#lees au is so good it needs more attention RIGHT NOW | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucyandthepen · 1 year ago

Text

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

4K notes · View notes

ldysmfrst · 4 months ago

Text

American Mate (14) - Does it Always End in Ruin?

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 14 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 11,223

Work count for Story: 112,695

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, Alphas fronting, a scenting session with hints of a panic attack, comfort, possessiveness, angst, and mentions of giving aphrodisiac-laced chocolates to Jungkook without his knowledge. There are also nightmares containing mentions of past trauma, violence, abuse, and threats of death.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

You can scent me in the car.

You… can… scent… me… in… the… car…

It’s not like he is gonna do anything untoward– right?

Your body flushes with thoughts of the many ways the scenting session could go “wrong,” like pinning you in the corner against the door and backseat, ravishing your neck in a way that ensures you have a mark that anyone can see.

Following the hyper-focused Prime Alpha of Bangtan Pack to allow him to scent you in a car like you both were some horny teenagers with no control makes the walk through the Gala a blur. With how firmly Namjoon holds your hand and guides you with determination, you aren’t the only one feeling it, right?

Your mind was going from things that were not safe for work while simultaneously trying to find ways to throw on the breaks. You were too much in your head battling away the thoughts you shouldn’t be having for a mated man, much less a mated man at a public event with other hybrids that you were 100000000% could smell just what you were thinking of.

What would the rest of the pack think? Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook had already scented me in bed, as bad as that sounds, but why did getting scented by the Prime Alpha in the back of a car sound so much more… intimate? It's like something that he should be doing with his bonded mate, not you.

Your mind is yelling at you, coming through like a spotty radio, while your body is thrumming with the charged atmosphere that now encapsulates the two of you.

Then again, you could be making this up and reading into things too much. That must be what is happening, right? The after-effects of being tangoed with by Lee Minho… you were still starstruck, and emotions were running high. You did that in high school, letting your emotions get the better of you, which is why you started shying away from skinship. Who wouldn’t after getting humiliated day in and day out about being an attention-seeking fat whore in the cafeteria with no help from the staff?

Whatever, back to the issue at hand. He has bonded mates waiting for him to come home. You should excuse yourself to the bathroom and call one of them.

Jin would be a good phone call, and he is the oldest.

Then there is Yoongi, who is almost powerful enough to be the Prime himself.

Taehyung is supposed to be helping right now; maybe he… he can… Agh! What teleport to the Gala and leave with Namjoon instead of you?

No, you already let Jimin’s Alpha, Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook intentionally scent you, which means Namjoon should be able to scent you… in a car.

They all have said they want skinship, and you said you would be willing to try. Now get it together, woman! Besides, you told Hoseok that everyone deserves a second chance.

This is Namjoon’s second chance.

You have never turned away someone in need before, and clearly, whatever Lee Min Ho did triggered Alpha Joon to come out, and he needs the scenting session to calm down. You were their Playmate, which meant supporting the emotional needs of your assigned hybrid(s) was also part of your job.

The next thing you feel is Namjoon letting go of your hand, which brings you out of your internal argument as he drapes your cape over your shoulders. You watch him as he secures the closure and fusses with it to make sure it is lying correctly.

You are searching for anything to tell you exactly where he is with any of this. You notice the rigid set of his jaw, which hasn’t relaxed since you saw him at the start of the dance with Min Ho. His breaths are almost a perfect count of seven in and seven out, which means he is doing that for a reason.

When he looks at you again, those forest green eyes are dark and piercing. It’s like time freezes; unlike his even breaths, yours seems to be caught. You can see so many emotions moving behind those eyes, but they are flashing so fast, and you don’t know him well enough to tell what they are before they are gone.

“Prime Alpha, sir, ma’am, your car is here,” says Jen. Startling you like she came out of thin air. Smiling at Jen and moving towards the car, you hear Namjoon speak with her in hushed tones.

Now that you can breathe again, you take some cleansing breaths before you climb into the car and buckle up. Scenting is simple. It doesn’t have to be extravagant.

You are in a car, for god’s sake.

As you smooth out your skirt, Namjoon gets in on the other side of the car. Careful not to touch you, he turns to face you, his calculating eyes searching your form. You can hear Jen get in the front, but the partition is up.

Licking your lips out of nerves, you hear a low growl next to you. Suddenly, the world outside the car looks fantastic as the car starts the drive back.

“Y/n.”

Hearing your name said in Alpha Joon’s deepened voice causes your heart to flutter and your eyes to close. You said scenting was okay, and YOU offered to do it in the car. You weren’t raised to go back on your word, nor have you ever left someone in need.

Since Namjoon is a temporary pack for you, you couldn’t deny a packmate a scenting session. It must be the Luna part of you that wouldn’t let you.

“Alpha,” you breathe out, finally looking at him.

The stillness in his body and the focus of his attention is something that only a predator hybrid like him can have. It almost pains you to see him so closed off and far away.

“Bergamot and sugar waves,” he says with a slight tilting of his head. “You want to scent but are scared of me.”

At his words, you realize just what you have had to have been putting him through while walking from the dance floor till now. Your scent must have been a swirling chaos.

“Not exactly, Alpha,” you vaguely answer the nonexisting question. “I am not scared of you.”

While his shoulders drop as his tense leaves his body, his eyes narrow in further contemplation as he asks, “What of?”

“None of it is something you have to worry about, Alpha,” you smile, trying to convey that you are physically fine even if your scent says otherwise.

“Mine,” Alpha Joon says, closing his eyes, tilting his head back and swallowing. “Worry for mine is my job. Now, what of?”

Mine. Mine. He keeps calling you “mine,” which sends a shiver down your spine every time he says it. You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You want to not fall into the delusion that you are his, but you want to not argue with someone as powerful as a Prime Alpha.

“I don’t know how to give you what you need,” you answer his question in the most roundabout but truthful way possible. Your answer seems to bring his attention back to you, but it is laced with confusion this time.

“Jungkook scents with his chin, Yoongi scents with his cheeks, but Jin and Jimin seem to do it with touching. I don’t know what you need,” you try to clarify.

Realization dawns on his face. You can practically see the times the two of you have been near each other flash in his mind’s eye before his face falls into a pout. You can’t help but giggle at his pouty face, which draws his attention to you again, and he pouts harder.

“I am sorry, Alpha,” you say, then clear your throat. “I, ah, thought that there might be a certain way a Prime Alpha or a wolf may need to scent. I am still wrapping my head around all the different ways. As a Luna of my pack, I typically scent the others.”

“Wolf scenting wrist and licks,” Alpha Joon says, looking down at his own wrists.

“Oh! Jin licked me!” you exclaim. “Well, he licked then bit me,” you continued, looking at the inside of your wrist to see if there was a mark.

Rubbing over the area where Seokjin licked fills the air with more of your scent. The bergamot is still present but lessened, alerting Alpha Joon that you are starting to relax into the present.

Moving slowly, telegraphing his goal, Alpha Joon takes hold of the hand you were inspecting. He rubs your wrists together with his free hand, causing his leather and vanilla to join in the mix.

He can tell when his scent hits you because your whole body loses its tension. The hand he is holding becomes weightier in his grip. A soft smile plays on his lips with pride that you are not rejecting his skinship, scent, or bond as he says, “Wolves satisfied with this. Alphas need more. It’s our nature.”

“Alphas? Or Prime Alphas?” You swallow before also asking, “More how?”

His eyes trail up your arm, and it feels like fire is licking your skin. They still at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before continuing, pausing along your jaw, then settling their journey when they lock with yours.

“Alphas prefer other areas. Only ours allow intimate,” says Alpha Joon.

Heat flashes through your body and pools low in your abdomen with the memory of Alpha Kook and his ministrations to your neck.

Breaking eye contact, you blush as you say, “I see. It makes sense.”

“Prime Alpha, more demanding. Addthreat of taking mine,” Alpha Joon growls out.

Your eyes snap back to him with a furrowed brow as you question, “Taken from you? No one in their right mind would do that right now, would they?”

“Bobcat, try tonight,” says Alpha Joon, his voice dripping with a possessive tone.

Oh. OH, that is right. This whole scenting thing was because Lee Min Ho danced with you. You mentally smack your forehead against a wall.

“Min Ho, he would not actually do anything. He was being a good sport and dancing with me,” you try to brush off his concern.

“No,” he says sternly. “Friends with Tae-ah… must be nice. Bobcat natural wolf enemy.”

This information, combined with the newly understood gravity of the game Lee Min Ho was playing with Namjoon while using you as the pawn, changes everything.

Your scent changes from the bergamot of fear to the mint of anger, distinguished by the look on your face and the clench of your jaw.

“Mad now?” Alpha Joon says, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. The change in your demeanor shows him that you, at best, want to be his and, at least, don't want others to play around like that.

“Yes, I am mad now. How can someone do that to you?” you say with an attitude-driven shake of your head.

Your response wasn’t what he was expecting. He wasn’t quite sure how to take it. He wanted to be proud because his newest mate was looking out for him, but she wasn’t necessarily looking out for herself.

“Wonder what Taehyung will think of his friend’s actions. I don’t think he will like them, but that is to be dealt with later,” you say with resolve.

Looking back at the man beside you, the resolve shows as your scent changes, yet again, with a hint of lemon: “What do you need to fix what he has done?”

His eyes are still set on your form, and he says, “Cover.”

“Cover? I thought you said he didn’t leave anything?” you press, leaning forward, trying to figure out what he needs to feel like his personal world is safe again. “Tell me, Alpha. What exactly will you cover?”

The direct question of a dominant feeling mate has Alpha Joon squirming a little.

He wants to put you in your place as Prime Alpha, show you, and not tell you what he needs. He also wants to kneel at your feet and let you lean into your Luna so that he can let go of the tension he is holding because he trusts you to care for him—the dominant leader versus the submissive lover.

Maybe he can be both?

“Cover his touch,” Alpha Joon clarifies. A flash of shock or fear or nerves flash across your face as he continues, “I saw some, not all.”

“Oh, I see.” Thinking of all the places the sneaky bobcat touched, your hand pulls out of Alph Joon’s as you say, “That is going to be hard to do in a car. That and you don’t know how to tango, Alpha.”

Quickly, Alpha Joon shakes his head, “No dancing. Only scenting touch.” He looks around the back of the car, thinking of how to put what he has to say.

“Dress scented at Gala,” he says with a slight hilt to his voice. You nod, trying to follow along with him.

His eyes flick between your neck and thigh, “Now skin scent happens.”

It’s like you get doused with water and lit on fire simultaneously. Touching like one does in the Tango feels astronomically different when the same touch is done while not dancing. There is no way that you will not vibrate out of your skin and panic if Alpha Joon continues to look at you like prey while touching you in all the places Lee Min Ho did.

You will lose yourself and not in a good way.

What did your therapist Ryan say to do when this happens? What would Derek and Evie say to do?

Control it. Take the reins and drive the motions. Find ways to grant permission for the next step, next touch, and next level of scenting, but will a Prime Alpha accept that?

Can you control a Prime Alpha?

“Overthinking,” Alpha Joon interrupts your thoughts.

“Sorry, Alpha,” you quickly say.

Taking a breath, you calm your thoughts and focus on the you who can be in charge of hybrids. The you that allows your family pack to feel safe and cared for. The you that loves hybrids more than most humans.

“Luna,” Alpha Joon states when your sweet pea, bergamot, and vanilla scent starts to weave in the car with a more pungent tang of lemon.

“Yes, you may call me that. I won’t go back on my word. I will allow you, Alpha Joon, to calm yourself and settle your instincts by scenting my skin,” you inform him.

Smiling, the Alpha makes to pull you to him. However, you stop him with a single click of your tongue. Unbuckling yourself, you unclasp your cape, then angle your body toward him and settle your gaze on him, “Do we have an understanding, Alpha Joon? If not, you will have to wait until the pack can help settle you.”

Shaking his head almost violently, his eyes widen in panic at the thought of you not being the one to settle him. Rubbing his palms on his pants, he looks away from your eyes and turns slightly to show his neck.

He is submitting to you. It's not a complete submission. Still, it’s a step that makes you feel safe and allows you to be bold enough to keep going. Taking his hands in yours, you squeeze them in reassurance.

Shifting to the middle seat, the split in your dress widens. Flashing skin from your mid-thigh down, which draws his attention. It’s the same leg, the thigh and knee, where the bobcat hybrid held you in the dip as he trailed his nose along your skin at the neck.

“Eyes on me, Alpha,” you command, snapping his attention back to your face.

“Min Ho held me in a classic hold, starting with a hand on my upper back while cradling my braced hand in his,” you inform as you slide your hand up his arm to his shoulder. “You may hold me that way as well.”

You had thought the Alpha would jump with permission to touch you. This is where you were mistaken. You may be calling the shots, but he was and is a Prime Alpha.

Changing his grip on your braced wrist, he brings it up like he remembered from watching you. Slowly, his other hand reaches your side and slides around your waist to trail up your spine, then rests between your shoulder blades. The movement brings your body closer to him.

You wait.

Nothing happens.

You smile gently. “Good Alpha, you are following directions,” you praise him before you lean forward, entering his personal space even more.

“Classic Tango steps don’t have as much body contact as one would think. It’s all about flashy steps with kicks and flicks. But Lee Min Ho told me he was putting on a show, which changes things.”

Alpha Joon's face is full of confusion as he tries to hold you just as instructed, but you keep coming closer. Your scent is invading. Mixing his scent with yours settles something profound within Alpha Joon’s soul.

The words ‘keep in control’ repeat in your mind, almost creating their own tune as you try to maneuver yourself into the next hold used by the bobcat hybrid. As you lean in, you run your arm back down Alpha Joon’s and push it against the seat's backrest.

“Don’t move,” you instruct him.

“Yes, Luna,” he agrees, hinting a slight rumble. You pause momentarily, waiting to see if that rumble becomes something more. You continue when nothing happens, and his eyes remain on your face.

Shifting to an angle facing you away from him, a whimper sounds but is cut off quickly. Glancing back up at the Alpha, his cheeks are dusted pink. It seems the Prime Alpha shocked himself with that sound.

Now, you are sitting with your back to his front but not touching. You clasp his free hand in yours and lock your fingers with his. Your braced hand grabs the wrist resting against the seat and guides it to your stomach.

Thank heavens that he cannot see your face now. Maintaining your posture is one thing, but not reacting to the heat emanating from him while his hand softly glides into place over your dress is not something you can control.

It feels nerve-racking but in the best of ways. Wait…what is going on with you? You shouldn’t be reacting like this. He is mated. You didn’t act like this with Jin, did you?

You know what it is… it’s because of this morning. That’s right, with the shirtlessness, the feeding, the nesting room, all the suits… it’s that.

There is nothing wrong with you.

Nada.

You just happen to be stuck in a packhouse with wildly attractive younger hybrid men who know they can make almost every woman, even some men, creme their jeans with a savvy smile. They are just flirty, like Derek and Lily. That’s all.

“Wrong,” a deep voice comes close to your ear as you are pulled backward, making your body fall against the wolf behind you and stealing your breath. “Hold like this, he did.”

“Yes, that is correct, Alpha Joon,” you agree with your eyes closed. His firm chest against your back has a warmth that is encompassing you. Your control of the situation is slipping; maybe you never had control in the first place.

“Next touch, Luna?” he asks with his breath brushing your skin.

Right next touch… next touch… what was next. Oh. Your eyes open and dart to your knee. Min Ho took you into a dip with his hand on your thigh near your knee. Well, there are two ways to do this. Robotically and cold or intimately and warm. Again, it’s about keeping control.

“I don’t know, Alpha. Can you be good and follow directions, or will you move Luna as you wish, like you just did?” you question.

Almost immediately, Alpha Joon tries to retreat but has nowhere to go. You are still holding his wrist and interlacing your fingers. He has become trapped between you and the door.

“Ah, uhah! Words, Alpha Joon,” you chide softly.

“Sorry, Luna,” the trapped Alpha says. “No more. I will follow.”

“Good, now only touch where I guide you, got it?” you ask to get the extra reassurance that you are again back in some semblance of control.

“Yes, Luna,” agrees the wolf hybrid.

Leaning against him more, you bring your knee up through the slit in the dress. Breathe in and out, staying in control. Covering the hand on your stomach with your braced hand, you tap it twice and move back towards your waist. You smile when his hand moves to stay under yours.

Once at your waist, you slide both of your hands down to your hip and over the top of your thigh– slowly. Basking in the warmth of his hand over the dress felt terrific, but you practically melted when the heat of his hand graced your bare skin.

Your body automatically responds with a blanket of goosebumps and a pool of dampness between your legs. It’s tantalizing and something you haven’t felt in years.

Behind you, a soft, almost growling purr kicks up in Alpha Joon’s chest at being able to feel you without a barrier.

You continue to guide his hand to the bend of your knee, and as firmly as you can, you say, “Min Ho sent me into a dip and secured me by holding my thigh near my knee.”

In a gravel-filled voice, Alpha Joon says, “I saw. May I?”

“Yes,” you say, a bit breathier than you would have wanted.

Keeping at the pace you had set, Alpha Joon’s hand slides out from under yours, farther down your leg, and to the outer side. His fingers are splayed out as they clasp under your thigh at the back of your knee and squeeze.

You, luckily, were able to control your body from jerking at the electric zing of arousal that courses through your system like his is cupping and squeezing something much more private.

However, luckily for the hybrid behind you, your scent flashed into a heady mix of sugar, sweet peas, and vanilla. If Alpha Joon hadn’t already been affected by the scenting up to this point, he was now. His mind reeling with thoughts of what you would smell like on a night of passion.

Buzz Buzz

A huff leaves the Alpha as he answers the intercom from Jen, “Yes, Jen?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Prime Alpha, but we have been sitting at the packhouse for a few minutes,” she says timidly. Clearing her throat, she said, “I don’t know if you wanted the others to know you are here. However, someone keeps peeking out one of the windows.”

“Thank you, Jen. We will head inside now,” Alpha Joon informs her, releasing his hold on your leg and letting go of your hand. A blush comes over you as you realize just how into the moment the two of you had become.

Alpha Joon exits the car as you return to your original side and put on the cape again. As you are reaching for the door, it opens. You smile at the gentlemanly act Alpha Joon is showing you.

Getting out of the car, you accept his hand to help you keep steady. Smiling, you turn to thank him, “Oh. Namjoon, Thank you. I take it Alpha Joon was satisfied with the scent and stopped fronting?”

Pulling you softly and guiding your hand to lock around his arm, he leads you towards the pack house. Shaking his head, he says, “Not exactly. We are in our territory now, and no one can take you from us here.”

“Ah, I see. I am sorry the scenting wasn’t enough. I promise I will learn more to improve,” you rapidly reply, your heart sinking at the thought that you failed to comfort the Prime Alpha.

He stops at the front door, your words halting him. “You misunderstand, Angel. You were scenting and allowed our scenting just fine. However, due to arriving at the packhouse already, we could not complete the covering, and he, well we, didn’t think you would be comfortable enough to continue.”

“Couldn’t complete?” you question as you try to replay the dance. Your eyes widen when it hits you: “My neck. Wait. Why would I not be comfortable after the whole car ride?”

“The packhouse is where it went downhill, and I could have lost you. I could have lost you for the pack. I don’t deserve your attention here, Luna,” answers Namjoon, not once looking at you during his explanation.

He is avoiding being himself because of that one misstep. You still haven’t forgiven him… entirely… but you aren’t mean-hearted. It may take a while for you to be comfortable with him regarding unannounced scenting sessions or the random hugs that some others do, but it is planned right now.

“I umm… I know you are one and the same, so he is always there, and I don’t know if this is possible, but can I talk to Alpha Joon, please?” you ask tentatively, trying to regain his attention.

He finally looks at you, his eyes curious and cautious. Slowly, they bleed from the outside in with the forest green of Namjoon’s hybrid side.

“Hello again, Alpha Joon. Your presence has been frequent tonight, and I am glad you fronted at my request. Thank you, Alpha,” you begin, trying to convey that you are in a good mindset and not panicking or upset. He nods; his curiosity and nervousness are evident in his face and body tension.

“I may not be happy with how my position was proposed, but I will not let that affect your ability to be who you are– the Prime Alpha Wolf-Hybrid of Bangtan Pack.”

He shakes his head, starting to deny that any further action is required when you step closer. You tilt your head to the side and back, barring the area that Lee Min Ho had traced. You watch his attention drop to your neck from the corner of your eye, and a sneer flashes on his face before he closes his eyes to collect himself.

You will for whatever calming, reassuring scent you have to push out, not that you even know what you are doing. Softly asking, “Please finish, Prime Alpha.”

Unknown to you, your scent follows your wishes as the vanilla of the mate bond blooms with your sweet pea. It washes over the Prime Alpha as your bond solidifies more. His vanilla and leather respond in kind and blanket you. For a moment, you both bask in the scents surrounding you. The natural reaction of being near one’s fated mate unfurls.

Driving on almost pure instinct, Alpha Joon closes the gap. His warm, large hands grip your waist and hold you in place. His eyes are sharply watching each and every micro-expression on your profile.

It was like your brain went offline the second you became physically connected. Your arms find their place around his shoulders, sinking your good hand into the locks of silky hair at the base of his neck. Your body tingles at the feel of your front pressed with his, making every breath like a soft caress.

The soft puff of breath on your jawline causes you to pause. The first touch of his lips on your skin releases you from your hold. His soft, measured kisses trailing your jaw to the base of your ear feel like nothing you have felt before.

Somewhere in your mind, alarm bells go off because this feels like more than just a scenting session. The rest of you, the part with the control now, is letting go and basking in the moment. It feels like so much, but not enough at the same time.

A gentle flick of his tongue on your earlobe triggers a shiver down your spine and a soft, almost inaudible but needy sound to escape you.

Whispering in your ear, Alpha Joon says, “I have you, Luna. Always will.”

Those simple words feel like a world of promises.

Adjusting his hold on you, one hand going to the back of your head to angle you into a deeper bend while the other is securing you around the waist, Alpha Joon continues his scenting of your neck.

His plush lips feel like feathers gliding along tantalizingly. Warm and playful kisses leave a trail of embers in tandem. Nothing lasts as every movement, marking, and pressure point is brief.

Your mind battles between wanting to stop before you go too far, angering his bonded mates, and needing something more but what you don’t know. You are in uncharted territory now. Scenting your family pack NEVER felt like this. Hell, making out with Eric never felt like this.

“Alpha,” you whine, not entirely sure you know what you are whining for.

THUD

Muffled scuffling is heard with pained noises and an “Ow, that was my tail!”

It’s like a bucket of ice gets poured over you, snapping your senses back into reality. The once comforting and secure hold you were relaxed into becomes a cage. The lingering feel of his kisses now burns like a hot branding iron. Within seconds, your skin pales, and your scent disappears.

Looking up at Alpha Joon, you see him glaring at the door. Taking advantage of his distraction, you push out of his hold. Stumbling back against the front door. Even more scampering is heard, along with a few colorful words, as your unknown audience races to hide somewhere inside the pack house.

His glare softens as he looks at you; his jaw is still set, and his fists are clenched at his sides. As the seconds pass, it registers with the Alpha that you have closed off everything. Silently, he curses whoever was just behind the door.

“Y/n,” he says, stepping forward, unclenching his hands, and reaching for yours. His eyes blend back to their deep brown as he scrambles to find a way to fix this.

“Thank you for tonight, Alpha. It seems your mates are waiting for you,” you say. Taking one last look at the man who stole your inhibitions and released the ardor you thought you had lost, you grab the door handle. Bowing, you feel your heart clench, and your throat tighten as you whisper, “Good night, Namjoon.”

Before he can say anything or do anything, you are inside the packhouse and in your room. You close the door with a slam and fall against it.

For the first time in forever, you allow yourself to cry. No, not cry, but weep. Weep for what you don’t know. Was it getting caught with Namjoon? Was it for falling out of a position of control? Was it for the child you lost? Was it for every heartbreak you have experienced?

The packhouse is silent.

You know the pack must have heard you, but you don’t have enough left to acknowledge that right now. With stiff limbs, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, taking off your heels along the way and leaving them wherever they land. Your earrings end up on the bathroom counter, at least.

Getting ready for bed, washing your face, and the rest of the routine are robotic. Walking back into the bedroom, you make to climb into your bed, but what you see stops you in your tracks. There is a carefully made nest against the wall– Jimin.

He mentioned that he might make a nest for you to come home to. You sit on the edge of the mattress to observe the time and attention that went into making it. The center is filled with pillows of different sizes. The wall is covered with even more to protect you from its hardness. You note the intricate weaving of blankets around the edge in seven colors.

It’s a clear representation of their mate-bonded pack. It’s perfect, just like they are. Crawling in the middle of it will ruin it.

You already have ruined enough tonight.

Looking around the room, you decided to sleep in the sitting window. Curling into yourself, making yourself as small as you can, you cry again, but this time, the sobs are silent, and the tears are dry.

Constant commentary flowed as they watched others on the carpet before the two of you were first spotted. The world seems to slow once they see you– their newest mate. You looked every bit the perfect mate they knew you were.

You were wise with your choice of words. You knew when to speak up or let Namjoon guide the conversation. Your smile and giggles made each one wish they were with you instead of their Prime Alpha.

It wasn’t left unnoticed how you seemed to charm everyone, gaining flirtatious comments from interviewers and even the occasional unwarranted extended hugs from other stars. How Namjoon kept his cool was beyond everyone else.

Maybe it was a good idea that he was the only one there.

Taehyung was already making a mental list of all the people to disregard in future interviews for disrespecting their claim on you. He wasn’t the only one. As a pack of Alphas, it was nearly impossible for them not to want to bite off anyone’s hand that touched you.

“She is doing really well,” comments Hoseok. He was worried the most because of your insecurities about being photographed. Having experienced self-image issues in the past, he knows how hard they are to deal with.

“I think her team was constructive with that aspect. They made getting ready for this event so much fun for her,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook nods in agreement, “They were talking about trying to find a way to make Bethany Ann’s team her permanent prep team for events and such.”

“Really? She liked them that much?” asked Seokjin, grabbing his phone and texting Manager Sejin to demand this assignment happen ASAP if it hasn’t happened already.

“Yeah. How long do you think they will be there? Joonie-ah normally only stays long enough to let everyone know he was there and then comes home,” Yoongi asks.

A chorus of replies came, all pointing out the same fact– no one had a clue.

This prompted Jimin to bolt out of Hoseok’s arm, yelling as he went, “Everyone, get me a heavily scented blanket and whatever pillow you want Y/n to have in her nest!”

Confusion fell over most of the remaining pack. Taehyung and Jungkook were the only ones to get up as if they knew what was happening.

“Jinnie-hyung, can you grab the stuff in the dryer?” asked the youngest mate.

“Sure, as soon as you tell me what Jimin is doing with Y/n’s nest,” responded Seokjin, as everyone stopped moving to listen.

Looking around, Jungkook could see that the hyung line was all clueless. “Oh, Y/n was breaking down her nest this morning and wanted to return our items because it didn’t feel right anymore.”

Yoongi moved forward, asking, “What do you mean to return them? She doesn’t want our scents?”

“Nooo, that isn’t it. She… her mom wouldn’t let her keep up her ‘blanket fort,’” he said, using air quotes. “So, she was tearing it down at 7 am. Tae Tae-hyung and Jimin-hyung, we all talked to her about it. Turns out, she was giving it back because she thought they needed to be cleaned and didn’t smell right.”

“But what is Jimin doing?” prompts Seokjin, still looking for the answer to his question.

Bouncing on his feet, Jungkook says, “She said Jimin could build her a proper nest to come home to because she might be too worn out to make it herself.”

A mixture of shock and giddiness spread across the rooms, followed by chaos. Everyone was practically running upstairs to find and scent the perfect blanket. Seokjin got the drying and called everyone to get what was theirs.

Meanwhile, Jimin took the regular bedding down to your den and started getting to work. It was typical for Jimin to take the lead on making the nests for the pack, but what wasn’t expected was for Jimin to prevent anyone from helping. Anytime one of his mates came near the bed, Jimin would growl.

“Jimin-hyung, I was the one who figured it out in the first place. I can be here and help,” whined Jungkook.

Jungkook had heard your restlessness the first night and fixed it with little help. By all means, Jungkook was now the Alpha responsible for ensuring your sleeping needs were being met.

With a deep growl, Jimin refused to let him come any closer. By now, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok had all gathered to watch the exchange. Curiosity peaked at the unusual behavior of their normally docile tiny mate.

“Jimin-ah, Kookie is right. His Alpha has taken this responsibility, and you really shouldn’t deny it,” Yoongi says, trying to inject some logic into this situation.

The increased intensity of Jimin’s growl was unexpected. Not only was growling difficult for a Red Panda hybrid to make, but it was also typically saved for dangerous situations. The room fell silent, aside from Jimin, and the Alphas stepped back. None of them wanted to challenge Jimin regarding his drive to make a nest for their new mate, but his actions were not welcomed or appropriate as far as the rest were concerned.

After a stalemate of what to do, a bouncing Taehyung joined them. “Hey, are we gonna keep… What’s going on here?” asked the tiger as he took in the tenseness of the room. It is clear to him that it’s everyone against Jimin right now, but why?

“Hyung won’t let me help get Y/n’s bed ready when she comes home to sleep. It’s my area to care for,” whines Jungkook, his ears drooping low with sadness.

Walking into the room further, Jimin’s growl lessens as his attention is now on the tiger, but it still hasn’t completely gone away. Raising his eyebrow at Jimin, Taehyung sees that the nest isn’t complete, and Jungkook still holds his scented blanket.

“I think you guys are getting it wrong,” comments Taehyung, turning his back to Jimin and pulling everyone else’s attention. “Hoseok-hyung, you were there when Y/n agreed to build a nest for her. What did you offer?”

Scrunching his brow, Hoseok answers, “I said we could replace what she needed, and Jimin could build her a nest.”

Taehyung waits to see if they catch on, but when seconds go by and no one connects the dots, he says, “You offered her a nest built by Jimin. Only Jimin. She said she would love to come home to a nest built by Jimin.”

“It’s a charge,” says Seokjin with understanding. “Jimin is charged with making a nest for Y/n before she gets home. Jungkook, give Jimin the blanket, and then we all need to leave.”

Thumping his foot in protest, the bunny hybrid whines, “Buuut Hyung…”

“No. This isn’t about sleeping. It’s about a nest. Jimin has always been responsible for the pack’s nest, and that won’t stop now,” corrects Seokjin.

“Wait, Jungkook, look at the nest Jimin is building. Is there anything you or Jimin think the nest could need more of to help provide a proper nest and comfort for sleeping?” offers Yoongi.

Jimin and Jungkook take in the nest as the youngest hands over his blanket, taking in the number of blankets and pillows. Jimin starts to weave the new blanket into the rest around the edge.

“Namjoon’s scent is not as strong as the rest of ours,” says Jungkook. Looking at Jimin, he waits for his thoughts on the comment to which Jimin starts counting. After double-checking that he is only counting six blankets, Jimin nods at Jungkook.

“Will you be okay if I got you his blanket and maybe another pillow of his for the nest you are making for Y/n, Jimin-hyung?” tentatively asks the youngest Alpha.

Jimin makes a squeaking noise as he undoes the nest wall to make it better once the Prime Alpha’s blanket is brought down. Noticing that no one has moved, he jumps off the bed and pushes everyone out. His antics are met with laughing and teasing by the hyungs.

It takes Jungkook and Jimin almost two hours to complete the nest. Well, actually, it takes Jimin two hours to make it while Jungkook turns into his personal errand boy. Jungkook has been sent to have different mates at more scent to items or change it out for something different because it feels wrong.

All of the mates don’t complain or argue about the requests. They are grateful that their Jiminnie is slowly returning to himself, and their new mate is the only one to thank for this change.

Seokjin, having already had a date with you, retired for the night. He had seen you in a dress, felt your skin against his, and basked in your body's heat. While he would love to experience those all again, he would be patient and wait his turn.

That patience was nowhere to be found in Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. Each of them took turns checking the driveway for some indication that you were almost here. When the car had pulled up, the three of them were practically glued to the window.

It wasn’t until Yoongi yelled at them to stop being creepy and wait for you to make it inside the door that they stopped their window-watching. Chuckling at their actions, Yoongi and Jungkook left them to bombard you as they also turned in for the night.

However, when some time passed, and you both were not in their presence, they grew restless again. Using their hybrid skills of being sneaky and light-footed, Hoseok and Taehyung make it to the door. Leaning against the door, they catch the conversation on the other side.

Doing their best to tamp down their scents and not interrupt, the two of them listen to the rustle of clothes, the sounds of increased breathing, soft and uncontrollable moans of desire, and the smell of an intimate scenting session.

They are giddy at their Prime Alpha's progress with the newest mate. Taehyung’s tail curled and uncurled on the floor in anticipation of being able to elicit the same reactions from you.

THUD

A sharp pain flies up Taehyung’s tail as he hisses, turning around to see that Jimin, in all his clumsiness, has fallen off the hall bench and landed on Taehyung’s tail, crushing it with his knee. Jimin freezes while Hoseok scrambles from the door and hurdles upstairs, taking multiple steps at a time.

“Ow, that was my tail!” Taehyung screeches.

THUMP

The front door rattles.

“Shit. 빨리 가다,” bitingly says Taehyung, pulling Jimin along the way, who is whispering apologies the whole way. Meanwhile, Tae curses in every language he knows because he caught you turning off your scent.

Namjoon scent could be smelled down the hall. It was a mix of anger, annoyance, lust, and despair. Your scent was nowhere to be found. Jimin had tried to find comfort with Hoseok, but he only said to wait till the morning to see what repairs were needed.

That wasn’t acceptable.

He tried to peek into Jungkook’s bedroom to see if he knew what to do, but the youngest Alpha was nowhere to be found. Jimin went to your den’s door to see if he could hear anything. Maybe if he knew you were slumbering away, he could calm down. However, he did not hear the even, slow breaths of someone sleeping. It was the staccato breaths and sniffles of someone crying. How did he not hear them until now?

Were you a master of hiding your tears as well as your scent?

What does he do now?

With how the shadows moved along the bottom of the door, Jimin knew you were leaning against it. He couldn’t open it, or he would hit you. Did you want someone to come and comfort you?

Why had you just crumpled at the door?

Did Taehyung and his actions at the door bother you that much?

Not knowing how to make anything better but unwilling to leave you alone, Jimin sat against the wall next to your door. He sends out his calming orange scent with a hint of vanilla, hoping it will slow your tears.

He is reserved to stay there all night if he has to.

Should he knock now?

What are you doing?

Will you finally seek comfort in the nest he carefully made for you?

After hearing the sounds of water and more rustling of clothes, Jimin realizes that you are getting ready for bed. You shuffle around the room for a moment. Then he can hear you get on the bed… wait, you walk again.

Where are you going?

What’s on the other side of the room?

At the sound of your renewed staccato breathing far away from his nest, Jimin joins you in your silent cries from the hallway. Thoughts of failing to build a proper nest, thoughts of ruining things for you with Namjoon, and thoughts of you rejecting the mate bond taunt him behind your closed door.

He will fix this.

He will be the first mate you see when you wake up. He will find out what is wrong and correct it. He has to, and he will make Tae help.

“Of course, Mama. I won’t make it again,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“You are just an attention whore,” a male voice says.

You shake your head, “No, no! I thought if I did it… I just wanted you to like me.”

Another female voice sounds off. “He only keeps you around because you are easier and warmer than a blow-up doll. "

Wiping off your face from the lunch they just dumped on you, the sounds of the cafeteria’s laughter making you dizzy. “He said he loved me.”

“Just act like a normal human being, Y/n. Then maybe you won’t be so pathetic,” the older woman says, pulling you by your hair and throwing you in the closet. “Now, stay there and reflect. Don’t you ever tell a soul.”

“Meemaw! No, let me out, please! Don’t leave me here!” Your cries go unanswered for days, all because you cuddled on the couch with Evie and three of her brothers in a Kitty pile.

“Why would I want a child with you? I’d rather you die.” Eric’s voice goes on repeat.

That’s when the pain starts.

You feel the slaps across your face, the kicking of your stomach, the snapping of your ankle, your lungs filling with water, and the never-ending feeling of falling down the stairs.

“Y/n!” You hear your voice being called and know that more torment is coming. Your body starts to shake.

“Y/n, baby, 내꺼. Please, wake up. Naekkeo,” a pleading voice breaks through the hazy of the nightmare you are having.

Still being shaken by someone’s hands, you sit up like a shot, and panic that you are going to get hurt floods your system. Your eyes are wide, unseeing of what is around you, causing your eyes to dart around the room, looking for danger. It isn’t until hands hold your face and force you to look at the person sitting next to you. You see Jimin with worry, pain, and so much more etched on his face.

“Y/n, Naekkeo, you are safe at the packhouse. I have you,” he says gently but with surety. His eyes never leave yours, the orange and vanilla scent falling over you like a blanket.

“Ji..Jimin?” you clarify, grabbing his hands to ensure he is real. Tears falling again, you launch yourself into his arms. “Jimin, it was a nightmare, right?”

Caught off by suddenly having his new mate in his arms, he is lucky that the instinct to protect you is so strong, or both of you might have ended up on the floor. Scooting to sit correctly in the window seat, he pulls you into a more secure hold. Wrapping his arms around your trembling form, he puts your head on his shoulder and rocks slowly.

“Yes, Naekkeo. It was all a nightmare. You’re not hurt,” Jimin reaffirms by pulling you a faction closer.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck as tears wet his pajama shirt.

“No, nightmares are not something to be sorry about. Something causes them to happen, and it is beyond your control. Do you have them often?” he asks.

“Not really. I haven’t had them in a while, but they still come,” you answer. “They usually last a lot longer than this.”

“Not anymore. We won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.” He hears you take a breath to say something, but he cuts you off, saying, “Don’t worry about us missing out on sleep or something like that. We will lose more sleep if you know you are going through this without us helping you.”

He feels you relax more in his hold. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, Jimin looks at you again with a soft smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head and clarify, “I think I should tell Bangtan pack together. I already explained some to Namjoon, but…”

“You only want to say it once,” Jimin finishes your sentence. “Makes sense, but can I ask you a question?”

Sitting up more and attempting to pull slightly out of his hold only gets you held in place firmer. Surprisingly, you don’t feel the need to tense up. Instead, it warms your soul that your nightmares aren’t detouring him and that he still wants to be the friend he promised initially.

“What is your question?” you prompt.

You see his eyes flick up and then back down to you, his eyes distant, like he is trying to find the right words. A moment later, he looks you dead in the eye, alerting your mind, and asks, “Why did you not sleep in the nest I made for you?”

“The nest?” you asked, still slightly out of it because of the nightmares.

Timidly, Jimin bites his bottom lip and nods to the bed, “Did I not make it well enough?”

Glancing to the bed, you see the nest again. It’s then your scent comes crashing back. Your sweet pea is slightly moldy, hinting at perfume tones and a splash of bergamot.

Jimin instantly sends soothing scents and rubs your back, saying, “It’s okay if you don’t like it. Everyone likes them in different ways.”

“It’s not that, Jimin. It’s lovely,” you say looking back at the Alpha holding you with a smile filled with sadness and longing. “It’s perfect. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Confusion fills Jimin’s face, looking between you and the bed. His mouth opens and closes like a fish before he huffs. Without another thought, Jimin stands, cradling you to his chest, one arm across your back and the other hooking under your knees.

“Jimin! Jimin, put me down. I weigh like 1,000 pounds,” you say in high-pitched but hushed tones, trying not to wake up the rest of the house.

It's like your mind wants to get out of his grasp, but your body never wants to let go, which is why you have a vice grip on his shoulders despite your words.

A soft but low growl comes from him. Looking down at you, with a now deadpan face, he says, “I am an Alpha. I was made to pick you up no matter what. How would I be able to protect, hold, and comfort you if I couldn’t?”

Stilling in his arms, you take in the feeling of his engaged but not straining shoulder under your grip. Finally, he starts walking again towards the nest. You watch his face in slightly shocked awe. There is no trembling, no sweat on his brown, no indication that you are too much for him. You are dropped inside the nest before you can question and unpack this new information.

“Jimin,” you whine, only for him to sit outside and level you with a firm look.

“I made this for you. Jungkook helped a little, but each Bangtan packmate contributed a blanket and at least one pillow to add to your nest. Do you want to know why?” asked the red panda hybrid.

Still, in a semi-balled-up fetal position, you are covered in a multitude of scents. You want to know, but you don’t, “Jimin, thank you for making this, but I think… I think…”

“You think we are taking it too far? Think that if you start accepting your situation more, we will hurt you like others in your past?” he questions.

Breaking eye contact, you look at the woven blanket wall of the nest again. Finally, you answer his question, saying, “The seven of you are so tightly woven together that the world knows who all of you are. Most people who dislike K-pop will at least have some idea of who BTS is. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

A chuckle comes from the red panda, “You won’t. It’s impossible.”

Now it's your turn to chuckle: “Oh yeah, sure, that is why you guys had a whole new contract written up. If I were a regular Playmate, I could see you saying that, but…”

“But you are not,” Jimin cuts you off. “That is why nothing will be ruined.” He scoots closer to the wall of the nest and tilts his head, asking, “May I come in? I want to see something.”

You glance at him before looking around again, noting that the nest he made is, technically, big enough for at least one, maybe two more people.

“You can say no. You can say no to all of us. You could have said no to Namjoon-hyung tonight as well,” Jimin states again with total seriousness.

You can say no, but is it improper to say no?

You can say no, but will you always say no?

You can say no, but did you want to say no?

With the look in Jimin’s eyes, the scents surrounding you from the nest, and the little voice inside your heart, the answer is No.

No, it's not improper to say no.

No, you won’t always say no.

No, you want to say yes.

“You can join me,” you say just above a hushed whisper.

Carefully, with his eyes still locked with yours, Jimin carefully climbs over the nest wall and finds space between the nest wall and you. He lays with his back to the door, facing you.

Once Jimin settles, your body uncurls and relaxes instinctively. Your braced hand finds the hem of his shirt and holds on as you turn to face him. The other hand bounces between resting on your side to the bed, under your head, and back again.

Telegraphing his intention, Jimin clasps his hand around yours and settles it between you. The breath you had unknowingly held releases, and you breathe in the pack again, this time with Jimin's more robust, fresh scent.

“There she is. My Naekkeo smells like sweet peas and vanilla again,” smiles Jimin.

You blush this time at the name Naekkeo. It clicks that Jimin is calling you sweetheart in Korean. He had said it before, but you were so panicked from the nightmare that the translation part of your brain was offline.

“Y/n, I will be as honest as I can with you. Please listen to everything I have to say before you say anything, and know it is okay not to say anything,” Jimin states with a questioning look.

You snuggle down into the comfort of the nest and nod at the Alpha. Jimin smiles fondly at your actions as he tries to figure out how to tell you enough but not too much.

“Playmates were forced on Bangtan Pack at the beginning,” he reveals. “PD-nim said if we accepted them, the rest of the industry would accept them. It would save the lives of hybrid Idols from turning feral or losing them to suicide.”

You sucked in a harsh breath but kept quiet, letting him continue.

Swallowing, he says, “We didn’t say no. We didn’t think we could. Our first Playmate came with all the bells, whistles, and services included. She got mad when none of us would touch her. None of us wanted to. She repulsed us with her outright desire that stunk up a city block.

“She even tried to use some of those aphrodisiac chocolates on Jungkook-ah. Once Namjoon-hyung found out, it was war. He went after the Playmate’s company, PD-nim, and even threatened to break our contract with Hybe and BigHit.

“After that, all of our Playmates had the contracts you saw. In fact, most of our playmates were homosexual female-identified, which made it easy because, well, we are all males. Contrary to popular belief, even though we are a male mate-bonded pack, most of us still appreciate the female body and have experience with it.”

You giggle at the random fact. You had figured the pack wasn’t opposed to being with either gender after a few of the songs that Lily showed you. Jimin just raised his eyebrow in question, but you waved him to continue.

Pulling your hand to his chest, he continues, “When you came crashing into our lives, everything changed. Yoongi, Jungkook, Seokjin, and I were the first to realize that you were different. It wasn’t long after that the rest understood that, too.

“We wanted you in our lives before your hand got broken. Actually, Yoongi wanted away from all the Playmate scents so badly that he left the observation room to run right into the reason why.”

Pulling your hand up, he kisses the back softly, then looks at you again before clarifying, “You. None of us see you as a Playmate, Y/n. There is a reason why the contract we took on says there is the option to integrate you into the pack. We are just trying to explore what that means during this time.

“At the end of the contract, we all may better understand what has happened or is happening. Then, together, the eight of us will discuss what happens next. Just remember, you always have the right to say no.”

The silence following is not deafening, but it is heavy.

You were given so much information all at once. Mostly, you wanted to punch their first Playmate while praising Namjoon for being an incredible Prime Alpha and protecting the pack. That is two Playmates now that you understand need a good old-fashioned ass-whoopin’.

Jimin’s words confirmed what Taehyung and Hoseok had said before you signed the contract. He was there then and agreed, but you still had doubts. How much you want to trust them frustrates you, but you question everything you do.

Maybe it’s not them that you don’t trust.

Maybe you don’t trust– you.

God, your brain has too much going on right now. The plethora of information, the adrenaline of the nightmare wearing off, and the comfort of the nest with Jimin makes you sleepy. Stifling a yawn, Jimin chuckles.

“I have so much to think about now. Thank you for sharing everything, Jimin,” you say. “I think… I think I want to talk to the pack tomorrow if I can. I need to tell them about my nightmares and my ex and let them know what you told me. Maybe we can all clear a few things up.”

The red panda lets out a quiet, pleased series of little barks, and a bright smile graces his face. “I think that is a beautiful idea, but right now, Naekkeo, you need more sleep,” he agrees and moves to get out of the nest, pulling a whine from you.

It shocks both of you. Jimin looked around to ensure he hadn’t knocked over anything in the nest. Meanwhile, you are blushing at the fact that you literally whined at the thought of Jimin leaving you alone in the nest.

“Naekkeo?” questions Jimin, still frozen in mid-climb.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean, I shouldn’t,” you blabber.

Turning back to you, Jimin cradles your face, drawing your eyes to his, prompting, “What do you need? You can ask me anything.”

“Can you… can you stay… in the nest… with me?” you hesitantly question. “I mean, you can also say no. Youhaveyourownbedanddonhavetostay.”

“May I answer before you decide for me?” questions Jimin with a soft chuckle.

“Ah yeah, sorry. I tend to keep…” Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you open them again and say, “Yes, sorry.”

“I would be honored to share your nest tonight,” Jimin says with a heart-melting smile, bringing his hand away from your face. “Where do you want me?”

That paused you… Where did you want him?

Looking at where he was, then where you were, you weren’t sure where else he could go besides where he was now. The confusion must have shown either on your face or your scent because Jimin was trying to hold in his laughter.

Glaring at him playfully, you ask, “What is so funny? Who asks that kind of question? You just lay there and sleep. It’s not me to tell you where you will be comfortable.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Y/n. I meant, like, do you want me against the wall or between you and the bedroom door? Under the covers or over the covers? Big spoon, little spoon, no spoon?” Jimin informs you, watching as each option is said and his heart fluttering at the blush that covers your cheeks at the last three options.

“Ah… well. You are the Alpha and the protector-ish one between us, so maybe you stay between the door and me where you are now. Not that anything would come to get us in the packhouse, but on principle,” you stammer out.

“Alright, Protector-ish Jimin in place,” he says jokingly as he puffs out his chest. “Now over or under?”

Giggling at his actions, you pull the covers from under you. Snuggling in them, you say, “I can’t sleep without a blanket because I get cold easily. Do you?”

Jimin thinks about it for a few seconds. “Well, I do like to sleep with blankets, but I don’t have to sleep that way if it will make you uncomfortable. However, if I sleep under the covers, it will help warm them and, in turn, warm you.”

Your face drops in a flush of heat as you remember Taehyung’s words, ‘I am sure someone would be willing to warm you up,’ and you warm up all on your own.

“Ah well, I do get cold, and Taehyung said that Alphas were good at keeping warm. … you can be under them if you want,” you say timidly.

Nodding slowly, Jimin slips under the covers. His Alpha pushes him to find ways to keep you comfortable. Since you didn’t give a no and didn’t say anything that could indicate you hated the idea, he would do just as you said. Besides, as Protector-ish Jimin, he couldn’t stand the thought of you being cold while he was this close to you.

Watching you, he can tell you are waiting for him to ask about the last part. So he complies, asking, “Big spoon, small spoon, or no spoon, Naekkeo?”

Your eyes drop to the space between the two of you. Your meemaw’s words hit you again, but then the comfort you felt when cuddling with Evie and Derik followed and finished with the security you felt in Jimin’s arms on the sitting window.

“You can say no spoon, Y/n. I won’t mind,” he says, a gentle reminder that you have a choice.

“I used to be a big cuddler, but I… I don’t do that much anymore,” you admit with sadness in your tone. “Um, typically only with my family pack. Can we just lay like this for now?”

“Of course. I will always respect your wishes,” smiles Jimin. You search his face for a hint of disappointment or anger but find nothing but his smile of contentment.

You return his smile, which quickly becomes a rather large yawn. Giggling, you snuggle down farther, then reach out and take his hand with yours, asking, “Is this okay?”

“Y/n, I had you in my lap and offered to be any spoon you wanted. I think I am fine with holding your hand while we sleep,” he teases you.

“You’re right,” you giggle. “Well, so you know, I am a wiggler and a traveler. I have been known to end up with my head down and my feet up. So, if I get too much, you can wake me up or hold me in place until I stop. Or whatnot. Evie always ends up sleeping on my chest to pin me in place.”

“Hmm, I see. Well, if you turn into a human tornado, then I may have to find a way to tie you up,” he says with his eyes closed, completely missing the shocked look on your face. However, he does take note of your scent turning to honey with arousal.

Jimin thinks of all the ways Hoseok used his kinbaku and shibari skills as a form of meditation, relaxation, and trust-building practice between them. Maybe Hoseok can use them on you and help you in the same way he helped Jimin with his anxiety and trust issues.

Either way, the imagery of you in intricately knotted silk or hemp rope makes Jimin very happy that you didn’t choose him to be the big spoon right about now.

Previous / Next

Perminate Taglist - OPEN

@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143 @elliegrace1999 @skyys-universe @reallysparklychaos @stylishhwa @paramedicnerd004 @afangirl91 @psychosupernatural

Series Taglist - Closed

@nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @reallysparklychaos @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @elliegrace1999

290 notes · View notes

diamonddaze01 · 2 months ago

Text

back off

Pairing: lc x reader | wc: 1.1k au: criminal minds au | warnings: mentions of people getting hurt a/n: based on an ask from my 101 drabble prompt game! // a continuation of [3:27 AM] and a part of my BAU!SVT universe

The bar hummed with noise—laughter, clinking glasses, music that was just a little too loud. It wasn’t the kind of place you liked to unwind, but after the team wrapped up a long, grueling case, this was tradition. Even you couldn’t escape it.

You sat at the bar nursing your drink, half-listening to the others joking in a nearby booth. The warm glow of the overhead lights didn’t do much to soften the dark circles under everyone’s eyes, a testament to sleepless nights spent hunting monsters. You exhaled, trying to sink into the moment, into normalcy.

And then Lee Chan slid onto the stool beside you.

“Enjoying your brooding session?” His voice cut through your thoughts like a familiar, unwelcome blade.

You didn’t even look at him. “It’s called relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

His laugh came easily, soft but edged with that signature cockiness that set your teeth on edge. “I’m perfectly relaxed. Just keeping an eye on you, though.”

You turned to him at that, finally meeting his gaze. He was annoyingly casual, one arm slung over the back of his chair, his drink in the other hand. The dim light caught on his jawline, sharp and annoyingly perfect, while his ever-present smirk made your blood boil.

“I don’t need babysitting, Chan,” you said flatly.

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Didn’t say you did.”

You rolled your eyes, already used to his habit of inserting himself into your space. “I’m not a suspect, Chan. You can stop profiling me.”

He leaned against the bar, his grin widening. “I’m not profiling you. I’m profiling him.”

You frowned, glancing at him. “What are you talking about?”

You glanced at him again, narrowing your eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, though. His attention was somewhere else, and when you followed his line of sight, you spotted him: a guy at the far end of the bar, staring at you.

The stranger wasn’t exactly subtle. His eyes flicked over you like he was already building a story in his mind, his glass of whiskey nearly forgotten in his hand.

“That guy at the bar keeps staring at you,” Chan said casually, dragging your attention back to him. He didn’t even bother looking at you when he said it, like this was just another observation, no different from commenting on the weather.

You frowned. “And?”

“And,” he said, dragging out the word, “I don’t trust his type. Too obvious. He’s practically telegraphing his intentions.”

You snorted, setting your glass down. “And what exactly are his intentions, profiler?”

Chan’s eyes flicked to you, his expression softening just slightly, though the cocky smirk remained. “He wants to buy you a drink, tell you you’re too good for this line of work, and maybe try to take you home. Classic.”

You rolled your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “And you care because…?”

His smirk faltered for just a second, like he hadn’t expected you to call him out. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharper now, more deliberate. “I don’t care,” he said, though the edge in his voice told a different story. “ I’m not in the mood to get involved in a bar fight when he inevitably strikes out and blames me for your lack of interest.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “You think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

He shrugged, finishing his drink. “Only because I’m right.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, the man at the bar made his move. He slid off his stool and started weaving through the crowd toward you.

Chan straightened, the shift so subtle you might not have noticed if you weren’t watching him so closely. He didn’t tense, exactly, but his body language changed, sharpening like a blade.

“Chan,” you warned, but he didn’t look at you.

“Relax. I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice lower, steadier.

The guy stopped a few feet away, his smile too eager as he looked you over. “Hey,” he said, his voice too loud over the din of the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Before you could answer, Chan turned to him, a lazy grin on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “She’s good, thanks,” he said smoothly, his tone polite but firm.

The guy blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were…”

“We are,” Chan said easily, leaning back in his stool but staying close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. His tone was casual, but his posture screamed stay away.

The guy hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue, but Chan’s grin hardened just enough to make him think twice. Muttering an apology, the man retreated, disappearing back into the crowd.

You turned to Chan, your jaw tight. “What the hell was that?”

Chan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “That was me saving you from a bad night.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you snapped, but your voice lacked the bite you intended.

His smirk softened, just a little, into something almost sincere. “You didn’t have to.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest, but you shoved the feeling down, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shot back, leaning closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “But if it makes you feel better, next time I’ll let you deal with it yourself.”

You glared at him, but he was already pulling back, finishing the last of his drink like he hadn’t just turned your world slightly upside down. And the worst part? You didn’t tell him to leave.

141 notes · View notes

deerlino · 8 months ago

Note

Could u please do streamer felix x girlfriend reader where like reader comes and sits felixs' lap while he's streaming while gaming and she ends up sleeping?

౨ৎ — dreaming in pixels ( lf. )

lee felix x fem!reader — felix, the streamer, and you, his girlfriend, have a cute moment during one of his gaming streams. you sneak into his streaming room and plop down on his lap. surprisingly cozy, you end up dozing off, surrounded by all the fluffiness and warmth.

additional tags — streamer!felix. content creator au. (domestic) fluff. affectionate. cute girlfriend. soft moments. twitch stream. 824 word count.

content warnings — no need for content warnings here. it's all about being affectionate, tender, and comforting.

author notes @ anon — a heartwarming streamer lixie fic! 🥹 i'm obsessed with streamer felix, so getting this request made me super happy. 💘 hope you enjoy it and have a blast reading! xo. < 3

You tiptoed through the hallway, a mischievous smile curling on your lips as you heard the faint sounds of Felix’s voice, enthusiastic and animated, drifting from his streaming room. You peeked around the corner, catching sight of him engrossed in his game, headset firmly in place, fingers flying over his keyboard.

He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his screen, but you couldn’t help yourself. You quietly crept up behind him, placing your hands over his eyes. “Guess who?” you whispered, giggling softly.

Felix’s fingers paused mid-keystroke, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Hmm, let me think… Is it my incredibly cute girlfriend who’s supposed to be studying right now?”

You laughed, moving your hands away and leaning over his shoulder to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “But I needed a break, and I missed you.”

He tilted his head back to look up at you, his eyes softening. “I missed you too, babe. Come here,” he said, patting his lap invitingly.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Climbing onto his lap, you settled in, wrapping your arms around his neck as he shifted to accommodate you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Very,” you replied, snuggling against him. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the screen as he resumed his game. His fingers moved deftly, effortlessly, and you were mesmerized by the way he played, so focused and skilled.

“What are you playing?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur against his ear.

“Just a bit of Valorant,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. “The chat’s loving it.”

You glanced at the chat, seeing a flurry of messages reacting to Felix’s gameplay—and to your sudden appearance. “Your girlfriend is so cute! 💛” one message read, while another said, “Awww, our favorite streamer and his girl, goals! 😍”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Your fans seem to like me,” you teased.

Felix grinned, glancing at the chat briefly. “Of course they do. They have good taste,” he said, giving you a quick squeeze. “But I like you more.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you buried your face in his neck to hide your blush. “You’re so cheesy,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t hide the smile in your voice.

“And you love it,” he shot back, pressing another kiss to your temple. His attention returned to the game, but his free hand remained on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. The rhythmic motion, combined with the steady hum of his voice and the soft glow of the screen, started to lull you into a peaceful daze.

You fought to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this rare, quiet time with Felix. But the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed began to pull you under. You yawned, nestling closer to him.

Felix glanced down at you, his expression softening even more. “Sleepy?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“A little,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I stay here?”

“Of course, love,” he said, his voice as soft as his touch. “I’ve got you.”

You sighed contentedly, your eyes drifting shut as you let yourself relax completely. Felix’s heartbeat was a soothing rhythm under your ear, and the sounds of his game faded into the background. You felt his cheek rest against your head, and the gentle pressure of his hold reassured you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Time seemed to blur as you hovered on the edge of sleep. You were dimly aware of Felix’s voice, still chatting with his viewers, but it was distant, like a lullaby. His fingers never stopped their gentle tracing on your waist, each touch sending waves of comfort through you.

Finally, you let go, slipping into a peaceful slumber, your breathing evening out as you nestled closer to Felix. You were vaguely aware of his soft chuckle, the tender way he adjusted his hold on you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Looks like she’s out,” you heard him say softly, probably to the chat. “Guess I’m stuck here for a while. Not that I’m complaining.”

The chat erupted with comments again, but you were too far gone to care. All that mattered was the warmth of Felix’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart, and the overwhelming feeling of love that surrounded you.

As you drifted deeper into sleep, you felt Felix’s lips press a final, feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered. “I love you.”

And with that, you surrendered completely to the comforting darkness, secure in the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged—safe and sound in Felix’s arms.

© deerlino (est. 120624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

#lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix fluff #felix x reader #felix fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee felix x you #stray kids x you #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix fanfic #*writing

381 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 8 months ago

Text

party hats & kitty cats

pairing: non-idol!lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food. one-off line about having kids in the future. discussion of expanding the family via adopting a new cat.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: oh to adopt a cat w lino....

Minho shifted next to you, causing you to lift your head off of his shoulder. “Hold on,” he said, voice soft as could be so as to not disturb you (or, more likely, the cats asleep around you). “Keep your head held up.”

Which was what prompted you to open your eyes right as a string fell snugly against the underside of your chin. Minho pushed it back so it would sit more comfortably, continuing to manipulate the party hat on your head until it looked right. That was when you realized he was wearing one, too.

“What?”

You’d been drifting off a little too much despite the carnage going on the screen (the powers of a bad horror movie, for sure), halfway to dreamland when he moved. The first time, you hadn’t had to move too much—assuming that Minho had just been reaching for his drink. The second time, you thought he’d been putting it back. And now he was just watching you with this playful look in his eyes, proud at his own silly little joke.

“Pretty,” he mused aloud. Then he leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss against your lips before getting up for real this time. The action earned a curious ‘mrrp?’ from Doongie, who had been sleeping at your feet until now, and Minho looked at him. “Doong-doong-ah, just stay there.”

Doongie promptly hopped down off of the couch to follow him instead, cat DNA requiring that he not follow orders from anyone but himself. You just relaxed against the couch, reaching a hand up to pet Soonie where he’d curled up to sleep. He raised his head lazily, purring once you began to scratch underneath his chin. Dori had popped his head up from where he’d been batting around a little mouse toy, watching Minho carefully as he moved about the kitchen with Doongie at his heels. You just found yourself smiling at the scene. Sometimes you joked that Minho fell in love with you once you met his cats and began to adore them almost as much as he does, but sometimes you truly think this relationship wouldn’t have lasted this long if you weren’t all-in on moving in with him and the three cats. You turned your attention back to Soonie for barely a second before you heard the click of a lighter.

And then a minute later, Minho began to sing to you. He made his way over, holding a small cake that was enough for the two of you. Doongie followed after him as he came back to you, all too curious and needing to know exactly what was going on in his home without him knowing ahead of time. Minho carefully lowered himself onto the couch next to you, holding up the cake for you.

“Did you make this?” You asked once he stopped singing.

He shook his head. “I was going to,” he said. “But I decided to focus on cooking dinner instead.”

Good, you thought to yourself. The dinner Minho had cooked for you was a little elaborate. The idea of him making you a cake and dinner, especially when the cake was decorated a little extravagantly, would have been too much. He’d pouted at you when you went the extra mile on his birthday considering how much you’d been working lately, gently chastising you when you were left exhausted after everything.

“I don’t need anything that special,” he’d told you while the two of you were laying in bed, his arms wrapped around you. “Your health is more important to me.”

You turned a little to look at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t like it…?”

“I loved it,” he kissed the side of your shoulder. “I always love the things you do for me. But…” His fingers grazed against the skin, exposed from where your shirt has ridden up. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your wellbeing for me. Okay?”

You had made him promise to do the same, something he’d easily done and sealed with a soft kiss before snuggling in for the night. Now he sat before you, the candlelight illuminating his face more than the television screen did.

“Make a wish already,” he’d lightly teased. “You can stare at me later.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned your attention to the lit candles. For a moment, you debated on what to wish for before settling on something achievable, hopefully. You shut your eyes, blowing out the candles before the smell of smoke immediately greeted you. When you opened your eyes, Minho had reached for one of the forks he’d casually left on the coffee table earlier. You’d assumed at the time that he simply brought too many and would return it to its drawer later, but of course he was a step ahead of you.

“So?” He pushed the fork into the cake, apparently intent on feeding you the first bite before he’d pass the fork to you. He held it up. “What did you wish for?”

“I thought telling you meant it wouldn’t come true?” You teased before closing your lips around the fork, sweet vanilla buttercream bursting over your taste buds as you enjoyed the first bite of your cake. This had to be the same bakery you ordered his birthday cake from last year. Their vanilla buttercream had a certain quality to it that you could never put your finger on (Felix would know, though: he’d complimented it at Minho’s party).

“Is it something I can do?” He asked. When you played up your debate before nodding, he rolled his eyes, scooping up another bite of cake for you. “Then tell me.”

“I was thinking…” You went to take the fork, only for Minho to pull it away from you. A hostage situation, apparently. Unfair. “We could maybe expand the family a little?”

He gave you the most confused look in response. “You said you didn’t want to have kids until later on—”

“Not kids,” you said. “Maybe… We could get another kitten?”

Minho nodded along to the question, thinking it over. He pushed the fork back toward you, purposefully not letting go. You decided to oblige once more as you ate the bite of cake. “We’d have to see about fostering first,” he said, already figuring out the reality of adopting a new kitten when you already had three rambunctious cats around. “Find a space that the others can’t get to while we introduce them to each other…”

Finally victorious in stealing the fork from him, you pushed it through the cake and held out a bite to him. The two of you had shared enough at this point anyway. “So we’ll look into it?”

He nodded. “I think we could. It’ll mean more work looking after them, but I think we could handle it.” He looked at Soonie, reaching up to scratch him between the ears. “Although if the cats don’t respond well, I don’t know if we could go through with it…” He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking harder about it. “Maybe a girl? It doesn’t matter either way, but maybe it’d be nice to have a girl cat around. We’d have to find one spayed or get her spayed when she’s older—”

“Minho.”

He immediately turned back to look at you, realizing how lost he’d grown in kitten adoption thoughts. His gaze flickered back to the fork in front of him, and he smiled at you for a minute before leaning forward to accept the bite. “Thank you,” he said after swallowing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you giggled. “It’s cute that you care so much.”

He lowered the cake he’d been balancing on one hand, carefully leaning over it so that he could kiss you. When he drew back, his eyes were all twinkly, so obviously giddy over the prospect of a new cat. Or maybe that was just the way Minho looked when he looked at you. His friends told you once that Minho adored you completely, and it was evident when they saw the way he looked at you.

“Happy birthday,” he said for the final time that night. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know fluff #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #lee minho fluff #lee minho x reader #wooahaes.24

216 notes · View notes

vad-hander · 1 year ago

Text

YOU KNOW WE'RE NOT COMPATIBLE, RIGHT?

pairing: Haechan x reader

others: Mark, Jaemin, Jeno as Haechan's friends.

warnings: reader is mean and degrading towards Haechan throughout the fic (but nothing serious), mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of stealing, Haechan gets injured (breaks his leg, no graphic descriptions), explicit description of sexual interactions between Haechan and reader, unrequited love, reader has issues with showing her feelings, scared of other people's opinion, slowburn, romance

summary: despite being fuck buddies, both you and Haechan hated each others guts. he was a nosy, ignorant, attention seeking brat. at least that's what you thought, before he took you out for some bonding time. now you weren't so sure of your feelings or his intentions. it doesn't help that your friends seem to hate Haechan's guts too. you try to navigate your own feelings, while trying to please everyone surrounding you, sometimes at your own expense.

words: 13,7k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“Hey.”

“Hey.” your head lifted at the sound of your roommate.

“He's left already?” you felt your lips form a smile unconsciously.

“Yeah, I literally cannot look into my computer a minute longer.” you sighed dramatically, shutting down the laptop on your knees after you got notified all the work was finally saved and dropped against the back rest.

It was your 8th working session in the past two weeks with Haechan. You’ve never seen Lee Haechan so often, never had to sit right next to him in pure quietness for hours and try to have some sort of thinking process.

It was difficult any way you looked at it and you were glad he was finally gone. At least, for the evening.

Apparently, Jeno needed his help immediately and Haechan could never say no to a friend in need, which is a quote.

Talking of needs, you wondered what happened to this man’s needs since having him as a working partner seemed to somehow kill his hormones. Even when you very much intentionally set a couple of your meetings in his house the boy didn’t lay a single finger on you.

Figuratively speaking, because in fact the only thing he laid on you in those past 2 weeks were his palms. On your shoulder, or leg but it didn’t go past a teasing touch and you were confused beyond and above.

“I can imagine studying with Lee Haechan be tiring.” she cackled, placing her body on the armrest next to you. Her hand going under her head for support, making the girl take a half laying position on an armrest close to you, almost pressing her body to yours.

You probably reeked Haechan since the boy was practically attached to you at your hip for the past 5 hours, you were afraid she’d be able to pinpoint the scent of him, or more honestly you didn’t want her to ruin that scent with her fresh meadow scented deodorant.

“He’s actually doing a good job.” you smiled awkwardly, noticing the eyes of your friend. A cunning fox type of stare wasn’t a good thing coming from Eunsoo, you could not wonder immediately if she saw how handsy Haechan was before he left and was testing the waters before jumping onto you with questions? Did she hear him asking if you’re free tomorrow night? Or worse, did she see him rub his face against your neck, saying he needed a break to distract his thoughts for a later on better thinking process?

In all honesty, Haechan rubbed his face against you too many times during your sessions to go unnoticed by people around and the amount of times you were in fact ready to help him distract his brain and he never proceeded with the action made you tired, upset and even slightly annoyed.

“What, what is this smile?” you laughed it off awkwardly, very awkwardly, to be completely honest. You looked away to hide your eye twitch.

“Surprised you’re not ripping hair off your head after every working session with him.” she laughed, and… it felt lie she maybe testet the water...? Did she try to tap on the fact you didn’t really hate spending time next to him?

“I-, he-, it’s funny to say, he’s good with academic studies, apparently, and if he’s not just typing gibberish into the laptop I think we might even be one of the top students.” you chuckled. “Oh, by the way, we left some food in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

“We?” she teased with a smirk.

“My God, Eunsoo.” your eyes rolled backwards.

“No, it’s a good thing, I guess.”

“What is a good thing?”

“We’re not hating on Haechan anymore, right?”

“I don’t think anybody actually really hated him in our friend group... except for Sua?" your thoughts trailed off before you got back "Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Ugh-agh.” she swallowed and fixed the hair on her head.

“You’ve got something you wanted to say, don't you?”

“Me? No? I was just testing the waters.“ your heart missed a beat because you were totally right. You cleared your throat in an attempt to unnoticeably calm your heart down.

“Testing the waters, huh?“ still, you couldn’t keep yourself from shuffling, having to stand up and actually move around the room to not seem suspicious to your friend that acted way too suspicious herself.

“Since you two are seem to be more friendly than before, not to jump far too ahead, but we all can be… friends… now?” she questioned, shaking her head a little as if the thought alone was still a little bewildering to her. It did seem bewildering to you too, every one of you being close to each other, being friends. “I thought I could ask you once again if you’d like to go on the boat trip that happens to be next weekend?“

“I don’t know.“ You shook your head with no answer.

Maybe you should come, for your friends, for Eunsoo, not mind Haechan, his presence and presence of all his friends. At the end of the day, you don’t even have to look at each other, but on the other hand avoiding him could give him the wrong idea, the idea that your feelings for him have changed?

“Ya, look.” Eunsoo clapped, as her voice went a little louder, making you come back to reality “’I don’t know is much more of a better answer than a straight up no. Haechan must’ve shaken your ground, huh?“ her brows went up and down playfully.

“Yeah, sure. He’s such a charming, lovely and smart guy I suddenly couldn’t imagine us part ways for the weekend, now that we’re all BFFs.“ Eunsoo laughed.

“Oh please don’t go in detail about your newly found passion in Haechan, I still have food to digest.“ She gagged jokingly. “Anyway, I’ma bout to shake your ground even more.“

“I’m all ears.“ You wiggled your brows playfully.

“The boat trip is free.“ you gasped, squinting your eyes in confusion.

“How come? How’d you make Jeno agree to that? What did you promise him?“ You jumped up to your friend, hand on your heart in concern.

“Nothing, I didn’t need to-“

“Jeno himself suggested I’m coming for free?“ you stared at her wide-eyed, trying to get a secret out of her that she obviously wasn’t keeping too well.

“Ugh, not really-“ Eunsoo tried to get an answer out of her mouth but her brain was definitely not cooperating and you didn’t want to stop asking questions at the kinda exciting news. You took a moment in your brain to question yourself. Why exactly did the thought excite you so much? Jeno was practically a stranger to you. “So did you ask him to? Soo-yah, I’m starting to think he might have a crush… on me…? Of all people?!“ you couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“I don’t-“ The girl paused calmly.

“He wants me to come no matter what? If he’s saying it’s free suddenly? I’m sure Sua and Aeri transferred him money last week.“

“Ugh… you sorta got it right.“ She sighed.

“Wh-“ you started confused “No, what?“ You spoke louder. “What did he say? What did he say?“ You pulled onto Eunsoo’s hand for more info, like an excited puppy.

“He just asked if you decided on coming… I said no, you’re not going to be there so he just said I can take you with me…” she paused and then suddenly continued “Said you have to be there no matter what so I’m here asking you if you’d come if it was free?“

“Should I?“ You chuckled.

“If you want to?“ She spoke awkwardly, you had to take a step back and recollect yourself.

“Hey, I… actually, I thought Jeno had a thing for you and you two were slowly drifting in that direction? What happened with that? Thats very out of the blue…? Him wanting to see me there. When we’re there I should tell him I’m not interested, you d-.“

“No, no!“ Eunsoo jumped up. “Don’t tell him anything.“

“Why?“

“I-ugh, he’s going to be pissed I told you, just don’t mention anything, it’s better you act the usual.“

“Are you sure?“

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go out of your way just to refuse him.“

“I-oh, okay. But are you okay with that?“

“Yeah, yeah. So you’re going then, right?“

“Guess I’m going, then.“ you chuckled.

“Fantastic.“ Eunsoo clapped her hands relieved, the conversation seemed too awkward for her, it could not not gut you. “I’ll go eat leftovers of your fancy lunch with your new best friend.“

From: Haechan

Great news, cupcake.

To: Haechan

What news?

From: Haechan

You’re coming to Jeno’s little party

To: Haechan

So it’s great news now

Didn’t you say that I’ll shit your party?

From: Haechan

Aw, baby, you’re keeping everything I say close to your heart, I’m honoured

Don’t worry tho, I changed my opinion and I’m going to make the best of your presence

To: Haechan

Awww poor baby, You must’ve gotten a little too comfortable and forgot we’re not friends

it’s fine though, I’ll say hi back to you once I see you on that boat

From: Haechan

I hope you’re not getting sea sick and stuff

I’ve never done you on water, won’t forgive you for ruining my chance

And then sure, lets not talk

To: Haechan

and, I’m sure you’re overestimating Jeno’s abilities, isn’t it going to be more of a catamaran type boat? lol

From: Haechan

why the caps lock you want to make sure I know you’re not getting sea sick?

To: Haechan

F u

Go finish the project on your own

From:Haechan

You’re not much of a help anyway

To: Haechan

And finish yourself off on your own too <3

Excuse me, I’m not much of a help?!?

Your life’s about to end

From: Haechan

If you’re considering staring at me while I actually work on our paper help, I’ve got bad news for you cupcake

You gasped scandalised and threw your phone away. Annoying Haechan and his annoyingly good eyesight, you thought, he deserves to be left on read.

From: Haechan

whoopsie, was I supposed to keep my mouth closed?

You never were supposed to text me in the first place, you mumbled under your breath, suddenly being too worked up by him. His senseless messages made your heart wake up and burn, not with love and passion, with embarrassment and that long forgotten, almost dead feeling of wishing to end his cocky smile and witty brain.

From: Haechan

come on, don’t act like you’re surprised

I thought you were this obvious on purpose

weren’t you?

You stared at the phone blankly, considering your options.

from: Haechan

hey

hey!!

you

to: Haechan

I’ll block you if you won’t stop

from: Haechan

why?

to: Haechan

hey

Hey

You

Hey

You

Fuck

You

like it?

from: Haechan

okay baby go back to what you were doing, bye

to: Haechan

thanks

You reached out for the bedside table in pure darkness, blindly finding your phone. When the gadget was finally in your hands you lit up the screen.

“Fuck”, you mumbled under your breath as the screen burned your eyes. 2 AM, the clock marking an hour and 30 minutes of tossing and turning in bed because everything turned out to be more than you were able to handle. All your thoughts and feelings suddenly were much more than what you could process and you were sincerely dreading the new day that would bring more concerns and more importantly more Haechan.

You needed more random things to flood your mind so they’d be able to overlap the Haechan ones you had because thinking of Haechan in the middle of the night was giving you a headache. Did he think of you too…? Sometimes, maybe, at least at all, ever? How did you end up getting here? You’d chuckle if someone else asked you that question.

Middle of the night, palms sweaty from overthinking too much, heart trembling a little because the boy you used to just have sex with smashed the lock on the door to your feelings with no mercy.

Was he intentionally invading your inner peace? Did he want to stir your feelings as part of his stupid ego stroking, did you imagine things, come up with all that in your head? You needed Lee Haechan to take responsibility for his actions, he overstepped the boundary way too many times, now he flirts with you as an addition to everything else. Baby? Seriously, baby, cupcake was much of a better nickname, at least you knew it was meaningless and not personal. It felt like he wasn’t bothered too much to remember what your actual name was and stuck to something that made your relationship feel like a transaction. Baby is definitely giving a feeling to you, a little too intimate for your liking, it’s like he was claiming he liked you, like he claimed you his something and you were in some sort of relationship.

What if his silly brain already spilled things to his group of friends about you and him? Your heartbeat fastened even more. Oh how you hated yourself for laying in that bed and still thinking of Haechan’s message when it’s been an ungodly amount of hours since he sent it.

Maybe, it’s just you going crazy since that day he took you out.

What if…? You had to toss onto the other side of the bed at the thought. What if he does all of this to play with you? Since the day you told him to not kiss you Haechan seemed to change his game, he just plays to try make you brake the rule of no kissing first. He’s that type of person to do things only to satisfy his own needs and satisfy his ego. Oh god, you had to sigh again.

Were you going through all stages of grief or something like that? Now you’re on the demonising the person of your concerns stage? Sigh, sigh, sigh.

You couldn’t sigh any louder or you'll literally wake up Eunsoo.

Maybe, at this point, you’d really let him do anything to fulfil whatever plan he had. You’d gladly accept defeat if only he’d let you smash your lips against his right this moment, it doesn’t even have to be literally right this moment. If you’d get reassurance you’d be able to do it in the morning you’ll do anything in your power to conquer your feelings and finally fall asleep to hold on till the new day.

“Just to clarify, I was staring at you because I couldn’t stop wondering, if you had brain in that head of yours all along, why did you act like you didn’t, not because of whatever you thought.” you slapped your palm against Haechan’s chest for no particular reason, it seemed to you it’ll give more effect, persuade him more you were telling the truth. A very puzzled expression on the boys face turned into even more confused one as your palm stayed on him for a few seconds.

“Okay?”

“Good.” you nodded, and took a step back.

“I didn’t ask. What are you even on about?” your eyes suddenly glued to his. He still was confused, that’s for sure. Well, who wouldn’t, in all honesty. You popped out of the blue on his way to the campus, first thing in the morning like a psychopath. You weren’t even sure you didn’t look like one.

“Ugh… huh?” your brain processed his question. “What do you mean what I’m on about?”

“When were you staring? I just got here.”

“Your message on Friday.”

“Oh, that.” he smirked immediately. “I was just shitting you, but it seems like I hit the spot right?”

“You- fuck you.”

“Come on, don’t act like you’re not enjoying me texting you.”

“I don’t. You’re always interrupting.”

“Yeah? What exactly did I interrupt on Friday?”

“I-, I was doing something. It’s none of your business.”

“Okay, I’ll stay out of it then.” the slight nod and completely lost interest in his eyes kind of pinched you.

You maybe wanted him to pick on you, push and tease so he’d get straight to whatever he was interrupting but he just didn’t. Did he lose all his interest in you? Or was this just a tiresome Monday morning and he wasn’t in for the game?

You weren’t that much of a talkative friend when it came to him. You weren’t about to giggle and ask him why he's so stiff this morning. You were about to start sweating that’s for sure, your palms were feeling too warm because you maybe wanted to tell him something but maybe talking to him suddenly felt like imposing. Were you about to go insane over Lee Haechan? Over him and the fact he didn’t have a thing to say to you. Since when?

“Okay.” you nodded too and wanted to walk straight past him, but it felt like you made it hard for yourself to breathe. “The presentation of the project is this Wednesday. I’m almost done with the slides but we need to go through the text, who’s saying what, who’s presenting which part and all that stuff.” you didn’t want to look at him anymore while talking. Why did you not want to look at him? You couldn’t understand yourself at all. Your wishful thinking brought you here in front of him early in the morning after almost a sleepless night. Somehow you thought he’d tease you and smile at you and set another date for seeing each other wether it’d be for sex or food or school. At this point you caught yourself not caring at all as long as it’s something to do with him. You could understand the change in your demeanour, but what was up with him? You really wanted to clap in front of his eyes and ask him what’s up.

The change in you obviously scared you. It made you sincerely concerned for your self. You probably needed to talk this out with someone but the more you went through with that first sentence you’d start the conversation with the more you felt self-conscious to bring it up even as a thought that might’ve popped up in your head once or twice.

The more you thought of it the more you brought up heaviness on your shoulders. Were you imagining or did Haechan change? His behaviour seemed colder than before? Did he change his demeanour because he felt you actually fall for his flirting and the pure intentions of his flirting were not to make you fall for him… it was to watch you be uncomfortable?

Were you actually beating around the bush and not admitting to yourself truthfully the four letter word you were feeling towards him. No, not the big four letter word, the smaller one, but very much dear to your heart, very fragile as it still felt like early stages of processing the feeling. And even though your body might’ve not been new to it, since your brain was only able to work it out recently, your body was sent signals to act like the feeling was very new to it too, and it obeyed perfectly.

You actually had to stop yourself, because you were starting to feel even more hot, getting the fact you might’ve looked insane by now, even. You took a quick glance at Haechan’s face, crossing with his stare only to go blank and look away quickly. Was he sensing the inner battle you had and was disgusted? Didn’t want to be part of it? If the two of you stood there a little longer you were sure you’d make yourself cry right there. Overthinking was definitely your specialty.

“We’re super short on time, if you don’t mind splitting the presentation on your own and sending to me my parts-.”

“Yes, I can very much do that.”

“Great, see you around, then.”

“Yes.” you gave him a nod, you’re sure tho it wasn’t seen. Great, now Haechan didn’t even want to prepare the presentation with you in person.

The clock on the wall was barely audible now that the classroom was practically packed with students. Still, the only thing your hearing was focused on were the seconds that turned into minutes. Your eyes were trained on the door and your fingers would stop fidgeting the pen every time someone walked past the entrance but would get back to work every time because every person that walked through the door wasn’t Lee Haechan. Where the hell was he? You closed your eyes for a 5 second breather.

Finally, the clock reached 10 AM, one minute later the professor walked into the auditorium and closed the door right behind him.

“Glad to see you all so cheerful. Bet each and every one of you is thrilled to present your work and get the passing grades?” the young man smiled and cleared his throat, making the whole room quiet.

Again, the quiet room brought the ticking sound upon you. Tic-tac-tic-tac.

to: Haechan

Where are you? We’re 5th to present. Professor's about to start the class.

Your eyes raised at the door once again as one of the students ran in apologising for being late.

“I think I’ll just go sit in the back and let the first group prepare for the presentation?” professors eyes moved over the classroom to see the first ones to stand up. “Oh, Ms. Moon and Ms. Ong, great.” he gave Sua and her partner a nod and non-verbally invited them to the front to set up their presentation.

to: Haechan

Why the hell are you not reading my message?

Your only excuse is you’re running your legs off to get here in time for our turn.

Please?

You had to add when the message was still unread. Did he die by any chance? Overslept because he was memorising his parts till very late at night? You dialled the number - pure silence was what you were met with besides the monotonous rings on the other side of the line.

You had to breathe because not only were you starting to feel overwhelmed by the end of the third groups presentation, you were realising you had almost no time left to run through the parts Haechan was meant to present and prepare yourself at least a little.

“Hey, pst!“ your head snapped in direction of the whisper. “Where’s that little freak?“ Sua leaned over the students in front of her to hear your answer properly, but you had no words for her, you shrugged and turned away to not start bawling your eyes out in panic.

“Mr. Lee and -“ professor announced running his eyes to scan the faces of present students. “I don’t think I see Mr. Lee in here.“ His eyes landed on you, as he called out your surname. “What happened to Mr. Lee? Is he running late? Will you be okay to present on your own?”

”I think- I guess he’s running here so he’s not responding. Could we please listen to the next presentation and return to us later? Please?” The man looked at you for a good minute, probably debating if he should give you time or force you to do it now by yourself. Your teary eyes must have swayed him towards the first option and he gave you a nod, reading off the paper the next project couple.

”Okay, you’re the last one to present tonight.”

”Thank you. Thank you so much.” you trained your eyes on the papers in front of you to memorise whatever Haechan was meant to talk about on those slides. You were agonising, if only you actually put in work to put everything together instead of letting Haechan take care of everything. It felt like you gave in to the devil and now had to pay the price for giving in. Your eyes ran through words but all your brain processed was either ‘fuck you Haechan’ and ‘you better show up before the end of that class’. Actually if he showed up after all the stress you went through right now, you’d choke him right at the entrance.

Currently you were in the state where you barely remembered your own part and what was the topic of the paper at all.

He didn't come. Not when it was 20 minutes before the end of the class, not even when you had 10 minutes left and got up in front of everyone to present.

This very moment you were in the cafeteria with your head hanging low while Aeris hand soothed your back and Sua sat right next to you blabbering non-stop.

"No, I literally knew being paired up with that annoying leech would end up terrible for you. Like I had a gut feeling he's going to find a way to fuck this all up."

"Haechan literally worked his butt off for that paper, I don't think he'd just fleet like that. Must be something serious." Eunsoo pointed and you almost did agree with her, it didn't seem like Haechan wanted to dodge this class on purpose but at the same time you could never know what actually happened in that little shits head and predict his thinking was like punching air - useless.

"Yes, serious, like he has to be literally dead now for it to be serious enough excuse to dodge a presentation class like that. Did he read your texts?" Aeri patted your back for attention. You pulled out your phone to still unread messages and shook your head a no. You were slowly calming down and wished he'd pop up before you as soon as possible so you'd still have fume in you to fight.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad. You literally got an A- and presented perfectly."

"I stuttered like an idiot every 2 words." you spoke for the first time in 15 minutes making everyone relieved.

"If it was actually as bad as it seems to you you would've never gotten an A-"

"I still don't understand why you told that freak took great part in that paper with you. You had a perfect chance to pay him back but instead he gets an A while probably sleeping in his bed comfortably or some shit." Sua shook her head dissaprovingly.

"Should've made him pay for real." Aeri agreed.

"I want to dodge the next class, honestly, I wasn't prepared for that much stress in one morning."

"I can cover for you." Eunsoo suggested.

"And I can dodge the class with you." Sua cackled and Aeri suggested the same.

"I, ugh, I think I'm just gonna go home and stare at the wall and meditate." you excused yourself from the girls company and stood up.

"If you want to you can have the piece of cake in the fridge."

"That's a real sacrifice, Eunsoo, God." you chuckled and pulled yourself together. "Okay, I guess, see ya tomorrow."

"Bye, bye!"

"Don't think about that loser too much!"

As soon as your feet walked up to the disagnated floor you didnt just walk, you stormed to the needed door. Even before your feet stopped at their place, your finger was already pressing into the doorbell.

Of course, you weren't about to go back home, stare at the wall and not think that the stupid boy that stirred your insides for the past couple of weeks suddenly faded like he was never there. He was very much there and he was very much invested in getting a good grade. You heard some shuffling behind the door and as it opened you stared at the boy that never stopped you wondering how can you hate someone even more than you hated them the day before.

"Jesus fucking christ." He exclaimed and pulled your hand off the door bell. "Why the hell you're ringing the bell like that. I'm no Sonic." he let go of your wrist to walk back in, expecting you to do the same.

"So you're not dead, after all." you snorted to yourself and walked in.

"Were there any signs?"

"Are you going to pretend like you didn't miss 100s of my calls and messages and didn't skip the very important class we had to present at?"

"Oh? That was scheduled for today?" he opened his mouth in shock, closing it with his palm afterwards. He was obviously sarcastic.

"You're a psycho." You crossed arms on your chest, not planning to walk in any further into his place.

"Why?"

"You skipped our presentation without a notice."

"Maybe I just really wanted you to realise how much you need me." Haechan pressed his shoulder against the wall and smiled at you with that sweet-sweet smile he could only muster when he wanted to be out of this world annoying.

"You're fucking vicious."

"Why?" he batted his eyelashes.

"I-." you swallowed. You really wanted to scream at him, get into a fight or maybe just be mean and rude and then leave but on your way here that bubbling rage inside of you cooled down a little and you just wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with him to act this way. "Why did I even think for a split second that I can rely on you or that we finally are understanding each other a little bit? You're just out of this world psychotic and I will never ever again agree on doing anything with you. Like even that thing we had going on - it's over. I don't want you lay a single finger on me after that stress you put me through." You wanted to say more but he was quiete and almost dead with the face expression so you decided on turning around and walking away. "oh, by the way, I got you an A so don't you worry bout your grades baby boy." you let him know before walking out and smashing the door after.

When you smashed that door you hoped whole heartedly he'd pull you back in by the wrist and explain himself like all those male leads in romcoms do. And you would fotgive him and he'd pull you into a hug and give you that very much wanted kiss you've been thinking of for the past few weeks. You were in fact ready to forgive him when you walked up to his place if only he put in effort to explain, you were to be honest already partially relieved when you saw him alive and well.

But he didn't make a single sound from behind that door and before you walked back down those stairs you decided you'd act out on your pathetic thoughts and slow down with those steps. What if he was putting on some clothes before chasing you down? Or tying his shoe laces before he could walk out. You waited a little bit longer, before it turned way beyond the limits of pathetic behaviour you set. You had to leave and actually get back home.

Act like you weren't affected by his behavior, change of his mood and the mixed signals that were coming from him. You had to act in front of Eunsoo like Haechan didn't affect you deeply and all your thoughts were centered around him.

You couldn't possibly stop yourself thinking if he took your words seriously or he'd figure you were angry and didn't actually mean you didn't want a single finger of his on you, because if he'd reach out first you knew you would not ignore him.

"You're actually lucky you dipped." Eunsoo walked into your room, arms pulling off the hoodie she wore outside. "Can I sit?" the girl asked pointing at your bed.

You nodded, scooping your books to one side of the bed. You decided that studying would be helpful for your brain to stop pacing from one thing to the other but you were proven wrong about an hour ago but still stared into those books like they were about to give in.

"Haechan didn't show up for the rest of the day. Were you successful in finding out what the hell happened with him?"

"No." you shrugged nonchalantly. "I couldn't care less for his reasons. It's for sure the very last time we're working on something together. I mean, worked."

"It's just weird, maybe I'm overthinking." Eunsoo sighed and rested her head on her palm.

"It is indeed weird." you were trying to understand the girl that was sitting on your bed. Was she just talking to you, did she want you to talk out all the shit you had on your mind about Haechan or she knew something and wanted to dig in further out of pure curiosity. "I'm maybe glad I didn't see him at my peak rage cause I'm sure he would've walked away injured." Eunsoo giggled with her mouth hidden behind her other palm.

"I hope you'll completely let go of this ridiculous situation by Friday and will enjoy the party like the queen of unbotherness that you are."

"What party?" you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before your heart dropped down to your feet. "That catamaran thing Jeno's arranging?" That Haechan is totally attending and totally is not going to reach out to you at as he promised before he would.

"He actually sent me the pics. It's a little better than a catamaran." Eunsoo commented after a chuckle, reaching out for her phone to show you the pics. "Jeno said there's a big outside area."

"Very suitable for the season." You smirked.

"Well, it's still pretty warm, I think a lot of padding will save us. And a big enough inside area for dancing, food and other fun things."

"Fun things like what?"

"Games, I don't know, quiz, whatever comes into his mind. Jeno actually isn't that good with stuff like that so I'm wondering a little what all of this going to look like." she showed you a picture of a massive looking tourist boat, yacht, ship? You couldn't really work out what was the right name for that. "Okay, it's not really a catamaran like. I'll take my words back." You smiled honestly impressed. "Wait, how many people are coming? This feels like an expensive thing to rent."

"Jeno's dad is a best friend to the owner of the company that owns those boats. He's paying almost nothing, so we're lucky for a friend like Jeno." she beamed.

"We-, sure." You couldn't hold back a laugh. You weren't sure you ever had even a simple conversation with Jeno before.

"What?" Eunsoo chewed on her cheek probably finally realising she was smiling all the time she was tlaking about Jeno. Not sus at all, you swallowed.

"You do realise I most likely know none of those people invited except for you and Sua and Aeri."

"You know Haechan."

"I'm definitely far from knowing him." you rolled both your eyes at her words. Even if you thought before you did, it's all gone now.

"Well, you two were off to a good start, before... today, you know." She scratched her brow, suddenly getting off your bed. "Ugh, I'm gonna heat up some rice and fry an egg. You want some?"

"Yes please, thank you." You smiled, watching Eunsoo fade behind the door.

Off to a good start, you thought to yourself and almost pulled the hair from your head.

You had a feeling you should not go. You could name a whole damn list of reasons you should just not attend the party stay at home and watch a movie, read a book, listen to a podcast - the list literally goes on, but there were 2 reasons that were strong enough to influence you to come:

1. You would not allow Haechan to think you skipped the party because you were mad at him;

2. It turned out you were pretty weak when it came to resisting Haechan, you couldn't allow yourself to be in bed for the evening, thinking and wondering if Haechan was there, what was he wearing, what did he smell like today and if he would see you would he let the two of you fall back to complete strangers or make a move?

That's why currently you were standing next to Eunsoo in an elevator that was taking you downstairs. A maxi dress with fitted silhouette in mesh with long sleeves, gathered waist, mock neck and all over pattern in dark dusty blue color hugged your body. You didn't really want to dress all out but the dress was giving warm and secured so you just put it on, getting approving nods from the girl next to you.

"I am not letting you come back home without securing Jeno, like I'm being completely serious right now. I don't understand why he's acting like he's blind. If he's not going to drool over you tonight I'm going to punch some sence into him." you giggled "I'm so tired of watching you two beating around the bush."

"We're not!" Eunsoo protested on her way out of the elevator.

"I'm sure he wanted me there so I'd be your wingman."

"Shut up, for real." Eunsoo rolled her eyes at you.

You quickly got into the taxi that awaited the two of you in front of the building. Soon enough you were on the little ladder that connected pier and the boat. A man helped everyone get safely inside of the boat, you guessed it was the captain. As soon as you entered, violet neon light cut your eyes a little as the blackness of the outside contrasted with lighting much. Jeno stood right at the entrance beaming a smile at everyone that entered.

"Welcome to the Jeno boat, we're about to take you on the best ride in your life." Jeno's eyes immediately glued to Eunsoo, not giving a single glance to you.

"I hope the best boat ride in my life will not end up the way your last party ended." You had to swallow to prevent yourself from laughing. Spotting a bar and Sua right next to it, you didn't even need to excuse yourself, you walked away unnoticed by the two, booing Sua as she reached for the drink placed in front of her by the bartender.

"Boo!" you exclaimed, placing your palm on the girls waist.

"Damn!" She exclaimed first annoyed as her drink almost spilled, turning around to probably swear at you, before she processed it was you, her friend. Sua's eyes ran all over your outfit, her tone completely changing. "Damn girl!" She giggled, placing the drink back at the bar table, reaching out for your palm to twirl you in front of her. You twirled like she wanted you to and made a cute pose as a killing point. "What a pretty dress and what a pretty girl. Want to hook up?" Sua shouted to be louder than the music playing with her brows as she leaned into you, with a voice that she probably considered flirtatious but was just giving away it wasn't her first drink of the night.

"What you're having?" you peeked at the drink behind the girl.

"A Pina colada. This one's actually one of the best ones on the menu. I've tried a few other cocktails."

"Off to a great start." You giggled, ordering the same drink.

"Oh." Sua made a sound staring at the entrance and you almost asked her what was up but you heard the loudest scream and giggles after and by all those noises it was impossible for you to not acknowledge Haechan's presence. You considered turning around and checking out his appearance but you weren't still done proseccing his total black outfit from weeks ago and seeing whatever he was wearing now would probably make you weak in the knees.

The bartender handed you your Pina colada, you taking a sip of the drink immediately.

"It does taste good." You gasped at Sua that was finishing off her glass by now.

"See, I told you it's good. Like, really good, I'm impressed." She giggled and took a look at the bartender "Two more, please." The girl probably caught your shocked stare "for you and me." She added.

"Thank you. Want to take a walk outside?" You smiled, you didn't want to turn around and find Haechan somewhere behind you. You wanted to exit the same area he was in and prepare yourself to actually face him. In addition, you did come there to hang out with your friends and specifically give the boy zero attention. You were trying to keep things as they were planned. You had a little bit of an anxious break down because you had a gut feeling once you turn around you'll get caught by him and he'll tease you till your very last day on earth.

"Yeah, sure. More people coming in. I think, everyone by now must be here." Sua stated, making you turn around quickly, seeing no one in a span of a second. Still you spotted there was indeed more people than before. "Oh, I spotted Aeri." She jumped in place excited, waving at the girl that most definitely couldn't see her yet. "Wait here and get our drinks. I'm going to bring Aeri here." You gave Sua a nod as she took off.

The bartender placed both full glasses in front of you in a minute and as more people were gathering around the bar it was harder to stay there and keep your drinks safe. You could feel the boat start moving in a bit and to confirm your assumption you heard a wild noise coming from Jeno. A very loud 'let's go' that was perfectly heard by you even through the music. You had to turn around because it was too much of a temptation to see what mess he was up to. Well, for now, the mess weren't really there, he scooped his closest friends around him, taking all of them at once to the bar. You had to be blind to not see Haechan under Jeno's right arm. He had to bent his back a little to fit in. As he was smiling widely, showing off his perfectly white teeth, eyes disappearing in pure joy. His hair seemed a little messy, like he didn't style it at all, got out of the shower and let them dry naturally. You had a feeling if you'd touch his hair you'd be able to tell if he blow dried them or not. Haechan wore a graphic t-shirt with a zip up black hoodie and a leather jacket. Skinny black jeans that he wore showed off his skinny built, finishing off the look with his casual white trainers. You had to force yourself to blink to not look crazy.

The boys were chatting and as the tone of their voices got seemingly lower you couldn't even guess what they were saying. Haechan freed himself of Jeno's hold, reaching for the menu on the other side of the bar. You turned away, watching Sua and Aeri approach you.

"Hey." Aeri reached out to hug you. "I see that freaky company is already starting their madness." she rolled her eyes.

"If Jeno's here, where's Eunsoo?" you asked, sincerely curios. You weren't able to see Eunsoo from where you were standing.

"She's at the entrance with a girl that took economics with her. Apparently they've got some serious business discussion." Aeri pointed with her hands where you guessed she last saw your mutual friend.

"Okay." you gave her a nod, trying really hard to not stare to the side all the noise was coming from. The whole place was pretty chill, Jeno's friends or most likely acquaintances filled up the improvised dance floor. There was maybe 50 people, probably even more. You couldn't imagine Jeno knowing all of them. You never saw like 90% of these people before, you wondered if every friend brought a friend and a long chain of people showed up here without knowing who people surrounding them were.

You wondered if Haechan brought anyone too to fill up the cost of the trip or what if he really did bring someone because they were his friend, because they were close and he wanted to see them here? You were jealous because you obviously weren't one of the people he wanted to see here.

When Aeri finally got her drink from the bartender that was finally freed from Jeno's besties order, Sua, Aeri and you walked outside, greeted by the breezy wind. Thankfully, lots of blankets were piled up on one of the stools, the three of you immediately covering yourself in multiple layers of those.

"There's even comfortable outside seating." You exclaimed, quickly moving your limbs over to the leather couch with multiple pillows. "I wonder if those pillows were ever at risk of being thrown away into the sea." you chuckled, making yourself comfortable and making room for your friends.

"I bet these are sewed onto this." Sua dropped herself next to you, pulling onto the pillow.

"Wow they are indeed sewed into this couch." You giggled like it was insanely funny to you. It really wasn't, just the 2nd Pina colada on an empty stomach was making your head spin a little.

"It's making me sick a little." Aeri stared into the water that foamed from under the motor. "If you look for too long its kinda starting to make you sick."

"Don't look." Sua laughed, pulling onto Aeris hand.

"Fine." the girl turned to look at the two of you hidden under the blankets, fingers peeking from under them to hold onto Pina coladas. "Were you able to take a glance at all the guests? Any interesting faces?"

"I couldn't see anyone besides Jeno that greeted Eunsoo and I. More like he greeted her and then he got tunnel vision and I ran away to Sua. That's it. I know nobody here except for Jeno's circle. "

"I heard Jeno's bestie Jaemin brought his girlfriend for the first time to meet his boys." Sua cleared her throat before speaking.

"Sweet." Aeri cooed in unison with you.

"People are saying Jeno threw the party so his friend could confess feelings to someone."

"Who? Jaemin to that girl?"

"I guess." Aeri shrugged.

"Look! The moon!" Sua pointed at the sky, making you jump in your sit with the unexpected loudness.

"It looks like a full moon." Aeri commented.

"It's not. It's waning moon, full moon was yesterday."

"Hi Mr.Moon." you giggled, stretching out a hand from the blanket to wave at the sky.

"Hi." Both Aeri and Sua sang.

"Are you three talking to the moon?" Eunsoo forced the three of you turn around to the entrance door. "How many drinks each of you had?" She laughed, walking up to you.

"Not that many." Aeri protested, more on her behalf than yours and definitely not Sua's.

"You three should come back inside, it's warmer there and they're about to play your favorite song, Aeri."

"What?" Aeri exclaimed like she was cut deeply. "And I'm here staring at the water bubbles battling my wish to throw up?" The girl laughed and stood up immediately. "Sua?" the girl suggested.

"I'm kinda having fun right here." Sua smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"Come on, I thought you two would be right in the center of that dancing pit setting the whole party up." Eunsoo pulled onto Sua's hand making the girl stand up too. Sua placed her half empty glass on something plasticy that seemed like a great storing surface at first. Aeri linked her arm with Sua's, taking the girl back inside in pure silence

"I'm kinda offended." You giggled, looking at Eunsoo that took Sua's place. "Did you not expect me to pump up the party?"

"I did!" Your friend protested weakly. "I actually wanted to tell you something."

"Does this have to do anything with Jeno?" You perked up your ears, gossip was one of the things that made you dead excited. You sipped onto the Pina colada that you tried really hard to not finish off.

"Yeah, kinda." Eunsoo smiled shyly. "Wait, I didn't even have a single drink yet, I'll go get myself one before we talk."

"Sure." you giggled " i'll be right here." Eunsoo nodded with a giggle. "get me one too, please." you shouted as the girl was reaching the door, making sure she did actually hear you.

You closed your eyes for a second, focusing your hearing on the loud music blasting inside. It was really loud and tempting, you did want to come back there and have fun with your friends as soon as Eunsoo spills her secrets. It took her a little longer than you expected to return to you and by the time it felt like it was maybe 10 minutes since she left you started to doubt if she'd even return to you at all. It kinda felt nice, the more you drank the less you were worried about Haechan, so you downed the drink in your hand to take the one Sua left behind.

Finally, you heard the door open once again and the lonely steps signalled that it must be Eunsoo. You opened your eyes only when by your calculations she was about to stand right next to you, ready to reach out your hand for the drink when your smile faded completely as your vision worked out the person in front of you.

Haechan was still smiling at you despite your face dropping completely. There wasn't a chance he couldn't read the room, not understand that you didn't want him here or you dreaded breathing the same air as him. That's the main reason you were spending your time here, outside.

"Can I sit?"

"No." you replied firmly, looking away. Your eyes focused on the inside of your glass as you took a sip.

"Please?"

"No." you stated once again, challenging him with a stare.

"I-ugh, I'm sorry, I'm going to disobey." Haechan scrunched his nose, taking a little glance around and sitting down.

"I'm waiting for my friends!" you protested, moving your body into the farthest corner from where Harchan seated himself.

"Okay, I'm just going to sit here wait for your friends with you."

"I don't want your company."

"I know." Haechan reached out his hand to you palm up. You didn't understand if he expected you to hold it or what was the intention of the gesture, but you ignored it. "You look very pretty tonight, if you don't mind me saying. I wish you didn't have to hide here because of me." your head snapped in his direction. You were so exasperated it took you a good second to start talking.

"I'm not hiding here. Not from you or because of you, of all people." you tried really hard to sound scandalised, to not sound like you were exposed and hurt and very much curios why did he come here and where he wanted to take this.

"Good, because it kinda felt like it-"

"It's not." You didn't let him finish his nonsense.

"Okay. I know you're mad at me, it's obvious. I did screw you up skipping our presentation day." Your eyes glued to Haechan's side while his attention was glued to his own fingers. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry." Haechan moved his eyes to your face, catching you off guard.

"Okay." you gulped before replying.

"I'm really thankful you got me an A even though I made you all stressed out like that." Haechan lowered his voice, teasing his lower lip between his teeth.

"Okay." you nodded quietly not being able to tell him how careless he was and all the things you were practicing because you most definitely was one step away from voicing to him your desires and smashing your lips against his, with the way his teeth were teasing that lower lip.

"Come on, talk to me." The hand that reached out for you before now was gripping carefully onto your knee for attention "If I'm not seeing things that aren't there..." he paused probably picking out words to say, your heart went on pause too. "I probably made you hella confused, I'm so sorry. Whatever I made you think is right." you couldn't find words to talk back so Hyuck continued after a pause "See? I'm trying hard to get over my pride and say I'm sorry. Can't you do the same for me?" Haechan's fingers flexed on your knee.

"I don't have to be sorry for anything." you pressed "If you wanted to say that I was right when I felt like you couldn't care less about me and I wasn't one bit someone worth at least noticing of your plans in advance then thank you for confirmation, I guessed that by now without your help." You tried to shake away his hand off your body. You were feeling a little too warm under his touch.

"I didnt mean that you need to say sorry to me, only the pride part. You really don't want to make it easier for me, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You moved your body more against the back rest, crossing your arms over your chest, your drink close to your mouth. The pineapple smell made you thirsty, you took a sip. If Eunsoo ever planned on coming back it's better she returned with a whole damn tray of drinks with the time it took her, you thought.

Haechans finger still rested over your knee like they were meant to be there. It made you mad a little, that you didn't force him to put it away immediately and now the Haechan fever was spreading over your body.

You reached out a hand, peeling each of his fingers off your knee. Haechan's fingers were freezing, if you weren't mad you would've suggested him a blanket. As soon as he gave in and allowed you to take his hand in yours you reached to take it back to his lap. You wanted to let go as soon as you reached his lap and hide behind the blanket but instead you were caught in claws formed by Hyucks fingers. He forced your palm to rest against his lower stomach, not letting you to win the battle the two of you suddenly had.

"Let go." You tried to sound threatening.

"Not until you're forgiving me."

"Then you'll have to freeze to death and I'll watch you drown in the ocean, Jack." you smarted.

"It's a river, Rose." he cackled, always being ready for a comeback.

"Shut up, I know." You tried to pull your hand out of his hold as it felt like he loosened his grip, but as soon as he could feel you move his hand pressed yours back against his stomach.

Your other hand still held onto the glass and you downed whatever was in there to free your hand.

"I know you know." Haechan smiled warmly at you. You looked at him a little confused, was it the Pina colada or the way his fingers were gripping onto yours? "Are you done with your drink?" the boys finger pointed at the empty glass in your hand. "I'll take it, okay?" Reaching out the next moment to take the glass from you.

You watched Haechan place the glass back to where Sua stored it before. He moved slowly, like he had all the time in the world. You wondered if anyone will eventually walk out that door to have a smoke break or if Jeno will look for Haechan to set you free. Or Sua, or Aeri, or literally anyone. You still had a little hope Eunsoo will remember she wanted to share her news with you and return.

You were buzzing a little inside if you were honest to yourself. Haechan did find you himself, he did say he's sorry, he did hold your hand like he wanted for you two to be closer. Still, he didn't really say anything besides he was sorry. It wasn't enough for you to get your guard down, to let him play you like he wanted to.

"You can let go of my hand, it's not like I'm going to run away from here anyway." you said calmly. You had that warm aura under the blanket, it was pitch black outside but the lights from the inside were making the dim light come through to where the two of you were sitted. Same for the music, you could still hear pretty clearly the muffled sound coming from the inside. It made you reminisce a little about that time Haechan took you out. You moved your eyes onto his face features. Haechan's face softened too as he saw you relax more. You wondered if he thought of that time too, how he rested his head on your lap and made you run your fingers through his hair. If he'd ask you to do that now, you wouldn't mind agreeing.

"Promise?" You gave him a slight nod. "I want us to go back what we had."

"I-" your face dropped a little as the words left his mouth, he clearly felt that as his face expression mirrored yours. He was putting effort for you to allow him the sex he talked about. "I'm not going to sleep with you." you pulled your hand out of his grip, finally.

"I mean to what we had for the last couple of weeks. When we were partners in the project and friends." Your head snapped back in Haechan's direction. "I mean it. I want to be your friend." you blinked at him wordlessly. You felt a little too warm under all those blankets while Haechans ears were seemingly turning pink from the cold outside. You reached out to him with no sound at all, lifting up his palm the moment he realised you were reaching out to him. You ignored the gesture once again, moving up to feel the temperature of his nose and ears with the back of your hand.

"You're freezing. You'll get sick." you half whispered, taking all those blankets off your body. As you sat straight and gathered all the blankets left behind by girls you had to get on your knees on the couch as the dress you were wearing was way too narrow on the legs and didn't allow you to move however you wanted to. "I can share a blanket with a friend." you added quitly, bitting onto your lips afterwards as you busied yourself with covering Haechan who you could tell with your side vision bit into his cheek, staring at you intently.

"Honestly..." Haechan brought your attention to his lips, while your hands reached to his chest with a blanket "You look very pretty tonight..." You pressed your palms against Haechan's chest when you felt his palm very up your thigh, you could feel his fingers tight on your bum. Your heart hitched, you needed immediate medical help but all you got is Haechan’s tightened grip as he felt your body lose balance and give in to him a little "Like, saying this as a friend, very pretty." he added, moving his hand up onto your waist to prove to you it was a friendly gesture indeed. Like he was just trying to help you keep your balance.

"Thank you." you gulped, reaching out to put one more blanket over the boys body, when you felt a little like giving in. It didn't really have to be all the way him, you felt like you had to give him something too. You couldn't really process your own thoughts let alone processing whatever was happening between you two. You sat back down onto your knees next to Haechan, smoothing out the blanket like a caring person over a sick someone. Haechan watched you intently, it almost felt like he could see the thought process inside you, not moving and giving you all the time you needed. You leaned in to him slowly, Haechan's hand sliding up your back the closer you got to him. Your eyes ran over his features, he was as attractive as you could remember him being that day you felt for the first time that he can be attractive. You thought back for a second and wondered if that day even was the first time you thought about him in that way.

You moved one of the hands that supported you from Haechan's chest onto his cheek. You really wanted to caress his cheek like that since that time he rested his head on your lap. You ran the fingers up the skin and it felt even softer than what you imagined. Haechan smiled under your touch, sincerely, you could feel that because you just witnessed him being sincerely happy with his friends. You were feeling overwhelmed with the fact he was right under you, open to anything you would suggest and do. He never felt more real and sincere than now even though he wasn't saying anything at all. You could feel your ears burn with everything you felt for Lee Haechan. His hand that now rested at the back of your neck didn't give you any pressure at all. It felt like it was there just in case you were about to dissappear and he'd catch you.

You pecked the corner of his lips quicker than he would be able to process it, quicker than you were able to process it yourself. Haechan's head moved in your direction as you were pulling away, he tried to catch your lips with his but you paced away and he let you move as far as you wanted to.

"I want more." He whined, moving his other hand onto your waist.

"As a friend?" you mused, feeling his hand crawl from the back of your neck to grip onto your face.

"Yeah, as a friend." he smiled even more, his palm now pulling you closer to him. You gave in kissing the other corner of Haechan's mouth. His eyes closed, letting you know he liked it. You smiled to yourself, you've seen Haechan at the peak of pleasure numerous times but somehow the face expression he made now made you the happiest. You pecked his jaw, peppering more confident kisses all the way down his neck, Haechan's fingers still holding onto your face in the process.

"Straddle me." he groaned, as you raised your head to wet your lips.

"My dress's too tight, I can't." your pointing finger touched his neck softly where the lipstick stain was visible, Haechan's skin reacted to the touch, sending chills to the back of his neck.

"Why'd you wear something like that..." Haechan looked you in the eyes. "Always trying to make things harder for me, even with the clothes you wear. Right, baby?" you held back a gasp the very last moment before it escaped your throat. It must've looked terrifying from Haechan's perspective, your face expression, like you were about to pass out just at the sudden pet name once again. You froze a little because it was hard for you to process the next steps. Haechan on the other hand moved under you, freeing his body of all those blankets you carefully placed on his body not that long ago. His legs spread more and you sat back on your heels to not get in his way and watched what he was up to. He pulled himself more against the backrest, trying to pull the pillow behind him to the side and making you giggle.

"These are sewed on this."

"Shit." Haechan swallowed a laugh, suddenly grabbing onto your thighs to guide you next to him on the other side of his body. His hand guarded your neck from the uncomfortable pillow-less side of the couch, comfortably wrapping around your body. His other hand guided your legs over his thigh and covered the both of you with the blankets. You kept your body a little distanced from Haechan, at least it's upper part. It only felt comfortable to rest your head on his chest, so you did that, making the both of you closer than before. Haechan slid his hand down to hug your waist and both your hands locked round his neck. It felt a bit surreal if you were to think about it, you were volunteerely snuggling with Lee Haechan of all people, at a party.

Haechan was finally done with piling back onto you all those blankets, creeping up a hand onto your cheek. It quite literally felt like a fever dream. Feeling Haechan's fingers on your freezing skin, while staring into your eyes so sweetly and deeply. Your heart skipped a bit when he licked his lips suddenly, making it feel like he'd lean in and kiss you now. He didn't, though, and it really felt like a teasing contest and despite both contestants very clearly dying to touch each other's lips and get lost in each other, they held back with the very last strings of sanity and didn't want to lose that competition. Haechan's fingers ran through your cheek consistently, you would've purred if he'd kiss you in reward.

"I feel dizzy." Haechan commented, breaking the silence between you two. Dear lord, if only the boy knew how dizzy you felt from keeping yourself composed.

"Are you sea sick? Did you have too many drinks?" you blabbered. It was a little too clear he didn't feel actually sick.

"No I'm dizzy because of you." He voiced out what you were feeling, you were so overwhelmed with his presence and his warmth and the fact he smelled so good and so... dear to your heart, your fingers pulled his neck more against your face. Haechan moved more, getting his lips against your cheek.

"I need you to know, I like you so much." his lips pressed against your cheek as he said it, making his nose press against you aswell. You felt like he entirely pushed you more against his body. You needed medical help, immediately. Your heart wasn't used to this sort of emotions.

"Shut up." you shot back immediately to hide the gasp that exceeded you, instead of a thought thrugh answer. You didn't expect him to be so blatant after all the pining you've put yourself through, you would've never guessed he'd say something like that. But then again, you were constantly proven you can never know what will be Haechan's next move.

"I'm serious." he pressed and forced your eyes to find his.

"How much did you have to drink?" you tried to back out. It was so terribly difficult for you to jump over the metaphorical wall so suddenly, let him know verbally that everything he felt was mutual. Surprisingly you turned out to be more stubborn in that sence than Haechan himself.

"I didn't have a single drink, which I know is not in any way relatable to you. Still, I'm not able to get your guard completely down and have your heart open for me." Your eyes ran down his neck and chest.

"It is, open." you mumbled. "I... you can clearly tell everything is the same for me? Don't make me struggle." Your fingers played with the fabric of his shirt on the shoulder, while your brain fought back and didn't let you say you liked Haechan even more than he could've imagined.

"Look me in the eyes, at least." He whispered and your eyes moved back to his face but were unable to focus on them. Haechan moved his head towards you at the same time and the second you caught up with his actions you felt his lips on yours.

Something between a moan and a cry exceeded your mouth. Your hands gripped immediately onto his neck with force, even if Haechan intended on keeping the kiss sweet and slow he quickly scratched those intentions when he could feel how badly you needed him.

He felt just like that last kiss that lingered on your lips for weeks. You loved his lips like that, warm, plump and all yours. He clearly was more than ready to speed up the pace and once it was clear the two of you were on the same page, Haechan deepend the kiss. He sucked on your lower lip, slowly turning you onto your back. He clearly forgot about your dress situation, trying to place himself between your legs.

Haechan's hand carefully held the back of your head to not hurt you from the solid armrests of the couch. Your tongues started a battle that was impossible to win. Haechan's other hand firmly gripped onto your waist, while his leg finally was able to get between yours. You almost found it in you to worry about the dress getting ruined and stretched out but you felt Haechan's mouth leave yours and the sudden breath of fresh air made yourself even more dizzy than before. You lost all the thoughts in your brain.

Your fingers ran through the boys hair, brushing the strands back and making a whole mess in place of his hairstyle. Haechan leaned back to peck your lips, then lowering his lips to your neck. You tightened your fingers in his locks, forcing a purr from his throat, that happend to land on your neck. Your hips moved against his thigh unconsciously, making yourself heated in a whole different way.

"Haechan." you half moaned. His tongue played with the skin of your neck, drawing tiny lines and sucking it in with his lips. As his chin moved the fabric of the dress lower down your skin, Haechan's licks and sucks became more aggressive, in addition with little bites you could feel him suck in a hickey at the base of your neck.

Your center rubbed against his thigh unconsciously, while you were shivering under his touch, creating friction for Haechan as well.

"This is just a little reminder in case you're black out drunk and won't remember what boundaries we overstepped." he pecked the skin that must've been red and moved his face back in front of yours.

"I am not." you smiled at him and let go of his hair to hold his cheeks between your hands. They felt so soft, so velvety, and the way you squeezed them between your palms made him look like the softest person ever.

"Then it's for me to know it wasn't just a fever dream." You smiled at him even wider, pulling his head closer and pecking his lips. Haechan kissed you back slowly, rubbing his body against yours in a very lazy manner. His mouth left yours, hiding his face against your neck, closer to your ear and nibbling on the skin there. It felt so good to have his body weight pressing you down that outside couch. You couldn't care less if someone was about to come outside, even if they did you wouldn't be able to move yourself an inch away from Haechan's body. Your only regret was that neither of you had magical powers so you'd be able to move to your bedroom this very moment and be able to have each other for the rest of the night.

"Kiss me more." you whispered needy. Even you were dreading the clothing choice by now, you needed his touch, you needed the feeling of his skin on yours, anything that would make you a little more closer to him would do.

You were starting to get greedy, only recently you thought you'd die just from the kissing and now you needed more and more.

Haechan raised his head and smashed his lips against yours, smirking for a slight second beforehand.

"So needy for my kisses and just a week ago you acted like you never wanted to kiss me." he mumbled into your mouth.

Haechan's body grinded against yours with full force now and you couldn't possibly ignore him getting hard on top of you. You definitely weren't about to have sex on the outside terrace of the boat and you hoped he didn't think of that either. You had to find power in you to stop before it got painful for him.

"Haechan-ah." you moved your head back only to be followed and caught with his lips once again. "Baby?" you placed your palms on his chest, pushing the boy away. You tried the pet name to get his attention and it clearly worked. Your own heart did a flip, you couldn't imagine what he felt, you definitely smashed a few layers of bricks on your metaphorical wall with a cannonball "Don't you think we need to slow down?" you asked softly, directing your eyes between your bodies. You felt like Haechan's cock twitched in his pants.

"Right." he cleared his throat and pushed his weight off your body, extending his arms to keep the distance. He stared at you for a good second, leaning back to peck you quickly. "I do need to cool down a little." you gave him a nod and watched him get up with a smile. You sat back on the couch, Haechan making himself comfortable right next to you. His pants did look terribly uncomfortable on him now, you noticed and you were hoping the cool wind would help him calm down quickly because it wasn't like you wanted to give him a blowjob in the middle of a party. Or more like maybe you did, but not right here in a public setting and besides that you wouldn't let him know even that you had the thought, he'd get even more excited than before.

"I'm sorry, I should've pulled you off me the moment I felt you." You moved closer and rested your chin on his shoulder. "Do you need a blanket?" you asked, Haechan's head turning in response and getting too close to you to resist to kiss him. Before he could answer you closed that centimetre between you and pecked his lips quickly.

"No, I need the calm down, don't kiss me." he grunted in a cute way.

"It's just a peck." you tried to hold back a smile.

"It's your needy stare and your lips on mine and everything else and I don't think I'm going to calm down while you're here."

"So you're excited just by presence?" you teased.

"Very much." He replied coolly.

"I'm never eating sugar again."

"Why?" he furrowed his eyebrows confused.

"Sugar combined with the new side of your personality will probably give me diabetes." you smiled at him expectantly, Haechan giggled, hiding his face in his palms.

"You're so stupid." he shook his head in his hands. "You're very lucky I'm blinded by love otherwise I would've booed you."

"It was a good joke." you mumbled, trying really hard to act nonchalantly at his words. Blinded by love, was he about to say he loved you right on that couch too? You were feeling sick to your stomach.

It got quiet between you two once again, you wondered what he thought of to calm himself down. You were just enjoying the comfortable silence right next to the boy you liked.

You sneaked your hand in the space between his arm and his thigh, facing it upward and extending your arm further, for Haechan to properly see it in his lap and be able to interact with it. You rested your cheek against his shoulder once again.

You were very much thankful for the cool breeze outside because your palm was currently sweating and the nerversness was crawling up your throat. You hoped the gesture was clear enough for him to act on it, but you closed your eyes in case of failure. Haechan shuffled under you and you opened your eyes to see what he was doing, and he was looking at you, bending his neck given your current position.

Once he saw you look back at him his head turned back to look down his lap, where your hand was. You couldn't feel how you started to bite your lip in nervousness but you could very clearly feel Haechan's freezing cold palm land on yours. You opened your fingers and as he did the same, you interwind your palms. His grip was tight around your fingers and you did the same, letting him know you were serious about it. Haechan forced your hands up and to his lips, kissing the back of your palm. You wrinkled your face in relieve, even though it seemed more like you were in pain, and kissed his shoulder.

He then proceeded to fall back against the backrest and you did the same, hands still in each other's hold. You sat hand in hand for a little while, feeling so good next to him without any excessive intimacy. You couldn't remember when or how both of you started kissing again. The kiss wasn't as passionate as before, the both of you filled that longing and now both your brains knew it ain't going to be the same as before, you won't have to hold back your feelings. You kissed steadily, Haechan's thumb slowly caressing your palm in his hold.

"We should go back." you mumbled through the kiss. "Your friends and my friends must be looking for us."

"They clearly aren't." he giggled. You smiled and couldn't agree more. You probably spent outside at least two hours, in which there was no signs of Eunsoo, the girl that promised to get you a drink.

"What if someone walks in on us being too explicit?"

"No one will, besides, i don't think we're in any way explicit by now."

"How'd you know? The doors are open. You're just lying to me, right?"

"No, Jeno keeps everyone occupied."

"You're lying?"

"I'm being serious, I'm not going to lie to you anymore."

"So you'll tell me why you skipped our presentation?" you voiced out the question you wanted to ask him for a while now.

"I-" he sighed like he was suddenly tired "Can I not?" he asked softly.

"No, you really hurt me. If we want to go further, I want to know why."

"It was the trial day for that stupid case. I totally forgot about it because I was with you all the time but Jeno texted me if I'm going to be on time the next day and I was so confused." Haechan trailed off, looking into the water, like he didn't want to tell you the bad news and you blinked multiple times to not get yourself worked up.

"What were you sentenced to?" You asked concerned but moreover scared. You were so scared it'd be something bad it'll break your heart.

"My case was closed for lack of evidence." You sighed loudly, not even trying to hide from him you were relieved. "I didn’t steal anything and I was clean because I was with you when they were doing shit..." Haechan looked you in the eyes again, squeezing your palm. "Its thanks to you I am here today with no probation period or some other shit. They made me come as a witness, but I don't really know anything and even if I did I would've never said a thing."

"I'm so glad you're fine." you let him know.

"I know. I should really stay next to you to stay out of trouble." you smirked and then giggled and hid your face in the crook of his neck next. Haechan stared at you teasingly and you couldn't resist running away from those eyes.

"Okay, maybe we should come back inside." you gave him a nod against his skin. "Can we stay close to each other for the rest of the night?"

"I have to see my friends too tho." you rose your head up to see him.

"And tell them all about me?" he smirked and you couldn't stop thinking how attractive he looked that very moment.

"No, Sua doesn't really like you. I have to prepare her before saying anything" You came up with the mildest version you could at the spot. You didn't want to make him upset and tell him neither of them seemed to like the idea of Haechan right next to you and you weren't in the mental state yet to explain to them everything. Or explain anything to him, it felt perfectly enough for you to just have this little secret between you two.

"But you do?" Haechan let go of your hand to enjoy your reply.

"Shut up." you teased, forcing yourself to unglue from the boy and stend up. It's needless to say it was a difficult task to finish.

Now that you could feel how breezy it was outside you wanted to just fall back into the warmth Haechan shared with you. You turned around checking out the boy that still sat on the couch, giving you a blank stare.

"You're staying here?"

"I'll follow behind." he smiled and watched you take a step away.

"Okay." you gave him a nod and walked away further, turning away to properly walk inside. You were getting cold with how long it was taking you to walk back in. As your feet almost brought you inside you turned around with the door half opened. Watching Haechan get up and walk around the couch towards you. His eyes were set on his phone and he probably thought you were already inside, when you ran back to him, catching him off guard mid-way.

"I need you to know too, that I like you a lot." you said in one breath, holding on to his waist. Haechan beamed a smile and you couldn't resist smiling back. His fingers quickly found your cheeks to hold you in place for a quick kiss before you finally turned around and walked back in, scanning the room for Sua, Eunsoo and Aeri.

333 notes · View notes

squoxle · 1 year ago

Text

Golden Rule - L.HS ff ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

🎧 pairing: inexperienced!heeseung x badgirl!reader

🎧 summary: your cute and nerdy classmate lets you have your way with him in exchange for help on an assignment

🎧 cw: corruption and exhibitionism kink, oral (m. receiving), religious themes, mentions of bullying, college au, hee’s a bit subby

🎧 wc: 1.4k

You had been feeling horny for the entire week and knew you had to get your hands on some good dick or else you’d literally combust.

Introducing your person of interest: Lee Heeseung.

He was the type of guy you could guess everything about without even speaking to him. From his glasses, the way he tucked his ironed dress shirts into his belted pants, the way you only saw him either sitting with his legs crossed at a church sermon or studying his heart out at the library.

Heeseung was the epitome of a Christian nerd, but it was his insanely good looks that drew your attention to him in the first place.

You two first met at the beginning of the school semester, but you weren’t sure if you could call it a friendship just yet, especially not with the way you’d fantasize about him with your fingers between your legs every night.

It currently 6:00pm: the same time he’d come to the library to study every week day.

“What’re you working on,” you asked, taking a seat beside him at the table.

“Nothing much. Mr. Sweeney gave me this stupid hand written essay that I have to turn in by tomorrow, so I’ll be pretty busy for the next few hours.”

“What for? I thought Mr. Sweeney taught Bible. There aren’t any writing assignments for that class.”

That’s honestly the only reason why you took Bible class this semester.

“He does, but this isn’t a part of the curriculum. It’s a punishment for the prank I pulled on Jake and his crew yesterday… let’s just say, I didn’t get away with it as easily as planned.”

“Oh, so you do have a naughty side?”

“Hardly,” he sharply defended, “All I did was swap their video game discs out with episodes of The Brady Bunch on dvds. But, Sunghoon snitched, so now I’m here.”

“Tough.”

“I know. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, anyways.”

“Nobody deserves to be bullied, Hee. Those guys were assholes and you stood up for yourself! They’re the ones who should be playing Shakespeare for the night,” you argued passionately.

His eyes widened at your use of a swear word, such language that was forbidden by your university code of conduct.

“I appreciate you taking sides with me, but please don’t call it bullying. Makes me feel all… soft, and… vulnerable,” he cringed at his own words.

“You look pretty soft and vulnerable to me,” you mumbled, hungry eyes falling to his pouty lips.

“Excuse me?”

You cleared your throat, “Uhm, what’s the paper on?”

“The Golden Rule.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “The what?”

“Loving your neighbors as yourself? You should really pay more attention during Mr. Sweeney’s sermons.”

You chuckled at his comment, nudging him on the shoulder, “Hey, maybe I would if he wasn’t so damn boring… How many pages does it have to be?”

He sighed, “10 at least.”

Having to come of with 10 pages worth of “Golden Rule�� greatness sounded much more challenging than you knew it actually was.

All he had to do was write in VERY BIG LETTERS.

You peered over his shoulder, examining the paper. He was just getting started on page two.

“Hmm. We have similar handwriting,” you added, making Heeseung look at you with his desperate doe eyes.

“Oh my God, ____! You have to help me!”

“Watch out, church boy. The pastor might make it 11 pages if he hear’s you calling the Lords name in vain.”

“Ughhhh,” his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he groaned, “Can you please just help me out?”

“Uh-huh, and why would I do that?”

“Look, I’ll do anything! You’re a way stronger writer than I am, and my brain is in the verge of kermitting suicide!!”

He was right. Writing was never a strong subject of his, so he really did need your help.

“Fine,” you gave in, looking around the library before whispering in his ear, “If you can be quiet while I suck you off until you finish page two, I’ll do the rest.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, “What?”

“You heard me,” you said cattily, sneaking under the table and between his legs.

“____, get from down there!! This is inappropriate!”

“Says who,” you giggled, unbuckling his leather belt.

“We’re not a married couple, ____. Hell, We’re not even dating!” He whisper-yelled from above the table, fidgeting with the pencil in his hand.

You could feel how tense he was just my touching his thighs, “You’ve never been approached like this before, have you?” You asked yet stated.

He took a deep swallow, already feeling himself throbbing in his pants, “Of course not… I’m trying to save myself here, y’know?”

“Aww, that’s cute,” you pouted, rubbing his bulge through his boxers.

“F-fuhh,” he mumbled, screwing his eyes shut at the feeling, “I don’t know if I can do this, ____.”

“With God, all things are possible, Hee! You should really pay more attention during Mr. Sweeney’s sermons,” you mocked, shimmying his boxers down to his ankles.

You adjusted yourself under the table before grabbing a hold of his impressively large dick, starting with gentle pumps.

“I’m not hearing the pencil penciling, Hee. Be a good boy and keep writing,” you slithered in a sing-song voice, licking a stripe up his shaft. The foreign texture of your tongue sent pleasurable shivers down his spine.

“____,” he cried with a surpressed moan, “how am I supposed to focus when you’re down there doing that?!” He worried, looking around as if waiting for someone to catch you two.

You released your lips from his heat with a pop, “Down here doing what, Hee? Sucking your virgin dick in the library? I always knew you had a naughty side.”

“Mmm,” he moaned again, rutting his hips up into your mouth, “please tell me you’re almost done, ____.”

You grinned at the sound of his begging, feeling yourself grow wetter with each second you spent between his legs, “Depends on if you either finish that last page or cum in my mouth first.”

Taking him past your lips again, you bobbed your head up and down, stroking the remaining inches you couldn’t fit comfortably in your mouth.

He tried his best to keep writing, but with that way you were sucking him off, his hands couldn’t help but drop the pencil before getting lost in your hair.

“Fuck,” he whined, finally letting the word come out.

He started to use your head like a toy as you sucked him in even harder, “just like that, baby. Please don’t stop.”

You were surprised by how his body slowly submitted to you the more you pleasured him.

Meanwhile, he was surprised that this was actually even happening. You moaned with the gag that tried to escape your throat, clinging to his thighs as your tried to hold in your sounds.

Your eyes started to poke with tears as he used your head more aggressively than before, finally shooting his warm load down your mouth, panting as if he’d just ran a marathon.

“Shh, you’re so noisy,” you teased, stroking him to a point of overstimulation.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he whimpered, taking your hands in his to stop your ministrations.

You licked the cum that dripped from your mouth before pulling his pants back up, getting from under the table.

You fixed your hair with your hands after literally just getting your face fucked by your sweet classmate, taking in his hot and bothered frame.

“How was it?” You asked casually, sitting next to him as if nothing happened.

You tried to ignore the sticky moisture that stuck to your thighs from your own arousal, figuring that you’d think about this moment while you pleased yourself later.

“Amazing,” he said with a shaky breath, still feeling his orgasm fresh in his veins.

“I’m taking about the page you just wrote, silly,” you teased, moving the sheet of paper closer to you before examining what he came up with, “Dude!”

“What, dude?” He asked back with flushed and sleepy features.

“This is garbage!” You exclaimed, ripping the piece of paper in half.

“Yeah, I don’t know why you would’ve expected anything different.”

“Gimme that,” you retorted, snatching the pencil from his hand, “I’m gonna need some coffee to write all these pages for ya…”

“Ugh,” he groaned, understanding that you were indirectly asking him to get you something to drink.

“Iced?”

“Always.”

He got up from the seat, searching through his backpack before pulling out his wallet, “Thanks by the way,” he smiled, trailing to the library exit.

“What can I say? It’s the Golden Rule,” you replied, jotting down the first of many sentences you’d write for Lee Heeseung, the guy you just blessed with the best blow job of his life.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon

#enhypen #enhypen ff #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines

389 notes · View notes

ugotcooneycrossed · 2 years ago

Text

take a look at my girlfriend (she's the only one i got)

leah williamson x reader

w/c: ~1k

captain leah is proud of all her accomplishments- but calling you her girlfriend is her favourite

a/n: au where leah doesnt [redacted]😩😭

also i think its important to know that this song is based off of cupids chokehold- which i thought said CUCKHOLD😭 so when i googled it, p**n popped up😭

------------------------------------------------------------

If you’d ask Leah what her favourite award that she’s brought home is, some might think she’d answer with the Euro trophy- and yes, while she does love that one.

She definitely loves you more.

She knows because, you’re the only she doesn’t mind, that interrupts her beauty sleep. You’re the first thing she thinks of in the morning and the last thing she thinks of before she sleeps. Leah thinks that if she had to choose between you and the sun- she’d never see the light of day again. And she’s okay with that. As long as you’re by her side.

She wakes to you kissing her bare shoulder, your fingers brush her hair back and smooth it over.

“Leah babe, come on- we have to get to the stadium soon, need I remind you we have a game?”

Leah hums- cracking an eye open, you sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at her softly.

“Pancakes?”

“Of course, they’re waiting for you in the kitchen babe.”

Leah pulls you down into a kiss- and you melt into each other’s embrace, melding together like two puzzle pieces. You let her distract you with kisses- cuddling in bed for a few more moments. You pull away, when you feel her cold fingers graze your stomach- slapping her hand away, you move to stand up.

“Leah Williamson! Stop! You have to get ready.”

You leave her in bed with a final kiss to the crown of her head and Leah melts back into the covers- she’d retire if it meant you could stay in bed for a couple more hours.

“Leah!”

You sit with Leah in the change room, you always arrive a few moments before most of the other girls- Leah says it’s because she’s captain and needs to be here earlier than the others but you know she likes the quiet with you before the girls arrive.

The conversation between you two is mundane, something about what groceries you need to get later today. Honestly, Leah hasn’t been paying attention because she’s been admiring the way you absentmindedly run your fingers along her arm and the way you unconsciously move closer to her- by now you’re half in her lap.

“Lee?”

Leah snaps out of her daydream of you and presses a kiss to your hand.

“Yeah babe.”

“Oh… nothing I love you.”

It fills Leah with a special kind of warmth- knowing that you are hers, and hers alone. She loves you, and you love her.

She loves the way you know exactly what she needs after a hard day.

She loves the way you’ve supported her through thick and thin- through every win, and every loss. You’ve done it together. Right by each other’s side.

Leah knows what love is because of you.

“You guys are sickening- truly.”

Katie’s loud laugh echoes as you chase her out the doors.

Leah’s got a little skip in her step as she makes her way to where you sit on the bench. It’s half-time and she’s already spent but seeing you brings a newfound energy.

She stops in front of you tapping her cheek, you smooth her hair back, smile and press a delicate kiss to her cheek, that has her smiling from ear to ear.

Just before she goes back on the field for the second half- she stops you, initiating your secrete handshake. Leah pulls you into a last-minute hug after, rubbing your back and kissing your neck- she whispers into your ear.

“My good luck charm.”

You’re at home injured during an away game- Leah’s missed you terribly, and much to the dismay of her teammates she’s been very cranky.

“Come on Lee, just a few more hours, then you can see your girl again. You can hold out till then, can’t you?”

The look she sends Gio has the younger girl crashing back into her seat next to Katherine- the pair smiling nervously at their captain.

Leah ends up sulking in her seat the entire journey home.

Eventually, finally Leah comes home to you asleep on the couch- and she tries to be quiet, but when her bags hit the floor and your head shoots up, she knows it’s too late.

You jump of the couch, flailing around- injury long forgotten as you jump in her arms.

“Leah! Baby I missed you so much!”

Leah doesn’t care enough to pack away, or shower- all she does is climb in bed with you resting comfortably in her arms once again.

Leah’s doing the dishes, after you’ve made dinner- an agreement when you found she couldn’t even make toast without something going wrong.

“What are you doing smiling at the dirty dishes?”

“Just thinking about how I’m going to marry you one day. Speaking of, will you marry me?”

“Win a world cup first, then I’ll consider it.”

Leah shoots off as soon as the final whistle blows- there’s only one person she’d rather share this moment with. She finds you standing alone- eyes closed soaking in the moment of just winning the world cup.

She crashes into you and lifts you up in a bone crushing hug- pulling you into a kiss, both of you too wrapped up in your own world to notice the cameras capturing the sweet moment.

“We did it baby!”

You hold each other- crying softly together before the team end up crushing you both in hugs. You can see them all yelling, screaming, and crying.

But it’s only Leah you hear. In the midst of the chaos of your team celebrating, with Ella yelling at the top of her lungs, it’s only Leah you hear.

“You’ll marry me now, yeah?”

You nod- pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Leah Williamson I would marry you in a heartbeat.”

Leah still buzzing off of the win when she’s whisked away to post-match interviews. She’s sure her smile hasn’t left her face, and it only grows bigger when they show the clip of her running to you.

“Yeah that’s my fucking girlfriend!”

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

883 notes · View notes

kangaracha · 1 year ago

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 10

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

The studio is silent when you enter, the door clicking softly shut behind you. Neither of its occupants stir, even though Chan had just called out for you to come in when you'd knocked; he's staring at his computer screen now, fingers hovering over a keyboard as he listens. Han is on the other side of the room, fast asleep on the sofa with him mouth hanging half-open.

A coffee cup sits in the ground next to him and his phone dangles from relaxed fingers, dangerously close to falling. You lean over and grab it just as it starts to slide from his grasp; Han doesn't stir, not even when your shadow falls over his face. You catch a glimpse of his phone screen before your thumb locks it, long lines of lyrics set out in a basic notes app, the top bar lined with notifications; you put it down hurriedly on the armrest of the sofa, not wanting to pry.

When you look up, Chan is watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hi," you say, turning your back on Han. Your hands are awkward after touching his phone - you fold them in front of you, one hand twisting at the fingers of the other.

"Hi," he replies softly, and smiles - something that's meant to be encouraging, you think, but this is so far out of your normal routine that you don't think there's anything that would let you just relax, rather than standing here awkwardly in the middle of the room with nothing else around to draw his attention.

"There's another chair over there," he says, pointing to the corner behind you. "Come and listen to this."

A clear goal. An easy one to achieve too - the breath rushes from your chest as you drag the chair over to his desk, some of the tension in your limbs draining out with it. You sigh again as you sit down, this time as your tired body presses back into the seat and finally finds relief - you've been engrossed in practise all day, sliding right past lunch and nearly dinner too, barely stopping for a break. Not that you'd meant to, you knew better than that, but when you'd felt like you were actually getting somewhere-

"You look tired," Chan comments as he hands you a set of headphones, one hand idly untangling the wire as it stretches out to you. His voice is decidedly neutral, his tongue lazy as it lets the English syllables slide past one by one. He talks to you in English almost all the time recently, you've noticed; ever since the album released, or maybe a little before. Not that you mind. English is...comfortable, in a way that Korean sometimes isn't. It's always been easier for you to be Australian.

"Practise was good today, though," you reply. "I feel like I might actually be able to dance in the group without sticking out now."

"You've been doing that for a while," Chan says, bemused. "Lee Know didn't have anything to say at all the other day."

You can't help the derisive snort that escapes your mouth, swallowing the acerbic laugh that tries to follow it before you can make even more of a fool of yourself. It's so rude; maybe you are tired. You certainly aren't as careful as you usually are, even though you know that can preclude trouble. "I don't think he's being as hard now that I'm not debuting in two weeks," you blurt out, and then drop your eyes down to the headphones in your hands.

"That doesn't mean he's lying," Chan insists. His hand pats your knee - just a brush of his fingers, there and there and gone again. "You don't really need all this practise anymore, you know."

A shrug works its way up to your shoulders, though it feels more like a defensive hunch than anything else. "I'd rather practise than waste my time sitting around," you answer, and at least the words are strong, even if your body is not. "Especially when there's still a chance I could end up sitting around in Australia by the end of the year."

Something flashes across Chan's face, twisting at the edges of his mouth for just a moment before disappearing - disappointment, or frustration? It twists at your gut twice as hard, whatever it is, upsetting the delicate balance you'd found for just a moment while sitting here. "Do you want to listen to this song?" he asks, changing the subject before you can say anything to defend yourself. "We recorded it roughly, but I need a real version of it, and I think you'll like it..."

His voice trails off as he turns to the computer, pulling up whatever he's been working on. You take that as a sign to pull the headphones over your ears, offsetting one side slightly so that you can still hear him. Music fills your ears - a slow, roundabout beat and a heavy bass, overstrung by lyrics about bravery and fear and the darkness of being alone. Beautiful, in a way you're not sure how to express, and artistic, winding its way into your chest where you won't easily forget it.

You really like this song, so much that you're almost afraid to admit it; because if you did, you'd have to admit too, how its spiralling beat brushes against that dark spiral of anxiety that always lives in your chest, and the cold memories that the words stir up-

"I like that," is all you say when the music ends, one final downbeat cutting through the instruments abruptly.

"Really?" Chan asks, like it's unexpected, or unbelieveable.

"Of course," you insist, headphones sliding down around your neck. "You really want me to sing that?"

"Well, if you're going to spend all of your time working anyway, you might as well do some of our work for us," he says, the tone of his voice and the way his head tilts to point at Han's sleeping form informing you that he is joking. "Listen to it a couple more times, I'll see if Han has the lyrics written down on his phone, and then we'll try it."

"Why wouldn't you be able to sleep?"

Chan's voice startles you, loud after a long period of silence. You hadn't even seen him turn to look at you, or even stop working to check the messages that are popping up in the group chat, his phone propped loosely between his hand and the table. "What?" you ask, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn as it tugs at your jaw.

Chan glances down at his phone screen as another message pops up, and then back at you. "Earlier, you said you wouldn't be able to sleep if you went home," he says, by way of explanation.

"Oh, right." You'd forgotten about that text. You hadn't really thought about it being something that might raise questions at the time; you'd been more focused on the sudden worry you'd had over him assuming that you were regularly here all day and all night. "My house is just too quiet sometimes, I guess. I'm not really used to living alone."

His head tilts, curiousity flaring in his eyes. "You know, I've never actually asked where you live," he says. "Are you still in the dorms?"

"They gave me an apartment," you answer. "I think we're in the same building, actually. That's what they told me, anyway."

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. "And you've never come over for dinner? Changbin hasn't dragged you to the gym? No one's run into you in the hall?"

"Lee Know sat in my living room for like ten minutes once?" you offer weakly, though you know it's not nearly what he's looking for. You've got nothing to offer him - even Minseo hasn't been over in a few weeks, each of you too busy on your own trajectory to cross paths. You'd had lunch in the cafeteria twice, and that was all, far from the silent walls of your empty house and it's too-big rooms.

A smile ghosts across Chan's face, strangled by the constant turn of his thoughts back to the problem he thinks he has identified. "On his way back from the store?" he questions knowingly, and you nod.

"He said no one was home at your place."

"If he went into our house, why did he-" he starts, and then cuts himself off halfway, shaking his head. "You should come over for dinner or something. Watch one of Han's animes. If I'd known you were in the building, I would have invited you ages ago."

Apprehension rises in your chest at the openness of the invitation, the way he's able to simply pick it up and throw it out there without even a moment of hesitation. Not that you should feel dread over something as simple as an invitation to dinner, with a group of people you now see every day anyway...but you've never really seen them outside the studio, and you wouldn't know what to expect even if you sat here and tried to guess.

And even this, sitting here in the dark talking to Chan, is something you've never done before, the reason why you'd sat here so quiet when you'd first come in; if your body wasn't so tired, if the night wasn't dragging on into morning as you spoke, you don't think you'd have been able to sit so still in this chair at all.

"Maybe," you say, acknowledging the invitation with a dip of your chin. "When there's time. I'm really busy practising for debut right now, and I don't want to miss anything."

You're surprised by the look that passes over his face, the tightening of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "You spend a lot of time in that studio," he says - and you're not sure what to think about the tone of voice that he uses, switching back and forth between stern and...soft, like he's worried he'll say the wrong thing or something. As if he could do something wrong here, when he is the leader and you are-

Well, nothing. You're nothing. God knows what he sees when he looks at you, other than the trainee he was unwillingly saddled with.

"Yeah," you acknowledge, because there's no use in denying it when you know they know the kind of hours you've been pulling. There being eight of them just means it's impossible to avoid running into one of them at every strange hour of the day. "If these are the last three months I have here, I don't want to waste any of it."

"You said that at the concert," Chan recalls. "You still feel like you're not going to debut?"

The memory sits awkwardly in the air of the room; you shift in your seat, shrugging as lightly as you can pull down the movement of your shoulders, trying to play it off. "Do you still think I'm scared of you too?" you question, trying to play it off easily rather than having the words slide heavy from your tongue.

Amusement dances in his eyes. "Maybe not so much," he answers. "You made a joke earlier."

You frown. "Is that...weird? I make jokes all the time, don't I?"

"Not as often as I'd like," he says, and then his face softens. "It was nice, though. So is this - us, talking."

"Mm," you hum, your mouth closed around several sentences that spring immediately to mind. The instinct to measure everything you say and watch your mouth is burnt into you, caution wrapping its cold little hands around your throat every time you start to relax. And now you don't know what to say, when it feels too pointed to make a joke after he's just pointed it out, and too crass to pull out excuses for why this sort of one-on-one rarely happens - and then silence stretches too thin, and time ticks too far onwards, and you've missed-

"Can I tell you what I think?" Chan says and leans back, his arms reaching towards the ceiling as he stretches.

A breath hitches in your chest, apprehension freezing it still. "Okay," you say, your hands twisting together.

His gaze is steady when it returns to you, his hand still where it comes to lie flat on the surface of his desk. In the background, Han shifts in his sleep, the couch cushions shifting underneath him. "I think you're scared to be one of us," he says, every word carefully measured against some weight you cannot see. "And you're scared to trust us. Maybe just me, specifically."

Your heart leaps into your throat in surprise, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. "I'm not-" you begin, but his hand lifts in the air, stopping you short.

"I don't mean in a bad way," he hurries to add, before you can go on. "I understand why; I wouldn't trust anyone either after what happened to you with Midnight. And I've been there before, you know, so...so I know why, I promise. But...I wish you would let me help you. I really want to help you."

You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat remains, the tears threatening to gather in the corners of your stinging eyes. Your stomach feels like its been turned upside down, your equilibrium shaken and turned around. "I..." you begin, as if you have a response, but nothing follows it, your mind racing to catch up in a conversation you hadn't expected to have and didn't plan for. "I...this is my last chance. If I stop, if I..."

"Hey," Chan says. "I understand, okay? And I'm not going to kick you out, or yell at you, or whatever it is you think a leader does. I like having you around, it's too late for all of that now, okay?"

The joke is light, struggling to lift itself in the oppressive air of the studio, but it makes its way to you anyway, lifting a little of the weight off of your shoulders. "I really like your music," you tell him, and push a deep breath down into the bottom of your lungs. "I want to be one of you, really, and I don't - I don't think you would do that, I swear, I just...I know that it's not always up to you. The company can do what they like, and if they think I don't look like I fit in, or I'm not working as hard as you do, or they just don't like how-"

"You shouldn't worry about that," Chan says over the top of you, his face changing. "That's my job - you leave that to me, and focus on the things your working on."

You look down at your hands, then over at Han - anywhere but his gaze, when you say, "I can't trust them to listen to you. Not until I make it to debut."

Chan falls silent, long enough that your eyes stray back to him, unable to look away for any longer. You find a mess of emotions written across his face, lit by the illumination of his computer screen as he messes with the mouse, his attention far away from the track he's idly playing with.

"Okay," he says when he's done, forcing his hand to move away from the keyboard. "I meant to talk you out of burning yourself out, but I don't think that's going to work."

"Sorry," you say mutely, and feel your shoulders hunch.

"It's okay," he says, before you can retract into yourself completely. "It's okay to be scared. It is scary. So, let's come to an agreement."

There's an unintended challenge in his voice, a way that his eyes watch you that incentivises you to sit up straighter and swallow down all that cold anxiety that freezes in your veins. "Okay," you say willingly. "Like what?"

You like the silent approval you see in his face, the way his mouth relaxes and starts to untwist from the frown it had turned itself into several minutes ago. "You promise me that you know how to take care of yourself, and you can practise as much as you feel like you need to until debut and we won't stop you," he says, "but after debut, you promise you're going to slow down. And you're going to trust me."

It's funny - you hadn't thought anything but the result at the end of these three months would make you feel better, but somehow, he strings together the exact right words to lift that weight off your chest and shine a light down the tunnel. You hadn't thought anyone would be able to do that. Maybe that's why you'd been locked away in the dance rooms, all alone; maybe he was right that you didn't trust anyone, and that maybe you should start.

"I can do that," you say, nodding in agreement. "And I can take care of myself. I won't debut if I'm injured, or I collapse or something."

"Good," he says, satisfied, and then adds, "And you come over for dinner, whenever we invite you. And you go out with your friends again. One of the girls from Midnight chased me down the other day to ask about you, and honestly I'm kind of scared of ignoring her."

"Minseo," you say and, inexplicably, you smile. "Sorry. She's...an extrovert."

"Two jokes," Chan points out, and then laughs at the look on your face, turning away to shut down his computer. "It was fine. She was cool. You have good taste in friends."

"We've been here together for a long time," you say, your eyes idly tracking the movement of his mouse. You glance at the clock in the corner of his screen just by chance - and then do a double take when you see the number there, squinting as if you've misread it. "Is it four AM?"

"It is, actually," Chan sighs as the screen goes dark, closing the laptop and pushing his chair back towards the couch. "Time to go home, I think. Do you want to walk with us?"

His hand reaches out to rouse Han, the other reaching for the boy's phone, left abandoned on his desk. His coffee still sits abandoned on the ground, long gone cold since that first conversation in the group chat that had led to all of this. Funny, how that one little thing, left forgotten on the floor, had led to a night you wouldn't soon forget.

"I'd love to," you reply, and reach for the coffee before anyone can knock it over, throwing it in the trash.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @worcesheshestershiresauce @defnotfertilizedtoesw

251 notes · View notes

jisungsdaydreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Love Playlist #3: Make It Right (Lee Know)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

"It hurts to love you."

Pairing: Lee Know x Fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, exes to lovers Warnings: swearing, messy break-up, mc has a fear of the dark, mild haunted house/Halloween descriptions Word Count: 18.3k

*Written for @skzwritingcafe's July/August event: Summertime Confessions ☀️

Special thanks to @baekhyyun & @simpforyongbokk for beta-reading!! 💘

“I love you.”

You roll your eyes and shove Minho away, trying to suppress the giggles that threaten to spill out. “Stop that. We need to concentrate, or we’ll never find an apartment.”

“I’m definitely concentrating.” Minho grins mischievously. “On you.”

Laughing at his antics, you shake your head, shutting your computer for a brief intermission to tend to Minho’s insatiable appetite for your attention. Your boyfriend never fails to make you smile, no matter what.

“I love you too, you menace.”

Minho wakes up with a start. He groggily glances over at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. Nearly 3 a.m. Slinging his legs over the side of the couch, Minho just sits in that position for a good twenty minutes, marinating in the pitiful mixture of his sweat and tears.

The night before, he’d attempted to drown away his sorrows at some bar he stumbled upon while aimlessly wandering the city streets. It hadn’t worked, obviously, because his wallet wasn’t bottomless, and the pain was too great. But in true character, Minho had tried anyway, until his savior found him slumped over the counter and led him back to a safe place to sober up.

“Stay here as long as you need to,” Chan had said, tucking Minho’s drowsy form into a bundle of blankets on the couch, like he was a little kid.

Minho had tried to resist, mumbling complaints towards his friend’s retreating back, but fell into a troubled slumber before Chan even reached his own bedroom. Now he’s wide awake and unwilling to be so, praying he can just fall back asleep and forget about everything that had transpired in the previous twenty-four hours. But even sleep can’t save him from the memories of what you both once were: happy.

It’s not like he didn’t notice the rift growing between you two in the past few weeks. You didn’t have as much time for each other anymore, reducing your interactions to quick dinners and text messages. But you both have been together for nearly three years, and Minho had assumed that it was just the stress of senior year taking a toll on you both, nothing more. You both had been browsing apartments together just one month ago, finally planning to take the next big step in your relationship. He loves you more than anything in the world, and he so believed that you felt the same about him.

So when you sat him down yesterday at your favorite café, Morningstar Coffee House, and told him that you had doubts about your future together, he was shocked. Too fearful of what you were going to say next, Minho decided to take an abrupt exit out of the conversation, rushing out of the door by using class as an excuse. And now, he will be forced to confront a brutal reality, wishing he could have just gotten this over with yesterday.

A small chime alerts Minho to a new text message, and before he even reaches over to the coffee table to pick up his phone, he knows it’s you.

bobaluvrr: we need to finish talking catservant98: do we really need to? bobaluvrr: morningstar at 8. i have class, pls don’t be late.

With an exasperated groan, Minho stands up, tossing his phone onto the couch. At the very least, he could use the coffee.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little extreme?” Soyeon scrapes the bottom of the pint of ice cream in her hands, frowning when her spoon doesn’t recover as much as she’d like.

“Maybe,” Sunoo answers for you from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, lying on his stomach while scrolling through his cellphone. Soyeon chucks a pillow at him, making him yelp and lift his hands up in defeat.

“This is for the best, Soyeon,” you reply firmly, stabbing your spoon into your own pint of rocky road and digging out a generous chunk. As you lick the spoon, you note that you barely notice the creamy goodness that always succeeds in cheering you up. Not today.

Sunoo sits up and sets his phone aside. “Literally last month, you said you wanted to marry Minho as soon as you graduated.”

You swallow harshly, remembering the exact moment Sunoo is referencing. It’s true that you wanted to marry your boyfriend— no, you still want to marry him, even now. But you meant what you said; breaking up with Minho is necessary to prevent any more heartache. You’ve been feeling this indescribable longing seeping into your heart for weeks now, silently pressing through all of your warning bells. It was a whisper in the wind beneath your lofty wings, telling you that one day, Minho was going to leave you. The last few days had been the final straw, forcing you to grasp your courage and do what had to be done.

“I know.” You hold your tears back. “But the situation has obviously changed.”

Soyeon takes your hand in her own, softly rubbing your palm with her thumb to comfort you, while Sunoo just rolls his eyes. “I still blame that bitch Minju. It’s her fault you’re feeling like this, if anyone’s.”

At the mention of Minju, your expression hardens. After all, you don’t exactly have warm regards for a backstabber like her, especially when she had pretended to be your friend just to get close to Minho. When you found out about her ulterior motive, it made the betrayal hurt ten times worse.

You had befriended Minju nearing the end of the previous year, after she sat next to you at lunch when you were alone in the dining hall. All along your short-lived friendship, you had noticed that she would only ask you questions about Minho or your relationship with him, but you brushed it off as an attempt to just get along with your boyfriend. You had no idea that she wanted to do more than that.

At the beginning of the next semester, Minho mentioned that he had one class with Minju. Ever the optimist, you were pleasantly surprised, thinking that Minju could become friends with Minho as well. After all, it always took Minho forever to really bond with new people, and this would make everything easier. But the little things you kept overlooking built upon each other, forming a whole dam of distrust.

First, there were all of the times you hung out with both Minju and Minho. While Minho always engaged in conversation with the both of you, if not more with you, Minju would actively ignore you just to talk to Minho. Once, you three visited an arcade together, and there was a game that involved picking teams. Minju immediately declared that she would partner up with Minho, so you had no option but to team with a stranger. But maybe she just wanted to get to know him.

And then you ran into Heeseung, one of Minju’s old classmates. Heeseung had no malicious intentions; he used to have photography class with Minju before she switched out, and needed Minju’s number to ask her for the pen he had lent her. It looked like Minju had changed her course schedule to share a class with Minho. But maybe that was just a coincidence.

The final piece that made you put together Minju’s puzzle was when Minho was dropping you after a date one night. He had kissed you goodbye, and you went inside, wondering if you should invite Minju over to watch some movies. You called Minju and asked her if she wanted to come over, but she claimed that she was very sick and couldn’t even leave her house, down with a high fever in her bed. Feeling sorry for your friend, you decided to whip up a quick batch of soup for Minju and walk over to her loft. However, you saw two people standing right outside the building. Upon closer look, you realized it was Minju and Minho, talking about something you couldn’t hear. But the sight itself was enough— Minju looked perfectly healthy and fresh. You could give the benefit of doubt to your boyfriend, but Minju had obviously lied to you. You ran away before either of them spotted you.

You shake your head, knowing in your heart that even someone like Minju couldn’t really end one of the most important relationships in your life. “It’s not just her. I’m tired of watching every other couple on campus, wishing Minho and I were like that. Everyone calls us perfect, but really, we’re not. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who cares. I’m just tired of everything, Sunoo.”

And it’s true. You’ve had enough of wondering about whether you love him too much, if you were being naive about everything. You have always been a very bubbly, social person, wearing your heart on your sleeve. You know that Minho is more of an introvert, and that it’s hard for him to express himself to others. However, you believed that with time, he would open up, at least to you. You found it as easy to confide your fears within Minho as it was to laugh when he tickled you. But communicating with Minho about his own feelings remained a difficulty. He still seems like such a mystery to you, and even if he wasn’t entertaining Minju’s whole plot, you feel like he isn’t as interested in you as you are in him. You hadn’t even bothered telling Minho the truth about Minju, because in the end, you doubt Minju would have troubled you so much if your relationship really was so unbreakable.

Sunoo’s face softens, as he gets up to envelope you in one of his hugs. “I’m sorry if I came off too strong. I just want the best for you.”

Soyeon joins your little huddle, wrapping her arms around the both of you. “You are our best friend, after all. We can’t have our favorite girl being sad.”

A tiny flicker of hope ignites in your stomach. Whatever happens, you know you’ll have Soyeon and Sunoo by your side. You tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need anyone else but them, until you start to believe it.

It hurts Minho’s heart to see that you look more beautiful than ever as you step into Morningstar, even with your downturned lips and the reddened sheen of your sleepless eyes. He busies himself with the menu as you approach the table he’s sitting at, as if he wasn’t just watching you a moment earlier.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Your words feel oddly formal, especially taking into account your usual greeting for Minho was an excited hug and an avalanche of kisses.

Minho shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant and not as scared as he really is. “Yeah, of course.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, clearing your throat. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Unable to help himself, Minho rolls his eyes. “How do you think I slept, Y/N?”

You immediately flush, realizing how obvious the answer must be. “I was just—”

“Checking on me,” Minho interrupts you, sounding more wounded than angry. “Right after you tell me that you think maybe we shouldn’t move-in together and that you aren’t feeling the same about us.”

You reach across the table to take Minho’s hands in yours. He can’t bring himself to wrench them free from your hold. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You did.”

“That wasn’t my intention. I just…” You trail off, gazing out the window. The campus is alive with the buzz of students waking up and going on about their days. It’s a gorgeous day for October, with bright sunshine and a cloudless sky— Minho hates it.

He looks away, not wanting to showcase how truly vulnerable he feels right now. “Why? Why this all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?”

You start. “No!”

“Are you still upset about yesterday? I know everything is stressful right now, but I promise—”

You take a deep breath. “I can no longer trust you. I don't know if I’ll always be the only one. But it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Of course you’re my only one, what are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, the desperation creeping in. “No. I promise I’ll try. I’ll be better. Whatever it is, we’ll get through this together.”

You slam your palms down on the table, making it shake. It shocks both you and Minho into a moment of charged silence. “We’ll only grow to hate each other at this rate. I need to end things with you now.”

“Y/N, please. I- I don’t want to break-up.”

You flash Minho a broken smile. “I don’t want it either. But I need to do this, for both our sakes.”

You stand up from your chair, and Minho finally breaks. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he fell into a ravine while hiking and broke his arm. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he was cut from the line-up for his dream internship in New York City. Minho, who never cries, sits in front of you now, the tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto his sweatshirt.

“Don’t go, please.” He makes one last attempt at getting you to stay, grabbing onto the arm of your jacket.

You gently shake him free, taking your purse. You’re crying now too. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Min.”

Minho lets his arm fall limply to his side as he hopelessly watches you leave as quickly as you came. He always hated saying goodbye after every time you went out, but the thought of being able to see you the next day helped a little bit. Now, there wasn’t even that.

“One… two… three.”

Minho grunts in effort, sweat slowly dripping down his neck at the arduous pace of each repetition.

“Keep going, Minho. You’re almost there,” Changbin says, leaning over Minho and supporting him on the bench press.

Minho barely hears him, flexing his biceps up and down, exhausted, yet determined to finish a set. He’s done nothing at all for the past few days, strangled with the inevitable grief of being broken up with. Minho sullenly welcomed trudging back and forth to classes. He went to bed early and slept in for as long as possible, and barely ate anything during the meals Chan forced him to have.

However, Chan finally became fed up with Minho’s mopiness, employing Changbin to drag him out to the gym and make him work out his feelings. And so, as he struggles under the backbreaking weight of the barbell, he yearns to feel a sense of accomplishment about something— anything.

“Ten! You’re done.” Changbin gently places a hand on Minho’s arm, willing him to stop, but Minho keeps going without toning down his pace.

Minho feels the excruciating ache burning in his muscles, the slow agony of pain rippling through him. Is this how you feel? Is this how much it hurts to love him? If so, he wants to live it over and over again, atoning for the reason you left him. He blames himself for letting you go, of course, but mostly for making you feel like you had to leave in the first place. He should have been a better man for you.

“Minho, stop!” Changbin lifts up the weight in his own hands, racking it and staring down accusingly at his charge. “Are you crazy? You could have hurt yourself.”

“You lift more than that, and you’re fine. Give me that.” Minho reaches for the barbell once more, but Changbin places it on an even higher hook, forcing Minho to get off the bench.

“I’ve been doing this for years. You started after your girlfriend dumped you, four days ago.”

Minho rolls his eyes, picking up his towel and dabbing at his dampened skin. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You were already thinking about her anyway.” Changbin pats Minho’s shoulder, grabbing his bottle of green juice and walking over to the rowing machine to start his own workout.

Without further protest, Minho retreats to the locker rooms, wondering if he’s being that obvious. Minho gazes into the clouded mirror, inspecting himself for any signs of sadness, but all he receives is an eyeful of his general look, a guarded expression that reserves smiles only for those who deserve it. Weird. Maybe Changbin is just telepathic.

Minho shoves his belongings into his gym bag and heads out of the gym, back to nowhere else but Chan’s apartment, his temporary home until he finds a better place to stay. After all, he thought you both would be moving in together, but plans change.

As Minho makes his way down the sidewalk that leads to the university off-campus housing complex, someone throws a soccer ball into his path. Great.

“Hey, can you pass that over here?”

Clenching his jaw in annoyance, Minho kicks at the ball as hard as he can, not caring about where it lands. He ignores the person’s confused shouts and keeps walking until he reaches his destination, not acknowledging any of the strangers he passed by. What does it matter, anyway?

“Gym go well?” Chan looks up from the cutting board, setting down his knife and wiping his hands on a dishrag.

Minho sighs, neatly fixing his bag next to his current post, the sofa. “It was fine. I’ll go clean up and be right back.”

“Hurry! Dinner’s almost ready,” Chan calls as Minho heads inside the bathroom, locking the door and cranking on the shower.

Minho feels his body relax as he steps under the steady stream of water, but his mind remains tense. He’d gone to the gym with Changbin today because he thought he’d be able to get some peace of mind and forget about everything, but evidently, that hadn’t worked. All he can think about is you, you, you. He’ll deny it to his friends for as long as he can, but he isn’t sure how long he can keep lying to himself.

As he finishes, Minho steps out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom, drying off and quickly changing into his clothes. He walks into the dining area, where Chan has set up two bowls and is ladling pasta into each of them. When he was younger, Minho’s mother used to tell them that a good meal could ease a troubled heart. For her sake and Chan’s, he decides to eat well today, just for living.

Enveloped in a comfortable silence, Minho and Chan dig in, enjoying the spicy, cheesy penne that serves as an instant comfort food.

“Thanks, Chan,” Minho says, looking up from his bowl.

Chan swallows his bite and pauses, placing down his fork. “For what?”

Minho shrugs awkwardly, trying to find the right words. By now, he knows he’s no good at speaking his heart. “For being there for me. For feeding me. Everything, I guess.”

“And for making Changbin haul your ass to the gym.” Chan grins at Minho, nothing but warmth in his kind eyes. “What are friends for, brother?”

Even though he feels kind of crappy, Minho smiles. “Yeah, man.”

Chan reaches over and smacks Minho’s back, laughing the sentiment off. But deep inside, Minho knows that Chan understands him. Whatever happens, his brother will be by his side. He tells that to himself over and over again, through dinner and the TV show that Chan turns on, until he starts to believe it.

The next morning, Minho wakes up after finally getting a good night’s sleep. The much needed rest spurs him on to message you, something he’s been putting off for a while now.

catservant98: did you wake up? catservant98: how are you doing? catservant98: ??

You don’t reply to any of his texts. Minho knows that you’re not much of a morning person, but you would never miss class, so you have to be up. Every Thursday and Friday, both of you have Writing Seminar together, a course that is mandatory for every senior student at the university you both attend. When he first received his schedule, he had been elated that he shared a class with his girlfriend. Well now you are his ex-girlfriend, and he doesn’t know that being in the same room and unable to speak with you is a great option.

Nevertheless, Minho tucks his phone into his pocket, opening the door to the lecture hall. The moment he enters, his eyes find yours. You’re sitting in your favorite spot in the middle of the fifth row, but the seat next to you that Minho usually takes is already occupied by some other girl who’s busy reading a book. You didn’t bother saving him a seat, for the very first time.

You tear your eyes away from Minho’s piercing gaze, looking at the grassy lawn beyond the window behind you, leaving Minho to find a new seat. He sets his backpack down in the very back row, where no one else is, and sits alone, a sad new reality setting in. Thankfully, the professor enters and starts talking about some upcoming project, leaving Minho ample leeway to observe you.

Your head is tilted down and you're focused on the open notebook in front of you. Although he can’t see your hand properly, he knows it’s moving as you sketch a little doodle onto the paper. It’s a habit that he always found enormously endearing, and as you tuck your hair behind your ear, Minho feels another pang in his chest. He will never be able to brush back your hair for you, ever again.

The moment class is over, Minho quits pretending he’s actually paying attention and hurries over to you before you can leave. You’re midway through stuffing your books bag in your bag when you notice Minho hovering over you. With a resigned sigh, you look up at him expectantly.

“I- I just wanted to check on you,” Minho says quietly, looking down at his hands like he’s a kid again, guilty of stealing a candy instead of impinging on your time. “And see how you’re doing.”

“I’ve been better.” You look away and stand up, gesturing towards the door. “I should go. Soyeon’s probably waiting.”

“Okay then.” Minho steps aside, letting you pass. You both had a lot of mutual friends; surely every interaction between you both will not be this awkward, right?

Before you leave, however, you turn and look at him. “Let’s try to be civil and move on, okay? We’ll still be seeing each other a lot, so.”

Minho just stares at you, for a moment, before remembering himself. “Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”

You curtly nod and walk out the door. Minho isn’t so sure that moving on is what he wants. Of course he wants to get along with you, because having you in his life and not being romantically involved is better than not being involved with you at all. But he wishes the world— time, you, and even himself— would understand that moving on meant this loss in his life. Shaking his head, Minho heads out of the classroom and towards a hopefully better day.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bad idea?” You worriedly scan the increasing mass of partygoers. Usually, you love a good party; spending time with friends and making new ones is one of your favorite things to do. Tonight, however, you can’t help the bad feeling building inside of you.

Sunoo loops your arm through yours, leading the way for you through the swanky flat, searching for a place to sit. “No, it isn’t. You deserve to have some fun.”

“What if I see Minho?” You ask him, but you already know the answer. Of course Minho is coming to Jihyo’s birthday party; unfortunately, both of you were in the same large friend group, an aspect of your relationship that you used to cherish. Now, not so much.

He looks over at you, a challenge in his eyes. “And so what if you do? You told him you wanted to be civil. So be civil.”

“Right.”

You both find a place by the food tables, where boxes of pizza have already been opened to entice guests and bottles of beer chill in the cooler. After congratulating Jihyo and helping yourself to a few slices, you sit down on the couch next to Sunoo, trying to enjoy your dinner. After boba, pizza is your most favorite food on the whole planet, but even that can’t seem to soothe your nerves. You wish Soyeon were here too, but she’s stuck studying for an exam.

Noticing your restlessness, Sunoo whistles to a few people mingling nearby. “Hey, who wants to play Truth or Dare!”

Although outdated, Truth or Dare is a certified party hit for stressed college students like you all, especially if there’s alcohol involved. You’re just thankful for the distraction. Everyone quickly huddles around, buzzing in anticipation of either a comedy show or secrets being revealed.

“I’ll go first.” Chan says, stepping forward. If he’s here, so must be Minho. “Truth.”

Sunoo rubs his hands together in thought before piping up. “What’s your beef with your Student Council co-president?”

Chan immediately tenses, his cheeks turning red. “Shit. I’ll drink on that.”

Everyone whoops with laughter and cheers as Chan downs his beer, setting the cup down with a sour expression on his face due to the bitterness of the drink. He must really hate his co-president. The game continues, before you’re the only person playing who hasn’t gone yet. Unfortunately, your questioner is Mark Lee, a junior that’s notorious for his nosiness. You brace yourself for whatever invasive question he’ll come up with, but you aren’t as quite prepared as you think.

“Why did you and Y/N break up?”

“Huh?” You follow Mark’s gaze to see him looking at Minho, who joined the game without you realizing. The question was meant for him, not you.

Minho says nothing, giving Mark the opportunity to keep talking. “I mean, weren’t you guys the golden couple of campus or something?”

Everyone quiets down, zeroing in on you and Minho for all of the wrong reasons. Minho’s eyes dart over to where you sit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You feel your skin prickle and your body heat up, the stress clouding your senses once more.

“This is stupid. Game’s over,” Minho declares while getting up, and everyone disperses, not willing to argue with him.

You stare down at your lap as Sunoo places an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea Mark would ask that. What an asshole.”

“I’m fine.” You stand up, brushing off your skirt. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sunoo offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll come back.”

After getting some water, you wind through the impromptu dance floor that has now taken over the living space, everyone jamming to the raging music that thumps through the loud bass speakers that Jihyo had installed into her flat. You dodge a couple grinding up against each other and a pair of best friends swinging to the beat. Before you head back to Sunoo, you’re about to find temporary reprieve out on the balcony, but like a cruel universal joke, you see exactly what you fear most.

Minho leans against the railing, the evening breeze ruffling the chestnut hair that frames his handsome face. And next to him stands Minju, twirling her hair around her fingers while listening to what Minho is murmuring to her. Yours and Minju’s eyes meet, and she gives you the faintest hint of a satisfied smirk. Your heart drops and your feet want to give out right then and there, but you would rather die than fall apart in front of both of them. You turn on your heel and blindly march to wherever will rid you of the sight of the person you love the most speaking to the person you hate the most.

That destination turns out to be the kitchen, as you march in and huff out loud as your body hits the kitchen island. There’s no one else there except for one other person with his upper body hidden by the refrigerator, obviously raiding it. At the sound of someone else entering, he shuts the fridge door and looks over at you. Taking in his faded pink hair and beat-up converse sneakers, you vaguely recognize him from somewhere.

“I was just looking for some carrot juice, that’s all.” The guy shoots you a sheepish smile. “I don’t do booze past 9 p.m.”

“Carrot juice? Don’t tell me you’re a fitness freak.”

He raises his hands in faux surrender. “Guilty. But outside of the gym, I’m Kang Taehyun. Or Terry, if we’re acquainted, and hopefully you and I will be by the end of the night. So call me Terry.”

You’re intrigued by this carrot-loving stranger. “I’m—”

“Y/N, I know. We have Writing Seminar together.” Terry smiles as the recognition hits you.

You slap your palm against your forehead, wondering how you could have missed him. “I’m so sorry. I guess I was always too distracted in that class.”

He waves your apology off with a twist of his wrist. “No worries. Besides, you’re a lot more memorable than me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

In the brief silence that follows, you gaze up at the pattern of the tiling on the countertops, toying with the hem of your skirt. Once again, your thoughts flit over to Minho, wondering if he’s still talking to Minju. Terry notices you spacing out and speaks up. “Hey, are you okay?”

You look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, everything feels like too much, and you’re overwhelmed with your own emotions. You feel yourself tear up, and you’re immediately mortified for breaking down in front of someone you just met.

Unfazed, Terry crosses over to you in three quick strides and gently touches your arm, concerned. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You swipe at your eyes, trying to collect yourself. “No, it’s not you. I broke up with my boyfriend recently. And it’s been… bad. God, this is embarrassing.”

Terry dips his head in understanding. “I noticed you weren’t sitting next to him as usual in class earlier today. Minho— that's him, right?”

You let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Terry trails off, and you fear you’ve ruined the mood with your depressive recollection, but he smiles at you. “I’ll tell you something embarrassing about me. I have a fear of mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

A giggle escapes your mouth at the absurdity of his confession. “What?”

Terry nods solemnly. “Yes. Technically, I have a fear of visiting the dentist, but mint choco is close enough to the taste of toothpaste to give me the chills.”

You grin at Terry, the down atmosphere slowly fading away. “What do you like, then?”

“Water slides. Pleasure reading. And caramel popcorn with extra caramel.” Terry flexes his bicep. “Even a fitness freak needs his sugar fix.”

You roll your eyes in good humor. “You’re really something, aren’t you, Kang Taehyun?”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.” Terry runs his hand through his bubblegum hair, carelessly mussing it up. You find the messiness of his bangs absolutely adorable.

“It is.” You tap your nails against your cup, trying to think of something to say next. Generally, you have no difficulty in keeping a conversation going, but Terry seems to be content with that role in this one.

“Are you an Apple or Android kind of person?” Terry inquires.

You take a sip of your water, raising your eyebrow at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I was trying to think of a good way to ask you for your number.” Terry shrugs, that playful smile that you’ve now become familiar with coming back.

You return it. “You just did.”

Both of you exchange cell phones and type in each other’s contact information. When finished, Terry slides your phone back into your palm, and you don’t miss the light touch of his fingers against your own.

“I have to go find my friend now, Terry. But I’m glad I met you. Don’t forget to spam me with more weird facts about yourself.”

Terry laughs. “I won’t. Like I said, Y/N, you’re not easily forgettable.”

You hide your smile and leave the kitchen, lost in your own world, even as you run straight into Sunoo, who asks you what took you so long. When you finally get back to the warmth of your own room after the party, you sit down to get some homework done before bed. You notice your favorite keychain, a little cat charm, hanging off your ID card lanyard that’s strewn across your desk. Minho gifted it to you last year, stating that you needed something to remind you of him when he wasn’t there. After a moment’s hesitation, you unclip the charm from the lanyard and tuck it away inside your desk. You don’t need the reminder right now.

terrypotter: hey, good morning!! this is terry from yday btw bobaluvrr: hii! bobaluvrr: omg ur user <3 i love harry potter too! terrypotter: this friendship was meant to be.

You throw off your covers, hopping out of bed. Last night was proof that things could start out horrible and end well. You meant what you said to Terry; you’re happy you were able to meet someone like him. Even though you both only hung out for a few minutes, talking to him felt relaxing and uncomplicated, less of a puzzle and more like a game, unlike how it felt with Minho. You were tired of always guessing Minho’s thoughts, and so Terry’s habit of speaking his mind feels incredibly refreshing.

terrypotter: here’s a thought- coffee @ morningstar? terrypotter: they make a mean breakfast bagel too, if ur up for it

You frown down at your phone, the lighthearted feeling fading into uncertainty. You are glad that Terry named this new acquaintance as a friendship, but still, he’s a boy— and a good looking one at that, too. You aren’t sure if getting coffee entails something potentially romantic down the lane, and if it does, it feels wrong, especially so soon after Minho. You definitely haven’t moved on, yet. After all, you once believed that Minho would be the man you would marry one day, and a tiny part of you still dreams of what could be.

bobaluvrr: i can’t :( promised my roommates breakfast terrypotter: aw that’s too bad

After a moment of thought, however, you text him again.

bobaluvrr: but i’ll save you a seat in class today! terrypotter: see u then :)

Strangely buzzed, you make your bed and get ready for the day, trying not to think of the fact that Minho is also in Writing Seminar with you and Terry. You don’t want him to give him the wrong idea, but then again, you both weren’t together anymore, so what does it matter?

After showering and getting dressed, you stand in the kitchen so that the excuse you gave Terry won’t be a lie, scrambling a few eggs in the frying pan that Minho bought you last year. As the designated chef in your relationship, Minho used to cook for you all the time, whenever you came over to the apartment he shared with Chan and Jisung. Whenever he visited you, however, he complained that there weren’t enough proper cooking supplies for him to create a “proper culinary experience” for you, so he insisted on buying you some.

When you nearly fainted, looking at the receipts for everything he bought you, he promised that you could make it up to him by bringing everything with you when you moved in with him. That’s how he very smoothly asked you to move in with him, and you accepted by attacking him with kisses. You both planned to find an apartment as soon as possible, since Jisung wanted to move-in with his best friend, and Chan was looking for his own place. The reminiscing smile on your face fades away when you remember that everyone’s plans came to fruition except for yours and Minho’s.

You don’t know if it’s the universe looping Minho into your life again and again, or if your treacherous heart just misses him so much that you can’t help but subconsciously cling to every last remnant you have of him. The sensible side of you knows it’s the latter scenario.

“I smell food.” Sunoo ambles out of his room, looking like a lovable yet scruffy teddy bear.

He tries to sneak a piece of fried egg from the pan, but you quickly push his hands away, wrinkling your nose. “Go brush your teeth first. I’m going to throw up.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes sleepily, but obeys, before Soyeon also comes out of her bedroom. Unlike Sunoo, however, she’s all dressed and ready for business, clad in her uniform of baggy jeans and a badass leather jacket that you adore. Soyeon pulls out three glasses and starts juicing a couple oranges to complete your meal, as you start plating the food.

“Thank you, my angel,” Soyeon blows you a kiss as you set the eggs and some slices of buttered toast on the table. You wink back at her as you both take your seats and Sunoo comes out to join you, still wearing his pajamas.

“And you, lazy ass? Wake up earlier so you can help out more. You never do anything.” Soyeon smacks Sunoo’s arm, hard, eliciting a cry out of him.

“Hey! I take on the emotional support role in this house,” Sunoo replies, aggressively biting into his toast.

“This is an apartment.”

Your two roommates trade their usual insults back and forth as you tune them out, picking at your own plate. Maybe it had been a bad idea, asking Terry to sit next to you. And it wasn’t even about how you could already envision your ex-boyfriend’s beautiful eyes full of betrayal, but more of how you’re coming off to Terry. What if he got the wrong idea, that you both were heading into something more than a friendship?

When you’ve escaped Sunoo and Soyeon’s bickering, you plug in your earbuds and walk to the lecture hall. The sound of your morning mix fills your ears as you enter your own world. While you cherish the people in your life more than anything, you treasure the times when you can slow down and just appreciate the fact that you’re alive and healthy. Gratitude isn’t something you feel a lot, especially taking into account recent happenings, but maybe you’ll start now. A new friend is always something to be thankful for—

You hear someone calling out and immediately pull out your headphones to see Terry next to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Terry falls into a synchronized step with you. “Did I interrupt any deep contemplation? The look on your face was pretty intense.”

You shake your head, accepting the coffee that Terry hands to you. “Thank you. And no, you didn’t. It’s nice to see you again, Terry.”

Terry smiles, sipping from his own cup. “Likewise. Ready for class?”

You’re about to naturally give him an affirmative answer, before you halt, remembering yet another moment with Minho.

“Who the hell is he?” Minho glowers threateningly at the guy next to you, pulling the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. The man quickly rushes out of the bar and into the rain, without even bothering to open the umbrella in his hands.

You sigh loudly while Minho sits down on the stool the man was just perched on. “Was that necessary, Min? Poor guy just wanted to ask me about the book I’m reading.”

“That’s the pretense that all guys put up when they’re trying to hit on a girl.” Minho slides his arm around your shoulders, and despite your mild annoyance, you melt into his touch. He smells like a mix of cologne, rain, and fresh cotton sheets.

You look up at Minho through your eyelashes. “Is that what you did when you asked me out?”

Minho smiles lovingly at you. “I didn’t have to. You were down bad for me already.”

You shove him away in mock offense. “You were the down bad one! I remember your whole cheesy speech.”

“I don’t recall anything like that.” The smirk on Minho’s face fades in favor of a deep blush.

Laughing, you press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips, and he quickly reciprocates. The truth is, you both were impossibly down bad for each other. And to be even more honest, you enjoyed it when Minho got like this; the feeling of being Lee Minho’s girl will never not excite you, especially when he was the one keen on enforcing it.

You sigh to yourself. While that was a pleasant memory without the context, you aren’t so sure it’ll be cute this time, when Minho reacts to you and Terry.

Terry holds the door open to the lecture hall, letting you go in first before shutting the door behind him. Most of the class is already assembled there, setting up their desks before the professor starts. You see that Minho’s also sitting, perched in the back again, but he seems busy rifling through his bag, looking for something. As you take your own seat, you don’t know if you feel relief at Minho not saying anything, or disappointment that he didn’t notice you at all.

Throughout the duration of class, you and Terry giggle together over the professor’s infamous random rants, but your mind keeps flitting over to Minho. You can feel his gaze on you and Terry, but when you turn, you see him immersed in his notes like he wasn’t looking at you in the first place, and you end up feeling stupid. Fearful of what Minho— or really, you— might do, as soon as class ends, you grab Terry’s wrist and practically pull him out of the door, ready to get out of there. Terry doesn’t question it, understanding the rationale for your actions. You appreciate that about him.

To make it up to Terry, you take him out to lunch, choosing a restaurant downtown. You love the views of the riverfront there, as well as their renowned spicy food. You block out the memory of all of the times you and Minho walked over here, hand in hand. You are entitled to lunch at your favorite restaurant, you remind yourself. Once you’re seated, the waiter comes over to your table.

“Chef’s special soup, please. Level-three spice,” you tell the waiter.

The waiter writes down your orders and walks away, leaving Terry to look at you with an amused expression. “Level-three? The food here is already spicy.”

You cross your arms. “I have a very high spice tolerance.”

“Alright.”

In no time at all, your waiter is back, setting down the food in front of you both. Terry immediately digs in, shoveling liberal spoonfuls of his mild fried rice into his mouth, leaving you to stare at your soup. You can practically smell the red pepper in the steam rising out of the bowl.

“Here’s my last warning before destruction,” Terry says, squeezing a lemon onto his rice. “Try some rice.”

You sit up, trying to look self-assured. “Nonsense. I can do this.”

Of course, you wish you hadn’t bragged so much, barely a few seconds after your first sip of the spicy broth. Your eyes start to tear up involuntarily, and Terry fills a glass of water from the iced pitcher and hands it over to you. You accept it, clumsily tipping the cool water into your mouth, as Terry gives you a knowing smile.

“Aren’t you overdoing it?”

The spoon in your hands nearly falls onto the floor in your shock at Terry’s words. “What did you just say?”

Terry gives you an odd look. “Um, I said, ‘aren’t you overdoing it?’”

You take a deep breath, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. But you know that they’re not completely due to the soup. “Wow.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Terry hands you a napkin, worry written on his face. He signals for the waiter to refill the water pitcher.

You smile ruefully. “Yeah, I will be.”

“I can handle it, Minho.” You give him a glare, placing the napkin on your lap and scooting closer to the table. It’s your first date with Minho, and you want to impress him so bad.

Minho nudges your leg with his own, and you try not to look flustered. “It’s okay if you want to order something else.”

You stubbornly dig your spoon into the bowl, gathering a large helping of broth and noodles onto it. “You like the soup here. So I want to eat it too.”

He just laughs, watching intently as the clear signs of regret manifest on your face. “Told you so.”

"What are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes, unwilling to admit defeat, even though you really, really want to. You drink the soup in careful spoonfuls, pretending it’s too hot, but you struggle to speak even in between tiny sips. “This… is.. so… delicious.”

Minho is now hysterical, losing his mind laughing at the look on your face when you bite straight into a whole jalapeno. “Aren’t you overdoing it?”

“Minho, you’re so mean!” You can’t bear it any longer, the tears gushing down your cheeks while you also laugh in both pain and genuine happiness at being here with Minho, at making him laugh.

“Alright, alright.” Minho quickly goes and gets a large glass of chilled apple juice from the bar, handing it to you.

When you’re finally calmed down, you wipe your mouth with your napkin and set the spoon down, metaphorically waving a white flag. You skip straight to dessert, opting to soothe your taste buds with cold ice cream, all while watching Minho in awe as he easily finishes his own bowl of soup. After paying for dinner, Minho takes you to a secluded section of the rocky beach bordering the river that runs straight through the city. You both walk in a comfortable silence, still at that point where your hands slightly touch as you walk, unsure of just holding each other like you so want them to.

You look over at Minho, suddenly self-conscious. At this point, you see no point in faking anything; he’s seen you literally sob over a bowl of soup. “About the soup… I promise I’m not a braggy show-off. Honestly, I just wanted to impress you. Guess I did the opposite, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, all laughter from before gone. “I’ve never met someone who ate a bowl of soup here just because I like it. Not even Chan would try it, and he’s my best friend.”

You blush, illuminated by the combination of the moonlight and the glittering city surrounding. “Thank you.”

Minho stops walking, turning around to face you. “I know I told you this when I asked you to go out with me, but I suck at using my words, so I’m sorry.”

You copy his movement so you’re looking him directly in the eye. “I understand you, words or not.”

Minho looks down at the rocky ground, secretly fighting his own insecurities. “I’m trying, but I… I admit I’m not great at this.”

You try not to show how utterly charmed you are by his bashfulness. “To be honest, neither am I. You’re actually the first person I’ve ever gone out with. Nobody’s really been into me before.”

“Seriously?” Minho looks shocked.

You now wonder if divulging that information in him was wise. Definitely not. “Yeah.”

Minho kicks a pebble into the river, watching it sink into the water. “Idiots.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

He scoffs, looking back at you. “I don’t know what kind of idiots you were hanging around before. How could no one be into you?”

You shrug, embarrassed. Your heart feels heavy, thinking of the things people used to say to you, thinking they were being funny but not realizing how much mere words were hurting you. “I’m kind of undateable, I guess. People tend to gravitate towards Soyeon. They say I’m more of the comedic relief. I don’t blame them, though. She’s perfect.”

Minho gives you an unreadable expression. “You have no idea.”

“Of what?”

He crosses that miniscule space between you both, answering you in a different way than you expect. His lips are full and sweet, and he tastes like your coffee ice cream that he stole a few bites from. The surprise you harbor quickly melts away when you shut your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his around your waist. If it took this long to find the right person, then so be it. And you don’t know if you can say that this— your first kiss ever— is like the movies; it feels even better.

“I may not be good with words, but I can say this: you are perfect.”

“You look kind of stupid,” Hyunjin says, cackling at Minho’s struggle to look over the top of the box in his hands while coordinating his movements.

Minho gives Hyunjin a sharp look in response. “And you look ready to go into the air fryer.”

Hyunjin immediately tosses his phone aside and scurries over to where Minho is, taking the box out of his hands and transporting it into Minho’s designated bedroom with ease, looking over his shoulder fearfully as he goes. Minho smiles to himself, satisfied.

He follows Hyunjin into the room, finding the latter boy dramatically smoothing out the bedsheets and straightening the pillows. Hyunjin side-eyes Minho’s entrance, earning him a smack on the backside and a great reason to get out of the room, leaving Minho in peace.

Minho quickly unpacks, neatly folding his clothes and stacking them in the closet, before organizing the rest of his belongings around the room. When he finishes, he falls back onto his new bed, staring up at the ceiling fan and observing it whir. Out of everything that’s happened, he knows he should be thankful; although Hyunjin is the designated comedian of their friend group— along with Jisung, of course— he values his privacy incredibly. So when Hyunjin offered to rent out a room in his apartment to Minho, he couldn’t believe his luck. Then again, he wishes he wasn’t in this position to begin with.

Earlier today, Chan insisted on going out to catch the football game that their university hosted. Minho had agreed, with nothing better to do— besides, he noticed that Chan was also having a rough start to his day, after being locked in the campus library all night with his co-president that he always conflicted with. Chan had stayed quiet for the entire time, staring out the window on the ride to the home game, but at least he had a happy ending. By the end of the game, things had changed for Chan, and for the better: he’d amended things with his co-president, and of everything that could have happened, they even emerged from the stadium as a couple. For Minho, however, things had been quite different.

Namely, there’s a new replacement for Minho. He saw you walk into class with Kang Taehyun yesterday, and he’d been so anxious to not let you see his reaction that he immediately busied himself with his backpack. The entire time, however, he was watching you both whisper to each other during class. He darkly observed Taehyun scribble something onto the corner of your notebook, and it had made you laugh. That was what Minho used to do all the time. By the end of class, Minho considered confronting you right then and there, without caring about anyone else, but you ran out of class with Taehyun before he could even move.

And to make things even worse, he saw you and Taehyun together at the game. Minho had to resist the urge to march down to your section and slap the flirtatious smile off of Taehyun’s face. But more than anything, he wanted to ask you if it was true. Did you really already start to move on with a new man? Is Minho really that replaceable to you?

“Hey, what are you up to?” Hyunjin cautiously sticks his head into the room, snapping Minho out of his reverie.

“Nothing much. What’s up?”

Hyunjin steps into the room, his silky shirt and pressed trousers a stark contrast to Minho’s soft blue t-shirt and gym shorts. “Wanna go to the convenience store with me? I ran out of snacks.”

“You and your snacks,” Minho teases, chasing after Hyunjin when he sticks his tongue in retaliation.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin successfully drags Minho into the convenience store, disappearing into the junk food aisles to get his fix and leaving Minho to wander around the store. Following the twisting row of frozen foodstuffs, Minho turns and crashes straight into you.

“Minho?” Your eyes widen.

Minho clears your throat, trying not to gaze at you like you’re a returned long-lost love. You are indeed lost to him, but he had class with you merely the day before. He needs to get a grip on himself. “You dropped this.”

He kneels down, picking up the tub of ice cream, and hands it to you after inspecting the flavor label. “Strawberry? You hate strawberry.”

You take it back hastily. “Yeah. You always loved it, though.”

That doesn’t satisfy Minho’s rampant irritation. “You wouldn’t even touch strawberry ice cream with a ten-foot pole before. What changed?”

“I just wanted to try something new,” you say, with what Minho observes as guilt.

Before Minho can respond, the person he wants to see the least rounds the corner and interrupts you both.

“I promise, the strawberry ice cream here is amazing and— oh.” Taehyun walks up to where you are, standing slightly between you and Minho, before he looks down at you, ignoring Minho. “Am I interrupting something? I can go away.”

You shake your head, flaring the rage in Minho. “It’s fine. You can stay.”

“So you’ll eat strawberry ice cream with him, but not me.” Minho rolls his eyes, the humiliation inside him swelling like a balloon.

“Hey man, it’s nothing like that. I know she doesn’t like strawberry ice cream that much, but I practically threatened her to try it. J'adore strawberries,” Taehyun says in a joking tone, but Minho doesn’t miss the protective glint in his eye.

Minho has never been a violent person, but he balls his fists. The nerve. “Who the fuck even are you? You don’t know anything about—”

“What is your problem, Minho?” You cut in angrily. “If you’re mad at me, then be mad at me. Don’t take your frustrations out on Terry.”

What you said is perfectly sensible, Minho knows that. He doesn’t have anything against Taehyun at all; he doesn’t even know the guy. But all logic is thrown out of the window when it comes to you.

“Terry?” Minho scoffs at the nickname. “You know what, I am mad at you. Because seriously? Kang Taehyun? He isn’t even your type.”

Before Taehyun can say anything else, you respond to Minho’s jab, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Right, because you were so perfect for me.”

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, and Minho starts in surprise— you’ve never talked to him like that before, ever. And neither has he. The regret is evident on your face as you shake your head, frustrated, like that came out wrong.

“I got the snacks!” Hyunjin announces suddenly, waltzing into the aisle, before he notices you standing there with Taehyun. “What’s going on here?”

You and Taehyun stay quiet, adding onto Minho’s misery. He wants you to say something, anything. He doesn’t even want an apology; he knows he absolutely deserved that insult. Still, Minho can’t help that horrible feeling rising inside of him.

“Let’s just go.” Minho turns on his heel and walks out of the store, before waiting to finish the conversation, Hyunjin following closely behind. He doesn’t bother looking back.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything to Minho, falling silent in the rapidly approaching night. At times like this, Minho prefers to be left alone. But he isn’t, really. Not with the truth leaning over his shoulder, like an angelic superego. He tries not to think of it, however, or the fact that his heart is falling apart so violently in his chest. Although you and Minho are not together anymore, you’ve both now fulfilled a milestone: hurt each other beyond repair.

The convenience store encounter with Minho left you feeling guiltier than ever, even more than when you actually broke up with him. You should have been more understanding towards Minho; after suddenly ending things, you appear out with Terry. Even though you don’t see Terry like that, you are well aware of how it can look to Minho. After all, you’d react similarly if you found out that Minho and Minju are dating. But you hadn’t, because you know that Minho would never do that to you.

You sigh, shutting the door to your room and collapsing onto your bed. After the whole incident, the air between you and Terry had been pretty awkward. While you still don’t know much about Terry, including his intentions, the topic of a romance had never been broached until Minho did it for you. He’d walked you back to your apartment, before wishing you a goodnight.

Your phone sounds with a text, and you pick it up, curling into your pillow. It’s Terry.

terrypotter: just checking up on you terrypotter: how are you doing? bobaluvrr: better, thanks for asking terrypotter: glad to hear terrypotter: and i also want to say that i’m sorry for any role i might have played in what happened today bobaluvrr: you’re good, terry. it wasn’t about you. i’m sorry for bringing you in

There is truth to this. No matter how much it feels like third parties have an avenue in furthering the split between you and Minho, the problem has always been internal. It’s truly between you both, hence, you’re not a couple anymore.

bobaluvrr: let’s change the subject? terrypotter: ofc terrypotter: wanna play would you rather?

You laugh in spite of yourself. It feels good to laugh, to distract yourself, but Minho stays like a stubborn mirage in your mind. Nevertheless—

bobaluvrr: game on. terrypotter: beaches or mountains? bobaluvrr: beaches terrypotter: sweet or salty? bobaluvrr: are u kidding? my username? boba?? terrypotter: LOL sweet then bobaluvrr: yes. terrypotter: spring or autumn? bobaluvrr: spring, duh terrypotter: and lastly, dogs or cats? bobaluvrr: DOGS terrypotter: u are 100% correct terrypotter: all of our answers are the exact same LMFAO

You think back to your first date with Minho. Before the whole soup fiasco, the atmosphere had been so awkward while waiting for the soup to arrive. This was months of tension and pining between you both, and now that the apex had arrived, neither of you were sure of what to say. Without thinking, Minho broke the silence by randomly asking you if you liked dogs or cats better. You were automatically enchanted by the bashful look on his face. From there on, for every single question he asked you, both of you had the exact opposite answers. For the longest time, your differences had felt charming, before they weren’t.

Terry, on the other hand, shares so many similarities with you, beyond the strawberry ice cream betrayal. Both of you are outgoing, have a similar sense of humor, and like to be unabashedly yourselves. If a romance did ever blossom between you and Terry, if your friendship lasts your current heartbreak, you could be happy with him, maybe. You would never be insecure, worrying about what’s going on in his mind, because he would talk to you directly. You appreciate that so much about him. But whenever you look into his eyes, or whenever your hand accidentally brushes his, you don’t feel that electricity that had always coursed through you when you were with Minho. You’ve been searching for it everywhere since, but that spark just isn’t there; Taehyun’s just not Minho. Your heart calls out to Minho, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t, and you can’t deny it any longer.

If there’s one thing that Minho has learned in the duration of his college years, it’s that work has no tolerance for those special ailments of the heart. His professors don’t give a crap about the fact that his girlfriend dumped him, or that his girlfriend has now apparently moved on with some pink-haired stud. No matter how much he wants to slam his laptop screen down and fall asleep to the rhythm of his shattered heart, he knows he can’t. His term paper will not write itself, and it matters, especially since he’ll be graduating this year.

“What will you do when we graduate?” You set down your iPad, flexing your fingers.

“A job at a good company. And then one day, my own business.” That familiar, dreamy look mists Minho’s eyes.

You smile at him. “My handsome CEO.”

Minho tapped your nose with his finger, following it with a soft kiss there. “You are so cute.”

“I know.” You peek down at his notebook that’s full of graphs and lengthy strings of numbers. “This looks complicated.”

“Welcome to the life of a business and economics double major,” Minho laughs. “But you’re literally a pre-med student. I’m not going to complain when you have to memorize human anatomy and random proteins.”

“Don’t remind me.” You dramatically shudder, giggling at Minho. “But I don’t care, as long as one day, you’re CEO Lee, and I’m Dr. Lee.”

Your words shock both you and Minho, invoking a moment of charged silence. You both have never talked about getting married before. But before you can backtrack, a slow smile spreads across Minho’s face. “Dr. Lee… has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

You turn a bright red, but lean into Minho, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “Definitely.”

Minho clears his throat and shakes yet another memory of you away, trying to concentrate on the email open in front of him. Just minutes ago, he’d received notice that he’d been chosen for a position at Google, following graduation. Fucking Google. Every business major would kill for a job at Google. And not only that, but his employer noted in the message that they usually don’t even extend offers this early in the year, but made an exception for him because they wanted him so much.

For a moment, he forgot all about the angst of the previous day, giddily jumping off his bed in a rare display of emotion, even if nobody else was around. And then he reached for his phone, opening up your contact and preparing to type in a text to you; for months, you knew Minho was anxious about his application to Google. But then he remembers himself; he’s now someone in your past.

Minho swallows roughly, staring at the blank space where his response accepting the offer should be. A moment later, he decides he’ll respond to the email later. But he doesn’t even have any time to chide himself before he notices someone standing in front of him.

“Minju?”

She looks down at him, either oblivious to his confusion or choosing to ignore it. “Hey. Am I interrupting something?”

Minho nods, waiting for Minju to sit down and get settled into her chair, trying not to let his bewilderment show.

At Jihyo’s party, he had needed some air after that stupid game of Truth or Dare, and even worse, your reaction to the question asked of him. Minho had escaped to the balcony, hoping for a moment alone, when Minju approached him. When she launched into a conversation with him about school, Minho realized that you probably never told Minju about the break-up. So he excused himself as politely as he could, explaining that you and him both broke up. He never really considered Minju as his own friend, and did not expect Minju to pursue a relationship with him any further.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Minho.” Minju exhales, looking him directly in the eye. “I like you.”

Minho sits up immediately, shocked. “What did you just say?”

Minju purses her lips. “I like you, and I always have. Go out with me.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, the confusion fading into anger. “You’re Y/N’s friend. How could you do this to her? How can you even look at yourself?”

“You’re not together anymore, it doesn’t matter,” Minju says, her voice wavering.

He scoffs, packing up his belongings and shoving them carelessly into his bag. “Don’t talk to me again.”

Minju grabs the sleeve of Minho’s jacket as he turns to leave, desperation in her eyes. “Be with me instead. I’ll make you forget her.”

Minho shakes her free, giving her a look of both pity and disgust. “I still love her, and I always will.”

And with that, Minho leaves without looking back, walking slowly and deliberately in thought. Was this what you meant when you told him that you weren’t sure if you were the only one? Was Minju the reason for the love of his life leaving him? A strange mix of both fury and hope washes over Minho as he exits the library and breaks into a run, barely eight out of his eight-thousand word essay written.

After you broke up with Minho, you forgot one very crucial detail: you didn’t unlink him from your Google calendar. One of the few things you both share in common is your organization, and when you were together, you both loved to plan things together and very ceremoniously add them to your shared online calendar. It became a game, trying to guess where the other was at random times, judging by their schedule. More often than not, the calendar proved to be a very useful tool in pinpointing each other’s locations. It’s why the brief surprise of seeing Minho standing outside your apartment door in the middle of the day on a weekday fades away quickly. You don’t have any classes scheduled today.

“Y/N,” he pants, leaning against the doorframe.

“Minho. What are you doing here?” You cross your arms, resisting the urge to rush forward and hug him in all of his puffer coat glory. You used to make fun of him for that coat, all the time.

“I needed to see you. Minju told me,” Minho lowers his eyes, as if he’s nervous. “I need you to know that there was nothing going on with her. You have always been my only one. I promise. No one else. I miss you.”

Your heart wrenches in desire and nostalgia at the sincerity of his eyes. Of course you knew that he never cheated on you; this is Minho. But that’s not the reason why you have to remind yourself, once more, that you aren’t right for each other. Not in the long run. “I miss you too. And I know you didn’t cheat on me.”

Minho’s eyes fill with what you recognize as a mix of despair and tears, because after all, you’ve felt it in you too, before. “Then why? Why end it?”

“I feel like you don’t love me as much as I love you.”

The wheels turning inside of Minho’s mind and searching for possible reasons, immediately crash to a stop. “What?”

You shrug, drawing back your hands to tuck them into your lap, a habit that Minho has observed whenever you are nervous. “Remember when we were at that picnic with all of your friends? And Jisung and his girlfriend were also there? We were playing a question game.”

Minho nods slowly, still confused. “I do.”

“Felix had asked all the guys to think of why they love their girlfriends.” You look down at your hands, embarrassed. “Changbin had a whole list of reasons. But when it was your turn to speak, you had no answer.”

The recollection comes back to Minho like a tsunami. He hadn’t really ever thought much of that day; he always had trouble talking about personal things in front of other people, and he thought you already knew why he loved you. He didn’t know his inability to share something like that could hurt you so much, especially when he can write a whole book of reasons for why he loves you. Your smile. Your endless generosity. Your never ending patience for Minho’s antics. The way you always see the best in people, and how you light up the whole room when you walk in.

“Baby,” Minho starts, before realizing that he doesn’t have the right to call you that anymore. Reluctantly, he continues, using your name instead. “Y/N, I have trouble talking in front of other people. I love you so much, and if you know that, it’s all that really matters. A stupid game doesn’t change that.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “But see, Minho, I don’t know. I don’t know how you’re feeling half the time. Felix’s question was just the icing on the cake. I’m exhausted from wondering. Wondering if you love me. Wondering if I really know you. Just wondering all the time. I shouldn’t feel that way.”

I’ll try harder to be more open. I’ll work on myself. I just— please believe me.”

“I do believe that you’ll try, Min. It’s who you are. But I can’t force you to be someone you’re not, and you can’t force me to want different things. We’ll only end up hurting each other more.” Your eyes fill with tears. “It hurts to love you.”

Minho flinches at your words, and he sees the sorrow in your eyes, but you say nothing to soothe the burn. Nevertheless, he keeps trying, as if he didn’t notice the determination written in your gaze as well. “I know I was senseless. But please— I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t leave, not again.”

You look away from him, a single tear sliding down your cheek, as Minho tries to hold back his own. The whole scene feels disturbingly like a few days ago, when you broke up with him in Morningstar. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“I tried to understand you. I did. But don’t you think that being senseless about everything that was going on also means that you were that indifferent towards me?” You scrub at your face to keep from crying even more.

Minho cringes, hearing the truth in your words. Once upon a time, he cherished the silence you both could share comfortably, working independently in the happy company of each other. Now the quiet hangs in the air like smog, a heavy uneasiness that he never imagined around you. “I really thought I could change. I swear.”

You nod, a brisk movement that doesn’t match the tears glistening on your face. “You should go now. Please.”

And you turn your head, as if you can’t bear to watch him any longer. Minho turns, his head hanging down like he’s a sinner. A small, ugly voice in Minho whispers that he truly is one, for hurting you and letting you go. It implores him to fall at your feet and stay, insisting, breaking at you until you crumble into his arms, taking him back. But the part of him that carries the resolve is stronger by a thread, the one that fuels his despondent retreat from your heart.

Later, holed away in the place he would now have to call his home, Minho is left alone in the bed that he’d once believed to belong to you as much as it did to him. The nights cuddled together and the mornings after, when you woke up to each other in a halo of sunlight, all fade away into the prickling solitude that now constitutes his new reality. There is nothing left for him to do now, except looking out at the sky through his tiny bedroom window, wondering if you were both gazing at the same moon in the separate worlds you both now are in. He’d left you one last message before promising himself that he’d never text you again, and thankfully, you never responded. He didn’t think you would.

catservant98: I’ll always love you.

“The festival will end by the time we get there.” Jeongin lets out an exaggerated sigh, making a show of checking the watch on his wrist.

“Shut up. I need to lock this place up properly or my parents will kill me,” Seungmin mutters grumpily, as he carefully turns the key in the lock to Morningstar, taking his time. “It’s not my fault that I’m the owner’s son.”

Jeongin, donned in a Harley Quinn outfit, bounces on his toes in uncontained anticipation. “Hurry up!”

Seungmin tugs at the lock for good measure, before turning and swatting at Jeongin, who yelps and jumps out of the way. His detective hat, which he wore as a part of his Sherlock Holmes costume, falls off, and Jeongin grabs it. Usually, Minho would have laughed at the way Seungmin has started to chase Jeongin around, but he just glumly stares down at his sneakers, having no energy to join in.

“You okay?” Chan notices Minho’s downcast gaze, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Minho shrugs with one shoulder, out of options. “I’m fine. I have nothing else to do anyway.”

Today is Halloween, your favorite holiday of the entire year. It seems especially cruel to him, to have to confront this day without you by his side. It was never much of his scene, and he’d always been reluctant to dress up, but one look from your pleading eyes and he’d fold, decking himself in a cheesy costume and feeding you all the candy you desired. The night would always end in you both binging horror movies together because you were too scared to watch alone. The memory of Minho getting distracted, just watching you hide behind your hands the entire time, used to bring a fond smile to his face. Today, it makes him want to smash something into bits.

“Let me know if you want to leave the festival early, though. Changbin can drive you home later.” Chan juts his chin out at Jeongin and Seungmin, who are now smacking at each other, while Changbin responsibly tries to pull them apart. “I have to make sure those two idiots don’t get in trouble.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry about me.” Minho gives Chan a half-hearted smile. Chan looks hesitant, like he wants to keep talking with him, but he nods, focusing on the moonlit path in front of them.

The roar of the annual Halloween festival that the university throws resonates throughout campus, drawing stressed students ready to throw aside their homework and party. But Minho is in anything but a celebratory mood; the last few weeks have been absolute agony. Ever since things fell apart. He just wants to go home and curl up into a ball under his covers, ready for this stupid night to be over. He didn’t even bother with a costume, choosing to stuff himself into his hoodie and make himself seem as small as possible. But he’s too tired to tell anyone, so he opts to stay quiet and gloomy on his own.

The gravel of the walkway crunches under their little group’s shoes, barely heard over the deafening sound of “Thriller” blasting on the DJ’s stereo. The entire main lawn of campus has been converted into a party space, crammed with different tents full of attractions, games, and souvenirs for students to indulge themselves in. There’s even a converted frat house that’s now a haunted house, as well as tables of snacks and lightsticks for people to wave around. Jeongin, Seungmin, and Changbin immediately zero in on the haunted house, running off to get tickets for it, leaving Minho and Chan alone. Two boys swaying together at the edge of the dance floor catch Minho’s eyes. He looks closer and notices that they both are dressed in an obvious couples costume, and it makes him think of you again— last year, he was Chucky and you were Tiffany Valentine, and you both won “Best Look” together, at the festival’s costume contest. Minho feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh my god, she’s stunning.” Chan’s eyes are wide, and Minho follows his gaze to a very pretty girl dressed in a white gown that seemed to float above her knees, two trailing pieces of fabric sticking out daintily from the back of her dress. An angel.

She approaches him with a shy smile on her face, as she not-so-subtly checks out Chan’s own dracula costume. “You look good.”

“I— you’re pretty,” Chan stutters, and they both blush.

Seriously?

“Thanks, Chris.”

Chan smiles lovingly at her. “You don’t have to call me Chris, you know. My friends call me Chan.”

“Chan,” the girl tests with a beam, before quirking her brow at him. “So I’m just a friend now? Not your girlfriend?”

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”

And then they both start kissing right then and there, which doesn’t seem to faze anyone else around them, considering the fact that they are surrounded by other couples. Minho, however, has to look away, his stomach turning. Is this how everyone else felt when he used to kiss you, whenever and wherever he wanted?

“Hey guys, I’m going to go find a place to sit,” Minho calls out to Chan, who barely notices in the midst of his make-out session. “You know what? Never mind.”

Cringing to himself, Minho makes his way over to the food tables, dodging at least five witches, seven ghouls, and six zombies on his way. He collapses onto the bench of an empty table with a groan, letting his head rest on the table before lifting it up like he’s been stung; the thump of the DJ’s bass seems to vibrate through the wooden tabletop, worsening his already horrible headache. What was he thinking, coming here?

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Minho looks up, ready to lash out at the intruder, before he notices it’s Hyunjin. He is so out of it that he hadn’t even recognized his voice. “I thought you were staying home and painting tonight?”

“Thought about it, but I kept getting distracted by all of the noise outside, and thought I’d take a snack break.” Hyunjin plops down on the seat across from him, setting a plate loaded with brownies, potato chips, and cookies cut into pumpkin shapes. He’s dressed in plaid pajama pants and a baggy sweatshirt to fight the October chill, the only one besides Minho who hasn’t dressed up. “Want some?”

Minho shakes his head, watching Hyunjin dig in. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hyunjin nods, his cheeks stuffed with food. “Sure.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Minho fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, feeling his face heat up. He was never one for sentiments like this, but even though he and Hyunjin have more of a seemingly lighthearted relationship, they’re more alike than they think in how deeply they care about each other. “I mean, you’ve never even had a serious relationship before, but you’re like the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever met. How does that even work?”

Hyunjin looks surprised, at first, but quickly smooths it away in understanding. “I do get lonely sometimes. But I just occupy myself with the things I love. Painting, reading. Just because I’m a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I can’t be realistic. And I have been in a serious relationship before, remember?”

Minho frowns. “Oh. Right. What happened?”

He notices Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something— grief, maybe. But the emotion is quickly replaced with indifference. Hyunjin shrugs. “Let’s just say it didn’t work out. I love a good romance novel, but is it real life? No. I don’t do relationships. Not anymore.”

Minho stays quiet, unknowing of what to say. He never thought of himself as a huge relationship person either, but then again, that was before he met you. You changed his perspective on a lot of things, and most of the time, he thought it was for the better. Now, he feels empty, alone. He wants to match costumes with someone, and go bobbing for apples together. And he wants that someone to be you, only you.

Hyunjin must have noticed Minho’s melancholic contemplation, because he gives him a sympathetic look. “Is this about Y/N?”

Minho’s chest tightens at the mention of your name. “I don’t know, honestly. I just want to go home.”

“Same. I just came for the free food.” Hyunjin chews on a brownie, before swallowing. “Let’s go after I finish eating.”

Minho hums in response, pulling his hood over his head, as the rest of their group comes to join the table. Chan and his girlfriend, unsurprisingly, are discussing plans about some upcoming event for the Student Council. Jeongin and Seungmin, on the other hand, are immersed in a gleeful recollection about the haunted house with Changbin, who is dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. Everyone seems to have a role except him.

“That was actually wild,” Jeongin says. “If Jisung was with us, he would have fainted when he saw the chainsaw guy!”

Seungmin shudders, while Changbin glances around their table. “Hey, where is Jisung, anyway? And Felix?”

Chan breaks away from his own conversation as his girlfriend pauses to eat her slice of cake. “He’s handing out candy to kids at home. Meanwhile, Felix is Trick-or-Treating.”

Jeongin snickers. “Trick-or-Treating? What is he, ten?”

Seungmin grins evilly at Changbin. “At least he doesn’t have the height of a ten year old.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore Seungmin and Jeongin’s high-five at his expense, instead turning to Hyunjin. “Can I have a cookie? There are no more left.”

Hyunjin gives him a judgemental glare, but passes a cookie over anyway. “Where’s your girlfriend, by the way?”

Changbin stuffs half of the entire cookie into his mouth, licking the frosting on his lip. “She has work. But we’re going to meet up later tonight and watch movies. Wanna come?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I’m good. Minho and I are headed home soon anyway. Right, Minho?”

But Minho isn’t paying attention. His gaze is locked on none other than you and Taehyun, dressed in Hogwarts robes— you in Gryffindor, and Taehyun in Slytherin. He’s seen multiple people tonight sporting similar getups, and so both of you wearing Hogwarts robes doesn’t exactly entail a couples costume, but it makes his heart clench either way. Both of you are standing near the apple bobbing station, laughing and talking animatedly together. It hurts to see you enjoying yourself, while Minho has to struggle to keep himself together, to keep from breaking down on the spot. It hurts that he’s not the one matching with you right now, the one to be making you laugh, holding you on one of your favorite days of the year.

He watches as you and Taehyun walk closer to the haunted house. Your smile has now faded into an unsure expression, skeptical and tinged with fear. Taehyun puts his arm around your shoulders, evidently trying to assure you, before he leads you inside the house. Minho immediately springs up from the bench, fists balled up at his sides. You love everything about Halloween, except for one thing. You hate being in the dark, and so you had always avoided the haunted houses at every Halloween festival or any other event that you and Minho went to. Obviously, Taehyun doesn’t have a clue about your boundaries, and as always, you’re too kind to point them out.

Ignoring Hyunjin’s confused protests, Minho stalks after you and Taehyun, even though he knows that he should sit right back down. He told himself that he’d stay away from you if you didn’t want him, but if he even gets the slight sense that you are afraid, he’ll throw all reason out the window. He won’t let you go inside, not without him.

“Excuse me— you can’t go in right now. The haunted house is at full capacity.” The ticket collector stops Minho even though he shows her the ticket that Jeongin had passed out to everyone before. “Just wait for a few minutes for someone to come out.”

But he can’t. Not if you’re already inside. Minho steps back for a moment, and the collector glances back down at her phone. Before the collector can react, he rushes past her, running inside. She calls after him angrily, but he barely hears her. All he can register is the racing beat of his heart, and the faint screams deeper inside, wondering if one of them could be you.

He whips past the ax-wielding maniacs and the corpse brides in tattered dresses, pushing past their horrible acting and all of the other props in his way to you. Minho feels his hoodie snagged against a cloud of fake cobwebs, and the fake blood on the walls is enough to make him gag, but he goes on. A desperate search in nearly every nook and corner yields nothing, and Minho curses the haphazard quality of the setup, nearly tripping over a loose wire. As he passes through a room decorated like a murderous hospital room, he hears a small whimper from behind the fake operating table.

His senses perk up and there you are, sitting down with your knees drawn to your chest. With how his eyes have now adjusted to the dark, he can faintly make out your crouched body and the shine of your flowing tears. Immediately, he gets onto his knees, and envelopes you with his arms, firmly pulling you against his chest.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he murmurs, the scent of your coconut shampoo blocking out the stench of ammonia.

“Terry and I got chased by one of the ghosts and then got separated,” you mumble as you cry, shivering in his arms as he begins to rock you slowly. “I’m so scared, Minho.”

Minho looks at the tears still leaking down the sides of your face, and has to restrain himself from the instinct to kiss them away. Instead, he puts a steady hand to your skin, gently wiping them away. In this moment, you aren’t broken up. He isn’t your ex-boyfriend, and you aren’t his ex-girlfriend. You are the girl he loves, and him the very soul that has so vehemently devoted himself to even at such a ripe age, an inspiration and a shame to the vengeful spirits that govern your favorite holiday.

“I’m here now. I’m not going to leave you.” Minho gazes down at you. “Are you still frightened?”

You shake your head no, wide eyes clinging to his comforting presence. Minho gives you a small smile, rubbing your jaw softly with his thumb, a movement that doesn’t feel as inherently romantic as it generally would be. “See? You’re not afraid of the dark. You’re just scared of being alone in it. And that goes away when you realize something. You’re never really alone.”

Both of you just gaze at each other in the dark for a few minutes, saying both nothing and yet everything to each other. He carefully rests his palm against your heart, gaging the beat until it slows down to its usual calm. Wordlessly, he helps you onto your feet, his arms still wrapped around you as you both navigate the maze of the haunted house. You don’t encounter any other of the actors, but at one point, you jump in Minho’s hold, spooked by the amplified horror sound when passing by a speaker. Steadily, you both make your way out together.

The first thing Minho sees as he steps out of the exit is the array of blinding lights that shine on his face, in addition to the glow of the raging bonfire that has now been set up for students to roast marshmallows. Then he catches that shock of pink hair in the small crowd gathered outside of the haunted house; Taehyun, distress written all over his features as he speaks to the security guards.

You and Minho, however, stay frozen on the spot, just staring at each other with a fresh uncertainty. Realizing himself, Minho lets go of you. Contrary to how you felt, Minho could always read you like a book. He practically memorized all of your expressions, able to tell how you were feeling in an instant. But the indecipherable look you give him is baffling, but before you can open your mouth and say something, Taehyun notices your arrival.

“Y/N!” Taehyun immediately rushes over, his breathing labored from sprinting the distance to you. “I’m so, so sorry; I lost you and tried to come back inside to find you, but they wouldn’t let me!”

Minho steps to the side awkwardly as Taehyun hugs you tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Your tears are long gone, and you pat his back softly, giving him the comfort of your safety. “I’m alright, Terry. It’s all good.”

Taehyun pulls back to look at you, before turning to Minho, surprise and confusion on his features as if just registering Minho’s presence. You clear your throat, placing a hand on Taehyun’s arm. “Hey, could you give us a minute?”

“Sure. Of course,” Terry says, the stress on his face softening as he looks down at you. Minho recognizes it— it’s how he always imagined himself to look whenever he saw you.

You turn back to Minho as Terry walks away to a food stand, presumably to get you a warm drink. “Minho, I—”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Minho interrupts, unable to bear any more. He chokes back a sob, his eyes trained on your pained expression. “I need to go.”

“Minho, wait!” You grab his arm, and it places you both in the uncomfortable déjà vu of when everything ended.

He looks back at you, swallowing his dread and pushing away the angsty alert of his brain, the command to let everything go and just take you back, then and there. But he wouldn’t be the man you had always loved, then. Not if he takes advantage of you when you’re like this, vulnerable and exhausted. Not when there’s a perfectly good man standing at a distance, hesitantly holding a cup of hot chocolate for you. Not when he knows that he’s lost his chance of ever getting you back from the moment he gave up on you both. Minho realizes that he doesn’t have the right to call you his anymore, when you’ve finally found a man who prioritizes you over his pride and his insecurities— a man who will treat you right, and will never make you wonder if you’re his only one. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be happy. That has to be enough for him. It will be.

Minho leans down before you can protest, kissing you on your forehead softly. You stay silent, looking up at him with those wide, inquisitive eyes, the very ones he fell in love with. “Stay smiling, always.”

And with that, Minho finally walks away, willing himself not to cry as he tries not to think of his heart breaking.

You watch Minho, dazed, as he walks away for the second and last time. It feels worse, somehow, than when he left your apartment, weeks ago. Minho had spoken to you so gently, inside the haunted house, calming you down in spite of the fact that you had so cruelly broken up with him, and then he proceeded to wish you his best, before leaving. You didn’t miss that note of finality in his voice, the one that told you that he wasn’t going to go back on his word. He had let you go.

You barely notice Terry approaching you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

He hands you a cup of hot chocolate, as you stare at Minho’s retreating back before it finally disappears within the crowd of partygoers. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for this, Terry.”

Terry blinks at you, slightly unfocused. “Yeah of course. But… can I ask you something?”

You nod, sipping the hot chocolate. It’s so warm and sweet, and it feels wrong to be drinking it. It feels like you don’t deserve it.

He hesitates for a moment, before speaking up. “What happened in there? In the haunted house?”

You bite your lip, still distracted by the thought of Minho; Terry’s question doesn’t pull at you as much as it probably should. “He just found me and helped me back. That’s all.”

Terry looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and you don’t question it. The rest of the night is clouded by an awkward rut that has originated from nowhere at all, one that you never guessed you’d experience with Terry. He walks you back to your apartment early, and waits next to you as you fumble with your keys.

“Good night, Y/N,” he says softly, as you finally wrestle your door open.

“Thanks,” you whisper back, too drained of energy to make one of the usual jokes traded when you both say goodbye. He tips his head at you like he always does, albeit in a less jaunty way, and steps into the apartment elevator at the end of the hall, flashing you one last little wave before the doors close.

You turn back to your apartment, walking inside and locking the door behind you once again. This time, you don’t go straight to your bedroom and drop onto your bed, like you always do after a horrible day. Instead, you stalk over to the kitchen, which is illuminated by a single, flickering lightbulb. You tug open the freezer, fishing out a box from your emergency stash of ice cream, the one thing bound to be on stock at all times. When you went grocery shopping some time ago, you didn’t think that a crisis would hit so soon.

Cracking open the lid of the chocolate ice cream, you take your scooper and place a bowl on the counter. After a second thought, you take out your blender as well, and scrape the ice cream into there instead, throwing in some milk and peanut butter as well. Tonight is a milkshake kind of night, you think, the kind that necessitates butterscotch chips and whipped cream as well, you note, opening the cupboard to get said ingredients. When you finish blending, you pour your icy salvation into a large tumbler and collapse onto the living room couch. You turn on the television, blankly staring at the screen while barely registering the dialogue playing.

“That’s not a milkshake— that’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.” You shoot Minho a pointed look as you chug down your shake, savoring the sound of Minho’s laughter even more than a hefty peanut butter and chocolate combo.

It isn’t until you taste saltiness instead of the sweet milkshake that you realize you’re crying.

callmeterry: can we meet? bobaluvrr: yes. see u @ morningstar

You stare into the bathroom mirror, checking your face one last time, inspecting it for bloodshot eyes and dry skin, the telltale signs of the tears that have now become a habit over the past few days. Ever since Halloween, things haven’t been the same since you and Terry. Although a fairly new friendship, you both spent a significant amount of time together after meeting at Jihyo’s birthday party. However, you haven’t seen each other at all outside of Writing Seminar nowadays— probably because during class, you’re too busy staring at Minho, who won’t even spare you a single glance. You’re determined to at least save your friendship with Terry, which is why you are so quick to agree to meet him.

“Catch you two later,” you call out to Sunoo and Soyeon, who both are slumped on the couch, watching One Piece over boxes of takeout butter chicken.

The journey to Morningstar doesn’t take long, especially since the vastly approaching night has gotten you nearly jogging, regardless of how safe your college campus is. Although it’s been nearly a month and a half, you still can’t get used to not having the security and comfort of your boyfriend. Serves you right, you think.

You enter through the glass doorway of Morningstar, the door chime ringing and announcing your entrance to Terry. He stands up from the table he’s sitting at, walking over to you with the genuine smile that you were fearful of not being able to see again. Terry looks heartbreakingly handsome, dressed in a long brown coat and wool scarf, an ode to the plaid shirt days and hot chocolate nights that you know you could have with him.

“Hi,” he says, pausing his gait when he’s a few feet away from you. Tentative, but still Terry. The bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands, however, isn’t.

You can literally feel your face fall, as you stare at the certainly expensive arranged red roses and lilies. “I—”

“Don’t.” Terry’s smile doesn’t fade, but the slight sheen of moisture to his eyes is new. “ I know. I’d rather not hear you say it. Please.”

You’re speechless as he hands you the flowers, the refreshingly floral scent wafting up and screaming at you to wake up. You had a feeling, you knew how Terry felt about you. But you didn’t think he’d act on those feelings so soon.

“You know, I’ve been in love with you since August. You walked into the very first day of class late, wearing this gorgeous pink dress— and God, I was so whipped. I even dyed my hair the same color.” Terry laughs lightly, but you can see the heaviness in his eyes, the same thing that you feel in your chest. “I didn’t approach you, though, because I saw the way you were looking at Minho.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “Terry…”

“And then you walked into the kitchen at that party; it felt like a sign. But that can’t have been true, because the way you looked at him didn’t change. It never will.” He stops for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. “When you both broke up, I ignored my heart telling me not to dig myself deeper into this, to leave you alone. But I couldn’t, Y/N, because I thought that the risk would be worth it. And it was, you know. You are worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, at a loss for words. You don’t know what else to say, whether it’s a reaction to how your friend is pouring out his heart to you, or the fact that he’s always known that you’d never be his.

The smile on Terry’s face is now a sharp contrast to the strings of tears that mar it. “Don’t be. It’s Minho. It’s always been Minho for you.”

He turns, but you rush forward and block him. You can’t lose someone else. Not again. “Terry, wait! Can’t we be friends?”

“Of course we can be. I’d rather have you as a friend than not in my life at all. I’ll move on, eventually. But you have to go fix things with him now.” He flashes you another one of his signature beams. It doesn’t have the same joyful effect on you as it usually does, now that it’s tainted with sadness. “I’ll see you next class. Hold onto him, okay?”

Terry leaves, and you stare after him at the door, dumbfounded, haunting the entryway of the coffee shop nearing closing hours. You never saw this confrontation coming, not today. And you didn’t want it to happen any time soon, not like this. But no matter how much you want to deny Terry’s words, you know they are the truth. You know what you have to do. Because love works in strange ways, you realize, and now yours needs to be made right.

“We shouldn’t be here.” You say, shaking your head. “It’s dangerous.”

Minho just stares at you, his eyebrow skeptically quirked in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “It’s literally just a bridge.”

You glare at him, before looking out at the arched walkway that connects the wooded expanse of the university library to the rest of campus. According to university lore, any pair of lovers that walks over Forsaken Bridge together is doomed to suffer an untimely separation; hence, its ominous name. And you would rather look stupid for believing in superstition rather than risk losing Minho.

“It can’t be.” You cross your arms stubbornly. “I know so many couples that came here, and they ended up breaking up.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, just pondering your words, and you think he’s about to step back, allowing you to cross the bridge first, before following on his own. But then he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bridge.

Your immediate reaction is to let out a small scream that cuts through the quiet night, and it’s quickly muffled by Minho’s hand gently closing over your mouth. “Trust me on this. Nothing bad will happen.”

You really want to remind Minho of what happened to Hyunjin and his girlfriend— well, ex-girlfriend— but you let him lead you towards your dreaded destination. Because you do trust him, more than anything.

The balmy summer night sticks to your skin, a feeling that will soon give away to the crisp bite of autumn. You’ve already moved back onto campus to get a headstart on the teaching assistant position for your biology professor, but for the first time ever, you don’t feel sad or apprehensive at the thought of going back to college again. This was the gap in time that you once despised because it signaled the unfortunate trudge of school life: textbooks, homework, and stress. But nowadays, you think it to be a reminder of something better: Minho, Minho, and Minho.

Your boyfriend takes an easy step onto the bridge, his hand tightly clasped in yours. You trail after him more cautiously, hiding behind his broad frame like the bridge will come alive and attack you. “You better not ever break up with me, Lee Minho.”

He turns back to look at you as you both near the center of the supposedly cursed bridge, his lips pressed together in a way that suggests concealed laughter; knowing him, it probably is. “Never. Now close your eyes.”

With a grumpy sigh, you oblige him, shutting your eyes. “For what, Minho?”

“I need to tell you something.” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. It’s a new color to him, compared to how assured and confident he always seems to be.

You crack open one eye, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”

He frowns, letting go of your hand. “No peeking!”

“Okayy.”

Minho takes a deep breath, right before he turns your world upside down. “I love you.”

Your eyes fly open, and Minho doesn’t complain this time, only gazing at you nervously, clutching his right arm with his left hand like he’s a little kid again. “What did you just say?”

Regardless of his uncertain body language, he looks you directly in the eye. “I love you, Y/N. And I know it’s too soon to say it, but it’s true. I love you, and you don’t have to tell me back, but—”

“I love you too,” you blurt out, and you both just stare at each other for a moment, in mutual shyness and surprise. You can’t believe how good it feels to finally say the words that were hanging off the tip of your tongue for the past few months since you started dating.

Minho’s beautiful face breaks out into a dazzling smile as he steps closer to you. “Then let’s make our own story for this bridge. Two people crossing the bridge together will be lifelong friends. And if they kiss, lifelong lovers.”

Your poor, racing heart can’t take anymore of this; what a man that you have found. “Kiss me, then.”

Minho gives you a tender look, and in that moment, you wish you had a camera to capture it. You can’t seem to remember your initial fear of coming onto this bridge, not when you have a beautiful boy who gazes at you with nothing short of absolute adoration. You’ll follow him anywhere, if it means you’ll stay together. Always and forever.

From when you were a little girl, your parents painted fairy tales for you in your childhood bedroom, of handsome princes mounted on midnight stallions and towering castles set against sunsets. For the longest time, you thought them to be true, because by the time you might have grown up, you found your own handsome prince, who rode a secondhand bike instead of a horse, and his castle was the sweatshirt-strewn dorm room he shared with two other boys. Nevertheless, you so strongly believed you would get your own happily-ever-after, that it took you a long time to accept the thorns in the rosy brush that constituted your outlook on life. You had a hard time understanding your prince, sometimes, and ended up spinning your own stories to fill in the gaps you thought he created. It never once occurred to you that life would never be perfect, and that your prince could not be exactly who you dreamed him to be.

It’s why you stroll the length of Forsaken Bridge alone, materializing its dreary name with your head bent and hands tucked in your pockets. But you’re not surprised either, when you see your prince, standing on the very place where he made you a promise that you broke yourself. His crown is misplaced and his armor has lost its luster, but he’s your beautiful prince, still beautiful while heartbroken over you.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you say softly.

“I shouldn’t have.” Minho stares at the deteriorating timber planks beneath your feet. “But I can’t say no when it comes to you.”

You shake your head, sniffling lightly. You both hate and love him for being so understanding, so kind, even now. You hate yourself for it, too. “I broke your heart.”

Minho blinks, clasping his hands in front of himself. “There are so many things that I’m sorry and thankful to you for, but you know I’m not good at expressing myself.”

“That’s my line, Min.” You scoff through your tears. “I tried to force you to be someone you're not. And you respond by taking care of me, like you always have. And you listened to me instead of fighting. You walked away.”

“I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted. With or without me in the picture.” Minho shoots you a watery smile. “I love you, you know. I always will.”

You inhale shakily. “And I love you too. I was scared of being hurt because I love you so much. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of what I didn’t know. I should have tried to ask you instead of coming to assumptions on my own.”

“We’re in this together, okay?” Minho steps forward towards you, reaching up to hold your face in his hands. “Remember what I said? You never have to be alone. I’m right here, always.”

Minho rubs his thumbs over your tears, nothing but devotion in his eyes. You touch his arms, pulling him into a hug. “I know I ruined everything, but please come back to me? I’m so, so sorry.”

“Me too. And you ruined nothing.” He squeezes you. “We still have our whole lives ahead of us.”

You draw back from the embrace, smiling through your tears— for once, they’re the good kind. “I love you, Lee Minho. Let’s start over?”

“I love you too, Y/N.” Minho whispers, a grin slowly spreading on his face. “And I don’t want to ruin the moment, but can we begin by finding an apartment, please? If I accidentally drink Hyunjin’s paint water one more time I think I will literally die.”

You laugh, raising your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Only because you want to escape Hyunjin? Not because you love me?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, a light blush tinting his pale skin. “You know what I mean.”

“You should show me what you mean.”

“I should.”

Minho obeys your command, leaning down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss, before you grasp his waist, pulling him closer and deepening the movement. God, you missed this so much. You missed him, so much. Minho’s hands reach up to cup your neck as you trace endless love letters on each other’s lips, campus curses and bad faith banished from your lovestruck young minds.

“See? Looks like our story came true.” he whispers as you come up for air, nudging your nose sweetly with his own. “Lifelong lovers, we’ll be.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Minho kisses you once more and pulls back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “This means forever.”

Check out the rest of boys' stories on Love Playlist!

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

It feels so good to get back to Love Playlist <3 This whole series itself was inspired by the cute, college au vibes of the K-drama Love Playlist and its spinoff, Dear M. (starring NCT's Jaehyun, a must-see), but this story especially was heavily based on Dear M.'s second leads. Brownie points if you've noticed which hit superhero TV series I took a piece of dialogue from! I just adore that quote so much. Anyway, I'm a sucker for Minho and this story has a special place in my heart. Can you guess who is next?! And thank you for supporting me, always! -Dreamy

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

TAGLIST @chansburgah @hamburgers101@ajxreads @hash2013 @pixigreen @ana-marais98@ohish@chizumiyoshi@lilydaisyyy@jetblackbelle @143hyunes @yeahhspider

Network: @kflixnet

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

404 notes · View notes

therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years ago

Text

The Taste of Love (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Vampire!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Some Fluff | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Every handful of centuries, Minho found himself someone that was willing to let him feed off of them. It usually wasn’t planned, it sort of just happened. This time, that person was you, the baker that had just moved into town. He wanted nothing more than to have a taste of you, in more ways than one. Warnings: Minho’s POV · blood (duh) · vampire shenanigans (good ol’ blood sucking) · reader is implied to be chubby, but there’s not that much focus on it · possibly inaccurate mediaeval terminology · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: will i ever get tired of vampire!minho? no, i won’t. this is all just some monsterfuckery, as usual. don’t look at me 🫣 special thanks to @comet-falls for reading this before anyone else and letting me know it didn’t suck💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: implied/referenced sexual acts · some sort of bloodplay, but this is a vampire fic, what did you expect? · explicit oral (F.Rec)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Ever since Minho was turned, he’d had trouble dealing with his feedings.

For long periods of time, he’d settled on a vegetarian diet, hunting deer, or moose, or any possible animal he could find in the woods. Every couple of centuries, though, he’d be lucky enough to find someone fucked up in the head enough to let him feed off of them. It was something he tended to avoid, because he’d inevitably grow attached, and getting attached to someone that aged and eventually died was something that took an immense toll on the tiny bit of humanity that was left in him.

Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable. Or, at least, it felt like it to him.

The first time you crossed his path was during the very early morning, way before the sun rose in the horizon. Minho had just fed, he’d had so much the poor cow didn’t even make it. He was seemingly satisfied enough to go on for a few days without any more of his crimson sustenance, but the second you walked past him, his mouth went dry.

What an intoxicating scent, you had… Enough to cloud his reason completely, enough to make him turn around and walk after you–discreetly, of course. If years and years living in hiding had taught him anything, it was the art of discretion.

Minho knew it was wrong. That what he was doing was beyond creepy and immoral, but he needed to know who you were, he just did. So he followed you until you made it to a building, a new bakery that had settled in town just last week.

Soon after, the smell of baked goods started to emanate from the building’s chimney. It was pleasant, but nothing compared to the smell of you.

Minho left the place shortly after that, right before the sun started to show his head in the sky, and, as he walked the familiar paths to his manor in the outskirts of the town, he figured it was time for him to open himself up again. Now, it was just a matter of courting you, in hopes that you’d give him the time of day.

Trying to get someone’s attention while being a creature of the night wasn’t exactly easy. That was something Minho quickly came to find out after he turned. Which was why, the only times he was able to see you was either in the early morning when you went to your bakery and started preparing your goods, or in the late evening when you finally closed shop and made your way home.

The first time he tried to approach you, a friend of yours suddenly came out of nowhere, and Minho, admittedly, felt a bit shy, so he decided to try some other time. He’d lived for centuries, he was stronger, more dexterous than any human, and somehow he still felt uncomfortable around strangers sometimes. He often called this curse of introversion the remnants of his humanity.

He continued to try, though. He was persistent, but each attempt always failed. To this day, he found it both amusing and mortifying that the evening he finally got to meet you, to actually speak to you, was also the one he made a fool of himself. What was all vampiric dexterity worth for if he was still able to trip over his feet and fall face first to the ground?

Thankfully for him, you had quite the sense of humour, and his mishap simply made you laugh and offer your hand to help him to his feet. Your reaction made it so Minho didn’t feel half as embarrassed as he usually would, so it was easy for him to recover and start chatting you up.

After getting acquainted with you, Minho reached the same dilemma he always had in situations like these… He wanted you. Not only that delicious nectar that flowed through your veins, but also everything that laid under your clothes, and, most of all, your company.

He knew he had to reveal his true self to you, and if you wanted him back, vampirism and all, it’d all be smooth and dandy. However, if you didn’t, he’d have to make a choice… Respect your decision and leave you alone forever, or do as many of his peers did, to give into his instincts, drink you up, erase your memory, and carry on with his life as if nothing had happened.

When he had been recently turned, Minho didn’t even entertain the possibility of taking someone’s blood without their consent, but, after having lived as long as he had, morality was a concept that seemed to shift and drift into a muddier construct. He’d always thought that, if he ever did something like that, then that’d be the moment he’d known that tiny bit of humanity in him had left him completely.

Luckily, when he did gather the courage to tell you the truth, even if you had been a bit shaken at first, you clearly liked him enough not to care about it. If anything, you were immensely curious about it all. ‘How old are you then?’, ‘Were things as bad back then as they said?’, ‘Did it hurt?’, ‘Does it hurt now?’

Minho answered any and every question you had for him, as honestly as he could–although, ometimes, he believed that if he was too honest or too straightforward he’d scare you off. ‘I’m really old’, ‘They were even worse’, ‘It did hurt. A lot…’, ‘It does not hurt as much anymore. Only when I am hit by sunlight or when I have not fed in a long time…’

When you inquired about his feedings, he simply told you of his vegetarian diet. He didn’t want to go too deep into it. You didn’t need to know which animals he drank from, nor how his vegetarian diet made it so he had to feed at least once a week, as opposed to how human blood would keep him satisfied for a whole month.

He decided not to ask you to let him feed off of you just yet… Just like it happened when he wanted to tell you about his vampirism, he was also apprehensive of asking you to become his main source of sustenance.

After all, to Minho, not only did it feel like a major commitment, but, also, you could very well push him away due to the proposition, and he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. Although, losing you now was something he couldn’t afford. He was too used to walking you to your bakery in the very early morning, to spending evenings talking with you…

Regardless of his very obvious attraction, he genuinely enjoyed your company, and this was probably the most understood he’d felt after a long, long time. And also, to him, it felt like you were enjoying his company, too.

The first time Minho kissed you, it had been a spur of the moment thing. He was notorious for overthinking these things, for wanting the situation to be absolutely perfect, but you just smelt so good, and you looked so cute, and your heart was beating so fast in your chest there was no way he could’ve stopped the words from coming out of his mouth.

‘I really want to kiss you…’

Lame, basic, completely void of flourish or romanticism… But your heartbeat still quickened, he could hear your blood rushing through your veins, all the way to the utmost sensitive areas of your body. For a brief moment, he wished you could feel that reaction in him, too. He was certainly feeling it–or, at least, something akin to it, even when his body had long since been incapable of showing it.

‘Are you sure? I am no longer chaste…’

How ludicrous. As if something as trivial as that mattered to him. He’d lived for so long, he’d realised chastity was on its own a ridiculous concept. Almost no one was chaste after reaching a certain age, either because of the thoughts in their heads or the actual physical implications of the fact. Which was exactly what he told you.

If Minho’d had a working heart, he was sure it would’ve leaped out of his chest the second you pulled him to you for a kiss.

Your lips were soft, warm, they had a faint taste of strawberry–surely from one of your jam-filled pastries–and an undeniable taste of you. As he kissed you, as he held you close to him by the waist, Minho realised he was cursed now.

There was no way he wouldn’t be bound to you after this, after savouring the feeling of your warmth against his body, of your soft flesh under his hands… Things escalated further than he had ever expected that night, but he wasn’t going to complain, not when the sight of you, vulnerable, completely bare on his bed, was everything he could’ve ever dreamt of.

Minho knew then that he was ready to spend the next handful of decades with you, for as long as your mortal life lasted, or for as long as you wanted him to.

The first time you brought up the topic of feeding to him, Minho almost didn’t believe his ears.

‘Have you ever thought of feeding off of me, my love? Of drinking me up?’

It was not only the two questions themselves, but also the way you’d asked them, and your overall body language as you did, that made him think he was delirious. You didn’t sound scared, nor disgusted. If anything, there was a lingering curiosity in your tone, and, most importantly, a dangerous tint of sultriness, maybe even arousal, that hung to your every word.

‘Of course I have, my dear. More times than I could ever count…’

Minho had no reservations when he answered your queries. How could he, when you had shown him nothing but acceptance and love throughout these past handful of months? When you seemed to have absolutely no qualms when it came to his monstrous ways?

‘Would you like to do it?’

If he had the ability to, he was sure he would’ve fainted right then and there.

Of course he would like to do it. Scratch that, he would love to do it. There was barely anything he wanted more than to taste the scarlet liquid running through your veins, to have the undeniable taste of your humanity on his tongue.

What was seemingly an innocent walk along the stream in the forest had just turned into, quite possibly, one of the most satisfying feeds he’d had in centuries.

Minho sat on the ground, under one of the many trees that seemed to provide you two with an odd sense of privacy. Odd, because you were pretty much still in an open space.

Interestingly enough, even when Minho was a monster, he was still just as part of nature as you were, and, that night, all that booming life surrounding you in the forest simply protected you both; it let nature take its course.

With you straddling his lap, with one of his hands on the small of your back, and the other on the side of your neck, Minho pressed his lips to your pulse point, almost salivating at the minute thumps of your heart against his skin. You shivered in his hold, keeping your hands on his shoulders to maintain your posture.

“Do not make any sudden movements, darling. I do not want to hurt you…” He mumbled against the fragile skin, humming in satisfaction once you nodded. “If it becomes too much, say it. Or squeeze me if talking is too difficult, alright?”

You hummed, nodding again. Minho seriously hoped he’d be able to stop if you showed any signs of discomfort. He hadn’t had human blood in so long he wasn’t really sure how he’d react. Killing you was a very real possibility, he’d told you already, but you still wanted to go through with this. Being honest, he was just a weak man, incapable of passing up the opportunity when it was so boldly presented to him, even when it could possibly take your life.

So he delayed no further. He located the safest area he could on your neck, one where not too many important veins resided, and after a couple of tentative licks on your skin, his fangs enlarged. He lightly dragged them over your throat, letting you feel not only their presence, but also their sharpness.

“Take a deep breath. Do not move too much”, his voice was barely a whisper, but he knew you heard him clear as day.

As soon as you took that deep breath he’d asked you for, his teeth sank on your flesh, piercing the skin like it was a knife cutting room temperature butter. You didn’t move, but the moan that came out of your mouth was more than indication enough that you’d felt it all.

When your taste flooded his mouth, Minho couldn’t help but moan as well. It was all so much better than he had imagined. His whole body trembled, he felt as if he was burning up from the inside out in the best way possible, and he just closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of you.

What an absolutely delectable taste… So much so he had to remind himself to stop before it was too late. He was sure he had drank a bit too much for comfort, but you didn’t protest, you didn’t move one centimetre out of place, you just let him take as much as his heart desired, either because you trusted him that much, or because you had your own personal gains from this exchange–after all, no one just simply offered themselves to a vampire unless they had their own carnal reasons for it.

After soothing the pair of puncture wounds with his tongue, Minho finally pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes. What he found was your blown pupils, your lips slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths, and even though his fangs were still very much at their full length, you immediately cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a heated kiss.

It was messy, desperate, he was sure there was still some of your blood on his mouth that was now smearing all over yours, and he had to be careful not to hurt you with his teeth, but you didn’t seem to mind or care at all. You just kissed him like you needed him to breathe, and he let you indulge, mostly because he himself wanted nothing more than to have you as close as he possibly could.

Minho was constantly grateful that you’d crossed his path all those months ago, that you decided to move to this specific town in the first place. Not only did you let him drink your blood, but you also brought an irreplaceable spark to his lacklustre immortal life.

He tried not to think too much of the future, of the moment you’d inevitably pass away. There was no point in grieving this far ahead, he needed to remind himself that, yes, it would happen, but there were hopefully still many years before it did.

Enjoying the present was of the utmost importance. Especially when the present was you on his bed, with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth attached to your plump, warm centre.

All the sighs, and moans, and deep breaths, always reminded him you were here, you were his, and that you trusted him. You trusted him enough to bare yourself to him, to move in with him to his previously lonely manor in the outskirts of town, and to let him feed once a month from any area of your body he wanted to.

Feeding off of a human’s neck was usually the most traditional way, but when Minho found a suitable partner, he always liked to get creative. He’d admit there were spots he usually preferred, that he enjoyed much, much more than the neck. The softer the area was, the better. It was always much tastier, especially so once pleasure was coursing through his partner’s veins.

Thankfully for him, you had plenty of those softer, squishier areas, and you also had no reservations when he wanted to sink his teeth in them. He was trying his best not to get ahead of himself. Getting his fangs to their full length when he had his mouth between your legs was incredibly inconvenient, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt you, and he was certain that the sharp tip of his teeth would damage such a sensitive area of your body.

With a hand on your belly, and the other on your thigh, Minho let himself enjoy the taste of your arousal on his tongue. Your grip on his hair was tight, but you made no move to push him away; if anything, you were pulling him further into you, as much as he could be, keeping him there for as long as he’d let you.

Licking his way up to your clit, he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, parting his lips enough to flick it with his tongue. The moan of his name that spilled from your lips made his head spin. Your legs trembled with his motions, especially so when he finally brought his hand from your thigh close to your core to spread your juices with two of his digits.

Minho teased you for a bit, dipping just the tip of his fingers into you only to remove them a second after, increasing the pressure and pace of his tongue. At least, he tried to tease you… It was hard to do so when you begged so sweetly from him. Never in his long life had he enjoyed the sound of the word ‘Please’ coming out of someone else’s mouth as much as he did now, even more so when you called him your love, your darling, your heart.

My, my, my… Every time you addressed him as such he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit human again. If he had a working heart, he was sure he’d feel it swell in his chest. Yours, yours, yours… He was yours. For as long as you lived, he’d be yours.

When Minho finally stuffed those two digits within your warmth, the sight of your head falling back against the pillows was enough to let him know it was time. He was thirsty, and he was ready to give in to his primal needs.

He removed his mouth from your skin, but he kept massaging that sweet spot within your walls that had your toes curling with need. “Going to do it now, my love. Hm?”

You nodded. “Please, darling…”

Minho hummed, giving your clit one more affectionate kiss before he replaced his mouth with his thumb. If he could die, you’d be the death of him for sure.

He kept rubbing precise circles on the apex of your thighs, dragging his fingers within your clamping walls. At least, as precisely as he could while he attached his mouth to your soft tummy. Already, his fangs made an appearance, it didn’t take much for them to whenever he knew he was about to puncture your skin. It was second nature at this point.

Sometimes, Minho liked to start with your belly. Yes, start. He’d developed a bit more self control since he started to feed off of you, so he used that to his advantage, to feed off of as many parts of your body as he could.

When his teeth sunk on your flesh, you exhaled a shaky breath. Oh, how sweet you tasted whenever his fingers were on you like this. He could not only smell your arousal, but also taste it on his tongue when he started to drink you up. It was intoxicating, fulfilling, it was absolutely everything to him.

Before he could get carried away, Minho pulled away from your tummy, swiftly reattaching his lips to one of your thighs instead. He repeated the motions, puncturing your skin, drinking your essence, soothing the wounds with his tongue only to move along to the next area.

By the time he was full, you were trembling, whining, begging for your release. So he cleaned the remnants of your blood with the back of his hand before his lips found their way between your legs once again. Minho tried his best to will his fangs to decrease in size, at least enough for his own comfort. At this point, he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t mind, if anything, it’d probably turn you own, but he still wanted to be careful.

As soon as he started to suck on your swollen nub, as soon as the pace of his fingers increased, unintelligible noises of pleasure fell from your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to finally find your release, swearing and saying his name time and time again. Minho loved to feel your warmth around his fingers, especially as it spasmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Somehow, it always made him feel even fuller than when he fed.

When he was sure you’d enjoyed as much of your pleasure as you could, he finally removed his fingers, and he simply kissed his way up your body, until his lips finally found yours. You sighed, a content sigh that had him feeling tingly all over, just as you hugged him close to you and pressed tired kisses on his lips.

“Feeling fine, my dear?” Minho mumbled between kisses, relishing the fast pace of your heart against his chest.

“Mm… Just a bit lightheaded”, you mumbled back, dragging your fingers through his hair, making him shiver.

After a few minutes of kissing, of reassuring words against the other’s skin, Minho pulled himself away from your tight hug so he could fetch you some food. It was important for you to replenish your body, the healthier you were, the more he’d be able to feed, but most importantly, the longer you’d live.

As he fed you your meal, as he engaged in conversation with you, Minho reminded himself once again how important it was to live in the present, to not worry about the impending future of your relationship. You were on his bed, laughing, smiling, joking about how he’d almost made you a colander tonight, telling him story after story of odd encounters you had with your customers, and, for now, that was more than enough for him.

Tagging: @222wonnie · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @tasteleeknow · @straylightdream · @biribarabiribbaem · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @bintificreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @phobia0325 · @leebitsimpracha · @viviixlyy · @kileidoscope · @kpop-bbdoll · @meloncremesoda · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung · @jaiuneamesolitaiire · @lilramennoodle · @stayconnecteed · @iadorethemskz

If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form. you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

669 notes · View notes

beautifulchris · 8 months ago

Text

obsessed

pairing: dancer!lee minho x videographer!gn!reader

summary: minho was the most perfect guy you had the privilege of encountering—and working with. without even trying—or meaning to—, he got you wrapped around his fingers

genres: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers to exes!au, colleagues!au, first person pov!!

wc: 4,4k

tw: obsession, toxic relationship, swearing (in lyrics only, who would've thought), violence, injuries, mention of blood

notes: heyyy! this fic is part of my collection of fics! indented are the lyrics, banner made by me on canva. andddd i'd appreaciate it greatly if you could tell me what you thought about it!! happy reading!

listen to the song for a more immersive experience: spotify link | youtube link

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @kwritersworld @whipped-kpop-creators @straykidsland

permanent tag list: @soobin-chois @exfolitae @linos-catnip @prettymiye0n (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

stray kids tag list: @raethethey

Lee Minho (1998).

Have you seen this man?

Perfect skin, heart face shape, a sharp nose, wide cheekbones, cat-like eyes, long eyelashes and pretty, pouty lips.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew it was over. He was just so attractive, always walking like he owned the place, and, without realizing it, I became infatuated with him.

I was a newbie videographer in this dancing company called Twinkle Toes. Yes, I did apply there because of its name, being an ATLA fan and all. Anyway, Minho was the best dancer they had.

The obsession started when I first saw him dance. His technique and control were perfect, I could clearly see why he was a professional dancer. All the fluid and effortlessly looking movements he made gave me goosebumps every time I was behind the camera. Or anywhere inside the room, really.

I approached him first. Complimented him on his dancing, which seemed to please him. I kept being supportive and throwing seductive glances his way every now and then. I became hungry for his attention.

Oh, my Lord, never met someone like you before Think I'm kinda going overboard Now I'm obsessed, how can somebody be so perfect? Boy, you really got me by the neck Whatever you want, you just gotta ask

I made no secret of my admiration. Soon, everybody knew but I couldn’t care less.

“You’re so strong, Minho,” I mused from behind the camera. “Thanks to your efforts, the video will come out perfectly.”

He failed to suppress a smile, yet dismissed the compliment with a vague movement of his hand. “It’s a team effort.”

Of course, I knew that. Yeah. The fourteen other dancers were good, but none of them were in the same league as Minho. He was above everyone in this company.

I was usually right.

After filming ended, I took my stuff—camera, tripod, laptop—and walked towards my designated studio where I could work on editing. I wasn’t totally installed when someone knocked on the door. It was so faint I thought I’d dreamed it, until they knocked again.

I opened the door, revealing a shy looking Minho, who didn’t seem to be able to meet my eyes. I found it adorable.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I… Can I come in?”

Now, why would he even want to come inside? Was my flirting so powerful that he already wanted to spend more time with me? I wasn’t one to complain about that.

“Sure,” I said, taking a step back and closing the door behind him.

“So that’s what your studio looks like,” he commented, looking around.

It was a small room with a large desk filled with everything I needed to do my job. The stuff I had with me in the danceroom plus a computer, lenses, microphones, cables, memory cards… Everything was perfectly organized. Bigger equipment—camera bags, studio light, reflectors, tripods—were tidied next to the desk. A gaming chair was in front of it, and on the other side was a two-seater sofa.

“Do you mind if I stay with you while you work?”

I smiled internally. It was so easy.

“No, of course. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, finally. Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For letting me stay with you.”

SCREAMING. PUNCHING THE WALL. I could’ve smacked his arm right now for saying this so casually. Sure enough, I didn’t. Instead, I motioned for him to sit on the sofa while I placed my laptop on the desk before opening it.

I could tell I was professional with how well I handled the situation I was in. I kept my desire to turn around and stare at him buried inside me as I edited the video. I had a week to finalize it for an upcoming dancing contest. I was determined to show the dancers’ best side through the video. I also tried not to show Minho too much, even though he was around 20% more present than the rest. It wasn’t my fault the videos he was in were better.

Oh, well. It was common knowledge he was our best hope at winning.

It was getting late, and I was feeling hungry. I saved my progress, switched off the computers and turned around. I’d imagined Minho to be fast asleep, as my job could be found boring from the outside. To my surprise, he was looking straight at me.

“Are you OK?” I asked, conscious he had been waiting for a long time.

See, I checked the time before closing my laptop. I had been working for a bit more than two hours.

He nodded. “Are you, though? Don’t you feel sore?”

Now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t feel my butt anymore. A common occurrence in this field. I got up, stretched arms, back, legs and unintentionally yawned.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

He seemed nervous all of a sudden. Ah, if I could make him mine right now…

“Only if you pay.”

“Deal.”

Ten minutes later, we were walking side-by-side toward a little restaurant owned by a strict-looking yet lovely grandma near our workplace. We’d eaten there before, with our coworkers.

As a typical small-business Korean restaurant, the room was approximately ten times bigger than my studio. Twelve four-seater tables were placed around the room at a relatively safe distance from each other. On every one of them were a wooden cutlery holder for four, and a matching little box full of thin napkins. The walnut-colored counter was on the far end of the room, and the hole that was supposed to be a door behind it led to the kitchen. The only thing giving a bit of privacy to the cook were white lace curtains attached to each side of the… door-shaped hole. On the left side of the room, a TV screen and posters—with pictures—of the menu were displayed on the wall. While on the right side, as well as a bathroom door, were decorations and an ‘appreciation wall’ with a lot of little notes and doodles from customers.

I wanted to sit next to it. If we ran out of things to say, we could always talk about that.

Grandma greeted us with a smile when she saw us, showing us to a table on the opposite side. “Hello grandma, can we actually sit at that one? It’s easier to watch TV there.”

Of course, I had no intention to watch TV, but no one needed to know that.

“Sure, my child, go sit. I’ll be right there.”

Thanking her, we sat right next to the rating wall.

There was one other customer closest to the counter. A regular, by the looks of it. Grandma went to the kitchen and came back with a steaming dish. She delicately put it down in front of the man before providing us with the menus. He thanked her and resumed his reading of a journal. Which I couldn’t identify because I don’t read journals.

Minho and I looked at the menu like we had no idea what to order. While I already knew what his favorite dish was, I opted for something I hadn’t tried before. You see, I like to try everything on the menu. It was a habit in restaurants I often went to. Of course, if it were to be a one-time restaurant, I would order the food that makes me salivate the most. Minho preferred savory foods. The tastier, the better.

He rapidly scanned the plastified paper on the table before looking up at me. “I’ve chosen. You?”

I straightened up, flashing my signature grin, and nodded once. “Same. Any drinks?”

“Soju?”

“Sure.”

Three young people entered the place. Grandma placed them on the left side of the room and came to us. “What would you like, my children?”

“Bulgogi bibimbap for me, please.”

“Jajangmyeon and a bottle of soju, please,” Minho ordered, taking the menu from me and giving them both back to grandma with a sweet smile.

She smiled like a lovely grandma would—contently with a hint of nostalgia.

We never got to speak about the appreciation wall nor did I once glanced at the TV, because we talked a lot and there were few moments of silence.

After that dinner, we spent a lot of time together outside the company. I believed he enjoyed my presence as much as I savored his. We flirted, went on dates every now and then, and recently started dating.

Then, around two months after our first day together, a new, talented dancer entered the company. Her body had beautiful curves. She had long, black silky hair, and toned abs. It didn’t help that she was gorgeous, social, and easygoing.

In just a few days, she had befriended the whole building. It felt like she had always been there. To my dismay, even Minho seemed to like her.

“What do you think of Soojin?” I asked as casually as manageable, considering I was eager to get an answer.

“She’s cool.” Minho shrugged, looking up at the blue sky. “And a good dancer. Why do you ask?”

How he could manage to look so ethereal under the sunlight yet give me such a soft glance was beyond my understanding. He got a hold on me, that was for sure.

“I agree, she’s good. You might have to share your spotlight in the next competitions and projects.”

He smirked. “Was about time. It’s been lonely up there.”

I knew he was joking. He never considered himself as above his colleagues. I frowned for another reason. I couldn’t ignore the thought from overwhelming me. Was I not enough for him? Was I just a pastime? I wasn’t a dancer. Was it a dealbreaker for him?

Minho’s gentle glance became a concerned stare as he stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you like me?”

He opened his mouth, but I couldn’t wait for his response.

“Am I good enough? Do you like Soojin more? Do you want to date her? Are you just playing with me?”

Because I would still be wrapped around your finger either way.

“Hey, breathe, babe. I’m here, I’m with you.”

I did as told, and my next words came out as a whisper.

“Are you though?”

“Where is all this coming from? Why would I be interested in Soojin?”

“She’s gorgeous, talented, and a sweetheart. Who wouldn’t like her?”

He smiled softly, taking my hand in his. “Is this your way of telling me you’re interested in her?”

“I’m serious.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I like you.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t get rid of the voices.

Soojin and Minho were the jewels of the company. Meaning they had way more screen time—which was my job—and training sessions together—which was their job. I had to stand behind my camera for hours while watching them dance together. Helplessly watching their bodies touch and their breaths tangle. The sensual moves made me want to break something.

Jealousy stirred up inside me, and I think it showed, because several colleagues around the room sent me looks of pity and sorry.

I knew it was just the job for Minho, but I couldn’t help it. It was beyond my control. Ever since the choreographers created this dance, I have been vile to Minho. Exposing my jealousy to him in private.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I hate hurting you. Really. However, I can’t simply stop dancing. It’s my dream life.”

“I’m not asking you to stop doing what you love, I’m asking you to stop doing it with her!” I snapped.

“Doing that will get me fired, you know that. I told you I picture you whenever I’m dancing with her. Is it not enough?”

He was pleading, but I could sense he was tired and frustrated.

“I like you, not Soojin. I need you to understand that.”

“You say that now,” I said in a low voice, “but I see the way she looks at you.” My voice broke, and I looked away.

Minho shook his head. “Please, stop. I’m exhausted. I’m dating you, aren’t I? What more do you need to be satisfied?”

It stinged. The worst part was he didn’t scream. His voice was stern and accusing. No words would leave my lips. He took my silence as a cue to leave the toxic environment I created. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to stay away.

But I could blame someone else.

I tried to film Soojin in her less good angle, but it felt like she was flawless under any angle. It was frustrating, not even being able to compromise her while doing my job.

Minho, being smart and all, realized what I was trying to do while Soojin was doing a solo dance. His eyes were glued to me the whole time. He grabbed me by the arm the minute I finished for the day and brought all my stuff back to my studio. He made me turn around to face him.

“What did you do back there?”

I was hurt by his suspicion, even though he was right. I stood my ground and lied through my teeth. “I didn’t do anything.”

He sighed in exasperation and let go of me. “Look, I won’t say I know you because clearly, as much as I thought I did, I actually don’t. But I know you did something.” His face softened, but his lips stayed pressed in a thin line. “Please, help me understand. Why would you resent Soojin so much you’re willing to risk your job? What do I ignore?”

I was angry. Why would he defend her if nothing was happening between the two?

“Why do you care so much, Minho? Who is she to you?”

He stepped back, blinking a few times. “This again? I don’t recognize you anymore, Y/N. I thought I knew you. Since Soojin joined our crew, you’ve changed. I believe I didn’t give you any reason to be jealous of her, excluding my job. Then again, I know how to separate professional and personal matters. I chose not to where you’re concerned because I liked you. But now, I don’t think I want to do this any longer. It’s draining me, and I lost my will to fight for us.”

Wait. What?

“Are you breaking up with me? Is that it?” I sounded frantic—and I was. All I understood from his tirade was that he was leaving me, probably for her. This bitch. She dared steal my boyfriend.

“All these past weeks fighting made me reconsider our relationship. I’m sorry, Y/N. I like you, but I can’t be with you.”

He silently stared at me for a moment, hurt and determination visible on his face, before turning heels and heading out.

My legs gave out. Minho broke up with me. I had no intention to accept this. It was all this woman’s fault. She had bewitched him, I was sure of it.

When I ran into Minho the next day, he avoided looking me in the eyes. Everybody could see something was wrong. They could even sense it, as the tension was thick in the air.

“Is something wrong?” Soojin asked as she entered the room. She looked around the room and offered me a sweet and innocent smile.

I wanted to lunge at her. It took everything in me to stand still.

“Let’s get started,” the director said as soon as his left foot touched the floor. He clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. He stopped at the center of the room. “Today we’re going to film a two-minute promotional video for our project. I count on you, Y/N, to make this video as appealing as all the other ones you made until now.” He winked at me. “Dancers, I expect you to be in good shape. I need you to accentuate your moves.” This time, he winked at Minho and Soojin.

I was close to rip my hair out.

We did as told. While the dancers gave their all in their dancing, I moved around them with my camera to capture their moves from different angles, creating a nice flow. Nowadays, videographers would use a gimbal to provide support and stabilization, but my camescope and feet were all I needed. This type of work called for a more natural flow, which could only be done without any device.

I knew how to be professional, too, but hated every second I spent filming the top dancers sensually touching each other’s bodies, especially from this close. The looks they gave one another, were they really only professional? I wasn’t sure Minho had ever looked at me like he was staring at Soojin at this moment.

I decided to put aside my anger for the sake of my job, and made the best promotional video yet. Not that I would ever admit it, but their chemistry was undeniable and greatly increased the quality of the video.

Slowly, but surely, I watched Minho and Soojin grow closer. I tried multiple times to reconnect with him to prevent the inevitable, but he was unyielding. He wouldn’t let me touch him and refused to be in a room alone with me. I found his reactions a bit over the top and insulting. But, even worse, he seemed to be protective of Soojin, as if he was scared I would hurt her if he let her out of his sight.

I would, but it was still vexing.

If you go and get yourself somebody new I don't know what the hell I'd do But if I found out, I will go and turn up at her house Break a nail and rip her hair right out Huh, and I hope you like that I'm crazy like that

Life went on, Minho still got me by the neck unbeknownst to him, and I was still wary of Soojin. A month had passed and a new project started.

“This time, crew, the theme is love. I want to feel it, alright? Do whatever it takes. I’m not worried though, because I believe in you all.”

The little speech the director gave ended up with a round of applause and a whistle from several of the dancers. The choreographers were sending each other smirks, as if they were waiting for this moment. I, obviously, loathed the idea. I had barely managed to contain myself this past month. That was going to be torture.

I was right.

The first official practice for the dance, a week after the announcement, I was behind the camera. If I thought they were close during the past month, I was mistaken. For the most part, their bodies were colliding with each other in a way that made the young managers embarrassed. My blood boiled. If there weren’t all these people around, I would’ve ripped Soojin’s hair out already.

When the song ended, their faces were mere millimeters from one another. They closed the gap between their mouths. I heard a few gasps from the crowd. My eyes lost focus. The fury building inside me sent a throbbing pain in my head. I left the room in a hurry before I could regret my actions. The last thing I saw in the long mirrors were their lips connected in a heated kiss.

I wanted to throw up. I ran to the restroom and sat on the ground in one of the cabins. I touched my cheeks with the back of my hands to check my temperature and realized I was crying. I couldn’t possibly be sad, could I? I stayed seated for what felt like hours, developing a plan to get revenge on Soojin. I was not going to let her go unscathed after what she had done.

The pain eventually subsided. Rage was all that was left in me. I was determined to make the bitch pay. I checked myself in the mirror, relieved to see there was no trace of me crying, and nodded to myself to give me courage. I came back to the dance room like nothing happened. Everybody stopped moving and watched me walk to my camera.

“Sorry, I had an emergency,” I told no one in particular, shooting an apologetic smile around the room. “Please, continue.”

I changed a few parameters on the camera and the room came back to life.

I was one of the first ones to leave the room. I stored my stuff in their respective places. Minho was waiting for me when I walked out of my studio.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—-It just happened—”

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

I'll do anything for you, boy, anything Yeah, I'll do anything, anything for you Yeah, I'll do crazy shit And I'll get away with it Boy, I'll do anything, anything for you

I raced to my car and waited there until Soojin entered her own car. I watched Minho go to her window and talk to her when she rolled it down. She nodded and smiled at him. Sickening. He went to his own car and I followed Soojin when she exited the parking lot. I stayed at a safe distance, but what if Minho knew what I had in mind and warned her?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. She drove around fifteen minutes and parked in front of what looked like a family house. Was it her own place or did she come to her parents thinking I wouldn’t dare touch her there?

I smiled conspiratorially. None of them really knew me. I parked right behind her and stormed out of my car. I stopped at her window like Minho had done earlier and waited for her to roll it down. She stared at me with fear in her eyes and gulped.

I put on a fake smile and my sweetest voice. “Come on out, Soojin, don’t be scared.”

She slowly reached for the handle and opened the door.

“Look, I’m sor—”

I grabbed her by the neck and threw her on the asphalt. She grunted and rolled over. I pulled her hair up and ignored her faint struggle, whispering in her ear. “You really thought you could steal my boyfriend from me and get away with it?” I let out a nasty laugh.

She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not together anymore,” she cried. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“You’re too cute. I guess that’s your advantage.”

I pulled her hair a little higher and balled my other hand into a fist. I moved my arm back to gain momentum, but never got to use it. Minho shouted my name from his car, parked right behind mine. I let go of Soojin and watched him dash towards us.

“What’s happening?”

He kneeled next to her, checking her face and scratched arms. She cried, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach. I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. The second she calmed down, Minho got up and faced me. He frowned.

“What did you do?” His tone was accusing. It angered me.

“Are you for real? How could you get over me that easily? Was I nothing to you?”

“Y/N,” he warned, pinching his nose bridge. Then he gave me a firm stare. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to. I just assumed you got over it the way I did.” His voice matched the look on his face.

Got over it? Oh, boy.

“I guess I loved you more than you ever did me.”

His surprised expression made no sense to me. He did not comment on it. Instead, he reached for Soojin’s hand and helped her up. “I’ll get you home,” he said softly.

He used to talk to me like that. Take care of me like that. My blood boiled but I just watched, feeling abandoned, as they walked away from me.

When he returned, a few minutes later, I was waiting, my back pressed against the driver’s side door of my car. “What was that about?” he inquired, stopping around three meters away from me, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll do anything for you, Minho. Anything. And I got angry at the way she snatched you from me.”

He stepped back, dropping his arms at his sides. “What do you mean, anything?”

“Literally anything.”

“But, Y/N, we broke up. You don’t have to. Besides, she didn’t snatch me, I fell for her.” My heart hurt. Did he really stop loving me that easily? “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I can’t undone our history, nor can I control my feelings.”

“You would undone our history if you could?” That was what hurt the most, I think. That, right there. He regretted being with me.

“No, but what you did today… I’m not sure I can forgive you. You scared Soojin, you scared me. If I knew you would be like this, I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please.”

Minho sighed. “I enjoyed being with you, Y/N, honestly. However, that was too much. I won’t ask you to quit your job, but can you please, leave Soojin and I alone? I feel like a dick asking you, especially since you’ll have to watch us a lot, and I also don’t want to quit this amazing company.”

“I’ll do it,” I breathed. A single tear ran down my face. “I’ll quit. I can’t stand by and watch you both all lovey-dovey. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

It was my fault. I planted the seed of desire in Minho’s head, and my jealousy nourished it. The plant grew and he fell in love with her. I should've known. He never explicitly told me he loved me.

Minho reached for me and for a second, I was tempted to just let him, but that would've been wrong. I wasn’t sure I could leave if he showed me affection. I turned around and hopped in my car.

“Have a good life,” were my last words to my beautiful ex boyfriend before I took off.

The next day, I gave my resignation letter to my boss, and apologized a ton for leaving so suddenly. I pretended to have an urgent family matter hundreds of kilometers away, and moved out during the week. I wanted to put as much distance between Minho and me as possible to help me forget about him. It wasn’t an easy feat. But I moved into a small apartment in another city, got a job in a dancing company named “Encore Dance” and resumed my life.

There, I met a man so pretty I could cry.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Have you seen this man?

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated :) masterlist

68 notes · View notes