugh, impressed. “That’s so unlike you. You’re well prepared for once.”

Beomgyu doesn’t respond to your jab with the same energy. “I didn’t want to spend the entire morning packing when I can use it to spend a bit more time with you.”

Instead, he decides to be sweet. Honest.

You feel your rib cage rattle, your stomach stir. “O—oh,” you rasp out. “Um.”

“What’s with the look?” he laughs a little, taking a step forward. Your back is still pressed against the doorframe. Beomgyu’s arm reaches up further above your head, pushing himself closer. “I thought that much was obvious when I knocked at your door at nine in the morning.”

When you follow his gaze, you can tell that his eyes are tracing the lines on your lips, eyelids heavy. Your breath hitches in your throat. Shit. Oh my god. Is he going to kiss you? Is he leaning it to kiss you? You’re about to freak the fuck out and Beomgyu seems to notice that. He pulls back, allowing the air to circulate back into your lungs, and he lets out a sigh.

His arm falls down to his side. “You can still take it back,” he says. You look at him, brows furrowed. What? Take what back? Beomgyu waits for you to answer, and when you don’t, he decides that it’s best to be more clear. “We can pretend like what happened on new year’s didn’t happen— uh, remain with what we’re used to if you’re not fine with this. If you think we’re better off as friends like we’ve always been, I don’t mind. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Oh. Oh. You weren’t ready to talk about this yet. You planned to talk about this three days later, but when did your plans ever work? Never.

Beomgyu attempts a smile and starts heading back to his apartment. “We can talk more once I get back so you can think about it. I’ll go get my—”

“No, wait.”

You grab hold of his arm. Beomgyu turns back, surprised.

“I’ve al—already been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking a lot.” Crap. Your throat is dry. You didn’t plan any of this. You weren’t expecting to say this to him right now at all. “What I’m saying is—”

Choi Beomgyu looks a little expectant. You suck in a sharp breath. This feels weird. It’s like there’s something jittering at the base of your stomach. Many things, fluttering all the way up to your ribcage and throat and causing your cheeks to flare up.

“We...we can give it a try.”

There. You said it. You finally fucking said it and you can breathe again. Your gaze focuses on Beomgyu, heart racing, and his expression is yet again indecipherable.

He takes a step towards you. Your nerves jolt when you feel his touch on the arch of your spine, pulling you in even closer. “You sure?”

You let out a squeak. “Tech—technically, I was the one who asked you out, so shouldn’t I— shouldn’t I take responsibility…?”

Beomgyu takes a moment’s pause at your resolution. You’re nervous. You’re so nervous right now that you might have severely fucked up. He looks at you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to avert your eyes, face flushed from the heat of the moment, only for him to release the tension with a big laugh, fully embracing you by the waist, and dropping his head down onto your shoulder before lifting it back up to look at you with a wide smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”

This time, when he leans in again, doesn’t draw back midway.

You feel his lips on yours and your eyes flutter wide open, heart rate spiking up and up and up until your lips part, him kissing you deeper, until you can’t keep them open anymore. Beomgyu’s hold around your waist loosens, one hand traveling up to the back of your head before it could collide with the doorframe when you stumble back as you lose the strength in your knees, and before you know it, you’ve got your hands tangled in his hair, dizzy and short-winded and making you think that this— this isn’t so bad.

He draws his lips back with a heavy exhale. “God,” he sighs out as the heat of his breath hits your skin. Your foreheads are pressed together, eyes hazy and cloudy when he leans in again, mumbling into your mouth, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

The reverie ends when a jolt of self-consciousness hits you belatedly. Your hands travel down to his chest, barely pushing off in a surge of sudden panic. Your face is burning, your lips feel fuzzy, and Beomgyu looks both surprised and disappointed which makes the churning in your stomach even worse. “A—a—aren’t you supposed to go now?” you stutter out, still a little breathless. Holy shit. That just happened.

“You’re right,” Beomgyu responds. “I should go now.” But his body language isn’t showing any signs of leaving. You wait for him to budge. He doesn’t.

Somehow, you manage to push him off you and finally drag him out of the building with his backpack in tow, much to his whines and protests. His brother has been endlessly calling him with all calls left unanswered except for this one. “I’m going! I’m almost there.” He is not. He’s at the bottom steps of the apartment building.

“Text me when you arrive,” you tell him, ready to head back inside. Beomgyu pockets his phone, looking more alive than ever and it’s annoying you a little.

“Mhm,” he hums in response. His eyes flicker down, debating whether or not to put whatever he’s thinking about with that into action, but decides against it and settles for a rough pat and a ruffle on your head instead, pressing out a small smile. “See you when I get back.” You wave him goodbye as he disappears out into the road. He sends you a text the moment he meets up with his brother.

It’s still a little awkward. You still can’t wrap your mind around this change after being nothing more than just two good friends for two decades. You’re just glad he isn’t trying to rush it. What doesn’t change is his incessantly annoying texts every goddamned hour throughout the three days he’s away.

And indeed, you do see him when he gets back. He’s supposed to go shopping for the Yeonjun farewell party tomorrow anyway, so you decide to meet him at the station and just proceed to the store immediately after. When he departs from the train and sees you waiting amidst the crowd, he immediately comes rushing over like a puppy. Christ, Minjeong was right.

Admittedly, you can’t get used to this yet. He’s always been touchy, but they’ve always been subtle. Devouring you into a bone crushing embrace to the point where all you can see and feel with your face is the fur of his jacket isn’t exactly subtle. The sounds of trains zipping, people chatting flood your senses. You quite frankly, cannot breathe. “Hey, chill out. It’s literally been only three days.”

“Bleh, whatever. Chill out, fuck off. Just let me have this.”

Your attempts to wrestle your way out of this good-natured suffocation is fruitless. You used to be able to push him around like nothing back in middle school. How far you have fallen.

“We still have errands to run,” you grunt out, managing to at the very least pop your head out from being smothered into his chest. He looks down at you, bitterly clicking his tongue and loosening his grip a bit. “Jeez, do you like me or something?”

That was supposed to be a joke. Beomgyu doesn’t find it very funny because he suddenly draws back, arms crossed and expression utterly exasperated. “Are you serious? Are you an idiot?”

“I was just pushing your buttons, stupid,” you shoot him a glare, taking advantage of your freedom to start walking ahead and out of the station.

“You’re stupid.”

There isn’t a day where Beomgyu doesn’t decide to irritate the crap out of you. He’s walking behind you. He’s stepping on the back of your shoes and bumping into you like a sixth grader. “Quit it!”

“Make me.”

He’s so annoying. He continues being annoying even at the event supplies stores downtown, where you’re picking up some streamers and party hats for tomorrow. You and he debate between hot pink and baby pink for the color theming. Rock paper scissors declare hot pink the winner and you get paper plates and cups in matching colors. “By the way,” Beomgyu starts, putting in two party poppers into the basket once you’re done loading up the utensils. “I met up with some of the guys from highschool yesterday. You know. Seungmin and Jimin. They were back in town for the holidays as well.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” you respond, not very enthusiastically. The memory still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth like a permanent carpet burn. Beomgyu notices you shooting daggers at the innocent, inflated teddy bear balloon right in front of you. He tugs on your hand and leads you to the checkout counter before you can vent your temper at the poor balloon. “Anyway, how are they? Did you guys hang out?”

“Same old. We hit up the PC room for old times sake,” he hums, waiting as the cashier buzzes your items. “Actually, our high school batch is apparently planning a small reunion or get together of some sorts here in Seoul. They’re asking if we wanted to attend too.”

Well. You don’t exactly want to mingle with a bunch of kids that you weren’t even close with back then. And your social battery is already beyond depleted and has had no chance of ever getting a full recovery after all the events from December to January.

You mull it over while the counter finishes bagging your things. The both of you decide to make a pitstop at a nearby cafe. After ordering, you two pick a table on the outside porch because the weather is nice out. Beomgyu drags the metal chair from across so that he’s sitting next to you. Again, Kim Minjeong might’ve been onto something when she called him a puppy with severe attachment issues. The server comes by with your order. Your caffeine intake has been atrocious so you opted for a lychee drink instead, and he settles with a regular latte. Beomgyu hums out a tune while stirring his coffee, playfully hooking his opposite leg with yours underneath the table.

“About the reunion thing,” you chime up. “Will Chaeryoung be there?”

“How should I know,” he grimaces after trying out your drink. At this point, you think he’s faking it. “She’s your friend, not mine.”

He just keeps pushing your buttons today. “Hey, jerk.” You snatch back the drink from under his chin, visibly provoked. “Why have you gotten even more annoying now that we’re— we’re. We’re—”

Your initial attitude is immediately gone. You choke on your words, one left unsaid because at this point it’s still a little fucking embarrasing, especially with how Choi Beomgyu’s is eyeing you with a shit eating expression while taking a sip from his coffee.

“Now that we’re what?” he hums in provocation, smiling that annoying smile of his with twinkling eyes. “C’mon. Say it.”

“Fuck you, nevermind—”

“No, I want to hear this! Now what we’re what?” Suddenly, he’s twisting over his chair to directly face you. You groan and quickly jerk away when you notice he’s enjoying this a little too much. You seriously want to sock him in the face. “Do you want me to stop being annoying? Hey! Hey, look at me!”

You let out a squeak when you feel his palms on your warm cheeks, turning your head to face him in bewilderment and you panic and hold onto your chair. “What the hell are you—”

“Tell me,” he interrupts. “What do you want me to do?”

This bastard wants to kill you via heart failure. Any ability to speak coherently has completely left your body.. “I, uh, well—”

“Hm?” he touts even further. “What was that?”

You hate him. You hate him so much. You want to hide and bury your face into the ground, and he’s just visibly laughing at you like a sick freak.

Beomgyu finally releases his hold on your face to snatch both of your hands instead. He pulls them towards his chest, but his eyes remain on you, the sheer amusement never leaving his gaze. “Do you want me to be sweeter?” he hums, tracing his thumbs over your knuckles before pressing a light kiss in between the narrow gap. “I can do that.”

His eyes are still trained on you, almost taunting.

“Baby?”

Then the sun spits on your face and you feel the primal instinct to book it and run away.

“Sweetie?” He tugs you forward, pulling your forearms into his chest, just in time for him to land a peck on your nose. “Darling?”

But you can’t run away. No. Because Choi Beomgyu has you hostage while he attacks you with an onslaught of cringey endearments and butterfly kisses on the face to remind you that he is, in fact, strong now, and you can’t do anything about it. Had you known he was going to torment you like this, you should’ve just taken it all back.

“Ow! Why are you hitting me, I’m just doing what you wanted me to do— ow! Then again, dipshit does suit you better than—ow! This is assault!”

“You’re assault!” you screech out, finally managing to retrieve your bearings and you immediately cross your arms over the table, next to your barely touched lychee drink, and bury your face, never to see the light of day ever again. You hear Beomgyu having the time of his life next to you, laughing like an asshole. You send a blind kick in his direction. It hits. His cackling stops and he makes another pained noise.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry,” you hear him say. Then you hear the squeak of the chair, a bump on your elbow, and you peek out to see him laying his head on his crossed arms on the table as well, facing you. “I was just happy to see you again.”

You stare at him. How the fuck are you supposed to keep protesting when he’s being like this. “Beomgyu, you were gone for three days.”

“Three days too long,” he whines, muffling himself into his sleeves. “I’m with you every single day. I was suffering from withdrawals especially when my parents and your parents kept asking me why I didn’t bring you this year.” He tosses his head back up, suddenly looking at you with narrowed eyes and petulantly pursed lips. “And to think that when I got back, all I’ve been getting are swears and punches and rejection and— ah, my heart is wounded. I won’t ever recover from this. Never, ever, not even in a million— mmph!”

Choi Beomgyu’s eyes are wide, the tips of his fingers lifted up to his slightly parted mouth after you’d just shot up to shut up his never ending yapping by kissing him. There’s a heavy blush on his cheeks and even though yours are a little warm too, the corner of your lips involuntarily quirk upward. Holy shit. So, this is how it feels to be on the attacking end. Choi Beomgyu, you can eat shit and die. “Hah. Two can play it that game, fuckf—”

“Oh my god?!”

Your victory is cut short. Your blood runs cold. You should’ve remembered that you’re on the outside deck of a cafe right now, where people can just freely pass by and see you. You two are, in fact, seen, not just by any people.

With the creaks of hesitance in your joints, you turn to the sound of the very appalled, very alarmed, very familiar voice. There, you see Kim Minjeong and Sung Hanbin standing with shopping bags, some of which have fallen on the floor, all of which are for what you assume is Yeonjun’s farewell party. The former looks at you in horror. The latter is just smiling and waving. “What the fuck did I just see?” Minjeong croaks out. “Tell me, what the fuck did I just see?”

“I—I can explain!” you quickly sputter out. You turn to Beomgyu for help, but the fucker is still lost in a lovestruck daze. Oh my god. You want to die.

“Congratulations,” Hanbin happily remarks. You want to die very much. Maybe at the hands of Minjeong because she’s marching up the deck and her eyes are on fire.

Somehow, you manage to smooth things over. You fill them in with what happened on new year, and Minjeong says she saw this coming but still can’t accept it because you’re way too good for Beomgyu, which snaps him out of it and they get into a squabble. “So you approved of Jang Seung but not me?!” Hanbin is all smiles, though, and he promised to keep it a secret from the rest of the coding club guys for now because you don’t even want to imagine what would happen if they find out. Heeseung especially. Oh god. It’s going to be a disaster.

The disaster comes not even twenty-four hours later, at Yeonjun’s farewell party.

Most of the morning, you all spend the time to decorate the clubroom and set up all the cameras to record Yeonjun’s inevitable sobfest. Hot pink and white streamers are hung around and about. There are balloons on the wall spelling CONGRATULATIONS, Y3ONJUN! because there weren’t any letter E’s available. The boxes of pizza and chicken arrive. Jeongin walks in with a cake. You’re all decked out in party hats and birthday trumpets while waiting for the man of the hour to arrive.

“Pink or brighter pink?” Beomgyu asks, holding up the two cones for your perusal. You’re both wedged in a corner in the room, slightly detached from the rest of the group scuttling by the door.

“First one,” you hum, and he draws the string down, tapping the cone cap on the crown of your head while he slowly lets go of the string once it’s set underneath your chin. Beomgyu takes a step back, examining his work, before nodding into a satisfied smile and putting his own party hat on himself.

He’s. He’s so dumb. You brush off a smile with the shake of your head, and in doing so you inadvertently lock eyes with Heeseung, who seems to have witnessed the entire exchange and is now squinting at you— like he’s trying to understand something. Clearing your throat, you look away before he can take your eye contact as an invitation to talk, and Heeseung is just about to approach when the clubroom door clatters open, a series of party poppers go off, confetti shoots out, right in time for Yeonjun to step in, eyes wide in half-fear, half-surprise.

“Wh—whoa, what? Hey, what’s going on?”

In a matter of seconds, things escalate. Congratulations are yelled out. Some happy birthdays (whatever makes them happy). The pink graduation cake is released. It takes a moment for Yeonjun to let it all sink in, and when it does, the boys’ predictions are ultimately proven correct because he tries to play it off that he’s definitely, absolutely not crying (he is).

They laugh at him, make fun of him, and group hugs are shared. It’s all very silly and very cute. You’re on photo taking duty until Hyunjin pulls you into their mess of limbs and yelling and sobs until you’re finally able to wiggle out back into your corner.

Beomgyu returns to your corner with a slice of cake on a paper plate, two forks, and a dollop of icing on the tip of his nose.

“Is that a new look you’re trying?” you laugh, taking one of the forks on the plate.

“What are you talking about?” His brows are furrowed. You tap on your nose. Beomgyu mirrors your movement, still confused until he feels the smudge of icing, and he draws his hand away with disgust. “God damn it. Jeongin, that rat.” Despite his desire for revenge, Choi Beomgyu doesn’t leave the corner. He stays there with you, watching all the rest of the boys making a mess as you share your cake, plucking off a crumb from the corner of your mouth while you wheeze at Heeseung trying and failing to pin the tail on the Yeonjun-donkey.

“Idiot, to your left! Left! That’s not your—”

“Hey, hold still for a sec—”

“Are you directionally— oh!”

Lee Heeseung rips off his blindfold— ready to whine at you— but that intention immediately simmers down to something else when he snaps his head just in time for him to witness Beomgyu touching your face and getting away with it unscathed. You jolt. Heeseung’s eyes are narrowed at you. “Hey, what’s going—”

“We got a noise complaint! ICT publication from next door!”

“Ugh, party poopers.”

“Choi Beomgyu, go deal with it.”

Thank god for that interruption. The man in question doesn’t seem as happy about it, though. “What? Why me?” he groans in protest. You see Heeseung pause mid-stride towards the both of you.

“Because we need someone with charisma to make sure we don’t get in trouble and Yeonjun hyung is useless right now.” Hyunjin reasons. Cut to Yeonjun who’s still sobbing his eyes out at the paper roll of messages you guys wrote for him. He really is useless. Beomgyu sees the waterworks and lets out another grunt.

“Ugh.” Pouting, Beomgyu turns back to you, handing you the plate and finishing it off by messing up your hair. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Quit acting like you won’t miss me, meanie.”

You stick your tongue out. Beomgyu rolls his eyes and heads off with Hyunjin outside to deal with the complaint, hooking the latter by the neck with his arm. You’re about to finish up your cake when Heeseung replaces Beomgyu’s spot. You nearly choke on the damn thing when he suddenly bolts up saying, “Hey. Why the fuck are you two acting so weird?”

“Jesus fucking—” you cough. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The look of suspicion never leaves Heeseung’s face. You can feel it— cold sweat breaking. Shit. Is this it? Is this the end of your peace and quiet? “Beomgyu has been all up in your space since we started preparing and at this point, you would’ve sworn at him at least two dozen times already,” he starts. “I haven’t heard your unrecyclable mouth utter even a shit or damn. There hasn’t even been any bickering and it’s freaking me out.”

Of all times, why does he decide to be perceptive now? You can’t even muster up a response. Thank god he’s a yapper because he fills in the silence himself.

“Well, whatever,” Heeseung simply shrugs. “I guess that’s a good thing because my ears are spared from your potty mouth just for today.”

He’s perceptive but not sharp. Today, you are saved. “Go suck a dick.”

“That’s the spirit. Back to normal.” Your friend grins and gives you a thumbs up. You shoot him a glare and he blocks your punch with his palm. “But did something happen? The vibe between you and he is a little different. How do I put it?” You struggle to remove your fist from the bastard’s grip, but he doesn’t let you budge while he continues to ponder. “It’s like you’re a couple of high schoolers who just started dating or some shit, haha. Something like that.”

You rip your hand away and press it close to your chest.

“Yo, what’s with the face?”

Turns out, your good for nothing friend has been speaking a little too loud that it’s gotten quiet. Quiet in anticipation because everyone in the room is looking at you right now— including Beomgyu, who’d just gotten back with Hyunjin after their successful mission. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks. You gulp. You look at Beomgyu, who’s a little taken aback by what’s going down. Oh, you’re so fucking screwed.

“Wait, why aren’t you denying it?”

How could you when Choi Beomgyu is looking straight at you? Sure, you don’t want them to find out, but you don’t have the heart to deny it and make Beomgyu upset, either! You remain quiet for five, sixe seconds— several seconds too late because they construe your silence as a yes, and Heeseung’s eyes start beaming, and it gets loud again, and your face is starting to grow way too hot for you to handle

“Oh my god? Oh my fucking god? Oh my god, my biggest wish is finally happening— guys! Guys!”

That’s it. It’s over. It’s all over. The news spreads like wildfire, but it’s all Heeseung’s hearsay until a confirmation comes out from either of you two’s mouths. Heeseung is shaking you by the shoulders. Yeonjun is crying even more. Hanbin is watching everything with a smile and he sends you an assuring thumbs up, but you don’t feel assured at all. From the corner of your eye, you can also see Beomgyu getting assaulted. He’s got Hyunjin and Jeongin yelling at him from both sides. He looks like he’s getting a migraine.

“Is it true?! Did you two really decide to date?”

“No way! Not with how adamantly she’s been against—”

“Wait, this isn’t our business, we shouldn’t—”

“Who asked who out? C’mon, you gotta tell us!”

Despite it all, Beomgyu’s usually loud mouth remains quiet. He says nothing to them. Instead, he meets eyes with you from across the room— a cock of his head, a slight raise of his brow as if to say just give me the signal, what do you want me to do?

You feel as though you’ve already been asking him for too many favors this year. You suck in a sharp inhale, and, while ignoring Heeseung’s vigorous shaking of your person, answer Hyunjin’s question in his stead. “I did,” you said. “I asked him. On new year’s. Under the table.”

Heeseung suddenly freezes. You squeeze your eyes shut and look down, cheeks burning. Then you hear a scream.

“You?! You?!”

“This is crazy. What the fuck, I don’t believe it.”

“I knew it! I knew something big happened then! Gosh, I fucking knew it!”

“You were barely conscious then, how could you know—”

“About time, really.”

“Hey, I’m so happy for you two,” Yeonjun suddenly saunters up to you, eyes red and threatening to spill again. He sniffles and pulls you into a hug. “I’m just so...so—”

And your shoulder is wet. You give him a few pats on the bag as you watch Beomgyu fed off his rabid fans from jumping him while he attempts to move closer to you. He manages to succeed by announcing that he needs to talk to you in private and then go crazy. He doesn’t succeed as much in prying Yeonjun off of you, though. You’re both suffocated in a group hug and best wishes from the soon-to-graduate club member.

“Hey, I hope none of you have forgotten who this party is actually for,” you raise in the hopes of dissuading the situation. Which works. Somehow. You’re in no position to question a blessing from the skies.

“Sideshow over! Time to watch the message video—”

“Where’s the cord? Whose laptop are we using again?”

“Hey, nobody leaves until we clean everything up! Jeongin, I’m looking at you.”

Regardless, Heeseung wouldn’t leave you alone until you fess everything up to him. Even after the party, he kept texting and calling you to tell him the how, what, where, and why. Mostly because he wanted to confirm that he has all the credit of introducing you both through that blind date. It was very funny to see his entire world shatter when you told him that you and Beomgyu had known each other since forever. He stopped bothering you after that and decided it’s not fun anymore to tease you.

Unfortunately, the rest of his club members haven’t tired themselves out yet. When Beomgyu told them he wasn’t gonna join their night out this weekend because you guys had the high school reunion thing he mentioned to you the other day, they refused to believe him and that he was just making an excuse to spend time with you. You owe Hwang Hyunjin a punch to the gut. He must’ve forgotten that there was a reason he was scared of you the first time you met.

Anyhow, those headaches are set aside because you have a different headache to deal with— that is, the impending hell of meeting your high school classmates again. You contacted Chaeryoung the other day, asking if she’s also attending and she responded with a sudden call, which turned into a two-hour catching up session. Needless to say, you have no choice but to show up now.

It’s the day of, and you’re getting ready inside the bedroom apartment. There’s soft music humming through the turntable Beomgyu gave you as a Christmas gift, loaded with the record you bought last month. It’s the same song he played onstage two months ago. The room is dimmed, the bronze ceiling light the only thing illuminating the walls, floor, the bedsheet you’re sinking into and the mess of makeup items scattered about, as well as Choi Beomgyu’s face that’s inches away from yours— a focused look of concentration etched on his pursed lips as he brings up a brush up to your cheekbone.

“Hey, stop that! It tickles!” you laugh, albeit unwillingly, as you swat his hand away. “If you mess up I’m gonna have to wipe my entire face off and start over.” You feel your phone vibrating next to your hand that’s pressed into the mattress. Must be from Chaeryoung. You look down to grab it, but Beomgyu taps on the side of your jaw, lifting your face up to look at him.

“Who cares? We’re already late anyway.” His brows are all knitted up in concentration, wielding your lipstick wand like it’s a scalpel and he’s about to perform open heart surgery. Why is he taking this so seriously? He barged in while you were putting on makeup earlier and bragged that he could actually be pretty good at this, and you egged him on to prove it. So far, he’s been all talk, sweating after tapping on barely any product on your cheeks with your blush brush. “Stay still, dipshit. Unless you want to end up looking like a clown.”

“I’ll kill you if you mess up.”

“Then maybe shut your mouth for a sec.”

“Nyeye, then maybe shut your mouth for a—”

“Shush! I’m concentrating!”

You muffle down a laugh, seeing him try so hard. You can see the sweat bead trailing down his forehead as he lifts up your chin with one hand and now brings a shade of lipstick to your lips with the other. There’s a jitter of hesitation the moment you feel the product brush against your lips— a light press and a pause. You look up at his eyes but he’s not looking at yours. And then you watch as Beomgyu’s takes a deep breath while clumsily applying the product in a rush, mumbling something you can’t quite hear under his breath, and he twists the wand back into its container before tossing it onto your bed.

“What was that?” you ask, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. You can see him even under this dim light. You can see just how red his ears are. You fight back the urge to laugh and make fun of him outright. You need a different strategy to win against him. “What did you say?”

Beomgyu is still not looking at you. He’s not fighting against your grip, but the heat has traveled down to his neck as he continues to look away. “I said pretty,” he coughs out, then repeats, “your lips are pretty.” Your grip loosens. He takes this as an opportunity to peek at you once more. Which proves to be the wrong move. “No, your entire face is pretty. What the hell? How am I supposed to make fun of you now? This is pissing me off.”

You don’t recall giving him any blush, but Choi Beomgyu is blushing red when he stomps out of your room in a fit. You’re flustered yourself, but your annoyance and confusion overtakes any other emotion as you quickly gather your purse and phone and wallet to catch up to him and his sudden tantrum.

“Now, why the fuck would that piss you off, you dick?!”

You’re both in your living room now. Beomgyu is throwing on his coat when he snarks back, “See! Because it doesn’t match your vulgar mouth and nasty personality!”

“You talk as if you’re any better than me, fuckface.” Somehow, you’re both on your way out now, walking down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby as your…civilized conversation continues. “In fact, your mouth is way worse than mine.”

“Lies!” he barks back. You’re both out of the building now. “Statistically speaking, you swear exponentially more times than me.”

“You failed our statistics and probability final in ninth grade. Don’t get smart with me. And should I show you the voice recordings Heeseung sends me whenever you two are playing a game? Your mother would cry if she heard them.”

“I can’t believe you’re using my own strategy against me.” Now, you’re walking to the parking lot and even while he’s ranting, Beomgyu manages to lead you right to his car. “And mind you, those are exceptional circumstances. In general and on average, you are the worst offender of all. There isn’t a day where you don’t tell me to fuck off or eat shit, and I’m not the only victim. There’s Heeseung. There’s Sungchan. There’s—”

His throat holds his words hostage. You are being held hostage in between him and his car when he leans in to open the passenger door for you, hand already on the handle, but Beomgyu remains unmoving. His lips are pressed tightly, together and a wrinkle creases the space between his eyebrows.

Then, he breathes out a swear.

“Dammit.”

His grip leaves the door, cups your cheeks, and lunges in for a kiss like a crazy person.

The first moment, you’re shocked and wide-eyed and wondering what the fuck is this idiot trying to pull. The next moment, you find yourself getting swept up in his insanity, wide eyes fluttering close with your arms around his neck, securing another five minutes of tardiness to the event, and the five minutes end with his exhaled breaths warming up your lips amidst the cold evening. “I swear to god, Choi Beomgyu,” you grunt, barely shoving him away. What was the point of his whole make-up guru charade earlier? What was the point if he was gonna smudge it all off anyway? “There’s seriously something wrong with you.”

Your complaint is met by a pout and him retaliating by pulling you in with one arm, and his free hand finding its way to your face. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”

He’s insufferable. “You wish.”

“No, I don’t,” is his quick reply. It almost made your heart stutter— even more so when he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips with the disappointed click of his tongue. “Sorry I ruined your lipstick. I’ll fix it in the car.”

You smack his hand away, covering your face with the back of your hand. “It was ruined the moment you put it on!” You quickly whisk yourself into the car, finally. Beomgyu follows into the driver’s seat not long after, but not without yelling out his self-defense.

“Hey, I did a pretty good job! I just need a bit more practice!”

Sometime in the middle of the car ride, the argument fizzled out and got replaced by his playlist, and a conversation on when you’d be coming back home to Daegu before the semester starts since your mom wants to show off the new sofa set she bought. It’s very cozy, she says, with the only downside being the fact that it’s too cozy to the point that your dad’s evening naps have become more frequent.

It’s just mindless meandering on the way to the venue— a karaoke room at Grand Hyatt Hotel that you and the rest of your attending batchmates chipped in to book. Of the thirty students from your batch, twenty-three confirmed attendance including Beomgyu and yourself. Of the other twenty-one people, you’re only close with one of them.

Maybe your endless prattling about your mom’s new cushions and throw pillows to distract yourself from why you even volunteered yourself to attend. Maybe you’re just using Chaeryeong as an excuse to validate yourself and witness exactly how much you’ve and everyone else has changed since highschool in spite of your vocalized disinterest.

“You good?”

The car engine has stopped humming. The streetlight road has been replaced by a dim hotel parking lot, and you turn to see the dim image of Choi Beomgyu’s blurry face eyeing you in concern. You recall his initial surprise when you voiced out your intent on coming with him this evening. Not that he’d stopped you, but you figure even his dummy self could put your initial reservations, and the confession you dropped a few months ago when you made up after your fight. I’ve only been known as the girl who’s always been around you and nothing else. I doubt you noticed how people would only approach me because of you.

It still makes you cringe whenever that memory would creep into your brain like a rat at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Sure, things are different now, but you felt that way at a time when your world consisted of nothing more than your town back in Daegu, and eighty percent of your life was spent in high school. You’re stepping back into that world right now, where you’re nothing but Choi Beomgyu’s friend, acquaintance, something— never had been just yourself.

And you know Beomgyu knows that this is exactly what you’re thinking about right now. Which is why he doesn’t get out of the car yet, and instead asks, “Do you wanna just ditch and go hang out somewhere else?”

You let out a laugh. He’s such a dork. “No way. Chaeryeong’s gonna sulk if I don’t see her today, and I could use a few drinks, you know.” You have no intention of stripping him the opportunity to hang out with his old friends again. You’ve seen how much his phone has been buzzing on the way here. Why does he have so many clingy male friends? You’ll never understand. Choi Beomgyu is just some guy.

That some guy stares at you for a bit as he mulls over your answer. “If you say so. But if you wanna leave early, just tell me.”

Seriously. It’s not like he treats them like this, for them to go crazy over hum. Then again, maybe this guy just has the inherent knack of drawing people in. You’ve been a witness of that phenomenon for the past two decades, and you’re witnessing it again tonight, counting down from the moment you two leave the car and enter the building, enter the karaoke lounge, and despite Choi Beomgyu (and you) interrupting an ongoing performance by Seungmin and Jimin on the machine, the response to his entrance is, quite frankly, a bit over the top.

“Look who’s finally here.”

“Man, what took you so long?”

“Woohoo! Time to get the party started!”

Neon lights are already lighting up the dim room. Beer bottles have already been cracked open on the tables. You watch as he gets whisked away by his old high school friend group, stifling your laughter because maybe Choi Beomgyu has changed because he looks a little overwhelmed and taken aback by the assault of attention. Surprisingly, it’s a very funny sight. He turns back to you while Jiwoong hooks him by the neck and ushers him into the lounge as if he’s asking for help. Which draws attention to you, obviously. His friends turn around. The first one to greet you is Seungmin. “Oh, hey!” he exclaims, leaning in for a quick half-hug. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been stuck at the door for the past few minutes due to the traffic you idiots are causing, thank you very much for asking,” you respond after pulling back, smiling.

“You still have an attitude,” he snarks. “And you two are still joint at the hip. Did you arrive together?”

“Yup. I’m getting sick of him, so I’d appreciate it if you take him away from me now.”

“You can bet on it.”

Before Beomgyu could protest, he’s already been handed the mic and had been fed a shot glass. The rest of the guys follow suit in giving you quick greetings, how are you’s, how have you been’s. You still haven’t seen Chaeryeong around so you shoot her a text. She responds with exclamation marks and the text, [WAIT A SECOND. BATHROOM. BE THERE IN A BIT], and she emerges through the door not long after to greet you with the gift of suffocation. “Oh my god, I missed you so much,” she wheezes out. “Why haven’t we made plans even once since starting uni? I know we talked a bit last time but how have you been? Has Choi Beomgyu been treat—”

You prompt shut her mouth with your hand. You did keep her posted over the phone last time, but you don’t intend on sharing the status update between you and Choi Beomgyu to your whole class that had been under the assumption that you’ve been together, anyway. It’s none of their business— and definitely not the business of the girl that had been staring at you the whole goddamn time since you arrived here.

Among the twenty-one people that came today is Haena. Haena, the girl that invited you to hang out with her friends for coffee around a year ago. Haena, the girl who kept grilling you about your relationship with Beomgyu, just to ask if you could help her get together with him. Haena and her friends, Bora and Seohyun, who’d been drilling holes into the back of your head for the past fifteen or so minutes. Last you’ve heard of her, she’s studying nursing at DSU.

You’ve never told Beomgyu about the little incident because it never escalated into anything more than dirty looks in the hallway and the classroom and the proliferation of gossip about you and Choi Beomgyu. And since nearly a whole year had passed, you were hoping that that was all water under the bridge now, but apparently it’s not. Jesus, what does she want?

“Okay, okay, let’s stop the singing for now since everyone’s already here and raise our drinks up! To the class of 20XX!”

You’ve no intention of letting that bother the rest of your night. Yet Haena wasn’t the only bitter aftertaste of that period of your life. An hour or so into the evening, you get out of the karaoke lounge to get a breather in the lobby. Choi Beomgyu is still trapped inside thanks to his ten million fanboys-slash-friends. Chaeryeong wanted to come with you but she got roped into a drinking game and has shown no signs of escaping. Which leaves you some time to recharge a bit before the inevitable agenda of reminiscence once everyone’s gotten a bit too drunk and loose-lipped.

On the way to the hotel lobby, you bump into Jiwoong— that guy, ex-crush, who rejected you in the rain two years back, maybe. So much for water under the bridge because just looking at him makes you feel mortified. He greets you with a nod and a smile before walking past you back into the lounge. God, that was an embarrassing moment. You shake your head and race into the hall leading up to the carpeted lobby.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one with the same idea.

There, sitting defeated and exhausted on one of the plush seats is Lim Jimin. Embarrassing encounter number two. He notices you. You two make eye contact. Fuck. Yes, you two exchanged awkward hello’s earlier, but seeing his face just makes you recount the humiliation you felt when you expected a confession from him.

“O—oh, hi.”

He’s the one that greets you first, and it sounds a lot more agonizing than if you’d been the one to do it. Did Choi Beomgyu say something to this guy? Why does he look just as uncomfortable as you?

“Uh, hey.” You quickly squeeze out a response. “It’s getting stuffy inside, right? Haha, enjoy your alone time. I’ll be doing the same outs—”

“W—wait!” The last thing you expected was for Jimin to say something to you. You preemptively stop walking, and the momentum causes you to jerk a bit, giving him the opportunity to jump off his seat and keep talking. “This…this is a bit long overdue, and this may sound stupid, but I feel like I owe you an apology.”

An apology? Your brows furrow. You regain your balance, resting a hand on the backrest of the sofa beside you. “For what?”

He struggles a bit. “Um…do you remember when I asked you a favor last year? To convince Beomgyu to help me rank up in League?” You can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing your cheeks again. God dammit, why can’t he be like Jiwoong who just smiled and walked past you like nothing happened? “You stormed off after that, and I couldn’t help but feel really guilty that I did something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out why you’d be angry no matter how much I thought about it.”

Somehow, your hands find themselves covering your face, head down. “Ah,” you exhale a disgruntled breath, then force an inhale. You bring your head up. You look at the boy who’s looking guilty when he shouldn’t be. “You did nothing wrong, Jimin. I was just worked up that day and sort of lost my cool. I should be the one who’s sorry.” This is so ridiculous. At least with this, you think you can finally be over it. “Gosh. I can’t believe you’ve been stressing about that.”

Jimin brings his arms to a cross and rubs his palms against his sleeves, still looking down and sorry. “I felt really bad, okay? I really thought I said something wrong, especially to my friend’s girlfriend.”

You feel a twitch in your temple. Here’s another misunderstanding to clear. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to help you anyway. I wasn’t his girlfriend back then.”

This causes him to jolt his eyes up to look at you. “Huh? Really?” His widened eyes blink rapidly. “Back then? Then does that mean you’re—”

An interruption in the form of your name being called out arrives.

You turn your head back— back into the direction of the hall that led into the karaoke lounge. “Beomgyu,” you acknowledge, padding up to him upon his arrival. You figure he managed to listen in on the last part of that conversation, considering the fact he welcomes your arrival with a snug arm around you. Like Minjeong says, Choi Beomgyu acts like a puppy with attachment issues, but he hasn’t been committing any heinous acts of public affection the entire reunion event. You haven’t even said anything. He knows you a little too well. “What’s up? Got sick of all your friends’ love and attention already?”

“That’s one reason,” he grunts “But the guys wanted to gather everyone around for something. What were you two doing out here?”

The question seems to be pointed at Jimin, and the man in question struggles to come up with a response. You lightly elbow Choi Beomgyu. “We were just clearing up some misunderstandings,” you say, which Jimin echoes, and then you give Beomgyu a whispered reminder. “You know. The fake secret admirer incident last year. Looking back, that was also half your fault for planting ideas in my head.”

“Oh, yeah. That incident,” Beomgyu snorts upon recollection. “Damn. You never fail at being embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You elbow him again. Less lightly this time. Telling him about the whole confession misunderstanding on your part will forever be one of the greatest regrets of your life. “Jimin, We’ll head in first.”

“Sure thing. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec.”

With that, you shuffle back into the hallway, and upon getting closer to the lounge, Beomgyu slowly paces away a considerable distance between the both of you. The last thing he lets go of is his gentle hold on your wrist as he led you down the hallway. He used that same hand to open up the door, announcing your re-arrival— which elicits a different reaction from the first time you two arrived. “Oooh, here they are. The lovebirds are finally here.”

Even though they aren’t misunderstanding your relationship this time around, it still is really fucking annoying.

“C’mon, sit down, sit down! We’ve already started playing truth or dare while you guys were out. Where’s Jimin?”

It doesn’t feel right to deny it. “He’s still out.” But it doesn’t feel right to just let them keep goading you either. “Said he’ll join us later. If you ask any weird questions, I’m out.”

“Lighten up! We’re all just curious to find out what everyone’s been up to this past year.” The two long tables in the venue have been pressed together to form one big square where everyone is sitting around. With Beomgyu following behind you and seated to your left, you take the spot Chaeryeong has been saving, quickly filling you in with the revelations you’d missed, but it’s hard to keep up with her once the group got the ball rolling again by spinning an empty beer bottle in the middle of the square time after time, round after round.

You all found out Seungmin was the one who put fake cockroaches in the faculty office. Jimin joined the table after that round. Your poor friend Chaeryeong had to chug down a terrible excuse of a drink for refusing to answer a question. She’s now mumbling incoherencies into your shoulder as you watch the botte spin for the nth time— spinning, spinning, spinning, slowly losing speed until it ultimately stops and points at you.

“Alright, alright! Truth or dare?”

Well, shit.

“Ah. Truth, I guess,” you grant. You’ve already had enough embarrassing moments involving your high school cohort. You need not add another one, and considering how everyone’s interest about you revolves around Choi Beomgyu and Choi Beomgyu only, you figured that the poor idiot next to you should be more scared of the question than you in case his friends want to ask about his deepest, darkest secrets.

“Oh, there’s something I’d like to know!”

The person who decides that you should be the one on the chopping block is Kim Bora, who’s grinning at you from across the table, right in between Haena and Seohyun. Ah. You have a feeling where this is going. You suck in a deep breath and muster up all the patience in the world.

“How did you and Beomgyu manage to stay strong after all these years?”

Unfortunately, that amount of patience is very thin. Very thin indeed. Even more thinned out with the number of voices doubling, tripling it down.

“Oooh, I wanna hear too!”

“Yeah, what’s your secret, man? All my relationships end after three months, I feel like there’s something I’m doing wrong.”

“Tell us your secret!”

“What are you guys—”

That last voice came from Beomgyu, who you promptly stopped with the squeeze of his hand. Don’t say anything, don’t stop them, you say to him with narrowed eyes. He gives you a conflicted look, but he relents anyway, settling back down, but you can tell he’s worked up. Well, you just want to know how far they’re gonna take this. You want to know how much you can bite your tongue. You know you’ve always been prone to outbursts and impulse, but after all the shit you’ve been through these past two semesters, mindless, nose-digging gossip like this is nothing.

More than that, you want to know what this girl Haena is planning with how much she’s been giggling for the past minute and a half.

“What are you saying, Bora? You’re so silly! Don’t you remember what we talked about with her before? They’ve never dated!”

And there it is.

“Huh?”

Haena’s statement drops a blanket of confused silence over the table. “What are you talking about?” one of your old classmates asks, and you want to echo the same sentiments because what exactly is she trying to achieve with this?

“C’mon,” Haena waves the silence off, still grinning, still sneaking glances at you. “You didn’t know? You guys were all being judgmental for assuming a boy and girl are dating just because they’re really close friends. Well, it’s not like they ever denied it. Oh, well but the truth is they were never dating. You two were never dating, right? Right?”

Ah. This is kind of pissing you off.

“Hey, that’s enough—”

Is this because you wouldn’t set her up with Beomgyu? Jesus, isn’t she over that already? Is she trying to frame you as some attention-seeker who thrived off the misunderstanding that you and your childhood friend have something more going on? Well, too bad. You’ve already been branded as a cheater and a whore. This is so juvenile that it’s starting to prick at the patience you’ve worked so hard to build up.

“Damn, seriously? So I stopped myself from confessing over nothing? If you two weren’t dating, how come neither of you said a thing?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Kinda crazy that they just let everyone misunderstand!”

“Jesus, why are we even talking about this?” Seungmin attempts to dissuade the conversation, but the misfortune that comes after is Jimin accidentally adding fuel to the fire by letting slip the information you’d shared to him just moments ago.

“Right? Why does it even matter if they were dating or not back then? What’s important is that they’re both happily dating now!”

Another blanket of silence mops the table.

At this point, you just wanna go home.

“Ha!” A noise of disbelief rips out of Haena’s throat as sneers at you from across. “I can’t believe this! You kept saying and acting like you weren’t interested in him when you’d end up taking the opportunity, anyway! Wow, you acted so high and mighty back then, bragging that you didn’t have any feelings for him as if it made you better than the rest of us. If it’d end up like this, you should’ve just hooked up and gone after him ages ag—”

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard enough.”

The table rattles. Your eyes widen, snapping up to your left to see Choi Beomgyu who had stood up, who— for the first time in the years you’ve known him— looks mad. Angrier than when you two fought last year. Angrier than you think you’d ever been, even with your horrid short-temper.

His knuckles are tight. He’s seething. You’re too caught off guard to react in time and stop the damage he intends on making.

“Seriously. Why the fuck do you keep running your mouth about something that’s completely out of your business?”

It’s not only you. It seems that everyone is surprised to find the always easygoing, always friendly and outgoing Choi Beomgyu suddenly acting like this— acting like this on your behalf. “So what if we started dating? What’s it to you? What’s it to any of you?” You’re stunned. He draws his fingers to his hair. He shakes it off with an incensed breath. “Jesus christ. If you guys aren’t interested in talking about anything else other than our relationship, then I guess the both of us should just leave so that you can gossip more, yeah? Enjoy the rest of the damned night, assholes.”

When his head drops and his eyes make contact with yours, his gaze immediately softens. Let’s go, he mouths with a smile. You feel a lump in your throat. Beomgyu whisks you away before you can even acknowledge it.

“Whoa, that was scary.”

“Was he always like this?”

“You were the ones who crossed the line. What were you guys thinking?”

At some point, Beomgyu has completely dragged you out of the karaoke lounge, out of the hall, out of the hotel lobby, and into the dimly lit parking lot with nothing but a handful of streetlights illuminating the chalky pavement. You hadn’t even realized you’d been running until he stopped underneath the dancing particles of the ilt-up post, brightening up the empty parking space right next to his car. You hadn’t even realized you’d been catching your breath until he points it out for you

“Seriously, what the hell was wrong with people? Why can’t everyone just mind their own business and leave us—” The tempo of his rant fizzles out immediately. Beomgyu bites down a frown and pulls you in, brushing through the unkempt strands of your hair from the wind. “Sorry, was I running too fast? I just wanted to get you out of there as quickly as I can.”

Choi Beomgyu had confronted your old inhibitions on your behalf. He’d done the same thing with Jang Seung last semester. He’d done the same with his former friends that were talking shit about you and even got into a fight because of it. And it seems like the same thing is going to happen now.

It’s always him who does things for you. He was the one who took the first step in your reconciliation last year. He was the one who’d always put the entirety of his soft, tender feelings into the palm of his hands and handed them off to you without even expecting anything in return.

Maybe it’s about time for you to do the same.

Maybe it’s about time for you to confront the one thing you’ve been confining in the back of your mind for god knows how long.

“Beomgyu.”

It’s always been there— since you were, what? Fourteen? Sixteen? Since he’d made you watch that stupid scary movie in middle school and your heart jumped out of your ribcage for the first time and all you could do was hold onto him for your dear life while you screamed bloody murder? You don’t know when these kind of thoughts started entering your head, but you never dwelled on them knowing and fearing that even considering them, acknowledging them in any way, shape, or form would open up a pandora’s box of emotions you’d have to sift through and organize alongside the fact that he’s just your friend, your friend for as long as you can remember, and you weren’t ready for it yet— even after what happened under the table on new year.

For your entire life, Choi Beomgyu has been a friend. A neighbor. An annoyance. Someone you care about. Someone you can’t live without.

And experiencing firsthand a life without his annoying presence always hovering around you cemented the fact that you really can’t risk losing him from your life again. And the likelihood of things going wrong, things getting tangled to the point where you’d have to cut each other off is less when he’s just your friend— just a neighbor, just an annoyance— than when he’s someone more than that.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to intervene.”

Which is why you feared that if you’d ever admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, that if you’d stopped brushing those feelings away, that risk of losing him would become more than you could handle.

“I just got too angry hearing them talk all that crap.”

But now—

“Ugh. Even thinking about it is making me mad. C’mon, let’s just go.”

You don’t have to keep lying to yourseff anymore. Because who gives a shit about what other people say? Because who gives a shit about risks and fears that are nothing but debris floating around your head?

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let’s head to car, and then—” He stops himself. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheeks, drying up the tears with the warmth of his fingertips. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Nothing is wrong. Because the only thing you give a shit about right now is the fact that the opportunity to love and be loved by Choi Beomgyu only comes once in a lifetime—

“C’mon. You should just forget what Haena and the rest of them said. They’re all nonsense.”

—and spending the entirety of it in denial would just be ridiculous.

“Oh, and now you’re laughing. You’re laughing and crying. Wow, you must’ve gone insane.

Stupid.

“What should I go? Go back? Should I teach them a lesson?”

Pointless.

“Stay here. I’ll go back and—”

Downright impossible.

“Hey, fuckface.”

You tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.”

And it feels like air is entering your lungs for the first like, as though twenty years worth of heavy leaden weight has been lifted off your chest. But unlike you, Beomgyo looks like he’s having troube breathing. “Oh,” is all he says, wide-eyed and surprised. Almost as if he’d never been expecting it. Like it had never even crossed his mind that you’d ever say it to him. You, of all people. “W—well—”

“Choi Beomgyu.” You interrupt him befre he could say anything, smacking your palms on both sides of cheeks before the adrenailne leaves your system. Before you could even think twice about anything at all. “I’m sorry I’ve never said it outright before even after we started dating. But you should know that you mean the world to me, you idiot. I’m so in love with you, it makes me stupid. I’m nothing without you.”

This time, it’s him who starts crying.

You let him sink into your arms and bury his face into your shoulder. He drapes himself over while keeping steady around your waist. You hear him sniffle a little. Gross. “Seriously, you’re such a crybaby.”

Beomgyu mumbles an annoyed grunt against your shirt. “And you’re such a meanie for ruining the moment.” He’s glaring at you when he pulls himself up, eyes narrowed and stained red with tears. “Say it again, dipshit.”

“Say what again?”

He frowns. “You know what!”

God. What could you have done in your past life to have been tied together with think punk since the beginning of this one? You roll your eyes and kiss his face. “I’m in love with you, loser. You’re so annoying.”

He grins and lands another one on your lips. “I’m nothing without you, too.”

The streetlight continues to sprinkle its light over the both of you. Choi Beomgyu continues to stay in your life, and he’d keep staying there for as long as this life would let him.

OKAY. MAYBE YOU DO LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. As annoying as he is for wasting your time with how often he calls you up at four in the morning for an impulsive fast food run because he wants some company, for injuring your pride by forcing you to play another one of the games the coding club developed and obliterating your ass in the process, you still like him— beyond understanding or comprehension.

Even when he’s being such a clingy idiot so early in the morning, in the first day of the semester, after he’d just finished being announcing to the entire campus via the anonymous student board gone un-anonymous that you hadn’t been cheating on him since at that time you weren’t even dating, but you are now, and that you’re in love, and that Jang Seung is just a whiney little bitch who made up rumors because he couldn’t stand being rejected.

“You’re crazy! Why the hell would you do that?!”

Choi Beomgyu rubs his nose while you scold his ears off. When you finish, he simply says. “He made another post about you last night. I think it’s because he saw us on a date the other day. What a loser. Hey, look. That’s him over there.”

Indeed, you do spot Jang Seung while you trace down the hallway, on the way to Horangnabi to spend your vacant period in between your next set of classes.

“Ugh. Just what I needed to make my morning worse.”

He’s with a group, and the group contains Eunseok, the guy you went on a blind date with once and got roped into your whole cheating rumor. He looks greatly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because Jang Seung is talking shit about you and how the both of them got played by you (you did not) when you’ve been going out with Beomgyu this entire time (you were not). Eunseok knows the truth. You talked it out with him before the semester started and he figured you weren’t that kind of person anyway.

Poor guy wants to leave already.

But Jang Seung seems determined to paint you as a crazy, cheating, boy-crazy whore. Did ignoring his texts for one night injure his ego that much? And here you thought you were prideful. You know that things have died down and at this point people have either forgotten about the whole thing or just don’t care anymore, but the small crowd Seung managed to collect still seemed to be thriving in all the overinflated gossip.

“I mean, if she wasn’t all that into me, she could’ve said so, you know? Still, can you believe she picked that guy over me or you? And the poor cuck even has the guts to publicly announce their relationship like some idiot after she’d been hooking up with his friends.”

“Damn. How are they still together?”

“Quit spreading lies, dude. ”

“Hey, how can you just trust everything she tells you?”

“I still can’t believe that those two are still together, much less even started dating in the first place.”

Normally, you’d just ignore this. But you’ve gotten a bit sick and tired of biting your tongue and behaving as of late.

You march up to them. Eunseok spurs out a greeting. You give all of them a smile— mostly directed at Jang Seung, who’s been relishing the fact that you never gave him the light of day since the stunt he pulled. Until today, at least.

“Hi,” you start. The guy flinches at your delivery. “As much as it surprises you, yes I’m dating Choi Beomgyu. Yes, we’re fucking together, and I never cheated on him with a some half-baked, second-string loser like this bastard who resorts to high school tactics of spreading gossip because his fragile ego couldn’t handle being left on delivered for one night because I had a hospital emergency. Unfortunately, someone like that isn’t my type at all.”

Jang Seung’s face flushes scarlet. His jaw clenches and he barks out, “Hey, what the fuck—” until Eunseok fixes him on the spot by the shoulder.

“But just to clarify things. No, I have not been cheating on him and you’d think that if I had, he would say so, wouldn’t he? How the fuck could I have cheated on him last year when he only started dating on January first?”

Okay. You’re getting a little heated. Jang Seung and his group are now staring at you like you’re a crazy person. Beyond them, other people in the hallway have started to pay attention to the ruckus you’re causing.

Now, when a fuse is lit, it’s not easy to kill it.

So you continue talking. For better or for worse.

“Yes. Yes, I’m now dating Choi Beomgyu— are you all satisfied? Are you happy now? You’ve all been up in my fucking business since the first fucking semester asking if I knew him, if he and I were dating, so here’s your god damned answer! Do you want me to tell you how it happened, too? Give you a play by play of how I met him, knew, him and fell for him because you’re all so fucking curious? Should I do that? In fact, why don’t I keep you guys posted! I should just text every single god damned person who knows not how to mind their business to update you whenever, each and every single time we fucking—”

“Whoa, easy there.”

You’re yanked back by Choi Beomgyu, who has one arm hooked in front of your collar shoulders and safely pressing you close to his torso. His free hand is covering the muffled noises coming out of your mouth as you struggle out of his grip.

Beomgyu simply lets you struggle in vain. He looks ahead, smiling at Jang Seung and the rest of the people in the group. “As much as I wanted to continue listening to her, I don’t really want any more people anonymously talking shit about my girlfriend in the forum just for living her own life and minding her own business.” You’re still squirming in his grip. This fucking bastard. “Anyway, we’re off. Eunseok, see you around.”

It’s only when you two have managed to leave the building that Beomgyu decides it’s time to release you. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you jerk?” you yell, yanking him down by the backpack strap.

“What do you think? Saving your ass from any more rumors, stupid,” he answers while shaking you off. “We should really work on your temper.”

It’s a pleasant walk to Horangnabi. You haven’t been here again in ages.

“I have been working on it! Today was an exemption, so go fuck yourself off.”

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighs and shakes his head, opening the cafe door for you to enter first, and he follows immediately after. “Potty mouth and a nasty personality. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your mother must have had a hard time raising you.”

“Quit bringing up my mother every single time you want to win an argument.”

You two find some empty seats right by the window in the right wing of the store. You sit down and set your things on the empty seats. “I can’t just give up on my cheat code, you know,” Beomgyu hums, smiling insufferably as slides the menu down from the table surface. “So, do I win? What’s my prize?”

“Hey, no PDA within store premises! I’ll blacklist you two!”

The both of you turn your heads to see Heeseung, who’s holding a notepad and wearing the employee apron as a uniform. He started working part-time at Horangnabi sometime last month. Extra pocket money, he says. You know it’s because he started seeing someone from the arts department and needed the date funds. Usually, he’d be happy to see you, but something’s gotten in his panties in a twist today. You snicker, about to egg him on, but to your surprise, someone else answers your curiosities.

“He’s just salty because he got dumped over the break.”

Your eyes brighten. You beam out a smile. “Julie!”

She arrives with a pat on a grumbling Heeseung’s back as she mirrors your expression. “Hi, pretty girl. How was your break?” She moves on from Heeseung to coddle you with attention, hugging you from behind your chair. Have you considered working for us again? I started missing you more ever since this guy started working with us again.”

“Must be bad at the job,” Beomgyu snorts. Heeseung’s protests are left unheard. “Hey, when are you gonna take our order?”

“Ugh. I set you two up together and this is how you repay me?”

Heeseung takes your orders— an americano for him, a matcha latte for you, and a butterscotch croissant for you two to share. While waiting, Beomgyu takes out some of his notebooks from his bags and starts highlighting the pages based on the syllabus his professor handed them earlier. Wow, he’s become diligent, whereas you’re busying yourself with your phone in the midst of a conversation with Chaeryeong. She was so sorry for passing out in the middle of the reunion incident a few ago, and it was Seungmin who filled her in on what happened. She says gonna treat you to dinner this weekend to make up for it. You smile and text her that you look forward to it.

“Iced americano, matcha latte and butterscotch croissant.”

Hanbin is the one who delivers your orders. You thank him with a smile and he leaves with a pat on your head, telling you to come visit the clubroom later.

“Stop smiling at him like that.”

You turn your attention back to the person sitting in front of you— Choi Beomgyu, with his arms crossed over the books scattered on his table, coupled with a pout and furrowed brows. “Ew, are you jealous?” you snark, picking up your latte from the table and taking a sip. “Wipe that look off your face. It doesn’t suit you. And Hanbin is way too nice and normal to be my type. Unfortunately, god made me like guys who are the slightest bit insane.”

“I keep your life interesting,” he hums out with a proud grin, satisfied with your answer. You set your drink back down, a thought entering your head. It’s quiet in Horangnabi. You two are the only customers at the moment, and soft music siphons through the speakers.

Ever since that day in the beginning of the year, not much has changed between you and him. He’s still calling you names. He’s still annoyingly hooking your feet underneath the table with his so that you’d have a hard time getting up.

It makes you wonder when exactly did he start seeing you differently.

“Beomgyu,” you start. He perks up, a curious expression on his face. “What if I tell you I’ve sort of already had the idea that you’ve had feelings for me since, I don’t know— when we made up after our fight last year?”

He blinks at you, curious expression replaced by something unreadable. You start to grow a little nervous. Then he drops the bomb.

“What if I tell you these feelings have been around since middle school?”

Well, damn.

“That...that would make a lot of sense.”

He only laughs in response, reorganizing his books and setting them aside. “But if you’ve known since then, then wooow— I can’t believe you’ve been leading me on for that long.” He’s shaking his head and clicking his tongue. You groan and cover your face guiltily. He laughs once more. “I’m kidding. It’s not like I didn’t put any effort into hiding it. I know how uncomfortable you got because of all the people gossiping about our relationship. I’d just make things even harder for you if I suddenly confessed.”

With the table now cleared, he slides down the untouched pastry to your side of the table.

“So, I just decided to try and hide it and wait for the right time. If that time ever would ever come, that is,” he continues. “But since you’ve known, I guess I wasn’t exactly doing a good job in hiding how I feel.”

Your eyes linger at the crescent roll. You take the fork and knife and reply, “Yeah, you’re not very slick.”

“Hey, it was very hard for me, you know!” he huffs, pouting. You slice into the croissant and stab the smaller piece with the fork. “I felt like dying whenever you mentioned that bastard Seung or Song, or whatever. And you even asked me to set me up with my friends. You’re so mean—”

You reach an arm over the table. Beomgyu stares at your offering— a little surprised, a little flustered, but he clears his throat and leans forward, taking a bite from the pastry before wiping his mouth with a napkin, eyes down, face flushed.

He can be cute sometimes. You set the fork back down on the plate. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“T—tsk. I’m just cool like that, you know?” Still insufferable. You roll your eyes and grab a piece of the pastry yourself, but while the mood is still high, Beomgyu takes the opportunity to speak his own mind too, bringing up one more thing that had been lingering in the back of both of your minds. “That night— you know, on new year’s when you said that we should just start dating— I knew you just said it in the heat of the moment.” The pastry gets stuck in your throat. “And I knew at that moment that you’d end up taking it back as a joke and laugh it all off. I didn’t really want to hear that. So I just...decided to speak before you could take it back.”

Ah. Your face is getting hot. You swipe your drink from the table to swallow your emotions down. But Choi Beomgyu manages to snatch your hand before you could do that.

“And you didn’t take it back.”

Your flustered gaze flashes up at him. His eyes remain on you.

“So you just have no choice but to deal with all of this.”

He presses a kiss onto the back of your palm. You yelp and snatch your hand back, cheeks burning and heart racing. He’s grinning like a madman.

“Stop it! We’re in public. God, I hate you, you’re such a dweeb—”

You say you hate him, but he knows you don’t mean it. You’ve been saying all these years that you don’t like him, that he’s just an annoyance, destined to bother you until the end of time— but he’s come to know that none of that is true.

“No one’s here anyway! Heeseung doesn’t count as a person!”

You don’t have to keep pretending that you don’t like Choi Beomgyu. Because in fact, you kind of, really, do.

AFTERWORD. hello….whoo whee this was quite a ride wasn’t it HAHAHAHHAHA. 49k words of choi beomgyu being the only man ever 😞😞😞 anyhow, i hope you all enjoyed what i believe is my best piece yet!!! writing this was both extremely easy and difficult because hannie-dul-set enjoyers know that my brand is usually silly stupid fics, but the emotional weight of this one did make it a bit difficult for me to write sometimes since i’m a mood writer, even though none of the themes are inherently sad? just very very emotional HHAHAHAHA. two of the most challenging parts too in the planning process was how…i’d be able to depict a change in their relationship after the new year’s scene, while also making sure that beomgyu and mc’s dynamic is still…them, you know? it wouldn’t be them if they just became gross and lovey dovey overnight. it wouldn’t be them if they still didn’t call each other names and swore at each other’s faces despite being horrendously in love. but i think i managed to reconcile these two aspects pretty well in the fic.

the other challenging thing i had to tackle might have been a point of frustration for you guys— making sure that mc’s narration and monologue is completely devoid of any acknowledgement about her feelings for beomgyu and vice versa HAHHAHAHAHHA. but it was necessary because she herself didn’t want to acknowledge, even after they started dating, and the entire thing is written in her pov.

speaking of pov….i think a spin-off written in beomgyu’s pov would be nice after all of this. we only got some bits and pieces of how he’d been feeling all throughout and though i believe the limited information i’ve given is enough to give the idea on how beomgyu was faring all throughout, it would also be interesting to delve into his psyche, all the way from mogi to nabi.

anyhow, those are just empty plans for now HAHAHAHAHAH i hope you enjoyed all three parts of nabi— a sequel i never even intended to write in the first place, but ended up being one of my works that’s closest to my heart. please please do send in your thoughts in the comments, asks, dm’s, wherever!

happy new year! love you all!

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