#member: seventeen minghao

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: seventeen with a crocheter! so by @chugging-antiseptic-dye

seventeen with a crocheter! so 🧶:

a/n: for @lovetaroandtaemin, my favourite crocheter and someone who always indulges all my ramblings 💕

[amyzworldds]

Part two: Weight of Words

Masterlist | Part 1

After a wave of online hate and a painful misunderstanding with Seventeen, Y/N locks herself in her vibrant apartment, leaving the 13 boys anxious and restless. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Heavy angst, Fluff, Humor

Y/N sat motionless on her living room floor, surrounded by the vibrant chaos of her personality—pink pillows, green rugs, quirky trinkets—but it felt like a stranger’s space now. Her tears had dried up, hours of crying leaving her empty, eyes red and swollen, staring blankly at nothing. The room was silent, suffocatingly so. Normally, she’d be video-calling the boys, cackling over how they’d never escape her—“You’re stuck with me! New houses, new families, I’ll still haunt you!”—her voice bouncing off the walls. But tonight, the quiet pressed in, a heavy shroud over her shattered confidence. She felt hollow, a shell of the Y/N they’d always known.

The doorbell jolted her, sharp and insistent. She blinked, sluggish, and glanced at the monitor—13 familiar faces crowded her doorstep, their expressions tense. Her heart lurched, but she didn’t move, frozen by the weight of seeing them. Then the knocking started—loud, relentless—her phone buzzing with calls, texts pinging. Seungcheol’s message flashed: “Answer or we bang this door ‘til your neighbors hate us. Open up, Y/N-ah.” The threat wasn’t empty; she knew they’d do it.

She dragged herself up, legs shaky, and cracked the door open, avoiding their eyes. “Hey,” she mumbled, turning fast, shuffling to the kitchen. “I’ll… get water.” Her voice was flat, a flimsy shield. She didn’t want them to see her—puffy eyes, messy hair, the wreck she’d become.

They filed in, the air shifting with their presence, but she kept her back to them, fumbling with glasses. Seungcheol’s voice cut through, low and steady. “Y/N-ah, stop. The manager showed us your text.”

She froze, glass clinking hard against the counter, her breath catching. “What… text?” she croaked, but she knew—“Do I need to leave the group?”—and dread coiled tight in her chest.

“Turn around,” Jeonghan said, softer but firm. “Look at us.”

She didn’t want to—couldn’t—but Hoshi stepped closer, voice trembling with urgency. “Y/N-ah, please. We’re not leaving ‘til you hear us.”

Reluctantly, she turned, eyes on the floor, hands gripping the counter. Seungcheol stepped forward, holding the manager’s phone out, her message glowing accusingly. “This,” he said, voice thick. “You think we want you gone?”

Her lip quivered, but she held it in, staring at her feet. Woozi spoke, sharp with guilt. “You heard us, didn’t you? That day—‘tone it down, act your age.’ You walked in and caught the worst part.”

“We know you misunderstood,” Joshua added, gentle but pained. “You didn’t hear us worrying—freaking out ‘cause the hate was killing you.”

“We didn’t mean change who you are!” Mingyu burst out, stepping closer, voice cracking. “We were scared—scared you’d break under it all!”

She shook her head, voice small. “But you said it—‘lay low, feminine, mature.’ I tried—I toned it down, I acted my age, whatever that means—and they still hate me.” Her eyes lifted, glassy, brimming. “I saw the video—me dodging Jeonghan oppa. They called me fake, a flirt anyway. I can’t win—I’m dragging you down—”

“No!” Seungkwan cut in, loud and fierce. “You’re not dragging us anywhere—you’re us! The bashers? We’ll handle them—screw what they think!”

“You think we want you gone?!” Hoshi yelled, eyes wide, stepping right up to her. “You’re our maknae—our chaos! We’d fall apart without you!”

Tears spilled then, hot and fast, and she couldn’t stop them. “I don’t know what to do!” she sobbed, voice breaking into a wail. “I tried—I changed, I hid, and it’s still not enough! They want me out—say I’m a disgrace, your weak spot—I trained so hard, and they—” She crumpled, hands flying to her face, crying like a child, raw and unfiltered. “I feel so alone—I can’t even be me anymore!”

Seungcheol surged forward, pulling her into his arms, tight and unyielding. “You’re not alone,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “You’re never alone—hear me? We’re right here.”

Jeonghan joined, wrapping around her from the side, voice soft. “We don’t want you different, Y/N-ah. We love you—wild, loud, clingy, all of it.”

“You’re not a disgrace,” Mingyu said, kneeling in front of her, tears in his eyes. “You’re our strength—our heart. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

She sobbed harder, clinging to Seungcheol, words tumbling out. “I was so scared—you said ‘tone it down,’ and I thought… I thought you were ashamed of me! The hate—it’s everywhere—I can’t escape it!”

“We’re not ashamed,” Jun said, stepping up, voice firm despite the crack. “We were idiots—said it wrong. We wanted to protect you, not change you.”

“We’ll fight the hate,” Hoshi vowed, gripping her shoulder. “Post, call them out—whatever it takes. They don’t get to touch you.”

“You’re not leaving,” Seungkwan said, fierce, wiping his own tears. “Not over this—not ever. You’re stuck with us, got it?”

She nodded, a broken whimper escaping, and Dino piled in, hugging her waist. “You’re our Y/N-ah—our crazy, perfect maknae. No one’s taking you.”

Joshua’s voice was steady, warm. “You don’t have to pretend—not with us, not for anyone. Be you—that’s all we need.”

Her cries softened, trembling against Seungcheol’s chest as the others closed in, a protective circle. “I… I missed you,” she whispered, voice raw. “I didn’t know how to say it—I thought I’d ruin everything.”

“You could never ruin us,” Minghao murmured, ruffling her hair, his voice a lifeline. “You’re our family—cracks and all. We fix this together.”

She looked up, puffy-eyed, surrounded by them—her loud, messy, unshakable oppas—and the weight lifted, just a little. “I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo said, squeezing her hand. “Just don’t shut us out again—we can’t lose you.”

“Never,” she promised, a shaky laugh breaking through. “You’re stuck with me haunting you forever.”

“Good,” Hoshi grinned, wiping her tears. “That’s our Y/N.”

They stayed like that—huddled in her colorful chaos—comfort settling over the storm. She cried out her fears, they held her through it, and for the first time in days, the quiet wasn’t suffocating. It was home.

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Y/N sat nestled in the middle of her living room, still sniffling but steadier now, wrapped in the warmth of her 13 boys. The tears had slowed, her sobs replaced by shaky breaths, their arms and words a cocoon of comfort. She leaned against Seungcheol’s shoulder, Wonwoo hand still squeezing hers, the others sprawled around her like a chaotic guard. The silence wasn’t suffocating anymore—it was soft, safe. Then, a loud, unmistakable growl rumbled from her stomach, cutting through the tender moment like a foghorn.

She froze, eyes widening, then looked up at them, puffy-faced but indignant. “I’m hungry,” she announced, voice small but firm, blinking at their startled faces. “Where’s the food?”

The boys blinked back, caught off guard. “Uh…” Seungcheol started, scratching his neck. “We… didn’t bring any.”

Her jaw dropped, dramatic as ever, and she pulled back, staring at them like they’d committed treason. “What?!” she yelped, voice pitching up. “You didn’t bring food?!”

“We were worried!” Mingyu protested, hands up. “We saw that text and bolted—food wasn’t exactly on our minds!”

“Yeah, Y/N-ah,” Hoshi chimed in, grinning sheepishly. “We were too busy panicking about you leaving us!”

She stomped her foot—full maknae mode—pouting hard, her old spark flickering back. “That’s no excuse!” she wailed, crossing her arms, lips jutting out. “You know I’m sad—you know I’m a mess—and you show up empty-handed?! What kind of members are you?!”

Seungkwan snorted, trying to hide a laugh. “The kind who drove across Seoul at 8 p.m. to save you from yourself!”

“Save me with food!” she shot back, thumping her foot again, her pout deepening into a masterpiece. “I’ve been crying all day—my stomach’s screaming—and you didn’t even grab a ramyeon pack? A chip bag? Anything?!”

Jeonghan chuckled, ruffling her hair. “We thought you needed hugs, not snacks, drama queen.”

“Hugs and snacks!” she corrected, swatting his hand but leaning into it anyway. “I’m starving—I could die right here, and it’d be your fault!”

“Don’t die!” Dino yelped, clutching her arm, half-serious. “We’ll get you food—just don’t faint on us!”

“Too late,” she groaned, flopping back against Seungcheol with a theatrical sigh. “I’m fading… betrayed by my own family… no food, no hope…”

Seungcheol laughed, steadying her. “Alright, alright—calm down, you little monster. We’ll fix it.”

“Fix it now!” she demanded, sitting up, eyes glinting with mock fury. “You can’t just storm in, make me cry more, and not feed me! I deserve ramyeon—spicy ramyeon—and ice cream! And gummies!”

“Gummies too?” Joshua teased, grinning. “You’re pushing it, Y/N-ah.”

“Yes, gummies!” she huffed, pointing at him. “I’ve suffered—suffered!—and you owe me!”

Mingyu smirked, pulling out his phone. “Fine, princess—what’s your order? I’ll get it delivered.”

“Everything,” she declared, arms flailing. “Ramyeon, fried chicken, tteokbokki, ice cream—chocolate, not vanilla, disgusting—gummies, chips—spicy chips, not the lame ones—and soda! Lots of soda!”

“That’s a feast,” Woozi said, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “You’re back to bossing us around already?”

“Damn right,” she sniffed, wiping her nose with a pout. “I’m sad and hungry—you messed up, so you fix it!”

“Okay, okay!” Hoshi laughed, throwing his hands up. “Mingyu, order it—our maknae’s gonna riot if we don’t!”

“On it,” Mingyu said, tapping away. “But if you eat all that, you’re not fitting through the door tomorrow.”

“Then carry me!” she shot back, sticking her tongue out. “You’re tall—use it!”

The room erupted in laughter, the tension melting as her tantrum—dramatic, pouty, pure Y/N—filled the space. Seungcheol grinned, pulling her into a side hug. “There’s our girl—whiny and all.”

“Don’t call me whiny!” she protested, shoving him but snuggling closer. “I’m justified! You starved me!”

“We didn’t starve you,” Jeonghan teased, poking her cheek. “You starved yourself—big difference.”

“Semantics!” she huffed, swatting him again. “You’re all terrible—I should’ve known you’d forget food!”

“We’ll never forget again,” Seungkwan vowed, mock-serious, hand over his heart. “Next time, we’ll bring a buffet!”

“You better!” she grumbled, but a small giggle slipped out, her pout softening. “I’m still mad, though.”

“Mad and cute,” Hoshi said, pinching her cheek ‘til she yelped. “Welcome back, Y/N-ah.”

“Stop it!” she whined, flailing at him, but her smile broke through, bright and real. She looked around—13 goofy, worried, loving faces—and her stomach growled again, loud enough to make them laugh harder.

“Food’s on the way,” Mingyu announced, pocketing his phone. “Fifteen minutes—don’t die ‘til then.”

“I might!” she groaned, flopping onto the floor, arms spread. “Hurry it up, oppa—I’m fading!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Seungcheol chuckled, nudging her with his foot. “But we love it—don’t ever change.”

“Never,” she mumbled, grinning up at him, her old self peeking out, loud and unfiltered. The room buzzed with their banter, sweet and silly, the night turning warm again—food or not, she was home.

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The food had long been devoured at Y/N’s apartment—ramyeon bowls empty, chicken bones scattered, tteokbokki sauce staining the table, and a half-melted tub of chocolate ice cream abandoned after Y/N’s dramatic brain freeze wail. The boys sprawled across her vibrant living room, a battlefield of wrappers and laughter—Hoshi swiping her gummies, Mingyu tipping soda on Seungkwan, who shrieked like a banshee. Y/N was back to her old self—pouty, loud, thumping her feet when DK teased her—but the shadow of hate lingered in their minds, a fight unfinished.

By midnight, they’d cleaned out the snacks, and Y/N dozed off mid-rant about Hoshi’s chopstick fumbles, her head drooping onto Seungcheol’s shoulder. The boys traded looks, the quiet settling heavy. “She’s okay here,” Joshua whispered, smiling softly. “But out there? It’s still a war.”

“She thinks she’s our weak link,” Woozi said, voice low, guilt sharp. “We can’t let that stick.”

Seungcheol nodded, jaw tight. “We shut it down—tonight. All 13 of us.”

“Weverse,” Jeonghan said, pulling out his phone. “Blast the haters—show them she’s ours.”

“With pics!” Hoshi grinned, eyes glinting. “She was a disaster crying—perfect ammo.”

“She’ll murder us,” Mingyu laughed, scrolling his gallery. “Got one—puffy eyes, snot central.”

“Gold,” Seungkwan snickered, leaning in. “She’ll hate it, but it’s peak Y/N.”

They huddled, phones glowing, drafting as Y/N snored softly, oblivious. Seungcheol kicked it off, typing with resolve: “To anyone hating on our Y/N—stop now. She’s our maknae, our sunshine, and you don’t get to tear her down for being her.”

Jeonghan smirked, adding: “She laughs loud, clings hard, cries messy—that’s Y/N, and we love it all. You’ve got no right to judge.”

Hoshi cackled, typing fast: “Chaos queen—keeps us alive with her madness. Hate her? You’re blind—check this!” He attached a photo—Y/N mid-sob, eyes swollen, mouth gaping, tissues jammed up her nose.

“She’ll kill you,” Dino wheezed, laughing. “I’ve got her pouting over food!” He added it—Y/N stomping, cheeks puffed, glaring teary-eyed.

Mingyu grinned, typing: “Weak spot? Nah—she’s our strength. Keeps us laughing when we’re dead. Back off.” His pic—Y/N flailing at Hoshi, mid-tantrum, hair wild.

Seungkwan smirked: “Not fake, not a flirt—just Y/N. Twist it, that’s your problem. We’ll fight for her—always.” His shot—Y/N sprawled, “dying” from hunger, tongue lolling.

Woozi kept it sharp: “She’s not leaving—ever. She’s SEVENTEEN. Deal with it.” His pic—Y/N mid-rant, pointing fiercely, face red.

Joshua softened it: “She’s our light—don’t dim her with hate. We love her loud, goofy chaos—always.” His shot—Y/N giggling, ice cream on her cheek, hugging him.

Minghao stepped in, calm but firm, typing: “She’s real—raw, unfiltered. That’s her power. You don’t get to break it.” His photo—Y/N mid-laugh, sprawled on the couch, soda can tipping in her hand.

Jun grinned, adding: “She’s our wild card—makes every day fun. Hate’s got no place here!” His pic—Y/N fake-wrestling him for the last gummy, her grin huge.

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet, steady: “She’s our spark—don’t snuff it out. We need her, just like this.” His shot—Y/N napping earlier, curled against Seungcheol, a tissue dangling from her fist, peaceful but messy.

Vernon typed coolly: “She’s real—hate’s fake. Let her shine.” His pic—Y/N mid-chip-steal, smirking at Mingyu.

DK laughed, adding: “Her laugh’s our anthem—don’t mute it!” His shot—Y/N fake-sobbing over spilled soda, theatrical as ever.

Dino finished the lineup: “She’s my twin maknae—hands off! We’re 13 plus 1—complete.” His pic—Y/N dangling gummies from her mouth, grinning like a gremlin.

Seungcheol capped it, fierce: “She’s ours—13 of us say so. Hate her, you hate us. Stop—now.” His photo—Y/N asleep now, puffy-faced but calm, nestled against him.

“Post it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “All 13—complete.”

They hit send in unison, 13 Weverse accounts flaring to life, a goofy, fierce fortress of love. Comments flooded—Carats roaring support, haters reeling—but they ignored it, watching Y/N twitch in her sleep, mumbling something about “ramyeon.”

“She’s gonna lose it over those pics,” Hoshi whispered, stifling a laugh.

“Let her,” Mingyu said, smirking. “She’ll yell, but she’ll feel it.”

“Feel what?” Seungkwan asked, grinning.

“That she’s ours,” Seungcheol said, brushing her hair back. “Exactly how she is.”

“Even when she’s a snotty mess?” Jun teased, nodding at Hoshi’s photo.

“Especially then,” Wonwoo said, a rare smile tugging his lips.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Overnight, SEVENTEEN’s Weverse post exploded, rocketing to the top of every trending list. The 13 boys’ unified defense of Y/N—complete with her snotty, teary, tantrum-filled photos—lit up the internet. Carats went wild, flooding comments with laughter and love: “Hoshi posting her with tissues up her nose—ICONIC!” “Mingyu’s ‘weak spot? nah’ with her flailing—kings defending their queen!” “This is a real group—13 plus 1, no fakes here!” They booed the haters mercilessly—“Cry more, antis—SEVENTEEN said NOPE!”—and turned the goofy pics into memes, Y/N’s wails and pouts plastered everywhere with captions like “When your members love you but roast you too.” The fandom reveled in it—real, raw, unfiltered Seventeen shining through.

By dawn, it was headline news—“SEVENTEEN Slams Haters in Viral Weverse Post, Defends Maknae Y/N With Hilarious Photos”—every article featuring the boys’ words alongside shots of her mid-cry, mid-tantrum, mid-“dying” from hunger. The tide flipped fast. Netizens who’d bashed her now backpedaled, drowned out by a wave of support. Videos surfaced—Y/N cackling with Mingyu over a spilled drink, pranking Woozi with a water gun, hugging Jeonghan so hard he toppled—proof of her light, her chaos, her heart. Posts multiplied: “She’s not a pick-me—she’s their sunshine,” “This is why SEVENTEEN’s untouchable—real family.” The narrative shifted—her laugh, her wildness, her tears celebrated, not cursed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Morning broke at Y/N’s apartment, the boys crashed across her living room—Seungcheol on the couch, Hoshi sprawled on the rug, Mingyu half-off a chair, the rest a tangle of limbs and snores. They’d stayed, too tired to leave after their midnight mission, Y/N tucked into her bed after nodding off mid-ice-cream rant. Then—

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Her scream shattered the peace, piercing enough to rattle the walls. The boys jolted awake, groaning, blinking as Y/N stormed in, phone in hand, eyes blazing.

“Y/N-ah, what—” Seungcheol started, rubbing his eyes, but she cut him off, waving her phone like a weapon.

“YOU POSTED THESE?!” she shrieked, scrolling through Weverse, her voice hitting operatic heights. “My crying face?! Snot everywhere?! Tissues up my nose?! HOSHI-OPPA, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Hoshi cackled, sitting up. “It’s cute! Look—Carats love it!”

“CUTE?!” she bellowed, stomping her foot. “I look like a gremlin! And you—all of you—put it EVERYWHERE! HEADLINES, OPPA! ‘SEVENTEEN DEFENDS Y/N’—WITH THIS?!?!” She shoved the screen at them—a news article with her wailing, captioned “Maknae’s Tears Win Hearts.”

Mingyu smirked, stretching. “Worked, didn’t it? Haters are gone—fans are obsessed.”

“OBSESSED WITH MY UGLY FACE!” she wailed, flopping onto the couch, dramatic as ever. “I’m complaining all day—you’re all dead to me!”

“Aw, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan teased, grinning. “You’re alive again—yelling means you’re back.”

“Back to haunt you!” she snapped, pointing at him. “You let them post me looking like a drowned rat!”

“It’s not that bad,” Joshua said, laughing. “You’re adorable—snot and all.”

“ADORABLE?!” she screeched, clutching her head. “I’m a disaster! And now the world thinks it’s AI—I mean, it’s not me, right? That’s not my face!”

“Totally you,” Seungkwan snickered, dodging her swat. “Carats are calling it ‘peak maknae energy.’”

“I hate you all!” she groaned, burying her face in a pillow, muffled. “Why didn’t you use pretty pics? I’m cute sometimes!”

“You’re always cute,” Dino said, patting her back. “Even crying.”

“LIES!” she shouted, popping up, pout in full force. “I’m fixing this—right now!” She grabbed her phone, furiously tapping, muttering, “Stupid oppas—stupid headlines—AI my foot…”

She stormed to her room, slamming the door, and the boys erupted in laughter. “She’s posting,” Woozi said, smirking. “Bet it’s a revenge glow-up.”

Minutes later, her Weverse pinged—Y/N’s post: “Since my members think THESE are okay [screenshots of their pics], here’s the REAL me. News people—USE THESE. That crying mess? AI, not me. I’m pretty, see?!” Attached were her best shots—smiling with coffee, winking in stage makeup, laughing in sunlight—zero snot, all shine.

The boys crowded Seungcheol’s phone, howling. “She’s savage!” Hoshi said, wiping tears. “AI—not her!”

“She’s delusional,” Mingyu laughed. “Those crying pics are 100% her—I took half of ‘em!”

“She’s back-back,” Jun grinned, scrolling Carat replies—“Y/N said NO to the snot pics!” “Queen reclaiming her throne!”

Seungcheol chuckled, leaning back. “Haters are toast, she’s yelling—she’s good.”

“She’ll still kill us,” Minghao said, smirking. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally,” Wonwoo added, rare grin flashing. “She’s our mess—pretty or not.”

Y/N burst out, still pouting. “You’re all on dish duty for this! And I want more chicken—payback!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seungcheol saluted, grinning as they groaned. The room buzzed—her tantrum, their laughter, the world flipping to her side. The headlines could keep the tears; she’d claimed her shine, and her 13 members had her back—goofy pics and all.

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an: hello again! I’m trying my best to mention all the members, but I keep losing track—oops! I’m also trying my best to capture their personalities in each dialogue HAHAHAHA! Thank you so much for reading—I hope you enjoy it!🫶🏻

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii hello, can i request like svt fem 14th member like, they are on nana tour and since cheol can't come he ask na pd to take a good care of the reader yk since she's the only fem member, she's most likely the people (men and women) to look at and the members became protective yk what i mean? But the reader doesn't notice that people are turning their heads towards her because she is clueless af 😭🫶🏻

All Eyes on You | Seventeen x 14th Member | fluff

“Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan’s soft voice called from the seat in front of you. He turned around and gave you a pointed look. “Try to rest. Tomorrow’s going to be hectic.”

You smiled and nodded. “I’m fine, Jeonghan oppa. Don’t worry.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. You knew the members always looked out for you, but since this was your first major world tour as the group’s 14th and only female member, their protectiveness had been ramped up to the max.

The next day at the venue, the energy was electric. Fans were already lining up outside, and the backstage hallways were a bustling maze of staff members, equipment, and sound checks. You didn’t notice it at first, but every time you walked past, people would pause. Heads turned, conversations halted, and eyes followed you.

You remained oblivious, too busy focusing on remembering stage cues and the jam packed schedule ahead. But your members noticed.

“Y/N, don’t go off by yourself,” Mingyu said suddenly, appearing by your side as you headed toward the catering table.

“I was just grabbing water,�� you said, confused by his sudden appearance.

“I’ll get it for you,” Mingyu insisted, already turning toward the table.

You blinked but shrugged it off. Mingyu was naturally caring, so you didn’t think much of it.

However, it didn’t stop there. During soundcheck, Seungkwan and Dino flanked you like bodyguards, while Woozi stood close by, glaring at anyone who lingered in your direction for too long. You didn’t understand what was happening.

It wasn’t until Vernon leaned over during lunch and muttered, “That guy’s staring again,” that you started to notice.

“Who?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Vernon nodded discreetly toward a staff member at the far end of the room. You turned to look, but the man quickly looked away.

“I think you’re imagining things,” you said with a small laugh, brushing it off. “People aren’t staring at me.”

“They are,” Vernon replied bluntly.

Still, you didn’t give it much thought. Being the only girl in a group of twelve guys naturally drew some attention, right? That had to be it.

But as the day progressed, you couldn’t help but notice your members acting strangely. Jun casually stepped in front of a group of staff members when you passed by, blocking their view. Joshua and Hoshi stood on either side of you during rehearsals, while DK carried your bag even though it was practically empty.

By the end of the day, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you asked during dinner, looking around the table.

The members exchanged glances, as if silently debating who would answer. Finally, Jeonghan sighed.

“Y/N,” he began, “you don’t realize it, but people… stare at you. A lot.”

You frowned. “What? No, they don’t.”

“They do,” Seungkwan said, nodding firmly. “Everywhere we go, people can’t take their eyes off you.”

“Men, women, staff, fans,” Minghao added, ticking them off on his fingers.

“But why?” you asked, genuinely perplexed.

The table fell silent for a moment before Joshua spoke up gently. “Because you’re beautiful, Y/N. And you don’t even notice it.”

Your face flushed. “That’s not—”

“It is true,” Dino interrupted. “You just don’t pay attention because you’re too focused on other things.”

You glanced around the table, the warmth of their words sinking in. It felt strange to think of yourself that way, but the sincerity in their eyes made it hard to argue.

“You guys don’t need to be so protective, though,” you said softly.

“Of course we do,” Mingyu replied immediately. “It’s our job to look after you.”

“And it’s not just about the staring,” Woozi added. “We want to make sure you feel safe, no matter what.”

Their protectiveness, which had initially felt overbearing, suddenly made sense. You realized how much they cared not just as bandmates, but as family.

“Thanks, guys,” you said, smiling.

“Always,” Seungcheol’s voice chimed in through the group chat. Though he couldn’t join this leg of the tour due to his injury, the leader had been keeping tabs on everything from afar.

As the members laughed and teased you, the warmth in your chest grew. Being the only girl in Seventeen came with its challenges, but with twelve brothers by your side, you knew you were never alone.

————————————————————————————-

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: muddled hearts x.mh [m] by @haologram

muddled hearts 🍹 x.mh [m]

↳ part of the 'lonely hearts cafe' collab!

synopsis: things take a turn for the better when you finally find a roommate to escape your incredibly overpriced apartment, but you don't expect to ruin the only relationship that matters to you in the process. genre: forced proximity au. coworkers/friends/roommates idiots to lovers. angst, fluff, suggestive themes. pairing: bartender!xu minghao x fem!waitress!reader | side pairings: restaurant owners!jeongcheol ; bartender!seungkwan x waiter!hansol ; chef!mingyu x hostess!tzuyu (twice) word count: 24k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol (obviously??) mentions of food/eating. reader has a strained relationship with her parents. jeongcheol/verkwan/tzugyu are all plot devices. unspoken pining, kissing. what to listen to: am pm - jay b, wheein ; you and me - lifehouse ; runnin' - the pharcyde ; no one noticed - the marías ; have u found what ur looking for? - ashton irwin ; on the line - blood orange author's note: the loml and the haologram namesake has officially debuted on this blog! while i am not entirely satisfied with this piece, that's okay and i still love the idea i put forth and the way i expressed what i could on the time crunch i gave myself. i will likely work on a spinoff for this, or just something to delve more into their backstory and developing them. special thank you to my lovely beta readers @diamonddaze01 @lovetaroandtaemin @tomodachiii <3 please enjoy!

A YEAR AGO…

"I need a Guinness." That was the first thing you ever said to Xu Minghao. You'd been hired by Seungcheol, one of the restaurant owners, three weeks prior but hadn't worked a shift with Minghao yet.

Therefore, he didn't know your name or when you even got there. There hadn't been any murmur of a new girl, much less a pretty one – which was odd for the establishment. Full of meddling college students and a married couple who ran the place, there was bound to be some gossip. Something about your looks, your demeanor, anything – but no. Nothing had flown down the grapevine.

You didn't bother to introduce yourself, either. Your eyes were pointed until he quirked a brow, scoffing out a laugh and pouring the drink for you. He'd said nothing as you took it, skirting around several clients and even a busboy and delivered it with a smile on your face to the awaiting patron…

…Who slipped a tip into your apron with a greasy smile, and you kept yours on your lips until you were out of the patron's line of sight. Then, tucked into the serving staff's corner, he saw the way your shoulders sagged, a look of disgust on your face as you shivered. He clicked his tongue to himself, but filed the vision away to the back of his mind. 

He spent the rest of the night silently giving you the drinks you asked for, or speaking to his regulars as he made your cocktails. You always waited patiently, your fingers spinning your pen expertly as you watched over the patrons of the restaurant. He watched the way you sped past everyone, wormed your way through gathered crowds, and even ducked under trays being carried by your fellow servers. 

You got your job done, and you got it done fast – your patrons visibly happy with your service and your apron slightly overflowing with tips when you slid behind the bar and tucked them into your lockbox without a word to him.

It wasn't until you bid your last patron a good night that he saw your shoulders relax, your fingers yanking the elastic out of your hair and shaking it out. The relief on your forehead was noticeable as you walked back to the bar, opening the fridge behind him and grabbing a can of the orange juice he used for some of the cocktails on the menu.

"D'you mind? I know they're counted." He shook his head as he skirted past you with his tray full of cups, the glasses clinking against each other while he made his way to the back. Your fellow servers were gathered around the heat of the kitchen, leaning against the wall or stretching their overworked limbs. He kept to himself, hearing them whisper about the new girl.

"She's so pretty." "Yeah, but she doesn't talk. I tried to talk to her back here a couple times, and she just keeps it short." "She's here to work."

"So am I, but at least I'm not rude." He set his dishes into the washer, cursing to himself when he realized he forgot his shakers at the bar. He was about to start the cycle when he heard the soft clanking of metal against metal, seeing your closed can of orange juice tucked into your shirt pocket as you held out his tray of shakers. 

"Thought you might need these, wouldn't want you to make unnecessary trips."

He thanked you with a smile, taking the black tray as you cracked open your can, shrugging as you turned on your heel and walked away. The servers looked appalled as you grabbed the sanitizer spray before walking out of the kitchen, a rag already hanging from your belt loop. They looked at Minghao, who quietly loaded the shakers into the machine – wondering how he got you to speak to him.

The answer was plain and simple – he was a crucial part of the services you provided as a waitress. You clearly didn't need help with your tables: he watched how easily you maneuvered through picky eaters and entitled elderly women, all in one night. He saw how you smiled and greeted people warmly and enthusiastically, something the other servers weren't very good at but hey — a buck is a buck.

He wormed back out of the kitchen amongst the whispers, rolling his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head. You were wearing headphones, nodding your head along to something as you wiped down every table and chair.

He slid back behind the bar and started his own closing duties, but he took a moment to take you in fully – the soft slope of your nose, the way your brows furrowed as you ran your rag over particularly sticky spots. The purse of your lips as you mouthed along to whatever it was that you were listening to.

"Do you need any help?"  

You were in front of the bar now, holding one of your earbuds in your hand as you raised a brow at him. He shook his head before extending his hand out to you.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Minghao."

You were wary as you shook his hand, but your grip was nice and firm as you did so. 

"Y/N. Sorry if I was kind of emotionless during the shift, it helps me focus better if I'm not talking to people while I work." He shook his head again, as if to say no worries, before reaching under the bar and pulling your lockbox for you. You thanked him softly as you took it in your hands, walking away towards Seungcheol and Jeonghan's office to do your tip-out for the night. He finished his duties quickly, even managing to rearrange the cups and shakers for the morning bartender as the servers came to him one by one and gave him his share of their tips.

Until you came back out with a soft smile on your lips, your hair now loosely tied up and your apron slung over your shoulder as you held a wad of cash out to him, far thicker than any of the other servers. He'd been counting the leftover mixers, crossing out your orange juice as a markout as you slipped the money into his hand.

"For your help. Thanks."

"It's my job, no need to thank me." "Doesn't hurt. Have a good night, Minghao." "You too, Y/N." He smiled back as you finished what was left in your can of juice, tossing it as you made your way out of the building. He followed shortly after, walking out a few of the other servers to their cars in the parking lot for good measure. He never really spoke to them either, despite having worked with them for a little over a year – but he was a gentleman if nothing else.

The next few shifts he worked with you were like that, too. You'd smile at him a bit and ask for things with a nicer tone of voice. He still delivered and watched you from afar, slightly amazed at your abilities to satisfy all your patrons – couples, families, even that one elderly woman who always sent her steak back because it was never done well enough…she hadn't sent it back the night you served her.

You always walked out first, handing Minghao thick stacks of cash and stealing cans of orange juice. It got to the point where he would set yours aside from the counted lot, marking it out in the system before they shut down for the night. The other servers watched your interactions – short and sweet, but still far more than you'd ever attempted to interact with them.

He soon learned that you did like to talk, you just had no one that you deemed worthy of your time. So when you arrived early on some shifts, you'd sit at the bar and ask Minghao things about himself. He'd gladly answer, mixing up non-alcoholic versions of his favorite cocktails for you as he talked in a soft voice. You both noticed the wandering eyes of your coworkers, but neither of you mentioned it to the other.

He noticed that you never answered any questions about yourself, opting to spin the question back on him. He let it slide, but he knew you understood that eventually, you'd have to open up, too. When you did decide to do so was completely up to the universe.

It wasn't until the compliments started that the two of you really started talking – it started as something subtle and quiet. Minghao commented on your earrings or choice of lipgloss, and you said you liked his hair and the way he styled his jewelry. You would both laugh over light coworker gossip or comments about how easily Jeonghan got under Seungcheol's skin. 

You started greeting him when you'd swing by the bar for any alcoholic beverage, and he'd pause his flirting with his regulars to give you his undivided attention. This is how you learned that he had a way with body language – his eyes were always grazing over someone's face, his shoulders set back in confidence, brushing his fingers lightly over whoever was grabbing their drink.

This included you, but neither of you said anything about it. You'd let his fingers swipe over yours occasionally, choosing to smile and thank him as you went about your shift. The regulars noticed the way his attention was no longer fully on them, and some complained, but some spoke directly to Minghao about it – saying how cute it was for him to be crushing on the new girl.

He wasn't, but he didn't care to clear it up if it meant it got you more tips.

One night, things were as normal – it was a busy Friday evening, and you slid behind the bar to stuff your cash into your lockbox for the third time before closing. His fingers covered the edge of the bar so you wouldn't hit yourself, and you thanked him with a pat to his ribcage before slipping back out onto the restaurant floor with your pen flipping through your fingers like always. He watched you zip around, smiling widely as you took orders, casually flirting with patrons around your age, taking group photos with cell phones and cameras. 

You stole your can of orange juice, helped Minghao with his dishes and did your closing duties. You got tipped out by Jeonghan and gave Minghao his share, bidding him a good night before waltzing out of the restaurant. You skipped to your car, expecting a smooth drive home and ending your good night on your comfy couch with a Pilsner and a bag of chips…

When your car simply wouldn't start.  No big deal, you'd told yourself. You tried turning your headlights on, but nothing happened. This could mean one of two things: your battery had crapped out and just needed a jump, or tonight was just the night you'd be walking the twenty blocks home. You clicked your tongue before sighing and resting your forehead on the fuzzy steering wheel cover.

Minghao had watched this entire ordeal from the door of the restaurant, finishing a conversation with Seungcheol before stepping out and calling out your name. Your ears perked up, your eyes tired as you looked up and saw him walking over. He smiled as you pouted, opening your car door and explaining the situation.

"Not a problem, I can give you a lift." "I couldn't ask you to do that, Minghao." "You're not. I'm offering."

It went back and forth like that for about ten minutes before Minghao reached out and plucked your keys out of the ignition. You huffed as he jingled them, throwing your apron over your shoulder and manually locking all your doors before slipping out.

“I live a bit out of the way.” “I do, too. Don’t worry about it.”

Turns out that a bit out of the way for you, meant two blocks from Minghao’s apartment. 

It also turns out that the two of you had much more in common than just working at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s restaurant.

You both loved art, fashion…the idea of flirting and making people think something was going to happen. You were both studying but at two different universities, and worked at the restaurant to save money for graduate school. He finds out that you're almost too big of a Bloody Mary fan, and nothing stops you from yucking a Piña Colada enjoyer's yum. He doesn't drink, and the revelation makes you snort, until you realize he's serious and roll your eyes subtly.

And all of this is something you find out as you sit in his car outside of your apartment complex, the heat cranked up and his radio playing AM PM by Jay B and Wheein on the lowest volume. He speaks softly, just like he does at the restaurant – and you notice his eyes almost glued to your face as you reciprocate. A few shy laughs are shared until he says something about Mingyu and his habit of stealing cheese curds off the customer trays, making you snort and hit your head on his window. He apologizes profusely but the sentiment is waned by his own rickety giggle, making you flush embarrassedly and shove him lightly.

The night ends when he offers to walk you up to your apartment, but you decline, holding your purse tightly. He still gets out of his car, perches on the hood and watches you duck into the heavy greenery that ornaments the entryway, hearing your work shoes click against the cold cement steps. He waits at least ten minutes before leaning back on his car, taking a deep breath in the chilly November air and pushing off. He slides back into the driver's seat, not noticing the way you look down at him from your second floor apartment. You peeked at him through the wooden blinds of your bedroom, the soft thundering in your chest something you couldn't figure out.

All you knew is that he was Xu Minghao, and if he was meant to break your heart – so be it.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO…

"Need a ride?"

You scoffed to yourself, hearing Minghao's voice across the parking lot. Your shoulders were slumped, your head resting defeatedly against the steering wheel of your 2002 Nissan that once more, refused to start. Why? You have no idea.

"No. It'll start. It has to start." You muttered back, seeing him approach the side of your vehicle. He dons a sympathetic smile as he leans in the window, his fingers grazing the fuzzy leopard print wheel cover. You ignored the manicure you'd been admiring your entire shift, the blotted maroon a perfect tone against his skin – and cranked your ignition.

Chchchch.

"Try again." Chchchch.

He glanced up at you before unlocking your door from the inside and yanking it open. He reached under your dash, popping your hood gingerly and snaking out from under the steering wheel. You only eyed him tiredly as he slid in front of your car, setting your hood up on the prop rod and tinkering around. You couldn't help but let your eyes close slightly, the soreness in your muscles taking over just as he popped back into your window. You jolted out of the light slumber, the crease between your brows deepening in the stark spring moonlight.

"Two things, gorgeous. Either your alternator is fucked and not charging your battery, or your starter engine has crapped out." He shrugged, and you couldn't bring yourself to react further than a groan. Your hands ran through your hair, and Minghao cooed lightly.

"C'mon, I'll give you a lift home. We'll get Cheol to pay for a tow." He wiggled his brows, making you let out a noise of amusement. You sighed, nodding silently as he once more took your keys out of the ignition. You grabbed your items, swinging your apron over your shoulder and locking your doors manually before slinking out and letting Minghao shut your door. 

You shook your head in disbelief, absently resting your forehead against his bicep with a sigh.

"I'm so tired."

Apparently, tired meant that you were almost about to fall asleep standing up. Neither of you worked tomorrow, so Minghao simply wrapped his arm around your shoulders (an act that neither of you would ever speak on, but made the both of you incredibly giddy) and led you to his car. He opened the door and helped you climb in, even going as far as buckling your seatbelt for you despite your whining protests that you could do it yourself.

"I know you can. Just let me help you, yeah?"

You gave in without a second thought, your eyes fluttering shut as he slid into the driver's side and started his car. You had turned your head towards him and muttered some words quietly.

Something that sounded like thank you, followed by a slightly more intelligible string of words.

"If I fall asleep, I give you full permission to leave me on my doorstep like a package."

He only snorted, knowing he would not ever do that to you. Rolling his eyes, he fiddled with the radio, hearing You and Me by Lifehouse playing on his favorite station. He kept it on as he pulled out of the parking lot, seeing Seungcheol staring in his direction with wide eyes as he walked Jeonghan to their shared car. Minghao only shrugged, waving quickly before turning out into the street and driving down the road.

It was peaceful, watching you sleep. The way your lashes kissed the fat of your cheeks, the way your lips were pouty and he resisted the urge to wipe your chin of a bit of drool that had begun to spill out. He bit down on his lip to hold in his laughter as you stirred, your thumb instinctively coming to your face to wipe at it. You peeled your eyes open, the whites slightly bloodshot and your face contorting in the soreness you felt. "Long day, huh?" He whistled as he flicked on his turn signal, and you only managed to hum in response. You blinked at him, his eyes catching yours as you stared into him. He raised his brows in confusion, and you shrugged your shoulders as much as your fatigue allowed.

"Why are you so nice to me, Hao?"

He only smiled, clicking his tongue as he took the turn down the creepy backroad neither of you liked and often discussed when you had some down time at work. "I thought we were friends, Y/N?"

He saw the way you leaned your head back on his headrest, nose scrunched as you began to settle deep in thought. Were you friends? He thinks so. He thinks setting aside your daily orange juice can means that he's your friend. He thinks giving you lifts home, means that you trust him. That's a crucial part of friendship, isn't it? Trust?

Maybe the subtle flirting he'd been dishing out wasn't so friendly, but he certainly desired to be your friend. He liked your eager conversation, a drastic change in comparison to how stoic you had been upon first meeting him – and how uninterested you were in everyone else you worked with. Aside from Mingyu in the kitchen and Tzuyu the hostess, you had absolutely no interest in talking to anyone but Minghao.

You also didn't allow anyone else but Minghao into your life so closely. Only he knew where you lived, what troubled you, how your mother made you feel about yourself. Only he knew about your bad habits – your affinity for gossip, your extensive situationship issues with your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, and how you thought your apartment was entirely too expensive for a college student that was buying her dinner with coins.

"I guess you're right. We should hang out one day, instead of just you giving me pitiful looks when my car craps out on me."

Your tone had been light, but he knew you weren't joking. No matter how often this happened, you insisted what Minghao was dishing out was pity. It wasn't – it was a break. A chance to worry about things later, or tomorrow, because he also understood what it was like to be stressed. He also understood what it was like to have a car let him down time after time, but he had had no one to take that mercy upon him. He'd walked home in pouring rain, risked getting sick, slipped one too many times.

A favor, was what he was offering, if anything.

You just didn't know how to accept help. It was one of your flaws that made itself known without a single word from you.

"I'm free tomorrow. I don't work; I took the day off." "I'm free, too. I'll text you when I wake up. Maybe we can get brunch?"

You would not end up texting Minghao, because you were knocked out – too knocked out to be woken up – by the time that the two of you reached your apartment. He knew your keys were in your purse, but after three attempts at waking you up, he gave up. He drove the two blocks to his complex, snagging the perfect spot in front of his entrance.

He hadn't been too sure of what to do, so he left you in his car with the engine running to duck into his apartment – returning within a few minutes with a pair of blankets for you and him. He opened your door and leaned your seat back slowly, before throwing the blanket over you and moving your belongings to his backseat. He climbed back into the driver's side, scrolling on his phone for a bit before peering over at you. Still sound asleep, as the clock struck midnight. 

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment.

A moment turned into three hours, when he heard your phone start ringing in the cupholder. It jolted him awake, his eyes narrowed as he read the blurry name out – Jaehyun.

He declined the call. Once. Twice. Six times, he declined Jaehyun's call. He turned your phone off after that, but you had stirred enough from the sheer sound of him fumbling around. Your eyes were bloodshot as you blinked before realizing you were still in his car.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Have we been here long?" He only smiled, gesturing at the blanket on your body. Your eyes widened as much as they could in their sleep-swollen state, before he flashed his phone screen at you.

3:13am.

"Hao! Why didn't you wake me up!?"

"I certainly tried. I drove around your complex twice before deciding it was futile. We're outside my apartment, if you want to crash here. I'm in no position to drive now."

You had scoffed tiredly (read: with embarrassment), before the urge to stretch took over – the blanket slipping down your legs as you twisted your torso and popped your back. Minghao only giggled tiredly, letting you pout at him.

"I don't have a toothbrush here."

"I have spares for guests. And I have a guest room, so it's not like you'd be taking over my couch or anything. There is always going to be a special space for you, you're my friend."

And you wanted to be his friend so badly.

"Fine. But I'm buying breakfast." "Sure, whatever makes you feel better."

You did not end up buying breakfast. In fact, after you allowed Minghao to help you get situated in his guest room, you didn't even wake up until well in the afternoon. The soft sheets, the absolute dream of a mattress…

The gentle scent of his detergent on the clothes he made you wear to bed while he stayed up an extra two hours – washing and ironing your work uniform. He even took your socks.

Granted, he also did not wake up until late that day. The two of you jerked the doors of the respective rooms open within five minutes of each other, Minghao sluggishly standing in his kitchen with his forehead against the cool steel of his fridge. He held a carton of eggs in his hand, your mouth occupied by the toothbrush he'd given you the night before.

"Eggs?" "I don't even want to cook, I just want to order in." "My treat. Consider it a thank you for letting me crash here." He had looked up then, a quirk in his brow as his lips twitched into a small smirk.

"Don't thank me for being a good friend. That's what you're supposed to do, Y/N."

He didn't allow you to pay for delivery. He didn't even allow you to bicker with him when he shoved you into the bathroom, insisting you shower while waiting for the food to arrive. He was a bit like a parent in that sense – forcing you to take his help and hospitality – and even offering to blow-dry your hair when you exited the bathroom in yet another set of his loungewear, the sweatpants low on your hips as you sat down in front of him and allowed him to do as he pleased.

Something about the domesticity of Minghao brought you comfort. He was gentle and kind, and entirely way too nice for your own good. You had this idea that you had to earn niceties, and Minghao was actively challenging that perspective with the way he wormed himself into your heart. Unlike the parasite, though, you were sure that loving him in whatever matter presented itself would not kill you.

He attempted to drive you home around midnight, the two of you far too excited to let the night end – when your phone began ringing again, this time as he pulled into a gas station. He sighed, "Take care of that. I'll be back."

Your ex-boyfriend told you he was at your apartment and asked why you weren't answering the door. You admitted that you weren't home and insisted that he went home – that you weren't interested in seeing him. He took it pretty hard, trying to convince you that he wanted nothing more than to see you, but Minghao arrived just as you snapped on him and told him that this odd situation was not working in anyone's favor.

Jaehyun insisted that he still loved you – but you said you wouldn't be seeing him again and hung up. You blocked his number before the bombardment of texts could flood in, resting your head against the seat and sighing. You gave Minghao a worried look, earning a soft laugh from him as he reached over and ran his fingers through your hair.

"Everything is going to be okay in due time. We'd be nothing in life if we didn't struggle a bit." He didn't take you home. Instead, he drove around the city, his hand slotted in yours. It was nothing more than an attempt at a comforting gesture on his behalf, but you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered slightly. You stared out the window as he spoke softly, telling you stories about his life and listening intently to yours. Eventually, the two of you wound up at a park you frequented as a child, one with a wishing well. 

The two of you got down and headed straight for that well, Minghao holding a few coins he was willing to part ways with in his hand. He gave you half of them, telling you to make your wishes as he thought of his. He watched you intently, your eyes closed and thick lashes fluttering against your cheeks, lips pouty as you murmured to yourself. He was barely able to hear you, leaning a bit closer.

"I wish to be happy."

He closed his eyes after hearing that.

He knew in his heart that he couldn't be solely responsible for your happiness, but he could certainly aid in it. He was your friend, and he was determined to see that wish come true, even if it meant sacrificing his own time and energy to see it happen for you. Be it what may, he was hell-bent about it, within seconds of hearing you say it.

So much so, that when he dropped his 500 won coin, he too wished for you to be happy.

It was the least he could do at that moment.

He actually drove you home after that, and you invited him in. He stayed for all of two hours, just talking to you and keeping you company as you settled things around your apartment. Once more, the topic of rent being way too much came up – and he asked if you wanted a roommate.  You had snorted, insisting that you could handle rent on your own.

Minghao went home that night with another plan in mind.

SIX MONTHS AGO…

"Graduation is coming up. I know we've only just started getting close, but I got you a ticket to mine in case you'd like to be there." The casual comment had made you choke on your strawberry lemonade. He offered a napkin, smiling mischievously at you as you scoffed, wiping your lips carefully. He'd invited you out to lunch on yet another day off, but this time, the two of you were nicely dressed up. So much so, that your waitress thought you were a couple on a date. Neither of you made the move to correct her.

"Minghao, you can't just say that so casually." You muttered, but there was a twitch in your lip that gave you away. He caught it almost instantly, reaching into his bag and pulling out your ticket – watching you reach into your purse and pull his ticket out. Both graduations were on the same day, yours in the morning and his in the afternoon – just barely two hours apart. Enough that you'd be able to have a luncheon with your family and still make it to his right on time.  "You'll be celebrating with your family afterward, right?" "We're having a small party. A few of my friends will be there, and I'd like you to attend if it's possible. I know you probably have your own things to do."

You didn't, just the lunch. Something about your accomplishments was never enough for your family to celebrate, and they were of the breed that believed graduation was simply a part of life – nothing worth celebrating. Minghao didn't need to know that, though.

"Sure. I'll be there."

And it didn't take long for the day to spin around. You were dressed in your favorite white dress, covered slightly by your forest green graduation gown. Minghao met your family – your mother giving him a quick smile before tugging your father into the stadium. You offered an apology and said that one of your lifelong friends, Junhui, would be arriving soon, and Minghao could sit with him. You stuck around until he did, introducing the two and scurrying away to get set up with your classmates.

Funnily enough, Minghao and Junhui hit it off really well – so much so that when your name was called and you crossed the stage, they cheered so loudly that your parents looked away in embarrassment. You beamed up at your friends, waving excitedly and hopping down to your seat. The ceremony was over quickly, and your parents were nowhere to be found for photos.

It bummed you out, and your friends both noticed. You called their phones relentlessly, to no avail – making Minghao and Junhui take you to lunch on their own. You still enjoyed it, but they could tell that you were not happy. Neither of them made a statement, but Minghao managed to find a last minute ticket for Junhui to attend his graduation with you and invited him to the party as well.

You and Junhui sat in the stands an hour later, holding a huge bouquet you'd ordered a few days in advance – and sat with his parents, who eagerly admitted their glee in Minghao finding friends so easily. You enjoyed the pride his parents had in their son, feeling the same love that Minghao so eagerly poured over you with no remorse. You could tell how loved he had been growing up, how every single part of him was a part of them and then some.

How Minghao was truly someone made of love, by love, for love.

You cheered loudly with his family as he crossed the stage, finding his eyes as he looked up. The maroon of his gown did wonders for his skin, and you hated the way your cheeks warmed as he winked at you. Junhui elbowed you lightly, a knowing look in his eyes that made you scoff and shove him softly.

"We've been friends since we were kids, Y/N. You don't fool me."

However, it didn't stop you from trying. To you, Minghao was just your friend – you had no intent to ever take things further than that. Much like he slowly picked up on your flaws and bad habits, you did his – his subtle flirting with regulars, the way he had no shame in giving free drinks away if he thought someone was cute. It made you overthink everything about his way of acting with you – how easy it was to distinguish that he would never have a romantic feeling towards you if this was how he acted towards patrons.

So you figured your odd little crush was sorely misplaced – and added that you hadn't spoken to Jaehyun since the first time you slept over at Minghao's apartment was cause for the strange feeling of neediness in your stomach. Minghao was worth more than a rebound, and he was far more than you would ever deserve.

You spent the rest of the day enjoying delicious food prepared by his parents and spending hours dancing with Junhui and Minghao in turns. You blushed severely when Minghao's parents asked if you were interested in Minghao, quickly refusing the idea and insisting you were his friend and nothing more. You later saw Minghao blush all the same, his mother looking over his shoulder at you and making him do the same – before you saw his plush lips form around the negative response of No, she's just my friend.

You ignored the sinking feeling and focused on the party – with Mingyu swinging by for an hour before going back out to hang with his girlfriend, Tzuyu, and his best friend, Wonwoo (and they were all coworkers of yours that you allowed yourself to grow closer to after realizing they were no threat.) You took dozens of photos with everyone, had plenty to eat and reluctantly bid goodnight to a tired Junhui that drove back to his girlfriend's apartment after checking that Minghao would take you home. 

The two of you stayed for a little longer, watching all the guests leave. You walked around his parents' home and helped them clean up silently, hearing his mother praise you quietly to her son. Your refusal to acknowledge it made everything easier, grabbing an apron from the kitchen and tasking yourself with washing dishes alongside Minghao's father. He made soft conversation, and you understood where Minghao got his doting personality. It made you think way too hard about the man you called your friend to everyone's face, including his.

At the end of the night, you cried when Minghao presented you with a graduation gift in the privacy of his car – a pair of earrings and a lease. A lease to a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bathroom apartment he found all on his own, after more complaints about your rent being too high came about. He admitted that he'd initially started looking for places solely for you, but later came to the idea that maybe you would like some company. He fully admitted that he would have no problem if you denied his request to be your roommate, but seeing as the two of you had also planned on going to graduate school…he thought that maybe splitting costs would be easier.

"You can say no. I know it's a bit presumptuous of me to jump the gun like this. I've already signed it, but the leasing office told me it was okay if I wound up taking the place alone. I just thought I'd run it by you."

You had only blinked up at him through teary eyes, your lips pouty as you whined.

"Why are you always so nice to me, Xu Minghao? I would've never thought to do this."

"You're not me, pretty. And you're my friend, I'd go as far as even saying you're one of my best friends. I love you and I care about what stresses you out, and I'd give my left arm to make life easier for you."

Anyone else would've seen this as an admittance of romantic feelings.

Anyone else.

"Minghao, I can't accept this." "Yes, you can. You don't have to be strong all the time. I'm here. I care. Just let me help you, okay?"

You don't know how, but just the soft lilt of his voice made you fold. You signed your name in blue ink that very same night and rode with him back to your apartment. You invited him in, the two of you tired from forced socialization and flopping on your couch. Neither of you said much as you scrolled through Hulu, your television lighting up your living room along with the few candles on your coffee table. "You never tried your earrings on." He muttered next to you, his eyes closed as you settled on Coyote Ugly. Your lips formed an O-shape, and you nodded as you dug them out of your purse. You popped the velvety box open, the diamond studs twinkling back at you. "Allow me." He leaned forward, plucking the box from your fingers and gingerly removing them from the backing. He watched silently as you took your signature gold hoops out, turning to face him with a tired smile on your lips. "Ready?" "Be gentle, I'm sensitive." 

He scooted slightly closer, nimble fingers softly tilting your jaw toward him. You ignored the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end as he tucked a stray curl behind your ear, thumbing at your earlobe gently before slipping the earring through.

You heard him mumble to himself but didn't get a chance to ask questions as he carefully slid the backing on and quickly put on the other one for you. He nodded in approval, both hands brushing your face as he pushed your hair back. "You look pretty in diamonds."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hands left your face. You dug a compact mirror out of your purse, using the low light of the room to see. Long lashes fluttered in the reflection as you shifted the mirror around, your manicured fingers lightly tracing the shell of your ear as you took in the subtle sparkle of the gemstones.

"You didn't have to, you know. I didn't get you anything."

You slumped on the couch, resting the side of your head on one of the thick cushions while looking up at him. He propped his arm up on the back of the couch, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned his head on the palm of his hand. "Having you is enough. Did I tell you that I like your dress? I don't think I told you."

Your eyes only widened before you felt your cheeks heat and cleared your throat. You glanced down at your dress, the scattered sequins across the white dress glinting in the low light. An odd feeling settled in your stomach as you ran your hands down the fabric before looking back up at him to see his eyes boring into you.

Like he could see what you were thinking.

"You're beautiful, but I don't have to tell you that. You already know." He said pointedly, and you scoffed. You look away, turning your head to face the ceiling. You follow the slow spin of the fan, before you glance back at him through the corner of your eye. He's still looking at you, but with a soft smile and a raise of his brows as if he's waiting for you to tell him what's on your mind.

"You don't, you're right. Sorry." You muttered, crossing your legs at the knee. You could feel the soreness in your calves from being on your feet all day, the straps from your shoes so tight that they'd imprinted on your skin. Minghao shifted next to you, and you could feel the heat of his gaze raking across your face.

"Y/N?"

You turned to face him, "Hm?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Nothing."

You scowled, sitting up quickly and tucking your legs under you. "I hate when people do that, Hao. Tell me what you were going to say."

He only chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on your couch, tucking his hands under his head. "I wasn't going to say anything, sweetheart. Just…yeah."

"Xu Minghao." "Ooh, full name. Don't hurt me, I might like it." You gaped, smacking his arm lightly. He grabbed your wrist loosely, making you fail at biting back your laughter when his other hand tickled your ribs. "M-Minghao! I don't need to know that!"

"Don't you, though? I know that you like your hair pulled, you told me like three days ago when we were tipsy during movie night. Call it an even exchange of information." He nodded, and you only attempted to swat his hands away from digging into your ribcage as a scream of laughter escaped your throat. He grinned, pinning you against the cushion as you squirmed under him.

"N-Not fair! You're s-stronger than m–AH!" You choked on your own laughter, thrashing as he stopped, squeezing your sides gently with a mischievous smile painted on his face. The glint in his eyes made your stomach swirl slightly as he looked down at you, and it took a few moments for you to realize just how close his face was to yours. You didn't dare look at his lips, forcing your eyes to be glued to his as you swallowed quietly. He shifted back to sit down, allowing you to sit up slightly and clear your throat – when your eyes flickered to his lips.

Soft and slightly glossy from his strawberry lip balm. Lush. So pink and pretty and perfect.

"Y/N?"

"Uh huh?"

Your eyes darted back up to his, noting the soft blush on his cheeks in the low light of the television. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut – when your body took over your mind, your hand softly tilting his jaw back to look at you. Your thumb ran across his lower lip, pulling it down slightly to watch it spring back, your eyes meeting his once more as you pressed the pad of your thumb onto his lips.

Something about his gaze made you feel insane.

And feeling him kiss your thumb while looking into your eyes made you break.

You leaned forward, holding his jaw gently as you pressed your lips against his chastely. He melted in slightly, his hand ghosting over your hip for balance when realization sank into your skin and you pulled away.

"Shit. I'm…Minghao, I'm so–" He didn't let you finish, rolling his eyes as he pulled you towards him by your wrist, kissing you with purpose. You only let out a noise of surprise as he practically manhandled you onto his lap, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours and making you feel like your very being was about to combust into flames. You couldn't help but tighten your legs around his, feeling him smile against your lips with a soft laugh.

Your hands fisted his shirt as he pulled away from your lips, his hand moving to the nape of your neck and tilting your head back while the other splayed across your thigh. His lips trailed down your jaw, a soft mewl escaping your throat as he nipped at your earlobe.

"Sound so pretty for me, sweetheart."

The light scrape of his teeth against your neck doesn't allow for many words to slip from your lips, only a choked whimper as you carded your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly as he littered gentle nips across the expanse of your neck and chest. His hand in your hand moved to your back, resting just above the zipper of your dress when he looked up at you through his lashes.

"Can I–" "Yes." His fingers carefully pulled the zipper down, the tight flutter sleeves of your dress loosening around your shoulders and falling slightly. Your hand tugged at the knot of his tie as he reconnected your lips, his hands sliding around your waist as you pulled it off and tossed it to the side. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as his tongue slips into your mouth, his hands moving down slightly and palming your thighs before moving back from your face.

“We should stop, shouldn’t we?” He mumbled against your lips, making you shake your head as your hands fisted his shirt, your thumbs tracing the pearly buttons. Your fingers pulled at the rest of the buttons, tugging the hem of the shirt out from under his slacks as he grabbed your wrists gently.

“Want you to touch me, Hao. Please?” Your voice had a hint of something a little desperate, that same hint shown as a glint in Minghao's eyes as he breathed heavily against your lips. You kissed him chastely, feeling him groan beneath you and let go of your wrists to run his hands up your thighs, his fingertips barely breaching the hem of your dress.

“Wanna feel you. Wanna taste you…fill you up…can I, pretty girl? Will you let me?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but you squeaked out an excited yes anyway. The rest is a blur – him pulling your dress over your head and tossing it to the side, running his hands up and down your body as he meshed your lips with his with a hunger that you couldn't describe. His fingers were cool against your back as he undid the clasp of your bra, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as you whined against him.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop right now." He mumbled, holding your bra together as he looked up at you. Uncertainty flashed in your eyes, and he gave you a soft smile. "Y/N, it's okay. Are you okay?"

He clasps your bra back, his hands moving to tug his shirt off his shoulders and drape it over you. You're silent as you shove your arms through it, and Minghao quietly buttons it for you, before tucking your hair behind your ear gently. "Hey. Talk to me, I'm here." He murmured, and you just tongued your cheek, running a hand through your hair.

"I'm sorry. I thought I'd be ready–"

"Don't. Do not apologize for not being ready, or changing your mind, or anything like that. Not now, not ever, and especially not to me. Okay?"

Your face burned in embarrassment, but it quickly slipped away as Minghao enveloped you in a warm embrace, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he held you close. "You deserve to be more than some rebound, Hao. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry when there is nothing to be sorry for. We can forget all about this, you know? Just a little kiss. I'm sure lots of friends have kissed and moved on." You weren’t sure you could move on, not when Minghao held you until early morning, his breathing soft against your neck. Not when the two of you inevitably moved into your bedroom and slid under your bed sheets together, Minghao's arms wrapped around your shoulders and suffocating you with his soft cologne that you can't get enough of. 

You spent hours awake while he ran his fingers through your hair, just thinking about the way his lips felt against yours. You found yourself glancing up at him often, his face illuminated by the soft moonlight peeking through your blinds – only to see him staring at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you can feel the way his mind just empties as he glances down at you with the softest smile known to man.

"Sleepy?"

Your nod was false, but you didn't care – not when he sighed softly and pulled you into his chest with a mumbled good night.

"Goodnight, Hao."

As for moving on, Minghao wasn't sure he could, either. Not when he woke up in your bed the next morning, surrounded by your scent and your limbs and your skin stuck to his in a way that made him ache confusedly. Not when he was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas he never got back after that first time you stayed over at his apartment. Not when you were already awake, your eyes glued to the soft scar on his eyebrow before you noticed he was awake.

"Hey." "Hey, sweetheart."

Not when he watched you cook something light for lunch for the both of you, in his shirt that you have not returned since that night at his place. Not when you smiled at him with a glint of embarrassment in your eyes, but just barely hidden by comfort, trust, love.

Not when he felt his heart start racing in his chest as he said he'd see you later before he left, swinging his keys in his hand as you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"See you, Hao."

Yeah. Minghao doesn't think he can move on.

FOUR MONTHS AGO…

You and Minghao moved in as the summer grew hotter, the July air sticky as you bickered over whose couch was going to be shoved into the living room. Minghao lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, and his lip curled into a frown as Mingyu came with Tzuyu to haul his couch back to their apartment.

"And you haven't fucked on this, right?" Mingyu asked as he and Minghao took the cushions and tied them together, you and Tzuyu snorting over the jar of lemonade you were preparing. 

You and Tzuyu had become quick friends after you graduated. She helped Mingyu and Wonwoo plan the grand idea of throwing both you and Minghao a small celebration at Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house, inviting the entire staff and other straggling friends. The couple hadn't been too happy about how trashed everyone got and how you accidentally broke one of their lamps, but they congratulated you and Minghao on your graduations and gifted you both an expensive bottle of wine. Wine that you both shared when you got the keys to your shared apartment, tucked away in a cooler full of ice while you both tackled the deep cleaning of the new space. He took the front, and you took the bedrooms and bathrooms. You both emerged sweaty and sticky, grimacing at each other as you settled into Minghao's car on the way to buy paint for the bedrooms and wallpaper.

Neither of you have spoken about that night on your couch. Not that you had to – nothing more came of it. The two of you continued to work together in harmony, you hung out regularly, you flirted with customers – and you ignored the churn of subtle jealousy in your stomach when a customer got any sort of extra attention from him.

You ignored the skip in your heartbeat when his fingers grazed yours in handing you a drink, you ignored the way your stomach flipped during the many times he offered to tie your hair up when it got in the way. You especially ignored the whispers of your coworkers, ones that had only heightened since the party at your Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house – where Minghao was constantly checking in on you, bringing you drinks and adjusting your dress or hair.

So much so that when the party was over and it was just Seungcheol, Jeonghan, you and Minghao – Jeonghan asked. He asked if the two of you were a thing, and Minghao promptly peered over his highball at you. You just shrugged, the words stuck in your throat as Seungcheol shared a glance with Jeonghan.

They then did the diabolical, classic meddling-manager thing: they scheduled ALL of your shifts together.

It then seemed like the entire universe was forcing the proximity – because your car finally kicked the bucket. It would not turn on, not even after you begged Chan at the mechanic shop to give it a good knock on the hood. Because of this, you were now rendered carless – not that it mattered, because your new roommate had a car. Your new roommate, that was also your friend, coworker, and suspected partner by the married couple that owned the restaurant the two of you worked at. Minghao drove the two of you to work every day, his car once parked in front of your old apartment now sitting pretty in front of your shared one. It was domestic, how he slid in front of your apartment and still got out and knocked on your door to let you know he'd arrived – instead of just the regular I'm here text or, your least favorite, the honk. He opened your door, he let you choose the music, he rolled the windows down because you loved the free feeling of the breeze in your hair before you were ultimately forced to go into work-mode in order to withstand the berating of customers and the soreness in your feet.

Upon moving into the apartment, the two of you furnished it by splitting your belongings. Your walnut bookcases, his mahogany dining table. His Persian rugs, his television, his plants, his plates and cups. Your wall decorations, your handmade vases, your choice of wallpaper in the bathroom, your silverware.

His pots. Your pans. His blankets on the couch. Your couch.

"No, Mingyu. I have not had sex on this couch." Minghao scoffed, before peering over his shoulder at you and Tzuyu with a look on his face that reads: Can you believe this guy? You only shrug, biting back a smile as you slip ice cubes into the pitcher, facing Tzuyu. She's already looking at you, and she waits until you tilt your head in curiosity before she whispers.

"How long have you two been a thing?"

You almost choked on your spit. Her eyes were wide as she patted your back, giving a thumbs up to the worried men looking over their shoulders, pausing their unscrewing of the legs off the couch.

"What? Minghao and I are not a thing, Tzu." "Could've fooled me. I've known Minghao for years, and he's never even introduced us to a girlfriend of his. He's so private that way." She murmured, adding a few sprigs of mint into the glass pitcher. 

You glanced over at Minghao, who was listening to Mingyu talk about how Wonwoo got into a scuffle with Seungcheol over the missed truck order at work – when he shivered, his gaze flicking up to you. He gave you a quizzical look, before turning back to Mingyu and acting as if he was paying attention.

"I don't think Hao and I will ever be anything more than good friends. And, well, roommates now. This is genuinely one of the more refreshing friendships I've ever been in. There's zero expectations to be perfect or act like I care about the smalltalk that usually precedes friendships." You shrugged, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the lemonade. You weren't lying, per say. You definitely did not think things would advance between you and Minghao – he was far too…well he was…you know. Ugh!

Minghao was literally fucking perfect. That was the issue. He was perfect, from the careful styling of his hair to the way you'd walk into his bedroom to see him slathering lotion on his arms after a warm shower. And he wasn't just perfect physically, he would not have that mercy upon you – he was perfect on the INSIDE, too.

You'd only been living together for a few weeks at this point – but he'd kept the space clean, far cleaner than you had gotten yourself used to. Your bedroom was already a mess, clothes strewn everywhere, and you'd tripped over an unpacked box several times before kicking it to the side. But Minghao's? Pristine. Everything in its designated spot, his vanity clear of debris and a special spot for his skincare items. He kept a pitcher of water on his nightstand at most, the cup always half filled. His bed was always made neatly, his clothes tucked into his dresser and closet with the utmost care. At most, he'd have his closet door open or have a random jacket thrown over his desk chair – but he was your stark opposite.

"I don't know about that one, Y/N. I think this could be something good, but what do I know?" Tzuyu shrugged, grabbing the tray of glasses and tilting her head for you to grab the pitcher. You wanted to ask her what she meant, what she knew, but you didn't get a chance as Mingyu and Minghao carried the corpse of his stripped couch outside. You held the doorway open more, giving Minghao a quick nod as he wormed past you.

You tried not to look at the flexing of his shoulders beneath the black tank top he donned, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away when you heard Tzuyu snort. You peeled an eye open to see her smirking at you, shaking her head as she set the glasses down on your coffee table. You scowled, setting the pitcher down on the doily and laying on the floor next to the table, grabbing the remote for the television.

The coffee table was the only thing you and Minghao couldn't agree on, and decided to buy it at a thrift store. The one hint of togetherness thus far – as if the mixed aesthetics and belongings weren't enough. It made you laugh a bit, because you knew if and when you moved out, what would be taken with you.

It's like the coffee table is the dog that a couple gets before they split up. Who gets it?

"Y/N, can I see you in the kitchen?" Minghao's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you gave Tzuyu a pained look as you slipped the remote in her hand. Minghao had slipped into the kitchen already as you stood, quickly trekking the living room and sliding in on your socks. He grabbed his keys off the counter, having left them there earlier when he arrived with groceries, before Tzuyu and Mingyu came over for his couch.

"I'm going to help Mingyu get the couch set up at his place, we should be back before dinner. Do you want to order something in and we can pick it up on the way back? My treat." Minghao spoke with his back turned to you as he rummaged through the fruit bowl, before you heard the unmistakable crunch of an apple being bitten into. He looked over his shoulder, and you saw him holding said apple between his teeth, a jump of his brows prompting you to speak.

"You'll be a while though, won't you?"

"I'd never make you wait, Y/N. So? Think about what you want, and text me." He shrugged, ruffling your hair as you swatted his hand away, grabbing his wrist.

"Aren't they staying for dinner? Shouldn't this be a group decision?"

He only used your leverage on his wrist to pull you closer, leaning against the counter and wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and you felt your cheeks heat as he peered down at you through his lashes. He smiled at you, eyes searching your face before he clicked his tongue.

"Just tell me what you want, honey. I'll get it done."

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, smoothing your hair down before slipping out of the kitchen. You heard his gentle goodbye to Tzuyu, who hummed in response before the click of the door made his departure evident. Peeking out of the kitchen, you saw Tzuyu smirking to herself, shaking her head as she took a sip of her lemonade.

"C'mon, Y/N. You know you wanna tell me."

Her voice was sing-song, and you groaned inwardly as you walked out of the kitchen and flopped over the back of the couch. You flipped onto the cushions, landing on your back with a grunt from your lips as you draped your arm over your eyes.

"Tzu, nothing is happening between him and I. He is genuinely just my friend. Roommate. Coworker."

She didn't buy it. You could tell by the quirk in her brows and the pointed look in her eyes. She tapped the coffee table with the edge of her glass, swirling the ice before speaking.

"And soon he'll be your boyfriend, fiancé, husband. I have a hunch about these things, Y/N. I know love when I see it."

You only rolled your eyes, snatching the remote back off the coffee table. "Yeah, sure. What do you want to watch? And what do you want for dinner? Hao said they'd bring something back." Tzuyu didn’t push it as the two of you ended up settling on a random episode of Gilmore Girls. You mumbled at each other as you began to pass your phone between the two of you, looking at local restaurants when you heard a ding – a ding specifically applied to Minghao's contact.

"Nothing happening, huh?" Tzuyu wiggled your phone between her fingers, a notification from Minghao up top.

Msg From: Xu Minghao [5:43PM] sweetheart, did you figure out what you want for dinner? [5:43PM] we're almost done over here

You scowled, snatching your phone back as she giggled. "Sweetheart? I don't call my friends that." She teased, and you sighed. "Tzu, can we please drop it?" Your voice is unrecognizable to yourself, ridden with an oddly placed insecurity and Tzuyu's eyes widen slightly before she clears her throat. She nods, tapping the edge of her glass against the table again and looking down at your phone.

Msg From: Xu Minghao [5:45PM] quickly, please. [5:45PM] y/n i can see you reading these!

"I'll drop it for now, but please think about my words. I know it may be hard to believe, but I do think there is more to this than meets the eye. And…I support you, on whatever route you end up taking, in whatever way you end or begin this relationship." You couldn't lie to yourself, her words stuck with you for the rest of the evening. They rang in your head when the pair of men arrived with stacked plates of takeout, and they rang in your head as Minghao served your plate and forbade you from getting up for anything. They rang in your head as you and Mingyu washed the dishes, noting how Mingyu only referred to you by your name in your hushed conversation about you inviting them to stay for a movie.

Not like Minghao, who had even greeted you with a pet name.

They rang in your head as Tzuyu and Mingyu cuddled in the corner seat of your couch during the movie, your chest slightly pained as you noticed the cushion-sized distance between your thigh and Minghao's. They rang in your head every time you noticed Mingyu's lips on his girlfriend's hairline, on her cheek, on her lips…

They rang in your head as you thought back to the night of your graduation, how Minghao's lips kissed you just as gently, but in a way that made you think about it every waking moment of every day. In a way that made you glance at him from across the restaurant when Jeonghan was trying to get your attention to finish your tip-out; in a way that made you remain silent during the rides to and from work by his side.

In a way that made you touch yourself at night, thinking about him, about his hands on your body. So warm, so confident, so caring.

So loving.

"Good night, you two. Drive safe." You stood with your hands in your pockets, your shorts allowing the cool evening breeze to graze your legs. Tzuyu gave you a warm hug as Mingyu opened the door of his old pickup, her lips barely touching the shell of your ear as she whispered.

"Think about it." They drove off within the next five minutes, with you and Minghao standing next to each other in front of your apartment door, waving them off. You glanced up at him, a faint heat coating your cheeks as his hand ghosted over the small of your back, hearing the jingle of his keys being hooked onto your belt loop. You jolted at the weight, swatting him away as he snickered.

"Want to take a walk? The weather feels great."

You hated the way you agreed so quickly, tugging slightly at the neck of your t-shirt, too tight around your throat as your arms brushed. He stood on the side closest to the street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants as he hummed.

"I got a letter back from the graduate program I applied to. I was waitlisted, so I think I'm going to withdraw and reapply next year. Gives me a chance to save some money, take out less loans." He grimaced, looking up at the darkened sky. You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.

"I didn't get into mine, if it makes you feel better. I think I'm going to be taking a gap year, so much for being a therapist and letting my parents down yet again. Did I tell you that they told me I wouldn't even be a real doctor? Unbelievable." You sneered, and he shook his head.

"No, that doesn't make me feel better. You deserved to get in. I read your application essay, remember? You're brilliant. I could never imagine being on a board of admissions and not allowing someone with such a passion into my program." He scoffed, and you only snorted. 

"Passion, huh? Shit load of good it does me." You shook your head, kicking a bit of gravel as you made it to the corner of your block. You sucked your teeth as Minghao's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his side slightly. "You'll have to admit that you're a good person with goals and dreams like everyone else at some point, you know? You've got a big heart, and you want to help the world. It takes a passionate person, a dedicated person, to work in therapy. Do you know how hard it is to sit and listen to people's problems all day and not bring them home with you?" "Bartenders are the therapists of the food and beverage industry, aren't they?" You teased, snickering as he lightly smacked his fingers against your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry." "But you're right, in a way. I do commend you, though, an incredible amount. And your parents…they don't realize what kind of person their daughter is. You're bright. You're kind. You're beautiful in ways I can't even begin to describe, and that doesn't even begin to cover your looks. So let's just…not think about their opinions. You're independent and strong, and I'm always rooting for you." His voice was soothing as he traced circles into your skin, the moonlight illuminating your path as you walked in lockstep with him. You sighed, "So what happens now? We just work our butts off at the restaurant and save our pennies?" "What better to do? We can even set up a little fund to take the odd weekend trip, if you'd like. Roommates do that, right?" He sounded quizzical, and you glanced up to see him already looking at you. Those eyes…

"Well, friends do that, don't they? We're friends before we're roommates." You tried, and he let out a scuff of a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, sweetheart. Friends."

You didn't understand why it pained you to hear him confirm what you already knew, but the stupid pet name sprinkled in definitely made the pang in your chest deeper than you'd expected. His hand was on your shoulder, ringed fingers now dangling over the edge and your eyes glued to the ground. You kicked gravel and dirt as the two of you walked, your tennis shoes scuffed from weeks of moving and roughhousing with furniture.

You were almost in front of your apartment when Minghao made a noise of eureka, his fingers squeezing your shoulder lightly as he spoke.

"Oh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but Jeonghan is asking me to take a few doubles these coming weeks because Seungkwan is going on vacation. They know that we carpool, so I should be able to swing by and bring you to work anyway, but I figured I'd let you know I'll be out of the house for most of the morning." 

You groaned, running your hand through your hair as you nodded.

"Yeah, Cheol talked to me about taking a bunch of morning shifts because Hansol is also going on vacation. I'm not bothered but…" You gave Minghao a wiggle of your brows, making him snort.

"You think they're going together? Romantic getaway…" He swayed you gently, and you snickered to yourself.

"Kiss, kiss, fall in love…sharing appetizers…" You chided as the two of you reached your door. Minghao unhooked his keys from your belt loop, unlocking the door as he shook his head.

"They do that eye-flirting thing, you know? Lots of shared looks, soft whispers and stuff. It's cute, they're a cute pair." He nodded, pushing the door open and allowing you in before he stepped in behind you. You hummed in response, beelining for the empty bags of movie snacks on the coffee table, crumpling them in your hands as you moved around. Minghao joined you, folding the blankets that had been thrown over Mingyu and Tzuyu's laps as well as your shoulders.

Neither of you spoke as you cleaned up the living room, the ending credits of the movie still playing as you stretched your arms over your head, holding the trash in your fists as you walked to the kitchen. You could hear Minghao continue to rustle around, the television turning off and the soft creak of the floorboards grabbing your attention as he skirted into the kitchen. "I'm going to be up early tomorrow, so I'm going to shower first. Is that okay with you?" He moved you away from the trash can, letting you lean on the counter as he took the lid off and grabbed the drawstrings of the bag. You nodded before realizing he couldn't see you and cleared your throat.

"Yeah, sure. That's fine; I have to fix up my bed and stuff in my bedroom. Take your time." You shrugged, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled the trash bag out, tying the plastic drawstrings into a knot before fishing another one out of the box on top of the fridge.

"Are you settling in well? I haven't checked in about it. I know it's quite the drastic change to go from living alone to someone in your space all the time." He sounded sympathetic, but you only shrugged again.

"It's like freshman year of college again. Except this time, I actually like my roommate because you're not kicking me out at odd hours of the night to bang your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. He nodded, biting back a smile when you elbowed him lightly, making him snort.

"I'd never do that. No need to worry about it, pretty." He placed the lid back on the trash can, lifting up the bag and skirting around you. "I'll be back in a second."

Said second turned into ten minutes. Ten full minutes where you rubbed your face in an attempt to bring back a touch of reality, something that would take the attention your mind loved to devote to pet names and affections from your roommate, your friend, your coworker, away.

They say your living space is a reflection of your state of mind. As you wormed your way through stacks of unpacked boxes, clothes strewn on the floor, old textbooks gathering dust in the corners of your room – you kind of agreed.. You grimaced, opting to kick everything out of the way and grabbing a box cutter off your desk and slicing through one of the boxes stacked by your closet. You reached to your desk, flicking the lamp on to see the contents of the heavily packed box.

It opened to photo albums and framed pictures, and you closed your eyes as your hands touched the familiar red leather of your family album. Photos gathered in the tens of you and your parents – at your favorite park in your hometown, at dozens of restaurants where you celebrated birthdays, your parents' anniversary…

A celebration of a perfect report card, time and time again before the 180 spin came, and your parents realized you were leaving your hometown for something bigger. A huge, fancy school in the middle of a metropolitan city, studying Psychology when your mother had pushed for Law or Accounting. Acting like you'd betrayed her trust – and as Mother says, Father does. He too, pushed you aside and acted like you'd scorned him. 

Neither of your parents were lawyers or accountants. They were both high school mathematics teachers, your father in statistics and your mother in economics. Neither of them had a passion for law or accounting – and they both knew of your interest in the medical field, in psychology and the brain.

You found it odd that the success that follows the title of 'Doctor' was not enough for them. That, paired with the rejection letter from your Masters' program, you felt like there wasn't any lower you could get. "Penny for your thoughts?" Minghao's voice was soft, but it still made you jolt and drop the album. You held a hand to your chest, before shaking your head.

"Nah. I'm good. Sorry, uh, about the mess." You gestured to the room, and he only shook his head, his fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked around a bit. He leaned on your doorway, the hallway light only making your eyes trial his gentle frame.

"Your space, sweetheart. You do what you want with it. I'm going to shower now. Anything you need before I start turning in?"

You shook your head, tapping the leatherbound photo album before smiling pitifully.

"I'm good. Good night, Hao." You expected him to slink away, focusing your thoughts back on the album. You flipped through it, thumbing at photos of you in frilly dresses and Halloween costumes your mother would stitch by hand.

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?" Minghao's voice was right next to your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His hand was wrapped around the edge of your desk to keep himself steady, and your face was a bit too close to his as you turned to face him. He was illuminated slightly by the yellow light of your desk lamp, his eyes scanning your features.

"I know. I just…I know." You pursed your lips, casting your eyes back to the album in your hands. "I'll let you know if I ever need to…I don't know. Let off steam, I guess." Your laugh was soft and pathetic, and he hummed, before you felt his hand tuck a stray curl behind your ear. You glanced up at him, only to see him looking at you fondly. "Let off steam, huh?" "Shut up." "As you wish. Good night." He grinned, pushing off your desk and making his way out of your bedroom. 

You spent the next few hours listening to Minghao tinker around in the bathroom before the sounds move to his bedroom, your focus on unpacking the albums onto the bookcase tucked into the corner of your room. You picked clothing up off the floor, tossing the articles into the hamper and you forced yourself to organize your every thought when you heard it. You heard the soft sigh through the wall, and the groan from his throat as his back hit the mattress.

You screwed your eyes shut and grabbed your headphones from the nightstand, plugging them into your phone as quickly as you could before you could hear anything else. You took a deep breath, out through your mouth as the beginning notes of Runnin' by The Pharcyde filled your ears.

So much for good night.

TWO MONTHS AGO…

"I'm so fucking tired, I could keel over right now." Your forehead rested on the back of your hand, which held the ratty broom you used to beat Seungcheol out of a chair only moments earlier. Said man was now sulking behind the bar with Minghao, being comforted by the bartender with a fruity cocktail.

"Don't sulk, she's just doing her job." Minghao patted him on the back as the older man frowned, wrapping his pouty lips around the swirly straw stuck in the mango daiquiri. You glanced over your shoulder at Jeonghan, who was only shaking his head as he clicked away on the calculator with your tips surrounding him in neat piles.

"Honey, unless you want to sweep for Y/N–" Jeonghan started, flipping a pen through his fingers as Seungcheol shook his head, taking his drink off the bar and making his way across the restaurant. "Nope! I'll be in the office."

You snickered to yourself as you saw Jeonghan watch him walk away, eyes low and full of nothing but love. He rolled his eyes, drawing his attention back to the money on the table as Tzuyu slid into a barstool with her cheek in her hand. Minghao leaned over, waving his fingers in her face.

"Why so glum, Tzu?"

He stopped wiping the counter down to listen to her as you skirted your way over to Jeonghan, pulling the chair beside him out and slumping down into it. Jeonghan doesn't look up from the calculator, his fingers gingerly thumbing through the dollar bills when you make a noise of curiosity.

"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?"

"How long have you and Mr. Choi been together?" You asked gently, watching Jeonghan bite back a smirk. He shakes his head, tilting it to the side before meeting your eyes.

"You don't have to call him Mr. Choi, Y/N. You can just call him Cheol."

"Fine. How long have you been with Cheol, Mr. Yoon?" You smiled cheekily, earning a scoff as Jeonghan flicked your forehead softly. "Jeonghan, answer the question!"

"We dated for three years before we got engaged. Then we were engaged for two years before we got married, and we got married two years ago. Seven years together and counting, unless you also involve how long he made me court him." Jeonghan's blush doesn't go unnoticed as he runs a hand through his hair, and you cooed.

"How did you guys meet?" Jeonghan snorts, tonguing his cheek before sighing and thumbing through another stack of bills.

"Any particular reason as to why you've got so many queries tonight, Y/N? You've been working here for almost a year and you've never cared before." His brow is quirked as you hear the heavy office door open across the restaurant, a flushed Seungcheol ducking into the kitchen with his empty cup. Jeonghan sends him a wink, making the older man shake his head in disbelief.

"I just think you guys are cute. You don't see many couples around here, the dating pool has gotten so icky." You scoffed, twirling the broom handle in your hand as Jeonghan hums in agreement.

"I've known Seungcheol since we were kids. We drifted after middle school because I wound up moving across the city, and we lost contact. We met up again here, in this restaurant, right before we were set to graduate college. Funny, really." Jeonghan smiled inwardly, watching as you leaned in slightly.

"You guys worked here together?"

"Yup. He was a bartender, I was a waiter." Jeonghan gave you a pointed look, before his eyes flickered to Minghao. The man was talking to frowning Tzuyu, his brows furrowed as he whispered what you assume to be his opinion on her dilemmas. "Cheol was actually really shy, believe it or not. He's not the big Rottweiler type, despite his physique. More like…a feisty barn cat." "So…you chased him? For how long?" You watched as Mingyu and Seungcheol walked out of the kitchen with their arms crossed, seemingly discussing something serious. Seungcheol's jaw was tight, and Mingyu's shoulders were full of stress as he draped his apron over one of them. Seungcheol glanced over at Jeonghan, a sympathetic look in his eye as he tilted his head in the direction of the office.

"For all three years that we worked here. And I continue to do it, he likes it." Jeonghan nodded, gathering your tips for you and snapping them together in a blue rubber band. He held them out to you, gathering his belongings in his other hand as you took it. "Of course, not every couple that gets together here, stays together. These walls have seen many of my fights with Cheol, and vice versa. There's no limit. Exhibit A." Jeonghan gestured to Tzuyu, who was angrily typing on her phone while Mingyu held back tears as he muttered back and forth with Seungcheol. Sighing, Jeonghan ruffled your hair before skirting away and meeting Seungcheol and Mingyu in the office. You stood, leaning your weight on the broom before feeling eyes on you.

Minghao was staring right at you, before his eyes flickered to Tzuyu. You grimaced, stuffing your tips in your back pocket before sliding up to the bar.

"So…what's got you so upset?"

"Mingyu." As it turns out, maybe the restaurant owner knew far more than he let on. Mingyu and Tzuyu had gotten into an argument while she helped him with dishes – about work. The two of them were stressed, knowing that they usually made rent with their hefty amount of hours at the restaurant – however, it left little time in the week for each other. Mingyu being the best cook of the three that worked at the restaurant made things even harder, seeing as he was constantly being called in if Seungcheol or Jeonghan weren't able to fill in.

It left Tzuyu feeling pushed aside, but Mingyu could argue the same. The last three hostesses that had been hired had to be let go due to their attendance inconsistencies, leaving Tzuyu to rush to work at the last minute. It created a small rift in their relationship, and Tzuyu finally gave the ultimatum: work or her. Mingyu hadn't replied.

No choice is a choice, a silent one. 

And usually, the wrong one.

"I'm sorry." You murmured, smoothing her long hair with your hand as she slumped against the bar.

"Why? If anything, I feel like we should be able to work through this. We should be able to find time for each other even with our busy schedules. You and Minghao can do it, why can't we?" She groaned, resting her forehead against the cold bar. You sighed, running your fingers through her hair when the office door opened again – Mingyu was sitting at the desk and frustratedly wiping his face as Jeonghan called for Tzuyu softly.

"Go. We'll wait here." Minghao assured her, crossing his arms on the bar as you nodded in agreement. She took a deep breath, trekking the restaurant quickly and ducking into the office as Jeonghan shut the door.

"What does she mean, you and I can do it?" You questioned, reaching into your back pocket and separating the bundle of bills that would go into Minghao's wallet. He shrugged and smiled softly, wiggling his fingers as you held the wad of cash out to him.

"It means we work well together. Don't you think we make a good pair?" Minghao raised his eyebrows at you, making you roll your eyes as you continued to sweep aimlessly around the bar. 

"I guess so. Hey, your birthday is coming up soon, right?" You crouched to get the swept trash onto the handheld dustpan, watching as Minghao shrugged again and turned to the cooler. He opened it, taking out your can of orange juice before speaking again.

"Hardly. It's barely September, my birthday isn't for another two months." He shook his head, and you scoffed as you made your way to the trash can. You dump the contents of the dustpan before glancing up at him with a suspicious look in your eye.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people that works on their birthdays, are you?" The way he tongues his cheek is enough of an answer for you, making you shake your head as you replace the broom and dustpan behind the bar. You skirt around him to the sink, washing your hands as you click your tongue. "That's not happening this year. We have to celebrate." "Like hell it's not. I make the most tips on my birthday, Y/N." He grabbed his jacket from the hook behind him, shrugging it over his shoulders as you dried your hands. "Plus, Jeonghan knows I won't take no for an answer when it comes to working on my birthday. I'll be here from five to closing."

You rolled your eyes again, before feeling his arm snake around your waist. It'd been almost a year of this – soft, casual touching, hushed praises, kisses to the forehead…

It was all so intimate. Nothing he did felt like friendship anymore, but you weren't complaining.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? You want to celebrate with me?" "Obviously, jackass. You're my best friend." You swatted him away, only to be pulled closer into his chest. You groaned, your hands splayed across his chest as he smiled down at you.

"What an upgrade, should I be honored?" You scoffed, pushing him a bit but he didn't budge. For a second, you think he glances at your lips.

"Tell you what, pretty. I'll work my shift, and we can celebrate after. Just you and me." His hand squeezed your side gently, his eyes expectant of something – but you know you could say nothing and he'd still understand. He once told you that he thinks humans misunderstand almost everything…

And sometimes it is better to observe, and listen – than speak.

"Get away from me before I twist your nipple off." You spoke through gritted teeth, only making him get slightly closer to your face. His lips nearly brushed your nose, and you narrowed your eyes as you pushed his jacket out of the way. He jerked away, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning a shocked look as you grinned.

"I cannot believe you'd hurt me! Wow, some best friend you are!"

"Are you always this dramatic?" You teased, sticking your tongue out at him as you skirted back out from behind the bar. He turned his nose up at you, waving you off with his hand. Your eyes darted to the maroon gel manicure you'd given him earlier that day, and you bite back your grin before taking your can of orange juice off the bar.

"Let's go, yeah? I'm tired." You pouted, shaking the can gently before tilting your head towards the front door. He huffed, tightening his jacket around his body as he sauntered out from behind the bar – nearly tripping when the sound of the office door being slammed against the brick of the walls startled you.

Tzuyu stormed out, her red coat held in her hand as she ducked her head down. Presumably to hide a face full of tears, covered by the swing of her caramel hair.

You looked back at Minghao, his eyes worried as he watched her slip out the front door. Mingyu appeared as the door nearly shut, with Jeonghan and Seungcheol holding guilt in their eyes. "I'm sorry, Mingyu. If we had known–" "You couldn't have. It's fine. I'll figure it out." Mingyu looked defeated, and you elbowed Minghao lightly as he sidled up next to you. "Drive Tzuyu home." You muttered, tucking your orange juice in your shirt pocket as Minghao swung his keys.

"Divide and conquer, huh? I'll see you at home, pretty." Minghao ruffled your hair, before quickly pressing a light kiss to your hairline. "Be safe, okay?"

He was gone before you could say anything.

You sighed to yourself, seeing the three men in the office watching Minghao slink out without you. Jeonghan looked around Mingyu's frame, his brow raised as you winked, cracking open your orange juice and walking towards them.

"Gentlemen. It appears my chauffeur has taken his leave without letting me know." You shrugged, and Mingyu sighed as you held your hand out. The friendship between the two of you had grown exponentially during the last few months, and you found yourself gossiping with him in the kitchen if Minghao was busy or Tzuyu wasn't at her podium.

He handed his keys over without a word, Seungcheol's eyes full of guilt as he patted the younger man's shoulder. "We'll see you next week, Gyu." You didn't bother with goodbyes, the married couple giving you curt nods as they followed behind you. Minghao's car was no longer in the parking lot, and you beelined for Mingyu's without a second thought. Seungcheol locked the front door of the restaurant, and you felt Jeonghan's eyes on your back as you climbed into the lifted pickup truck.

Mingyu was silent as you fiddled with his radio, cranking the ignition before sucking in a breath. "You wanna–"

"How do you and Minghao do it?"

You blinked, absently turning out of the parking lot and pulling off into the main road. "How do we…do what?"

Mingyu was frustrated, tossing his baseball cap onto the dash with a huff. He slumped in the passenger seat, crossing his arms over his chest before peering up at you through teary eyes.

"Work together and go home together without bringing any of the work problems with you. It's like we're constantly being pushed and pulled. If I'm not being called in, she is. I'm not saying it's a bad business decision by Jeonghan or Seungcheol, but she gets tired, too. I know she's great at her job, but she won't be here forever. Her potential is far greater than just greeting people who don't even deserve to be graced with her presence."

You hummed, fiddling with the turn signal.

"I wish I could help, Mingyu! However, Minghao and I–"

"Oh, come on. You're going to tell me you're just friends? That you haven't, even for a moment in time, though what it would be like to be together? You're saying that neither of you have ever gotten just entirely too close and almost kissed?" You felt your face grow hot as Mingyu sat up in his seat, leaning slightly over the center console as you slowed to a halt at a red light. You made the mistake of glancing over, seeing an expectant gaze on your friend's face. He watched intently as you rubbed your face in frustration, running your hands through your hair as you scoffed.

"Okay, fine. Minghao and I…there is truly nothing there, I can promise you that." You began, clearing your throat as you stared out the windshield to the fiery red light. Mingyu tilted his head, sort of like a puppy, as you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. "Sometimes, I think we could be more. I don't like him, and he doesn't like me…but he certainly goes above and beyond for our friendship. I can say that for all of his friendships, though, because Minghao is just that kind of guy, you know? Kind, observant, sweet." "It confuses you." "This is supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me." Mingyu snorted, shaking his head. "Okay, fine. How do you and Minghao not fight?" "Because we're not together. We're friends, and we're roommates. We don't have that expectation of having to spend time together, because sometimes just brushing past one another when we're at work is enough. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to pee but having to wait because he's in the restroom is enough. Sometimes walking to the laundromat together is enough." You shrugged, before sighing. 

"When Hansol and Seungkwan were on vacation and we were pulling all those double shifts, he showed me that I could depend on him. He'd make breakfast before he left for work, and then come to pick me up for my shift. We did that for two weeks, and by the end of it, we were both exhausted. He never made me feel like I owed him anything, much less my time." You turned to face him, "You and Tzuyu have been together for three years. If you keep having the same fight, over the same thing. If the issue is that you don't spend enough time together, I think you should tackle that. Take a vacation, the restaurant won't burn down without you. Save your relationship." Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair before slumping once more. "I miss spending time with her. You know the last time we actually spent time together as a couple was when we went to pick up Minghao's couch? I don't think we've been able to even have a date night since."

You gaped, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. "Mingyu!" "I know, I know. God, and we were supposed to have a date night tomorrow, too, but Wonwoo is sick and Jihoon already asked for the night off." He rubbed his face in frustration, and the words slipped from your lips as you pulled into your apartment complex. "Call out. Minghao and I have the day off tomorrow, we can fill in." You blurted, and Mingyu scoffed. "Y/N, I couldn't ask you to do that." "You're not, I'm offering." You didn't let him continue to speak, instead turning his engine off and sliding out of his truck. Minghao and Tzuyu were sitting on your front steps, his jacket draped over her shoulders as she wiped her eyes. You felt the heat of Mingyu's body behind you, and Tzuyu didn't look up as you cleared your throat. Minghao glanced at you, his eyes heavy with expectation as you twitched your head in the direction of the apartment. "I lost my key."

You snorted, digging yours out of your pocket and shoving them into his hand. "Come in, we'll have a nightcap. Then you guys can go home and have a good night together, yeah?" Minghao seemed to understand as he opened the door and let the couple in. Tzuyu sat on the far end of your couch, and Mingyu didn't even bother sitting down – he beelined straight for your kitchen. You grabbed Minghao's arm lightly, pulling at his sleeve carefully and tilting your head towards his room. He nods, following behind you as you skirt into the pristine bedroom.

"I may have…fucked up." You start, making Minghao shake his head with a gentle smile. "Nah. I'm sure you said the same things I did. Spend time together, stop working so much, you and I are not together." He rolled his eyes as he tugged his jacket off, draping it over the back of his desk chair. His eyes scan your face, before his smile drops and his brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong, honey?"

"I did…say all of that…" You grimaced, rubbing your neck sheepishly. "But I also…may have volunteered you and I to take their shifts tomorrow." "Y/N." He groaned, and you winced slightly, your hands coming to hold his. He allowed it, his eyes boring into yours as you tried to apologize.

"I know it was our only day off this week, Hao. I'm sorry, but I–" "You could've asked me first." He didn't sound mad, but disappointed. You felt like you were going to get scolded by your father. You shrank back a bit, and you could feel guilt spreading in your body as he sighed. You grimaced at the sting of tears filling your eyes, but bit them back.

"Are we doing rock-paper-scissors to see who takes what? Did you even call Jeonghan?" He moved his hands from yours, running one through his hair before crossing his arms. You shook your head in silence, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before nodding. He held his hand out, yet another despondent sigh slipping from his lips. "Loser takes Mingyu's shift. Best out of three." "Minghao, I can just find someone else to do it. I'm sorry."

"Best. Out. Of. Three." You tongued your cheek, losing quickly to the tall man in front of you. Scissors, scissors, paper to his rock, rock, scissors.

"You're driving tomorrow." He muttered, rubbing his face with his hands before you nodded, looking anywhere but him and moving to slip out of his bedroom. He shook his head, standing in front of the door. "I'm not upset." "Okay." "Y/N." "What?"

His hands reach for your shoulders, and you kept your eyes casted elsewhere. His fingers are warm as they tilt your chin to look up at him, forcing you to try and blink back the tears when he rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheek. "I'm sorry for snapping. It wasn't my intention but I can tell I've hurt your feelings, and I never want to hurt your feelings." His voice was soft, and you felt your throat tighten slightly. You weren't too sure why you were even crying, maybe it was reminiscent of being scolded for trying to do the right thing.

"I'm sorry, honey." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his chest. He smells like pink pepper and the essence of pomegranates, mixed with a hint of the maple butter rum one of the regulars likes to knock back. It's oddly comforting. "Forgive me." "It's fine. I should've asked." "Yes, you should have. However, that's not the point here."

Minghao pulled back slightly, pointing his finger in your face. You huffed, but he raised his brows at you – as if to say, listen. Be quiet.

"You need to call Jeonghan and let him know. If we're going to work tomorrow, I need to spend time with you tonight." You must've looked taken aback, because he only smiled. He pinched your cheek lightly, before humming and opening his door. "Go on, call him. We'll be in the living room." Either you'd been too out of it to fully process, or Jeonghan had truly had you on the phone explaining all your qualifications to run a kitchen as a head chef. You didn't have many, just the few nights you flipped burgers at a diner back in high school – but it seemed enough to settle Jeonghan. He let you know there was going to be a trainee chef with you named Joshua, as well as the kitchen manager named Seokmin.

Jeonghan also let you know that Tzuyu's shift started earlier than Mingyu's, so someone would have to go get you. He volunteered Seungcheol, and you could hear the man begin to protest in the background but he hung up before anything could be truly said.

You ducked out of Minghao's room to see him folding blankets in the living room, soft music playing on the television as he glanced up. He smiled, and you noticed the two cups on the coffee table. One tainted with lipstick from Tzuyu, and what seemed to be one filled with water? Soju? Rum? Something.

"Tzuyu is driving. She had some of your juice, I hope that's alright." He nodded, and you waved it off. You turned to the television, No One Noticed by The Marías playing softly as he hummed along. "Did Jeonghan say it was okay? I was trained to be a host and a waiter before I was a bartender, but you just jumped into waitressing, right?" "I had a part-time gig in high school at a diner. I have some, but not a lot." You shrugged, and he made an o-shape with his lips as he smoothed the folded blanket over the back of the couch. You nodded, before checking your watch. "It's only fifteen to eleven, do you wanna sit with me? Decompress a bit before we go to bed?" "Your version of decompressing is watching Bob's Burgers and sipping a beer." "We can sip something else, if that's the case." He rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he nodded. "I have to change."

You both ended up returning to your respective rooms, and you hastily wiped your makeup off. Pajama shorts, your favorite baggy t-shirt that boasted of Bigfoot's existence…not the first thing you would wear to hang out but it's Minghao. You stared at yourself in the vanity mirror on your dresser, but heard your roommate knock on your door before your mind could wander too far about where all he could kiss you, in said stupid Bigfoot shirt.

"Are you taking a shower first tonight? Or are we going to fight for it again?" Minghao asked gently, and you shrugged.

"Go for it. I go in later than you do tomorrow, Tzuyu's shift starts at four." You wiggled your brows, and he scoffed, turning on his heel and beelining for the living room. You snickered to yourself, scampering after him as he flopped onto the couch. He draped an arm over his eyes, letting out a groan as you leaned over the back of it. "Want a beer, Mr. I don't drink?" He lifted his arm slightly, his eyes peering out at you from beneath it. "You drink like a fish, you know that?" "Is that a no?" "...Fine, I'll have a beer. Just one!" You cheered sarcastically, scurrying into the kitchen and grabbing two from the fridge. You peered at the bottle of Soju, mocking you from the shelf.

"Did you get lost in the fridge?" You heard Minghao call from the living room, making you scoff as you grabbed the bottle of Soju and tucked it under your arm. The piercing cold of the glass bottle made you shiver as you walked back into the living room. He was now skipping through movie recommendations on Netflix, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen.

"I said we could sip something else, I never said we'd be changing our entertainment of the night." You scoffed, sliding the drinks onto the coffee table as he smirked lazily. 

"You're right, honey." He flipped the remote in his hand, holding it out to you as you shook your head. You cracked open the beers, handing him one before perching on the edge of the couch in front of him. His stomach is warm against your lower back, and you try to ignore the way the blue light of the television makes his arms glow. 

Your eyes trailed up to his face, watching the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before bringing the beer bottle to them. He continued to flip through suggestions, before you snapped out of your daze to hear him reading the summary to Ali Wong's Always Be My Maybe.

"...Feel the old sparks of attraction but struggle to adapt to each other's worlds. Interesting." He set his beer back on the coffee table. You snorted, "This is two hours long, Hao."

"You have somewhere to be?" He scoffed, pressing Play. You shook your head, feeling his hand tug at the back of your shirt, signaling for you to lean back. You did, resting your elbow on the back of the couch before reaching for the bottle of soju. "Can I have a sip?" You nodded silently, watching the two children on the television grow up to the sound of Young Americans by David Bowie. You held the uncapped bottle over to him, feeling his hand take it as Marcus' father let the now-teenagers know that tragedy had struck the Kim family. You felt your heart sink as the scene changed to something more somber, hearing Minghao hum to himself and mumble slightly. "This is sad as hell, it just started." You couldn't help but snort, taking the bottle back from him and taking a sip. You glanced over to see his ears slightly perked at the sound of D'Angelo's How Does It Feel, before his eyes met yours. "I'll bet you ten bucks they're going to kiss." "It's not a bet when you already know what the outcome is going to be." You scoffed, making him laugh softly. "See? They're already struggling to get in the backseat, I would've been out ten bucks if I took you up on that." "Call it gas money." He lightly pinched your side, making you jerk away from him. You swatted his hand away, sliding the bottle onto the coffee table with a scowl.

"First of all, I tried to give you gas money a few weeks ago and you cussed me out."

"I did not cuss you out! I merely asked what in the most significant fuck you thought you were doing."

"Oh, what a colorful way–" "Shut up before I tickle you." You huffed, feeling his fingertips dig into your side. He smiled up at you, gently squeezing the softness of your skin before patting it. "The point is, I'd never ask you for gas money. Let's be realistic." You nodded, struggling not to roll your eyes as he fully stopped paying attention to the movie, his head rested on his palm as Sasha cried in the walk-in fridge. "What happened with Mingyu? Tzuyu was a mess." "It's just odd to me that everyone thinks we're a thing? Mingyu asked me how you and I didn't bring home our work problems–"

"And you told him that we don't have that expectation of having to spend time together because we're not together. We're just friends." Minghao interrupted, his eyes serious as he spoke. You cleared your throat, nodding. "I don't agree with that." "Oh? You don't?" You felt your brows high on your forehead as you looked down at him, feeling his hand pat your back before he used it to run his fingers through his hair. "And why not?" "Because I like spending time with you. Why do you think I was upset earlier when you told me you volunteered us for the shifts?" "You said you weren't upset." "Sometimes people lie." "Oh, so you're a liar?" You leaned slightly closer, and he smirks. 

"While normally I'd apologize, I think I was right to do that. I was upset because now I don't get to spend the day with you tomorrow, and I lied because I didn't want you to cry. I don't like seeing you sad, it makes me sad." He shrugged, and you tongued your cheek.

"Romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes, "My feelings are your feelings and your feelings are mine. All that jazz." "You don't have to brush off my affections as something romantic, you know. I can care about you openly and not have feelings for you in that way." "So you're saying you don't have romantic feelings for me?" "Never said that. I said I can." He lilted, reaching for his beer. You felt your cheeks grow hot as he sipped it, his eyes wide as he looked back over at you. "Woah, you would've thought I said I eat babies for a living. Are you okay?" "W-What did you and Tzuyu talk about?" You stuttered, making his brow quirk in confusion as he set his beer back down. 

"She asked me if you and I ever fight about work. I said no, because the beginning of our…friendship has always been this way. Too close for other people's comfort, very…advanced, in a way. We don't have spats over things that don't really matter, because work…it doesn't affect our dynamic." "Why did you hesitate before 'friendship?'"

"What?" "Before you said friendship. You paused. Why?" Minghao's eyes narrowed slightly, before he shrugged. "I paused when I said it with Tzuyu, as well. I guess…I don't know. I think back to what happened in your apartment, I take into consideration the way we speak to each other and kind of dance around the flame that could be something. I'm not saying it ever has to become a fire, the flame. But, it's definitely there." You felt your stomach flip slightly as you cleared your throat, reaching for your beer. You brought it to your lips, but didn't manage to take a sip before you sighed, putting it back down and tilting to face him. "We never talk about that night. Did you tell Tzuyu about it?" "No. That's not her business." He answered quickly, his eyes glancing at the television. Sasha and Marcus were now laying in bed together, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't think you'd be very fond of me telling her, either. I figured that if you didn't mention it while I helped Mingyu take the couch, it wasn't something you'd want shared." You shifted slightly, tucking your foot under your leg as you looked at him. “Do you think that is something we should share?”

“It’s not about my reputation though, is it? I don’t care what people think of me.” He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair once more. “But I care about what people say when it comes to you. I don’t like hearing others speak ill of you.”

“Would people knowing we almost slept together cause them to speak about me in a negative light?” You questioned, your hands fumbling for the bottle of soju. You offered it to him, and he took a small sip as he hummed.

“Maybe. Considering the fact that we are now roommates, and you constantly deny that there is anything between us.”

“As if you don't do the same.” “I don’t.”

“What?” Your eyes went wide as he held the bottle back out to you. You took it, bringing it to your lips as he shrugged.

“The customers like you, they think you’re sweet. The customers like me, and a few of them have asked if we’re a thing. I usually deflect…but I don’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world.”

“What? Us?” “Is there an us?”

You glanced at the television, the actors staring fondly at each other. They inch in for a kiss...two…

“Y/N.” “Sorry.”

Minghao was looking at you intently, his eyes searching your face as he moved your hair off your shoulder. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. It’s getting late.”

“Did you like it? The…uh, in my apartment?” You blurted, but Minghao showed no sign of surprise. In fact, he seemed to welcome the question, his eyes soft as he nodded.

"The kiss? Of course I did. I'm just not…used to it, I guess. I'm not a casual kind of guy. I was nervous, actually." He nodded, his thumb toying with the ring on his forefinger. You nodded carefully, fiddling with the spout of the soju bottle as you cleared your throat. "Nervous?" "Obviously. At that point, we were just starting to solidify our friendship. You had just gotten done with Jaehyun only a few months prior, and you literally signed the lease for this place that day. I was scared if we kept going, things would change. I enjoy your company, I enjoy your friendship…" He trailed off, clearing his throat as he seemingly shook off a feeling of something. "I didn't want things to go further if nothing was going to come from it, but more importantly, if it made you uncomfortable." "I wasn't uncomfortable. I just wasn't ready. I didn't want you to be a rebound. You deserved more." "You don't think I know what I deserve?" "I would hope that you do, and that you know it's not me. At least, not at that point in time." You muttered, hearing him scoff as he took the bottle of soju from your hand. "Hey!" "Is for horses. Are you hearing yourself right now?" He straightened up, carefully sitting up and adjusting himself to sit next to you. He folded his legs, and you did the same to face him fully. Your knees brushed his sweatpants, and you leaned back on your hands, toying with the seam of your couch cushion. "Are you?" "Minghao–"

"You're amazing, Y/N. Stop trying to put yourself down, or act like you're not someone who deserves everything. You're soft and sweet and one of the kindest people I've ever come across. You offered to work someone's shift on your day off, not because you want the money, no; because you want them to spend time together and help their relationship continue to flourish. You think anyone just does that?" He scoffed, and you cleared your throat, shrugging.

"It's not that serious." "Stop that! It is that serious, Y/N! You're so gentle and loving, and you are such a warm person to have around. The room practically lights up when you walk in, haven't you seen how excited the regulars at work get when they find out you're serving them? Haven't you seen how easily you make Seungcheol and Jeonghan laugh? Don't you understand how appreciated you are, even just within our friends and our coworkers? Are you that blind?"

He leaned forward, his hands settled on either side of your thighs as he spoke. "You have got to start recognizing that you're more than what you see. Other people don't matter, for the love of God, I promise they don't. You are so, so beautiful. I don't know how else to make you understand that."

"You don't need to make me understand anything. You're my friend." "What if I want more?" He murmured, and you felt your cheeks grow hot as you cleared your throat, your eyes darting around his face. His own were full of sincerity, dark with determination to understand you. 

You couldn't help the way you leaned closer, your heart thundering in your ears as he tilted his head. "Do you?" He inched closer, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. "Are you drunk?"

"No." "Tipsy?"  "No." He hummed, "We work tomorrow." "Minghao." "That's my name, pretty."

You scoffed, jutting your lip in a pout as he smiled. His hand was gentle as he brushed the hair away from your face, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. His thumb stopped at the lobe, tugging lightly at the diamond earrings he got you for graduation. "Nice earrings." "You would know, you got them for me." You mumbled, making him stifle a laugh as he nodded.

"I know. You always look so pretty when you wear them." He murmured back, and you scrunched your nose. "So you don't think I look pretty all the time?"

He smiled, his thumb lightly stroking your jaw as he moved away from you. "You said you'd shower first, I'll clean up here."

For whatever reason, you listened. You nodded in silence, your hand fumbling for the remote and turning the television off as he slid off the couch. He took the half-empty beer cans in his hands, offering holding the now-empty bottle of soju under his arm.

"Goodnight, Y/N. Rest well."

PRESENT – 3:15AM…

Minghao can't sleep.

His room is a mess, the door locked behind him as he shuffles through the piles of clothes on the floor. They say your room is a reflection of your state of mind, and it's true – he can't think, he can't sleep, hell…

He can't breathe without thinking of you. 

The two of you worked that shift for Mingyu and Tzuyu two months ago, and it was the worst shift of his life. He spent the entire time thinking about you, about the conversation you'd had the night before. Hoping you'd give him that longing glance you'd nailed perfectly in the time he'd known you, hoping he'd get to kiss you breathless and hoping you'd yearn for him the way he did you.

Instead, he shook it off. He stood at the host stand, greeting customers softly and seating them. He did his closing duties without even seeing a glimpse of you, until you walked out of the kitchen with a grin on your lips as you bid the trainee chef, Joshua, a goodnight.

He remembers the way your smile became something softer as he opened the passenger side door, how you let him buckle your seatbelt in for you and thanked him gently. He remembers how you offered to let him shower first as he peeled out of the parking lot, and how he scoffed and said you should go first. 

He remembers how you asked, again, what you would do for his birthday. He replied the same thing he had before – just you, and him. After his shift.

A shift he did not end up working, because you put in for him to have the day off and argued with Jeonghan until you were blue in the face. Minghao didn't know until the schedule was stapled onto the bulletin board the following week, his eyes almost instantly finding you across the kitchen. You had been eagerly talking to Seungcheol, making him laugh as you overanimated whatever story you'd told him.

He didn't say anything as the days went on, only quietly waited in his bedroom until you came in the morning of his birthday with breakfast on a TV tray. The two of you spent the entire day together and you initiated all contact – your arms wrapped around his waist from behind as he made lunch, resting your cheek on his bare back. You squeezed his sides, you cuddled him into the couch cushions as you watched Josee, the Tiger and the Fish. You made him dinner, you presented him with a few gifts and a new tea set he'd been eyeing for ages. 

You kissed his hairline, wishing him a happy birthday over a bottle of soju that he took two sips of. Two sips too much, as his lips ghosted over yours as you spoke to each other about nothing – too close, but he saw the way you held yourself back. He saw the way you wanted to kiss him, the way your hands clenched at your sides as you forced yourself to move away.

He wishes you would've kissed him.

His birthday had passed, you were nearing the end of November. This time last year, you'd asked him for a Guinness, with the most solemn look on your face.

This time last year, he drove you home for the first time and understood you'd be in his life, hopefully forever. He hadn't worked today, but dropped you off and picked you up – and you had a rough day. You talked about it – one of your regulars had a bad day and took it out on you, sending her food back three times and your tips had been nothing like what you usually made. You'd been snippy, and he prepped your shower for you, tossing a lavender steamer into it. You thanked him, and holed yourself away in your bedroom ten minutes to midnight.

He laid awake, thinking about you.

You'd long gone to bed, your soft breathing the only sound when he slid past your slightly opened door. You looked serene – your cheek squished against your pillow, soft lips gently puckered as you snuggled deeper into your sage green blanket. Your hair splayed all around, the moonlight seeping in through the drawn blinds and casting lines across your face.

He misses you, and you're no more than a ten-foot walk away. He wants to talk about his feelings, he wants to hold you close and he wants to stop losing his mind over how badly he wants you.

How badly he needs you.

He sighed as he looked around his room, the mess only digging into his very bones. He should've just spoken to you about his feelings all those weeks ago. He should've said yes, he did want more. He thinks about you romantically. He thinks about that night on your couch more times than he could count, tugging at his hair in frustration as he tries to bury the memories deep in the past.

He can't. He can't think about anything but you in that pretty white dress at his graduation party, talking to his parents with such ease. The relaxed state of your shoulders as you spoke to everyone with a gentle smile on your lips, the warmth in your laughter never leaving as you danced with him and Junhui. 

The way your eyes filled with something else as his parents asked you if there was something more between you and him, and his chest feeling tight when you insisted it wasn't the case. The way he could see the subtle disappointment in your face when he did the same…

He wants to understand you. He wants you to understand him, to observe him, to see him.

See him as more than just a friend, and he knows you do.

Whether it was a crush, or limerence…he doesn't care. He wants one chance at living life with you – coming home from work to sleep in the same bed and hold you close all night. To come home from a grueling shift and stand under the burning hot shower with you, feeling his muscles lose their tension with the heat and your gentle touch. To come home and make you a nice cocktail and a filling dinner. To come home and study with you, eventually. To come home and see you asleep on the couch, and getting to carry you to bed.

To come home, to you. Over and over again. 

"Fuck." He groans, slumping against his headboard and jolting at the cold of the wood against his shoulders. A sigh left his lips as he slid down slightly, tugging the duvet higher over his hips as he reached for his phone. He unlocked it, opening his gallery with a pout on his lips.

You, in your white dress at his graduation party. His mother took this photo – your hand had been on his chest, his high on your waist as you both smiled into the camera. Your lips had been reglossed, so pretty and glittery…

And your smile had been so bright, like the events earlier that day hadn't transpired. Like you hadn't pursed your lips together when calling your parents and getting sent straight to voicemail. Like you hadn't blinked back tears three times during lunch with him and Junhui, like he hadn't seen Junhui angrily calling your parents while you ducked into the ladies room after Minghao offered to foot the bill.

You had been truly at ease during that photo, much different than you had felt that entire day.

And he wants every single day to be like that for you – easy. Easy, with your independence but still letting him gently aid when he could see you needed it. Needed him. He wants to take you home and introduce you as his life partner, he wants to see you succeed in your dreams and have you by his side as he did the same.

He wants you to be happy.

"Minghao? Are you awake?" Your voice was heard before the soft raps of your fist against the door. He jumped, knocking his head on the wooden bedframe. His hand covers his mouth as he rubs the crown of his head, a hiss falling from his lips as he hears you mumble from the other side of the door. He locks his phone, tossing it onto the dresser as he slid out from under his duvet. He grabs a pair of sweatpants off the floor, grimacing to himself as he tugs them on before opening his door.

You look half awake, your hands clutching at the hem of your shirt. Your face is imprinted with the wrinkles from your pillowcase, often the way it looked when he would wake you up before work. The drawstring of your shorts was undone, but it had been tied when you went to bed. Maybe it got uncomfortable.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You asked softly, and he shook his head. "Can't sleep. You okay? It's a mess in here, I'm sorry." He says sheepishly, rubbing his neck as you closed your eyes, shaking your head as you slipped past him. You settled on the edge of his bed, your eyelids heavy with sleep as you hummed. "You didn't make me feel bad about my mess. Something about it being my space, I remember. You said something about that when I said mine was messy. Don't worry about it." You sigh, peeling your eyes open to peer up at him. "I can't sleep." Minghao looked at the clock on his wall. 3:29AM.

"Would you like something warm? Or would you–" "Can you hold me?" You whispered it, almost too low for him to hear you. 

Over the course of your friendship, skinskip had been nothing new to either of you. He often pressed chaste kisses to your hairline, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his arms wrapped around your shoulders when you'd slump against him after the end of a shift in the parking lot.

You were looking at him patiently, and he cleared his throat, nodding as he motioned for you to move back. You did so, scooting under his duvet with a frown on your face. He closed his door, perching on the side of his bed as you rested your head on one of his pillows.

He glances over his shoulder, seeing you peering up at him quietly before you speak. "Hit your head when I knocked, didn't you? I heard the bump." "Yeah. Your fault if I get amnesia, you know." He snorts, lying down next to you. His heart is racing a mile a minute as you held the duvet up for him to slide under, but he did so anyway. He turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as you turned to face him.

"Don't forget me." You murmur, your lip jutted out in a pout as he feels his cheeks grow warm. As if he could ever.

"Hold me, Hao. I'm cold." "Should've worn pants, pretty." He teases, making you scoff. You are so close to him, he can feel your breath on his chest as he scoots slightly closer. His fingers rake through your hair, your cheek warm to the touch as he pinches it. You scowl, shooing his hand away as you press your face into his neck. Your lips are feathering over his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels your arm settle around his waist.

You tilted your head back, his eyes peeling open to look down at you.

"Something wrong, honey?" He spoke under his breath, and you blink up at him. Your eyes flitted around his face, and he felt a bit of worry settle in his stomach. He cradles your jaw in his hand gently, "Talk to me." "If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?" 

Minghao feels the world stop. 

Your eyes are glued to his face with the softest glint of apprehension, your body still under the duvet as his thumb traced circles into your cheek. "You're tired. We can talk in the morning." He assures you, for whatever reason hoping that you'd let it go. Hoping that you were just speaking through your teeth, not truly enticing him to a conversation about his feelings.

Feelings that could ruin everything, even when he's sure you feel the same. You have to, right? Eyes don't lie.

Your eyes stayed on his face, unmoving as he peered down into them. Your lip is stuck in a pout, your own hand moving to push his hair out of his face. He fought the urge to sink into your touch, your voice giving him something to focus on.

"Not tired, Hao." You murmur, and he feels a bubble of laughter get caught in his throat as you hold back a yawn. He pressed his lips to your hairline, hearing you hum inwardly. Your brow furrows as you seemingly glare up at him, looking nothing short of an angry kitten.

"You confuse me, you know that?"

"Mmh, do I? I'm sorry, honey." He smiles, watching you tuck your arms into your chest and snuggling into his. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, letting your head rest on his bicep as you frown.

"You kiss me like it means nothing, and I want it to mean something." Your mumble was clear, and he glanced down at you to see you already staring up at him. "You call me pet names, and you get me earrings. You tell me I'm beautiful in ways you can't describe. You cared enough to find this place we call home. You say you want to make my life easier, you said you'd give your left arm for it." Your fingers pat the arm under your head, and he felt his lip twitch as he bit back a nervous smile. "I did say that." "So answer my question. Make things easier for me, Minghao." He sighs, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. "Ask me again." "If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?" Your voice is far softer, and he breathes in steadily as he nods. "I would be more than okay with that. I think you know that already, though, don't you?" He spoke gently, feeling you nod gently against his arm. "Everything I do for you means something to me. The earrings, the kisses, finding this place we call home. I appreciate that, the fact that it's we and not just me, not just you. When you think about it, there has always been an us." "I want to stop lying in my bed and thinking about how empty it is. I haven't been able to sleep through the night since we shared mine the night of our graduations." You utter, your breathing shaky as you look up at him. Your eyes are glazed with unshed tears as he coos, thumbing at your cheek. "I think about you every single night, Minghao. I think about you when I think about my parents, and how they don't speak to me unless I reach out first. I think about you when I get ready for work, I think about you while I'm waiting for you to give me those god awful Budweiser Select 55s that Mrs. Choi loves."

He felt a tear slide onto his skin, hearing you sniffle slightly before you kept talking.

"I think about you when I have a bad day. I think about you when I'm off work and you're not, and how I wish you were with me. I think about you when I feel alone, because you're the only person aside from Junhui that has ever made me feel seen and understood. I think about you when the essence of Jaehyun crosses my mind, because I know that you'd never make me overthink my place in your life, but now you've got me wondering where we stand. I think about you, Minghao, every single second of my day. It's all so vague, in my mind. Knowing that you're only a few feet away, but you feel so far. Like someone I could never deserve, but I know that you are also just a man. There's no way I couldn't."

He hums, his thumb wiping softly under your eye as you let them flutter shut. 

"I think you're magnificent." He breathes, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. "I think you are the most thought-provoking person I've ever met. I know that…I know that you've only slowly allowed me into your life, quietly revealing parts of yourself and showing me that you trust me. From allowing me to meet Junhui, to letting me give you rides home, to living with me. You let me take care of you even though you are more stubborn than any mule in the countryside." He pulls back slightly, seeing your eyes closed and letting tears trickle out as you listen in silence. He feels his heart in his throat, "You've got the softest lips I've ever had the pleasure of kissing. You…the way you exist, knowing that there are certain odds against you and yet, you do it anyway. Your passion precedes any negativity anyone could ever cast upon you and I've never admired someone more to know that you are just a living, breathing, embodiment of passion and truth and hope."

Your eyes open slightly, bloodshot as his nose brushes yours lightly, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks.

"You are a tumultuous flame and if I get burned, so be it. If I let the heat of your fire singe me to death, it wouldn't be a death in pain. I'd let it happen, over and over."

You nod, your sniffles are the only sound in the room for a moment.

"I will always be okay with there being an us. Even if you muddle my heart into the bottom of a glass and drink it."

You snort at this, an airy laugh escaping your lips as you reach to wipe your eyes. "Quite the image." "Ah, nah. Just a fool, a court jester for the lady." He rolls his eyes, making you scoff as you brush your lips to his. 

"I thought you were going to kiss me that night. When I told you I picked up Mingyu and Tzuyu's shifts." You whisper, and he hums in response, feeling his heart thundering in his ears as your lips touch his briefly. "Would you have? Kissed me, I mean?" "If I had moved any closer to you, I probably would have. You have no idea how often I think about it." He confesses, before feeling you nod, your leg draping over his hip as you pull him closer. His hand instinctively finds home high on your thigh, before sliding up to rest on the small of your back. "Did you want to kiss me the night of my birthday?" "God, so badly." You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his as you let out a sigh. "I felt like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice after he helped Elizabeth into that carriage." "Quite the image." He mocks you, feeling his cheeks warm as your eyes meet his. "Would you let me kiss you now?" You don't respond, opting to press your lips to his gently. Your fingers gingerly cradled his cheek as he kissed you back, his eyes fluttering shut. His hand on your back clutches the fabric of your shirt, his chest warm at the shyness of your lips moving against his. He pulls back slightly, his eyes trailing across your face. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "More than I've ever been of anything in my entire life." You nodded against his arm, and he silently pushed you onto your back, his fingers barely breaching the hem of your shirt. Your skin is hot against his fingertips as he settles between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as you blink up at him. "Are you?" "I don't want this to be the first time I say it, so can we sidebar this? Off the record?" He murmurs, and you raise a brow as you open your mouth to speak but he interrupts you "I love you, Y/N."

Your lips twitch slightly, your hands floating to cover your cheeks. You separate your fingers slightly, peeking up at him with a mumbled whisper.

"You promise?" "Oh, darling." He pulls your hands off your face, your eyes slightly glazed as he interlaces your fingers together and pins them to either side of your head. His lips pepper kisses across your face, paying special attention to the scrunch in your nose before he stops over your lips. Your eyes blink owlishly up at him as he speaks. "I promise."

Your smile spreads against his lips as he kisses you gently, before you kiss him back. You let him lead, one of his hands moving to hold your jaw as yours slides to his hip, squeezing gently. 

"Sidebar?" "Yes?" "I love you, too."

TWO WEEKS LATER…

"Babe, I need a Guinness." You slid around the bar with a grin on your face, Minghao's cheek ruddy as he tongued his cheek. Kwon Soonyoung – a regular, one that often downed six or seven whiskey sours before calling his situationship for a late night hookup – eyed you as you crouched to slip a wad of bills into your lockbox. He watched the way Minghao's hand instinctively covered the edge of the bar as he poured with one hand, the way your hand lingered on Minghao's hip as Jeonghan made his way over with his clipboard in his hand.

"Minghao." "Mr. Yoon." You smirked, squeezing Minghao's hip gently before leaning over the bar as Jeonghan rolled his eyes. Minghao clicked his tongue, sliding the Guinness over to you before shooing you away. You stuck your tongue out at him, before zipping away.

"Do you think you could cover Seungkwan's prep shift tomorrow? I'll pay you for time and a half, and it's only three hours before closing." Jeonghan's eyes were pleading, and Minghao opened his mouth to speak before he caught you talking to a customer with a soft smile on your face.

He thinks about how you laid in his bedroom two weeks ago, snuggling with him and letting your lips take over your mind as you kissed him over and over. He thinks about how you admitted to reapplying to another graduate program across town, one that would severely impact your hours at work. He remembers saying he hopes you get in, to not worry about work. He remembers how he said he's got it, he can take care of everything, of you.

He remembers how you straddled him then, his hands sliding on your hips as you kissed him eagerly. 

He remembers how you paced back and forth like a caged animal when you found out acceptance letters would be mailed soon. He remembers how you laid on the couch with your head hanging over the edge of the cushions, groaning in anticipation as he made lunch.

He remembers how you bolted for the mailbox after lunch, returning with a stack of mail but holding your letter between your teeth. He remembers how you anxiously ripped the envelope open, your hand fumbling for his when he pulled you into his chest and held the letter away. He remembers telling you to take a deep breath, kissing your forehead gently and sitting you down on the couch. He remembers how you threw your arms around him as you read your acceptance out loud.

"Minghao. Are you listening?" "Huh? Sorry." He winces, clearing his throat before shaking his head. "I can't, actually. I'm…" He trails off as you tap the tip of your pen to your notepad, before he makes out your lips telling the customers you'd be back for their food orders. Your eyes met his as you scampered back over, your hip nudging Jeonghan's as you slid in next to him.

"Minghao, I need you to focus." Jeonghan waved his hand in Minghao's face, "Can you work it or not? It's fine if you can't." "Work what?" You ask with a wiggle of your brows, reaching over the bar and stealing a maraschino cherry from the open jar. Minghao frowns, waving your hand away as you pull the fruit off the stem, winking his way. 

"I'm asking him if he can work the prep shift tomorrow, but he's not answering." Jeonghan rolled his eyes, flipping the blue pen between his fingers as you hum, nodding your head. "He can't." You shrug, and Minghao opens his mouth but you beat him to it. "We have a date tomorrow night. Good luck finding a cover, though." 

You tilt your head as you shrug again, this time, unapologetically. Facing Minghao again, you smile softly. "I need a cosmopolitan. Susie is back and she's getting divorced!" Minghao can't hear anything but you, and Jeonghan simply shakes his head and slips away. Soonyoung watches as you slide away again, hearing you tell Minghao you'll be back after getting the fountain drinks for Susie's table.

"I thought you didn't have a crush on the new girl, Xu." Soonyoung wiggles his brows, making Minghao scoff as he grabs a shaker off the drying rack. He flips it, scooping ice into it as he sighs. 

"I don't have a crush on her. I'm in love with her."

He can't focus on anything but the way you zip around the restaurant, his eyes trained on the smiles you give out, the way you hand out crayons and kids menus. He watches the way you gleefully serve people, how you gladly grab phones and cameras for photos.

How you peer at him over your shoulder when you walk by.

How you smile shyly when his fingers brush yours when he hands you a drink.

How you sneakily kiss his shoulder when the restaurant is closed, your hands wrapped around his waist as he holds your can of orange juice in his hand. How you ignore Jeonghan's incessant teasing, how Tzuyu recites long-winded rants of how she told you so.

"Friend, roommate, coworker?" Minghao repeats as you tuck his portion of your tips into his back pocket, and Tzuyu grins as Minghao slides her to-go strawberry lemonade across the bar. "Boyfriend, fiancé, husband." She says cheekily, and Minghao looks over his shoulder to see you biting back a smile as you brush trash onto the dustpan. "I told her so. I told her you guys would be something more." "So did I." Jeonghan calls from across the restaurant, slotted behind the cashier's station as he thumbs through the register. Mingyu pokes his head out of the kitchen as he fumbles with the lights, a mumble of so did I from his lips as he finally turns them off.

"So much for muddling your heart at the bottom of a glass, huh?" You murmur, as the two of you leave the restaurant hand-in-hand. The two of you ignore the hooting and hollering of your coworkers as Minghao opens your door, leaning over your frame to buckle in your seatbelt. He glances at your lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to them with a smile. "All I know is that if you're meant to break my heart – so be it." "I love you." "I love you, too."

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[cheolieji]

Im glad to see you answer my question<3

So could you write maknae 14th member but not like to young cuz it is suggestive so maybe a few months younger than dino.

But basically could you do where all of her members jokingly slap her ass and she finds it annoying but they don’t do it to just her. However its mostly her, and they do it alot to her. One day she sees that her ass is bruised and i want to know how the members would react if she told them or if she was so angry and didn’t tell them and they saw signs like her wincing when sitting down. Could you please not do individual reactions.

Thanks for considering my request and thank you if you do it🤍

jokes (butt slaps)

this was wayy longer than I inticipated butt who cares

14th member fic (feat.svt)

angst (not rlly), fluff, slight suggestive (butt slapping)

svt and reader teases eachother

guide for requesting on my page [17] check out the (pink highlighted) texts for my yes and no's

lmk if I missed anything!

As the 14th member of Seventeen, just a few months younger than Dino, you were used to the chaos. The teasing, the loudness, the shared inside jokes. You could dish it just as well as you could take it. But there was one running joke that you really couldn’t stand anymore.

The butt slaps.

It started out as a playful thing, something everyone did from time to time. A little smack after a good rehearsal, a joking hit in the dorms, during vlives, whatever. They did it to each other too, but for some reason, you were the go-to target. Maybe because you always reacted. Maybe because you were the youngest. Either way, it got old fast.

Lately, it felt like every time you turned around, someone’s palm was flying at you. Even when you clearly weren’t in the mood, someone would still do it, laughing like it was nothing.

But this time? This time, it wasn’t funny.

You’d noticed the bruise the night before. Faint at first, but definitely there. Now, it was worse. Dark purple and sore as hell. Sitting down hurt. Stretching hurt. Even lying on your side was uncomfortable. You didn’t say anything, though. Not yet. You didn’t want to sound overly sensitive, but damn, it was pissing you off.

So you ignored everyone during breakfast. You barely spoke during practice. You winced when you sat, flinched when one of the members moved behind you, and gave a flat look when one of them raised a hand like they might smack you again. That was the moment it started to click.

They weren’t dumb. You weren’t smiling. You weren’t playing along.

And you were clearly mad.

Practice ended early. No one really said why, but the vibe was off. Quiet. Uneasy. You were the first to grab your bag and head out.

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch with your legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone and trying to decompress. The dorm felt weirdly quiet. Then, one by one, the boys started filtering in. Not in a dramatic confrontation kind of way, but in that awkward we-know-we-messed-up way.

They didn’t really say much at first. Just sat down around you, avoiding your eyes. Someone finally mumbled, “We didn’t realize you were actually hurt.”

Another added, “We didn’t mean to take it too far.”

You stayed quiet for a second, then sighed. “It’s been too far for a while.”

That one hit. You saw it in their faces. The guilt. The regret. No one tried to defend themselves, and you appreciated that.

Then one of them gently placed a little heat pack next to you. Another handed you your favorite drink from the fridge. Someone even tossed a fuzzy blanket over your shoulders without saying a word.

You were still a little mad, but it was hard to stay mad when they were being this soft about it.

Eventually, you leaned back into the couch and muttered, “You’re all idiots.”

Someone snorted. “But we’re your idiots.”

And you couldn’t help it. You smiled.

It wasn’t just the end of the butt-slap joke. It was the start of them being more careful, more thoughtful. The teasing didn’t stop, but it changed. They learned where the line was. And they made sure, from that day on, that their jokes never came at your expense.

And honestly? That meant more than any apology ever could.

the next morning

You weren’t expecting much when you woke up. Maybe a few awkward glances, maybe someone pretending like nothing happened. But when you walked into the kitchen, still groggy and dragging your feet, you froze.

The dining table was actually set. Real plates, not takeout containers. Pancakes, eggs, fruit, and your favorite coffee already poured into your usual mug. Someone had even peeled an orange for you.

You stared. "Did someone die?"

A few of them chuckled under their breath

"Nahh" one of them said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We just thought... breakfast. Together. As a team."

"Mingyu did most of it," wonwoo confessed, not even pretending to take credit.

"Hey!! I peeled the oranges," jeonghan added, looking proud of himself.

There was a pause. dokyeom looked over to you, eyes a little softer than usual.

"We wanted to make it up to you. For pushing things too far."

You stood there for a second. Still tired. Still kind of annoyed. But your chest loosened a little. The food smelled good. The effort was real. They looked genuinely sorry.

"You were annoying," you said, sitting down.

A quiet wave of agreement passed through the room.

"But this is nice."

You picked up your fork and started eating without saying anything else. That alone made a few of them relax. hao caught your eye, just for a second, and when you gave the tiniest smile, he smiled back.

It wasn’t everything, but it was enough for now.

Getting back at them

You didn’t plan it, really. It just sort of happened.

A few days had passed since the whole bruise situation. Things had settled back into their usual rhythm. No one dared smack you again, which was great. But the energy had shifted too. The guys were noticeably gentler, more careful with their jokes. It was sweet, honestly. But that didn’t mean you were going to let them off completely.

So you started pushing back. Quietly. Pettily. Playfully.

During vocal practice, one of them hit a wrong note and winced. You leaned in with a straight face and said, “That note sounded bruised. Need ice?”

Another time, someone reached over your head to grab something and accidentally bumped into you. You clutched your side and gasped like you’d been tackled, then gave him a look so dramatic he practically begged you not to rat him out.

They got nervous real quick.

You didn’t do it all the time. Just often enough to remind them. A dramatic flinch here, an exaggerated sigh when someone got too close, an innocent “Oh, I thought we weren’t touching me anymore?” that made them instantly back up with their hands raised.

It wasn’t about payback. Not really. It was about taking your space back, with a smile.

And the best part? They took it all. No complaints. No teasing. If anything, they played along. Sometimes a member would fake cry when you “called them out.” Others would offer their snacks like peace offerings before even saying hi.

One night at the dorm, you caught them watching you more carefully than usual. You were curled up on the couch, blanket over your legs, scrolling your phone while someone rubbed circles on your back.

“You really forgave us, huh?” joshua asked, a little tentative.

You looked up and nodded.

“Yeah. But I’ll still mess with you a little longer.”

He smiled. “Fair.”

They didn’t mind. You were still their little sister. Just one they finally listened to better.

--

Practice was dragging. Everyone was tired, and your body was still recovering. During a quick break, you bent over to tie your shoe and winced without meaning to.

One of the choreographers looked over and joked, "Still sore? Or are you just milking it?"

He didn’t mean anything by it. It was a throwaway comment. But before you could even open your mouth, Hoshi stepped in.

"She’s fine," he said, not looking away. "We’re all worn out."

There wasn’t any heat in his voice. Just something quiet and clear. The choreographer nodded and let it go without pushing further.

When you sat back down, hoshi dropped onto the bench beside you. He nudged your leg with his knee, just enough to get your attention.

"You good?"

You gave a small nod. "Still a little sore, but yeah. I’m fine."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned against your shoulder, barely for a second, and pulled away again like it hadn’t happened.

"You don’t have to brush stuff off anymore. Not with us."

That part stayed with you. More than any apology. More than breakfast. Just someone choosing to see you clearly and reminding you that your discomfort mattered.

[svt-demi]

𖥔 WORN THIN . masterlist

SYNOPSIS: demi pushes herself too hard preparing for seventeen’s comeback, but after returning home late and sick, minghao takes care of her despite the tension between them.

TIMELINE: 2021

WARNINGS: mentions of exhaustion/self care issues. that’s it (i think)

demi and minghao’s emotionally distant era. . . also send requests pleaseeee >_< lowkey struggling on what to write so save me from disappearing for like a month !!

demi was drained — exhausted down to her bones.

her entire body ached, muscles stiff and trembling faintly as she continued to run over the choreography. she knew she was overworking herself, and she knew that she should have listened to s.coups insisting for her to come back to the dorms with him a few hours earlier. perhaps she wouldn’t feel so week if she did. but she was stubborn, and she was already falling behind due to her packed schedule.

there was no time to rest, especially not when ‘your choice’ was set to be released in just a few months time.

she barely noticed s.coups standing near the door, bag slung over his shoulder with his arms crossed over his chest. it wasn’t hard to tell he was unhappy — the slight crease between his brows and the pout on his lips made everything obvious.

“kyra.”

a sigh slipped past her lips as she walked over to the laptop in the corner, fingers reaching to the spacebar to pause the music. she ran a hand through her hair and turned to look at him.

“i know what you’re gonna say,” she muttered.

“then you should know you should listen.”

she huffed, rubbing at her face before shaking her head. “i won’t stay long.”

lie. it was a lie, and she knew it. demi could tell that s.coups had heard the lie in her voice too. she could see his expression, could see the disappointment spread on his face. it wasnt anger, not really, but it was close enough to make her stomach tighten. he wasn’t angry with her, but she could tell he was frustrated — worried, even, and that made it worse.

“you said that when the others left.” he replied, his tone flat as he checked the time on his phone. “that was almost two hours ago, and you’ve been going over the choreography longer than anyone else these past few weeks.”

her throat tightened and she could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to meet them.

“i mean it this time, cheol.” she smiled faintly, her voice still a little strained yet she still held onto the lie. her words didn’t sound covincing, not anymore, not even to herself. she could already feel her body protesting from the hours she’d been pushing herself each day. could feel the way the exhaustion was starting to build up in her limbs, the way it was catching in her breath.

there was a long pause. s.coups didn’t respond immediately, he just stood there, arms still crossed over his chest, studying her like he could see right through her (he could). demi could practically hear the thoughts running through his head — you’re pushing yourself too far, you should rest, take a break for once.

he was right, though.

she was tired.

s.coups exhaled slowly, the sound more of a tired sigh than anything else . “don’t come back home too late.” he said quietly. “this is the only time i’m letting you stay a little longer.”

demi pressed her lips together, staring at the floor. it was unusual — seungcheol letting her stay longer than she already had. she only nodded, not looking up until she heard the door to the practice room click shut.

it was past 3 a.m by the time demi got back to the dorms. she could feel like fabric of her sweater sticking uncomfortably to her skin, her legs were dragging and sluggish and her arms felt weak, barely able to hold her bag up.

her head throbbed faintly, a dull pounding behind her temples. her throat was raw, still sore from the hours she’d spent rehearsing her lines singing. her breath came shallow, each inhale slightly uneven. and beneath the clammy chill of her skin she could feel the heat prickling at the edges of her face, feverish.

she gulped, setting her bag down next to the door and walked down the hallway, not bothering to take her shoes off.

she stopped in her tracks when one of the bedroom doors opened just before she passed it, her hands tightening on the sleeves of her sweater as she glanced over.

“demi?” he asked, his voice soft as he moved a little closer.

minghao was there. of course he was.

his hair was mussed slightly, strands falling softly over his forehead. he was dressed in a loose shirt and sweatpants, his voice still a little raspy from sleep. she didn’t want to know why he was awake at this hour; all she could focus on was the fact that he was standing too close, too familiar. she’d been avoiding him for weeks now, frustrated with her own feelings, trying to keep distance.

she didn’t move. she couldn’t. she barely registered how his eyes slowly dragged over her face, taking in everything. he sighed deeply when he caught sight of her glossed over eyes, the faint flush on her cheeks and how she swayed slightly on her feet.

“demitra,” he murmured, reaching out to catch her wrist gently when she almost lost her balance, steadying her before she could fall backwards.

her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming sharp and uneven. “you should go back to sleep.” she said, her voice coming out as more of a whisper. her eyes stayed glued to the floor, not daring to meet his gaze.

“coups told me you’d be home late.”

before she could think of a response, he sighed again and turned, gently dragging her along with him. she didnt fight him — her legs were too weak, too heavy, and her chest felt too tight. she let him guide her down the hall, his hand still wrapped loosely around her wrist. she should have pulled away, thats what she had been doing this whole time, no? but she was far too tired to argue with him.

he led her into her room, quietly pushing her door open and pulling her inside. he guided her towards the bed, letting go of her wrist.

“sit down.” he said quietly.

her legs nearly buckled the moment she sat down, her entire body slumping heavily against the mattress.

minghao crouched in front of her, carefully slipping her sneakers off. she didn’t say anything when he gently tugged at the hair tie holding her hair up, releasing the strands so they fell around her shoulders. he suddenly reached up, the back of his hand pressing lightly against her forehead, checking her temperature.

she wanted to scream at him to stop. to stop looking at her like that, to stop making her feel like she had no control over her emotions when she was around him.

she wasn’t used to this — he knew, and he never pushed her talk about her problems until she was ready.

“have you had anything to drink?” he asked softly, setting her shoes down on the shoe rack in the corner of her room.

demi blinked, still dazed from the exhaustion. her throat felt raw, dry — almost painful everytime she breathed. she hadn’t realised just how badly she needed a drink until now. minghao didn’t need to wait to know that her answer was no.

he stood still for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face before he walked out the room. when he left, she let her body sink back against the softness of her bed, the heels of her palms rubbing her eyes. a sigh slipped from her lips as she pulled the cover slightly higher to keep herself warm enough.

a few minutes later (what felt like hours for demi), the door creaked open and the cool touch of a water bottle snapped her out of her thoughts.

minghao was back, the bottle cap twisted off. he held the bottle up to her lips, waiting for her to drink.

she blinked at him for a second until she drank slowly, the water soothing her dry throat. her body felt so relieved after a few sips and she felt her eyelids dropping with each moment. once she finished, minghao set the water bottle down on her bedside table. he paused by the door again, eyes finding hers.

“go to sleep, okay? you’re tired.” he said, his voice almost pleading, as if he wanted to take the weight of the exhaustion off her shoulders, even if only for a little while.

demi’s lips parted in protest. “i need to shower,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly.

he clicked his tongue, stepping back into the room. “you’re about to pass out, demi. shower when you wake up.” he said, the words coming out more gentle than she had expected.

she didn’t argue, tiredness was already tugging at the edges of her consciousness, pulling her deeper into the sleep she so desperately needed. “okay,” she whispered, not bothering to check if he heard or not.

minghao stood there for a moment longer, waiting until her eyes fluttered closed before he stepped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

★ i apologise for this… the writing is so ass lawrd

[svt-rosalie]

. . . ♡ ROSIE ! ? 🐰 HEADCANNONS ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ part two! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2024 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

notes! this is a part two to this ask from a while ago. i’ve had the maknae line version be requested twice so here it is! i hope you like it.

i can see you, girl

everything is all about you

all about you, ateez

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ dokyeom

seokminnie would always help jihye relax and destress after school or training

they would go to a park that was near their shared dormitory and when rosie would get on the swing, dokyeom would push her as high as she could go

her giggles and squeals of her telling him to push her higher up was his favorite part of the day

they’d be out all day to be honest if it wasn’t for seungcheol finding them every time before dinner

the hanging out wouldn’t stop at the park no

they would continue to hang out and play games inside of rosalie’s room

rosalie’s dad had bought her a bunch of board games for her birthday and had them shipped to the dorm so she could play with all the boys

so dokyeom and jihye would constantly be playing connect four, hungry hungry hippo, and rosalie’s favorite game monopoly

they’d be up into the night if they could!

but one time jihye fell asleep while laying on her stomach to play one of the games and so the 95 liners put the cut off time for games at 8 o’clock

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ mingyu

despite how much they argued and fought

mingyu always would cheer her up and bring her mood to 100%

mingyu could tell rosalie was stressed with school and training so he would do her work for her so she could simply just relax

but don’t tell anybody about that, rosie hated when he did it for her. she felt like a cheater but he reassured her that it was fine and this stuff was easy (it was not easy, she was in advanced classes and he had to look up how to do half of her work)

mingyu would often leave snacks on her bed for when she got home from school knowing how much of a snacker she was

he would invite her to play games with him to cheer her up after not making a high score on a test

they would often cause a huge ruckus in the dorm rooms from being too loud when playing together

the two would take walks together, to forget about everything

mingyu ALWAYS and i mean always went to important events for rosalie, she is his annoying little sister but he always wanted to be there for her and encourage her to keep going further in life

he’s still like that to this day even though he picks on her more then he would like to admit

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ minghao

despite the language barrier these two were and still are extremely close.

rosalie is a very lovable person, so she kinda drew minghao in like a magnet to metal

minghao took her as a naive person (not in a horrible way, but the girl was a pre-teen when they met) and wanted to protect that

so he kept her away from social media and any person who wanted to shout nasty, harsh things at her.

he knew the curse words in korean and grew to understand the comments people would make about her body and her singing

as cheesy as it sounds he would cover her ears when they went out in public stating to rosie that he did it so her ears wouldn’t hurt from all the yelling and shouting from the fans and fansites

rosie grew to appreciate and understand why minghao does and treats her the way he does compared to everyone else

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ seungkwan

boo seungkwan was one of rosalie’s first ever friends in south korea

that’s how he took care of rosie, but being there for her

to be honest, rosalie wasn’t very well liked by the other female trainee’s at pledis so seungkwan always stuck up for her and treated her a equal

anytime rosalie was overwhelmed by her emotions and needed a shoulder to lean on seungkwan was always there no matter if he was overwhelmed as well

he would always compliment her singing and dancing stating that she was one of the best he’s ever seen in a long time

rosie would be connected to seungkwan’s (and dino) side anytime during the week

if you needed her check with seungkwan, they are probably gossiping about the newest thing that happened at school

or they are at down the street eating some korean street food that was payed with rosalie’s weekly allowance from her parents

seungkwan is and will always be someone rosalie depends on to get through the day

now that they are older and they aren’t in the dorms anymore, seungkwan always calls to make sure she’s doing okay and if she needs anything to always call him

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ vernon

vernon is straight up just vernon

but he always acted like a big brother to rosalie

he would pick on her and take her things just to upset her and deny her ever did that

he’d take a big bite from her snack even though she said he could take a tiny bite

vernon would tease her about the little things that he knew she wouldn’t take offensive (he never disrespected her and if he did he apologized after realizing)

but vernon also checked on her to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything was bothering and would sit with her at night and let her cry about how much she missed her parents

despite her being half korean, she felt so foreign like she didn’t belong just because she was also half french. vernon comforted her endless nights about her worries and troubles

vernon helped her embrace herself when they first debuted and made sure she didn’t crawl into a shell of herself like so many thought rosalie would do

honestly, vernon is one of the reasons rosalie contained to be an idol

vernon treated her like a sister but took care of her like a friend

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ dino

these two were two peas in a pod during pre-debut and debut

again if rosalie wasn’t with seungkwan, she was with dino. probably doing homework together, going to the comic book store that was 20 minutes away, rough housing at the playground, or taking a nap together

dino was such a rock and a grounding piece for rosalie during this time and he still is

he didn’t realize he was helping rosalie as much as he was but nobody minds

dino always stuck up for rosalie at school when other girls would pick on her over her height and facial structure

he would always say “you look a cute baby bunny, they are just jealous they can’t have you cause i do!” it was such an innocent joke but rosalie took it so seriously

she knew if she didn’t anyone, she would always have chan

during dinner they always sat together and talked and laughed about the most random things

everyone else was confused on what else they had to talk about because they see each other all day and then sleep in the same room so what more was there??

well nothing really but they didn’t mind, it was really just being together that made everything better for them

rosalie didn’t stress about training when dino was around because they always encouraged each other that they were doing amazing

everything dino did was for rosalie, weather he realized it or not

click here to join rosie’s taglist’

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie @conniesbbymama @jihoonsbbygirl @kaitieskidmore97 @cheolsboo @mars11rules67 @svt-manon

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: the quiet world by @studioeisa

the quiet world 🍜 minghao x reader.

minghao saves his words for you.

★ word count: 1.6k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol, romance/fluff, dystopia -ish. mentions of food. established/long-distance relationship, minghao-centric. based off of jeffrey mcdaniel's the quiet world, with some reference to phil kaye's repetition. ★ footnotes: this is my entry for keopihaus' spring event 2025, specifically for the moretta/servetta muta mask :'-) it's been a while since i've written for svt (sorry!), but this idea grabbed hold of me and i couldn't shake it. my favorite poems for my favorite boy. this one has a lot of my heart in it, so... 🫴

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ quiet by jason mraz. bawat daan by ebe dancel. streetcar by daniel caesar. the days ahead by the scene aesthetic. whoever she is by the maine. hold onto me by mayday parade. if i'm lucky by state champs. start a riot by banners.

In an effort to get people to look into each other’s eyes more, and also to appease the mutes, the government has decided to allot each person exactly 167 words per day.

This is why Minghao no longer wants to dream. 

Dreams are a trap, a reason to talk in his sleep. Dreams take his words, unbidden and unwarranted, and he’ll wake up with four or seven less than he might have wanted. It annoys him to no end. 

And so a good sleep is when he doesn’t dream. When he’s just taken from one day to the other in the blink of an eye. A good day is when he wakes up with 167 allowables on the tip of his tongue. 

Minghao’s morning routine is clinical. There is no room for mistakes here. Once or twice, he had accidentally mumbled an ow or an aw, come on, and it had ruined his entire day. 

Not today. Today, he does everything right.

Brushes his teeth, showers, puts on clothes without so much of a whisper. 

He runs into Mingyu in the apartment elevator. The two exchange nods. 

Mingyu tilts his phone screen towards Minghao. The Notes app has been pulled up. Have a good day!, Mingyu had typed out. It’s the same note every morning, the same platitude delivered in this roundabout manner.  

Minghao offers him a smile and another nod. One he hopes will communicate you, too.

The streets aren’t devoid of sound. Dogs still bark; cars still beep in traffic. The world’s natural order of things doesn’t care for the state of affairs. It is a rebellion in its own right, led by the rustle of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. 

As usual, Minghao seeks out the auntie often stationed outside his office building. He finds her resting underneath the shade of a tree, her visor drawn over her eyes. He doesn’t greet her. He doesn’t have to.

She’s used to these transactions. People standing idly by until she notices them. People pointing out their order instead of saying it out loud.

Minghao points at the photo of the chicken noodle soup. She nods and goes through the motions— thermos, styrofoam bowl, plastic bag. He presses his payment into her withered, wrinkled hand, and gives out the first two words he speaks on a good day like this. 

“Thank¹ you²,” Minghao says, because the government can take his voice, but it will not take his manners. 

The auntie smiles up at him, her grin all gums and decaying teeth. She reaches out to gently pat Minghao on the elbow, and he accepts it like the blessing of goodwill that it’s supposed to be.

There’s no way of predicting what kind of day it will be in the office.

Sometimes, Minghao uses up more than half of his words arguing with stubborn clients— often ones who have the status to buy more words, to twist the government’s arm into bending the system a bit. Then there are days where Minghao doesn’t have to speak at all, and he clocks out with 165 still on his plate. 

No one at work particularly misses Minghao’s voice.

Not the same way some of them lament the loss of Seokmin’s singing or Junhui’s stand-up comedy. No, Minghao fell in with the likes of Jihoon and Wonwoo, who all knew how to play this game rather well. 

It’s no surprise that by the time lunch is rolling around, Minghao is still going strong while others are already down for the count. 

“You¹⁵³ know¹⁵⁴ what¹⁵⁵ I¹⁵�� miss¹⁵⁷?” Soonyoung announces. 

Half the break room looks up at him, their expressions caught between amusement and exasperation. It was just like Soonyoung to squander his words like this, to command everyone’s attention so he can proclaim, “Karaoke¹⁵⁸! I¹⁵⁹ miss¹⁶⁰ karaoke¹⁶¹, man¹⁶²!”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. Hansol pulls a face. 

“What¹⁶³?!” Soonyoung demands. “I¹⁶⁴ used¹⁶⁵ to¹⁶⁶ slay¹⁶⁷—” 

His tongue clicks. 

The words are stolen right from him; the song Soonyoung once supposedly ‘slayed,’ now a mystery. 

Minghao shakes his head. Soonyoung is red-faced but undeterred, already reaching for his phone so he can pull up Spotify and subject everybody to what was once his go-to karaoke track.

Music nowadays is mostly instrumental. Maybe there’s a phrase or two in the chorus, but artists bear the brunt of this new world’s order. 

Lunch ends. Minghao is still comfortably in the 160’s range. A feat in itself. 

But then the telephone at his desk rings. It’s a sharp, shrill sound. One he’s come to hate. His lips tug into a frown and— for a moment— he considers not answering. 

It rings a second time, and Minghao concedes he would rather not get fired for being stingy. 

He picks up the phone.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t greet the other person with hello or how are you or what do you need. 

The person on the other end pauses for a beat. Then, as if realizing this is Xu Minghao they’re phoning, they break the silence. 

“Update¹⁰³ on¹⁰⁴ the¹⁰⁵ Kim¹⁰⁶ account¹⁰⁷?” Chan asks, his voice crackling over the line. 

One thing Minghao has started to do is to compare and critique. 

To compare— the Chan of a couple of years ago would have definitely not gone straight to the point. Pre-decree, Chan had been the type of person to offer an entire backstory before finally getting at what he needed or wanted from you.

To critique— the question is two words too many. Minghao would have simply said the Kim account, or even just update? if he was feeling particularly spiteful. It’s a twisted, holier-than-thou mindset that has no place in this world that’s already taken so much, but he can’t help it. 

Minghao is not wasteful with his words anymore. Repetition is a felony; all unnecessary conversation, a transgression. 

He grits out the updates, each phrase carefully chosen and weighed as if there’s an invisible scale in his mind. The entire time, he thinks to himself: This could have been an email.

Once again, he ends the conversation with a murmured “thank⁵⁸ you⁵⁹” and that cruel, smug impression he’s somewhat better than his coworkers. 

Work crawls to its eventual conclusion. Minghao practically flies out of the office, communicating with his coworkers through glances and gestures. A wave of his hand. Goodbye. A tilt of his head. Have a good weekend. A hint of a smirk. Thank fucking God it’s Friday.

He gets home and kills time.

A silent film on the television. Microwave pizza and a can of cola. Afterwards, he puts on a playlist of old songs, the ones made when words were still a luxury that could be taken for granted. 

There was a time where Minghao might’ve belted along. Nowadays, he just dances. 

He weaves through the furniture. He taps his foot along to the beat. He is sand in an hourglass, an ellipsis at the end of a sentence…

His phone rings.

This time, it’s a sound he loves. 

He practically stumbles over his couch in his excitement. His screen has lit up with your name, with a photo of you from your first date. You had talked his ear off, then, and he had hung on every word. You’re smiling sweetly up at the camera. It’s a reminder of the things that have changed, and what hasn’t. 

The moment he answers the call, he’s already giggling.

“Hello⁶⁰,” Minghao breathes. “I⁶¹ only⁶² used⁶³ fifty-nine⁶⁴ today⁶⁵; I⁶⁶ saved⁶⁷ the⁶⁸ rest⁶⁹ for⁷⁰ you.⁷¹” 

You don’t respond.

He hears the huff of your laugh.

The click of your tongue. 

Ah.

It can’t be helped. As much as he wants to be selfish, to demand that you save at least three words for him, he knows these things are inevitable. It doesn’t happen often, anyway. You’re usually just as careful and cautious.

He’s sure he’ll get the full story over text. Some complaint about how work had demanded a little too much of you, how you had no choice but to give. 

So, now, it’s Minghao’s turn to give; yours, to take. 

“I⁷² love⁷³ you⁷⁴,” he says. 

Depending on what kind of night it is, he might say the words differently. I love you with an over-the-top British accent that has you chuckling below your breath. I love you in sing-song, reminiscent of the days he could once still afford to hold a tune. I love you sleepily, while lying in bed, like it’s the last words he wants on his lips. 

Tonight, he says it in a slow, reverent whisper. “I⁷⁵ love⁷⁶ you.⁷⁷” 

He enunciates every word, letting them mean something new each time. 

“I⁷⁸ love⁷⁹ you⁸⁰,” he says, because he means to say, It’s me, Minghao, Myungho, whatever you want to call me, and I love you. It’s me. I’m yours. All of it, all of me. 

“I⁸¹ love⁸² you⁸³,” he says, in a way he hopes you understand that the verb is interchangeable. He loves you, yes, but he also adores you. He reveres you. He worships you, and misses you, and wants you. He packs all of it in that single four-lettered word and prays it is enough. 

“I⁸⁴ love⁸⁵ you⁸⁶,” he says. 

You, long-distance lover. You, the only one he would waste his words on. You, you, you.

He says I love you thirty-two and a third times. 

He’s cut off with an unceremonious “I¹⁶⁷—,” his tongue clicking to signal his quota. The day ends, quietly as it began,—

Minghao lies on his couch and stares at the ceiling, his phone pressed in between his cheek and his shoulder.

You stay on the other end of the line. 

The two of you listen to each other breathe. 

[svt-yexi]

Seventeen Yexi's Lunar New Year Surprise!

It's reported that Seventeen's Yexi has shown her support to her friends Bambam, from kpop group Got7, and The8, her fellow group mate, for being new Producers on an audition program titled "Chuang Asia Season 2" that is currently airing. It was recently revealed that Bambam and The8 took ALL trainees out to eat for the lunar holiday but that was not the end to the trainees holiday surprises. Each trainee came back to an additional red envelope on their bed and a gift bag packed to the brim and a letter to all trainees which you can read below:

Hello,

This is Seventeen's Yexi and I hope you had a warming meal. I remember clearly all the hardships I went through as a trainee. The long hours, the wear and tear on your body and voice, the absolute grit you have to have to keeping going that one last time

I've picked out a few things that I hope can help make things a little more comfy and easier while you're here. Especially being away from family during the new year. Lean on each other, because the friends you make here can be the friends you end up making for life. No one knows what you're going through better than the person beside you.

Enjoy your red envelopes and allow yourself to be selfish and spend it only on yourself. Promise me! You deserve to treat yourself every once in awhile.

Good luck in the upcoming challenges and I will be watching eagerly!

After watching the clips online it looks like (from what we can see) here is a list of the items gifted:

First aid (squeeze to activate) ice packs

Hand warmers

Headphones

Chanel cologne (assorted)

4 hydration face mask pack x4

Tiger balm rub

Tiger balm patches

Sweat suit

Warmer house shoes

Thick bathrobes

Top tier toiletries

Signed seventeen merch

Netizen's and K-Netizens alike have been eating this up and calling her one of the most supportive sunbaes they've seen in the industry in a while.

Taglist: @multiplums @giverosespls @sunflower-0180 @smoooore @kimhyejin3108 @enhacolor @wcsterias @kimhyejin3108 @allthings-fandoms @cixrosie @alixnsuperstxr @honeylovemoon

[wowcaratvivi]

🐇

[twicehaneul]

the first meet

pairing: choi seungcheol x twice added member' oc

genre: fluff, first meet, slow burn, acquaintances to friends to lovers

warnings: none

if you want to be in the taglist, please leave a message! 🤍

June 2, 2017 — Music Bank, backstage

Comeback week was always a blur — one long, breathless sprint between makeup chairs, camera takes, and half-eaten meals squeezed into the minutes between costume changes. The hallways of KBS Music Bank pulsed with noise: staff shouting into earpieces, stylists sprinting with steamers and rollers, idols bowing in quick succession as they rushed past one another like waves crashing and retreating.

TWICE had just finished their pre-recording for SIGNAL. The air backstage was thick with humidity and hairspray. As soon as the final camera light flicked off, the girls had dispersed — some to fix makeup, others to rehydrate or sneak in a selfie. Haneul, ever the quiet type when she wasn’t performing, slipped into a corner just off the main hallway and crouched down, retying the laces of her white performance boots. Her legs ached from the choreography, her chest still heaved slightly from the intense dance break. But she welcomed the stillness.

Her sweat-dampened hair stuck to the back of her neck, but she didn’t care. It was a small moment of peace — one she knew wouldn’t last long.

It didn’t.

“Ah—wait, hyung!!”

She barely had time to process the voice echoing from down the hall before a blur rounded the corner at full speed. There was a thud — not from her boots, but from a person slamming into her like a fullback on a mission.

They both went stumbling, Haneul hitting the wall with a soft oof, arms braced on instinct. A body pressed into her for half a second — too close, too sudden — then stumbled back.

“Oh my god—are you okay?! I didn’t see—!”

Her eyes met his.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Chocolate-Brown hair swept back in a way that was effortlessly messy. Panic in his face — not the kind that was about image or reputation, but the kind that came from genuine concern. Behind him, another boy stood awkwardly, arms slightly raised like a cartoon caught mid-fall.

Haneul blinked, still trying to catch up.

“…Minghao?”

His face lit up. “Haneul? Wow — it’s been forever!”

Before she could respond, a third voice piped up.

“Hyung tackled a TWICE member?! This is it. We’re finished. Pledis will bury you.”

A fourth person popped into view, hands over his mouth in exaggerated horror. Haneul recognized him immediately — Seungkwan.

“Yah, Seungkwan—” the tall man turned back, exasperated, then returned his gaze to her. “I’m really, really sorry. That was… I swear I was trying to help Minghao avoid crashing into a staff cart. And then he slipped, and I kind of redirected the impact, and…”

“…slammed into me like a human wrecking ball,” she finished, raising an eyebrow but fighting the smile pulling at her lips.

A beat passed. Then Seungkwan chimed in again. “A very apologetic wrecking ball.”

That did it.

Even Haneul let out a breathy laugh, the tension cracking like ice on a lake’s surface.

A moment later, Mingyu skidded onto the scene, out of breath and confused. “Did someone die?!”

“No, but Seungcheol-hyung nearly flattened Haneul-noona,” Seungkwan replied far too cheerfully.

Mingyu’s eyes widened in sheer horror. “Hyung?! Oh god. Haneul-ah, I swear he’s not usually like this. Please forgive him.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “Relax, Mingyu. I’ve survived worse. Just… maybe tell your leader to slow down next time.”

Seungcheol — the name clicked now — still looked mortified. He lowered his head slightly. “I really do want to make it up to you,” he said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Haneul tilted her head, half-curious, half-teasing. “Maybe don’t tackle me twice in one week?”

His ears turned red.

June 3, 2017 — Music Core, backstage

TWICE had taken the win today.

The trophy was still warm in Haneul’s hands as they stepped offstage, cameras flashing even as the applause died. Her cheeks ached from smiling, but it was a good ache — the kind that came with effort paying off. Still, now that the adrenaline was fading, exhaustion crept in like a slow fog.

She found her way back to that same quiet hallway near the dressing rooms, her safe corner in the chaos. Sitting on the bench this time, she bent forward to adjust the buckle of her boot, catching her breath before the next wave of interviews and encore chaos began.

Footsteps approached, slower this time.

“Hey.”

She looked up.

Seungcheol stood there, his hands in his jacket pockets, a lopsided smile playing at his lips. He looked much calmer today — or maybe just more intentional.

“Seungcheol oppa?.”

The boy was doing so much effort on trying to hide his sudden blush of the angelic way that the female idol called him.

“Hope I’m not bothering you. I just… wanted to apologize again. Properly. Yesterday was… chaotic.”

Haneul let out a soft laugh. “You mean when you body-checked me into the wall?”

“Yeah,” he said, sheepish. “Still my worst first impression ever.”

“It was memorable,” she said, standing.

He chuckled, then hesitated. “Look, I know we don’t know each other, but… I was thinking, maybe we could start over. As friends. Less accidental-impact, more actual conversations.”

She blinked at him, surprised.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkward but genuine. “I’m going to literally knock someone off their feet, I should at least get to know them. Mingyu said you’re one of the kindest people in the industry. And after yesterday… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to talk. No pressure.”

It was more candid than she expected. Most people in this business didn’t open doors unless they had something to gain. But he stood there like he wasn’t trying to impress her — just be real.

“You want to be friends,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Well,” he smiled, “I figured if I’m going to literally knock someone off their feet, I should at least get to know them.”

There was silence — not awkward, but contemplative. She thought of the headlines she had avoided for years, the emotional walls she’d built after the breakup that still echoed in the back of her mind. She wasn’t ready for anything messy. But a friendship?

That sounded safe. Warm. Human.

“Alright,” she said, rising to her feet. “We can be friends. But if I catch you charging down a hallway again…”

He held up both hands. “I solemnly swear to walk — not sprint — in all backstage hallways.”

She gave a small smile. “Good. Also, congrats on yesterday’s win.”

Seungcheol blinked, surprised. “That means a lot. And congrats on today — you guys deserved it.”

Their eyes held for a beat longer than necessary. Not loaded. Not heavy. Just a moment of quiet understanding.

As he turned to leave, he offered her a small wave.

“See you around, Haneul-ssi.”

She watched him go, then exhaled — not heavily, not in frustration. It was more like a release of something tight that had lived in her chest far too long.

Maybe, just maybe… this was the start of something good.

[monsterfvckersunited]

Overlord Booki has begun Kinktober with a fic for Seventeen!

Kinktober 「10:01」 — x.minghao

» seventeen menu | the8 menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ half-dragon!Minghao × fem!Reader wc: 7.3k summary: After inheriting an estate deep in the Bavarian Alps from his maternal grandfather, Minghao arrives to find the estate has survived the war unscathed and that deep underground is a vault full of historic and old art dating back to the 8th century. He decides to hire an appraiser to inspect the collection but becomes enamored with her. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller, historical; non idol au, monster idol au, historical au, post-ww2 au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, supernatural & horror themes, post ww2 in Europe, allusions to the Nazi party; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglist! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a rough time to get started and i have to restart twice, once after completely redoing the plot. it was difficult but once i changed the plot, things flowed so much more naturally! but here we are baybee! kicking off Kinktober 2024 with dragon!Minghao in the 1940's post WW2! i did minimal research on this cause I'm a stickler for world building but I hope you all enjoy the first part of Kinktober. one day, 30 to go! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), mirror sex, sex photos, unprotected sex (don’t do this lol), use of pet names (bao bei, beibei, sweetheart, etc.), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), and that should be all but let me know if I missed some! kinks: mirror sex + sex photos dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Don’t cover your mouth, I want everyone to know how good I make you feel. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Whether it was the scenery itselves or the dragon blood in him, Minghao loved the serenity and peace that seemed to accompany traveling through the mountains. This drive was a vaguely familiar one though he hadn’t been on this road since he was a young child.

He looked out the window as the car climbed higher, the trees on one side giving way to the view of the valley below. It was a picturesque scene, a beautiful lake at the base of the mountains surrounded by a forest of oranges, reds, yellows, and greens. He turned his gaze away as the car turned, following the curve of the road as the mountain flattened out.

The road was lined on either side with trees, providing cover from the cloudy, gray skies as the car drove along. Minghao caught a glimpse of the manor through the tunnel of trees, intrigued to see what state it was in since the hospitalization and death of his grandfather.

He hadn’t been to this estate since he was a young child, visiting with his mother until he threw a fit about going again. Since then, he had not stepped foot on the grounds, preferring to spend the holidays with his mother instead in their ancestral home.

Now he was in his late twenties and returning to the vacation home of his maternal line after being bequeathed the estate in his grandfather’s will. The car broke through the line of trees, taking a slight curve, forest on one side and a stone wall that dropped into a lower valley on the other.

The manor was just as he remembered, imposing and gray with gothic overtones and the facade made almost entirely out of stone. The angled roofs curved at the base and sharp spires at the ridges along the roofs. The majority of the stone was limestone, edged with a darker color of stone.

As the car pulled up, a light wind blew, the mix of orange gold, and brown leaves blowing across the stone, hitting the wall overlooking the valley. Minghao settled back in his seat, looking up at the imposing mansion, wondering the state of the interior. Outside, the place looked well kept but the inside could be an entirely different story.

The car pulled to a stop, the engine cutting and silence falling over the interior as the driver got out. He made to open the door himself but the driver beat him to it. Minghao got out, buttoning his coat as he looked up at the manor, thanking the driver. Up close, the estate looked almost immaculate. The windows had the curtains drawn, not allowing him to see inside the house.

The front door opened and a rather serious and proper looking man exited the house, followed by an equally serious and proper looking woman. They waited as Minghao turned to look at the driver unhooking the luggage from the back rack. Minghao walked over to greet the couple.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said, curtseying while the man bowed his head. “You must be Minghao,” the man asked to which Minghao nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “You’ve grown quite a bit since we last saw you,” the woman spoke. “I used to attend to you when you were a child,” she continued. 

“Your bags will be brought into the red room,” the man interjected. “It’s the only renovated room.” Minghao nodded. “And you two are?” Minghao asked. “I’m Klaus,” the man introduced before gesturing to the woman. “And this is Renate.”

The woman nodded, giving Minghao a kind smile. “Please, come this way,” Renate said, gesturing to the house. They walked in silence to the house, up the steps and into the foyer. Minghao looked around, taking in his surroundings with an impressed air.

The foyer was small but spacious enough with a small coat room off to the left and to the right was the library, the door opened. “That library was your grandfather’s favorite place in the house,” Renate said, noticing Minghao’s wavering attention. “How many bedrooms does this place have?” Minghao asked, changing the subject.

“Ten,” Renate answered as the driver and one of the staff started bringing in his trunks. “Right, this way,” Klaus said, gesturing to them to follow him, leading them through the foyer and entrance hall and disappearing through an open doorway.

“Shall I give you the tour or would you like to rest?” Renate asked. Minghao looked around once more before turning to look at her. “I think a tour would be nice,” he said. “Will give me an idea of the condition and state of the house,” he continued, looking around once more. “Yes. I think a tour is in order.”

Renate took him around the house, showing him the different rooms. From what he could see, only a handful of the rooms were in need of renovations and a few could use upgrades but were not in dire need. The kitchen was functional and cozy with a large dining room attached.

Also off the kitchen and next to the dining room but not attached, was a decent sized sun room. On the opposite side of the house from these rooms was a guest suite where his things had been brought. “I had this room made up for you since it’s the only guest suite on the main floor,” Renate said as Minghao looked around. “It’s also the only one that has been renovated.”

Minghao stopped and turned to look at her. “It’s perfect,” he replied. “I think I’ll freshen up before dinner,” he continued, crossing the room to where she stood in the doorway. “If you could please produce a set of keys for me, I would appreciate it,” he added. Renate’s smile fell. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I’m the owner of the estate now,” Minghao answered. “I don’t want to have to seek you out to unlock doors in my own home.” Renate nodded, clearing her throat. “I shall see if I can’t locate the other keys. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” she replied. “Dinner will be in an hour.”

She left, closing the door behind her and allowing Minghao his much needed privacy. He moved over to his luggage and opened the top trunk, finding some of his clothes. He would unpack later, first he would explore the guest suite and see what he could find and if there were any secrets.

The guest suite was large, a massive four poster bed stood in the middle of the room, the headboard pushed against the outside wall. Thick, velvet drapes hung from the intricately carved wooden frame. Standing at the foot of the bed was an ornate bench carved, stained, and lacquered just like the rest of the furniture. Minghao walked over to a small seating area past two pocket doors that shut to close off the area from the bedroom.

On the opposite side of the bed from the sitting room was the entrance to a private ensuite bathroom with marble floors, two pedestal sinks sat under golden framed mirrors. A massive soaker tub with golden clawed feet stood opposite the sinks. A pipe protruded from the wall above the tub, curving downward and providing a shower head.

Minghao returned to the bedroom area and walked over to the bed, falling onto it and staring up at the drapes. Though he vaguely remembered this house from his childhood, nothing about it had seemed familiar since entering and he wondered how much had changed from when he was a child.

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thoughts and he sat up as the door opened, a young maid poking her head into the room. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said softly. “I’ve come to unpack your luggage.” Minghao relaxed. “I see,” he said simply. He had assumed, incorrectly, that he might be allowed to unpack his own luggage but he was proven wrong again and again.

“Knock yourself out,” he replied, gesturing to the collection of trunks waiting at the end of his bed. The maid opened the door and Minghao realized it was not one but two maids. “We’ll work quickly and when we’re done, we can show you where everything is,” the first maid offered. Minghao nodded and got up as they started to get to work. “I’ll just get out of your way,” he said, walking towards the door and slinking out of the room.

He still had time before dinner would be ready so he decided to explore the first floor a bit more. As he walked past the foyer, he noticed a door with a round window and walked over, peering into the window only to see nothing but darkness. “The elevator,” a voice said, making Minghao jump. “Your grandfather lost a lot of mobility before he was hospitalized so he had this installed to make getting from the ground floor to the top floors easier.”

Minghao turned to look at the door once more. “Does it only go up?” he asked. “Sir?” Klaus asked. Minghao looked at him. “Does it go downstairs, too?” he asked. Klaus nodded, grimacing. “Indeed it does but there isn’t much down there except storage and cobwebs.” Minghao snorted and turned back to the elevator door. “Does this even work?” he asked, reaching for the door.

“Don’t!” Klaus snapped, making Minghao retract his hand quickly, almost as if he had been burned. “My apologies,” Klaus said, regaining his composure. “The elevator is turned off and very dangerous when not operated properly.” Minghao nodded, wide eyed. “Duly noted,” he said. “Is there another way downstairs then?” Minghao asked. Klaus gave him a surprised look.

“I’d like to see everything,” Minghao added. Klaus nodded. “I’m sure, sir,” he explained. “But you have more than a day to do so,” he continued. “How about you focus on relaxing today and tomorrow you can tackle the basement?” Minghao stared at Klaus but conceded. “I suppose the basement could wait,” he said softly. “Good. Dinner should be ready soon,” Klaus added, giving Minghao a nod and turning on his heel in the direction of the kitchens.

Dinner was a private affair as Minghao sat at the formal dining room alone. After eating, he returned to his room where the maids showed him exactly where they stored everything and even packed his luggage away. He thanked them and called it a night, getting ready for and settling down into the oversized bed.

Falling asleep in a new environment was always difficult no matter how comfortable things seemed and only after tossing and turning for hours did Minghao finally manage to drift into a dreamless slumber.

The following morning, he was woken by Renate. He cleaned up, dressed, and had dinner before he decided to explore the rest of the house, starting with the upper floors. He made a mental note of which rooms he wanted to renovate before finally being given a set of keys; a skeleton key for all the interior doors, a key for the exterior doors, a key to the storage sheds and garages, and a key for the attic which coincidentally also worked for the basement.

Minghao was more than pleased to be allowed to finally inspect the basement and Klaus had been right. It was a storage place for old furniture, all coated in a thick layer of dust, with cobwebs in every corner. As Minghao worked with some of the estate workers to shift the furniture aside he discovered something no one had mentioned to him. A massive vault door.

When asked, Klaus and Renate admitted they knew of the existence of the vault but that they didn’t know what was inside it. Neither also claimed to have knowledge of a combination. Minghao stood in front of the door for hours, trying to figure out the combination, trying several different ones but none of them seemed to work.

Days passed by and he grew more and more restless at not being able to open the vault. While inspecting the library for a book to occupy his time, he found a bright blue book, a copy of On Blue Water by Edmondo de Amicis. It was placed amongst a shelf of brown bindings and looked oddly out of place. Minghao walked over, inspecting the book and carefully removing it from the shelf.

He flipped through the pages, finding blue ink circling parts in the book. Starting from the first instance, he saw the number eighty-seven. The next was forty-two, followed by seven, ninety-nine, sixty-three, and finally four. He walked over to the desk, grabbing a pen from the stand and a blank piece of paper as he wrote the numbers down, taking into consideration the arrows drawn below each number.

When he was done, he returned the book to the shelf he found it and quickly made his way downstairs to the vault door. He followed the combination, hoping it would be correct and when he heard the click, he nearly cheered in relief. He lifted the handle, releasing the mechanism holding the door shut and pulled it open. Whatever he had been prepared to find beyond the metal door, it was not this.

Inside the vast vault was a collection unlike anything he’d seen. A collection of art. As he realized what he’d stumbled upon, he shut the door quickly and headed upstairs to seek out either Klaus or Renate. He needed to make a long distance call.

When you received the call from Germany, you could hardly believe it. A colleague of yours called to explain he had suggested your name to a potential client. Someone had just unearthed a rather large collection in an estate in the Bavarian Alps and needed an expert eye to evaluate and appraise the pieces. They were willing to pay handsomely as well as fund your trip from Portugal, where you currently called home.

You jumped at the chance to set your own price and also for travel to the remote location in Germany. The trip was long, arduous and by the end, you wanted nothing more than to never step foot on a train or ship again. You arrived in Innsbruck, Austria after taking train after train in Italy and that was only after taking a ship from Lisbon through the strait of Gibraltar into the mediterranean and to the Italian capital of Rome. You still had a drive from Innsbruck to the remote estate in the mountains but a car ride where you could sleep off your trip was more than welcome.

You woke up as the sun was setting, the car climbing into the mountains and you could see the valley below was bathed in shadow from the sun setting behind the crest of the mountains behind you as the car turned, following the curve in the road. A tunnel of trees lined the road, wind starting to whip violently as the car drove on and soon the forest opened up to show a massive mansion nestled in the mountains.

It was impressive with the dark storm clouds looming overhead, the light from the sun blocked by the mountain to your left yet golden rays of light hit the clouds behind the estate, making them look ever so darker as the car pulled up next to a blue Roadmaster.

You opened your door, refusing to wait any longer. A bed inside the estate was yours and you were ready to collapse into it and sleep off your travel. The driver unpacked your things, setting them down by the back of the car as the front door opened. A stern looking older woman greeted you, introducing herself as Renate. She had one of the young men from the garage carrying your things and welcomed you to the estate, guiding you inside.

The foyer was grand and dark with white tile flooring. The door to your right was open, displaying a few coats hanging up in what you surmised was the coat room. The door to your right was shut. As the door closed behind you with a loud click, you walked further into the house. “Your rooms have been drawn for you upstairs,” Renate said, guiding you towards the stairs.

You followed her up the sweeping staircase, looking overhead and taking in the details of the intricate and massive chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Once on the landing, you followed her down one of the halls to a door which she opened for you. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” Renate explained. “Your things will be brought up to your room and the maids will unpack your things,” she explained. “I will take you to meet the owner of the house now.”

You followed her back down the hall to the stairs as a door opened, revealing an elevator and the driver bringing your luggage upstairs. You continued down the steps to the ground floor and followed Renate through another hallway to a door where she knocked before opening it. “Sir, there’s a Miss Y/N here. She’s just arrived,” she announced, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter.

Inside the room was a dark parlor decorated and furnished in the Victorian style. It was a cozy room, a massive fireplace with a roaring fire took up a great deal of wall space with built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace. Sitting in front of the fireplace was a seating area, two couches facing one another with a low table between them. Perched on one of the couches was a young man.

He had reddish brown hair, a slender build and was currently immersed in a book he held. At the mention of your name, he looked up and your breath caught in your throat when his gaze met yours. His eyes were red and orange, like fire. The pupils in the middle were vertical slits. “Perfect,” he said, snapping the book shut and setting it down on the table.

Renate gave a curtsey before exiting the room and shutting the door, leaving you alone with the man who now stood before you. He had his hands tucked into his pockets. He wore a simple black turtleneck under a thicker sweater with a v-neck. His trousers were a medium brown and made of what looked to be tweed. He wore simple brown plain toe derby shoes to complete the look. 

“Based on Renate’s introduction, I can assume you are Y/F/N Y/L/N?” he asked, a neutral expression on his face. You nodded slowly. “And you are?” you asked, walking forward, intent on shaking his hand. “Minghao,” he answered as you held out your hand. Xu Minghao,” he added, taking your hand and shaking it briefly. “I assume you know why you’re here?” he asked and you nodded once more.

“For my expertise,” you answered. “I doubt you’d  invite me here based on my good looks,” you joked. Minghao let out a chuckle, returning his hand to his pocket. “So,” you said, looking around the room. “Where is this collection?” Minghao smiled again, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch across from him. You did so as he sat back down.

“Before we get into the thick of it so to speak, I’d like to set your payment, something you agree is fair and we can sign off on,” he explained. You nodded, narrowing your eyes. “My usual rate is a twenty percent cut of the collection, were you to sell it,” you explained. “Only twenty?” Minghao asked, tilting his head. “The more priceless a collection, the more money I get,” you added.

“If your collection is only worth a million, I would get two-hundred thousand. That’s a pretty fair price for evaluating and appraising the pieces. Especially with the amount of research I end up doing,” you said as Minghao nodded along. “I understand that,” he explained, leaning back against the couch. “I think what you do is worth more,” he added. “I’m willing to go up to thirty percent.”

Your brows rose, eyes widening. “Thirty percent? Goodness, you’re generous,” you said, your lips pulling back into a smirk. Minghao mirrored your expression. “So we’re in agreement?” he asked. “Thirty percent?” You nodded in response. “Sounds reasonable to me,” you answered. “Good,” Minghao replied. “Dinner should be ready,” he added. “How about you get changed and join me?”

You returned to your room, changing out of your clothes and into something more appropriate for dinner. You returned downstairs to the foyer where you were greeted by a stern looking man you had yet to meet. “I’m Klaus,” he introduced himself with a small bow. “Dinner is being served and Mr. Xu has asked me to escort you to the dining room.”

You followed him through the halls until you reached a door which he then opened and gestured for you to enter. Inside was a large dining room with a table large enough to seat 12. Sitting at the head of the table was Minghao. When you entered, he stood up quickly as Klaus exited, shutting the door behind him. “Please,” Minghao said, gesturing to the seat adjacent to him.

You walked over, thanking him and moved to sit. Minghao was quick to pull the chair for you and move it again when you sat down before returning to his chair. You thanked him as the door behind you opened and a small service staff entered, setting a few platters down on the table in front of you and Minghao. “I asked them to make something new,” he explained as they removed the lids, showing a vast array of dishes that all looked amazing.

“Something with goat,” he added as he inspected the dishes. “Please,” he continued, gesturing to the food. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.” You thanked him, digging into the food in front of you, not realizing that you were ravenous until the food was in front of you.

Silence fell over the room as you ate, no conversation was being had until Minghao spoke up. “So you traveled from Portugal?” he asked as he cut his meat. You nodded, wiping your mouth before speaking. “Yes,” you answered. “I had an apartment just outside Lisbon.” Minghao looked up at you.

“Had?” he asked, picking up on your use of past tense. “Yes,” you answered. “I travel for work and often only rent places for as long as I’m there,” you explained. “The job in Lisbon lasted for almost a year,” you continued. “The collection I was tasked with evaluating was massive and ended up being worth a whopping eighty-seven million pounds,” you added. Minghao’s eyes widened. “Eighty-seven million pounds? Good gracious,” he said softly. “And you got twenty percent of that?”

You smiled, picking up your glass of wine. “It’s not a bad business to be in,” you explained. “It certainly isn’t,” Minghao said with a chuckle as you took a sip of wine. “My father was an appraiser,” you said suddenly. But he never made it a lucrative business like I did. We struggled a lot and he would disappear for months on end, never so much as sending a letter or calling,” you continued.

“My mother, God rest her soul, worked 12 hour shifts at the local textile factory just to make sure we had food on the table.” Minghao kept his eyes on you as you spoke. “As soon as I was able, I started working. Mainly bookkeeping and typing,” you continued. “I was able to put myself through college with a combination of working and scholarships,” you said with a smile. “I immediately made a name for myself, assessing art collections left and right in America until my first overseas assignment in London.” 

Minghao couldn’t help but smile. It was clear you took great pride in your work. Your smile, nostalgic, slowly fell as a memory came into the forefront of your mind. “That’s where I was living when the war broke out,” you said, a bitter tone in your voice. 

Minghao couldn’t help but feel a similar anger and hatred towards the war. He’d been living in China at the time, deep in a remote area and away from the cities for protection. The war hadn’t hit him but you, living in London, he could only imagine how it affected you. The destruction and danger lurking around every corner.

“I worked as an air raid warden during the first few years but in the last couple, I was promoted to evacuation officer,” you explained. “It was stressful, being in the midst of all the bombings and trying to keep my cool and help direct evacuees,” you continued. “But I learned a lot about the world and myself in those years.” Minghao took a sip of his wine. “I can only imagine what you went through,” he said softly, making you look towards him.

“I was hidden away in China,” he continued. “We didn’t see much war where we were,” he added. You smiled sadly. “China is a pretty big place,” you replied. “I’m sure places like Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong saw most of the action,” you added. Minghao nodded. “I’m sure they did. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Especially so far from home.”

You shook your head. “Home is wherever I rest my head,” you replied. “My family is all gone now. It’s just me.” Minghao felt his heart sink slightly. He knew what it was like to be alone in a sense but he still had family that was alive, he was just estranged from them so it wasn’t entirely the same feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied but you smiled, dismissing his apology. “It’s all right now,” you answered.

“Less to worry about,” you added as you picked up your utensils. “Dinner is delicious by the way,” you added, changing the subject. Though you maintained this calm, unbothered air, Minghao could see right through it. One of his many talents as a draconian descendant.

He wouldn’t push it though. It wasn’t his place. If you wanted to talk about it, you would.

The next couple days, Minghao showed you the house so you could familiarize yourself with the layout. On the third day, he finally took you to the basement, opening the vault and showing you the contents. As you entered, carefully examining the works with gloves, you cataloged things slowly.

“So,” you said, returning to Minghao who was standing outside the vault. “I have good news,” you said softly, lowering your clipboard. “Everything is labeled and there is a box full of documents, which I can only assume are the auction and purchase records. Whoever owned this collection took great care in keeping records which makes my job much easier,” you said with a smile.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Minghao replied. “Shall we eat first and then you can go over the records after?” You nodded, smiling at him. “Sounds superb.”

After a quick lunch of soup and sandwiches, you returned to work, pulling out the record boxes and going through them, matching the papers to the items. “This is incredible,” you breathed, pouring over the records. “Not only are the dates of purchases listed but the prices are also listed. This is an incredibly well documented collection.” Minghao smiled as you flipped through page after page.

It took a few days but you finally had a partial appraisal for the ceramics. “Two hundred thousand?” Minghao asked when you showed him your numbers. “Two hundred and forty-three thousand, six-hundred and fifty-seven to be precise,” you answered. Minghao let out a laugh. “And that’s just the ceramics?” he asked to which you nodded. “I expect that to be the lowest number of this collection,” you answered.

Your assumption was proven to be correct when you came back with the values for the other categories.

Minghao stood, reading over your numbers as you sipped whiskey from a crystal glass. “Are these numbers accurate?” Minghao asked. You nodded. “I’m nothing if not accurate,” you replied. “Are they lower than your projection?” you asked, suddenly worried about his response.

During your time at the estate, you’d taken a liking to Minghao, something you normally never allowed to happen with clients. It was easy to like him. He was handsome, charming, well-spoken, intelligent, and incredibly witty. He was good company during your meals and late at night when you were working on your estimates. You’d become very close with him, especially after he told you about his parentage and his nature as a half dragon. You’d never met someone like him before.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re higher,” he added. “I expected a much lower number.” You smiled at him, setting your glass down and getting up to join him, taking the paper from him. “A great number of these items date back as far as the 8th century,” you explained. 

“Like this one,” you said, pointing to an item on the list. “A silk print from eighth century China,” you said. “Or this one. A nineteenth century watercolor. There’s only one of these in existence. And this thirteenth century oil painting? The art community thought this was lost forever.”

“A lot of these items are worth even more because of the war,” you continued, handing the paper back to him and picking up your glass, downing the rest of the amber liquid. “A lot of art was lost, destroyed by the Third Reich. The Nazi stole a lot of art and we’re still trying to recover it. Most of the stolen art may never be recovered,” you continued.

Minghao held the paper in his hands but his eyes were on you. “A lot goes into appraising,” you explained. “Condition, rarity, age, authenticity, subject matter, and size are a few of the things I look at when appraising art collections. Many of these items are unique and only a few versions of them exist,” you continued, moving to the bar cart to pour yourself another drink.

“And every single one of these artists or sculptors are dead,” you continued, popping the top off the decanter and pouring more liquid into your glass. “Which makes these even more valuable. They can never be replicated by the original artist.” You placed the lid back and turned to face Minghao, holding the glass in your hand. He was still staring at you, a look of something you couldn’t place in his eyes.

He set the paper down and stalked forward slowly to where you stood until he had you caged in against the bar cart. “You know,” he said softly, eyes dipping down to look at your lips. “You’re incredibly sexy when you talk about this,” he said, tilting his head to the side. You swallowed nervously. “When I talk about art?” you asked, feeling a heat settling in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” he replied, taking your glass and drinking it in one go before setting the empty glass on the cart. “When you talk about something you’re passionate about.” He leaned in closer, lips inches from yours. You felt a shiver run up your spine, desire mixing with the sexual tension that hung in the air.

“I’m passionate about a lot of things,” you said, one of your hands moving up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Oh?” Minghao asked. “Like what?” He was teasing you now, the smirk on his face gave it away. He wanted to see how far he could take this. How far he could push you before you gave into him.

“Art, cuisine, fashion,” you said softly. “Photography, travel… sex.” 

The next moment, Minhao closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours as his hands moved to your waist. You kissed him back with as much hunger, hand grabbing him desperately. Your lips parted, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt one of his hands move down, cupping your ass and squeezing. Minghao pulled back, looking into your eyes, breathless as he spoke. “Maybe we should—”

“Take this somewhere else?” you asked, hopefully finishing his sentence. He nodded, pulling you into another kiss. “Your room or mine?” you asked as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. “Mine’s closer,” he murmured, his long fingers swiftly undoing the tie at the top of your blouse..

“Lead the way,” you said, pushing him back playfully. Minghao’s fingers instead closed around your wrist, pulling you from the bar cart and dragging you from the parlor, across the foyer to a pair of double doors you’d seen and knew was probably his room. When he parted the doors, he quickly pulled you into the room before shutting the doors.

You only got a brief look around the room before he was on you, kissing you and pulling at the buckle of your skirt belt, quickly undoing it and unzipping the skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. You stepped out of the mess of fabric, letting him pull your green blouse off and tossing it to the floor with your skirt leaving you in your lingerie.

You felt slightly self conscious under his gaze as his eyes wandered, taking in your figure. You slowly moved back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed still in your heels. Minghao moved over, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, lips trailing down your neck to your chest. He glanced up, meeting your gaze before he started kissing his way down your stomach as he slowly knelt down.

He worked slowly, removing your shoes, one by one. You glanced up, eyes widening as you caught sight of your reflection in a massive mirror that stood across from where you sat. “My, that’s quite a mirror,” you said softly as Minghao continued to remove your shoes, humming in response.

Once your shoes were dealt with, Minghao’s hand slid up your legs, undoing the clips of your garter belt and then sliding your stockings down your legs, dropping both of them on the floor with your shoes before he got back up, climbing onto the bed over you as you scooted back. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hands moving to slide your garter belt off along with your panties.

You let out a gasp as you felt two of his fingers spread your lips, finding your clit and muttering softly under his breath about how wet you felt. You tried to say something, to bite back, but your words failed you as he drew his finger in a languid circle around the sensitive nub.

You whined, hips bucking as he took his time, teasing you with long, drawn out massages. He chuckled, kissing down your chest and stomach again. He settled between your thighs, moving his fingers and pushing them into you slowly as his tongue descended onto your clit, tasting you with a groan.

Your thighs tried to close on his head but he pulled back, lightly smacking the inside of your thigh with his free hand. “Keep them open,” he growled before going right back into it. You moaned loudly, unrestrained, quickly reaching up to cover your mouth. Minghao reached up, grabbing your wrist and pulled your hand from your face.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t cover your mouth. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel.” You nodded slowly, moving your hand down to the sheets and gripping them as Minghao returned his attention to your clit, his fingers moving inside you. He pumped them at a steady pace, stopping to curl them up and making your back arch as you moaned again and again.

“That’s it,” he said softly, watching as your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “Does it feel good?” he asked. You nodded with a whimper. “Yes,” you breathed. “F-feels so good!” Minghao smirked as he continued to curl his fingers, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. “You gonna be good and come for me, sweetheart?” he asked. Your thighs had started to tremble, the tension in your body ready to snap at any moment. You whined in response.

“I need to hear you say it, bao bei,” he murmured, drawing out his motions, making them as slow as possible. “Yes!” you cried. “M’gonna cum!” Minghao resumed the same quick pace, rubbing against your walls as he drove you over the edge and your orgasm crashed down on you. You gasped, spewing out a slew of curses mixed with his name as he helped you ride out your high.

“Good,” he said softly. “Good girl.” You attempted to push his hand away when it became too much and sensing what you were silently asking for, Minghao removed his fingers, giving you a break. He cleaned his fingers, getting up from the bed. You heard him move around the room but were too exhausted to open your eyes and see what he was doing.

He returned to the foot of the bed and when nothing else happened, you finally opened your eyes and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. He held something in his hands. “I’d like to ask your permission for something,” he started.

You looked at the item in his hands and noticed it was a camera. You looked up to meet his fiery gaze. “I’d like to photograph you,” he continued. “Like this,” he added, gesturing at your posture. You pushed yourself up. “You want to photograph me naked?” you asked, slightly amused. Minghao chuckled, lowering his gaze to his camera. “No,” he replied, shaking his head before looking back up.

“I want to photograph you in the middle of sex.”

To say you were surprised was an understatement but you weren’t entirely turned off the idea. “And these would be for your eyes only?” you asked softly. Minghao nodded as he prepared the camera. “I plan on turning one of the bedrooms into a dark room,” he explained, raising the camera to look through the viewfinder and pressing the shutter button, before lowering it and smiling at you.

You leaned back, spreading your legs. “How do you want me?” you asked playfully as he raised the camera again, snapping another picture. You laughed and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and grabbing at his belt loops, pulling him closer to undo his pants, starting with his belt. You unzipped his pants, pulling them down enough to pull his cock free from the confines of his underwear.

You wasted no time in taking the head into your mouth, surprising him into letting out a groan, his head falling back, exposing his long neck. You took more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you took him further. You heard the snap of the camera and pulled back until just the tip was in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head.

You heard another snap followed by the automatic wind of the camera and kept going, each time taking him further and further into your mouth as you drew him to his full length and hardness. “Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” you heard him groan, snapping another photo. You pulled back, moving your hand up and down the shaft and looked up at him.

“You gonna fuck me already?” you asked mischievously. Minghao tossed the camera onto the bed and pulled his sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor before pulling off his shirt and adding it to the growing pile. You scooted back to the middle of the bed, removing your bra and tossing it aside as he climbed onto the bed, trailing wet kisses up your stomach, stopping to nip at the skin under your breast. His tongue brushed over your nipple, swirling around it before he continued up your chest, running his tongue over your skin.

At the junction of your neck and shoulder, he sank his teeth into your skin, making you cry out and your body jerk suddenly. He used your movement against you, moving closer and taking his cock in his hand. He guided the head to your folds, rutting against your for a moment before pushing into you, letting out a growl as your warm walls enveloped him.

He grabbed the camera from its resting spot and sat back, holding it up to snap a photograph, aiming the lens at the place where your bodies met. “Oh fuck,” you gasped as he thrusted into you, bottoming out and his cock nestling against your cervix. He snapped another picture of your nude body before tossing the camera aside once more and grabbing your hips.

He neither eased you into it or warned you but started a rough, brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward and burying his cock into your cunt repeatedly. You cried out in both shock and pleasure at the intensity at which he started right away. Your fingers curled into the sheets, thighs spreading more as he pounded into you. “You’ll cum if you go too fast,” you mused, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him throb inside you.

He chuckled, a breathy sound as his grip on you tightened. “I have more stamina than that, beibei,” he said softly. He gave you another harsh thrust, enjoying the way your breasts bounced with each snap of his hips. The room was full of the sound of skin against skin and your moans. It almost drowned out the sound of the rain outside. Almost. 

Minghao slowed his pace before pulling out of you. You protested but he simply grabbed your hand and pulled you up as he shifted behind you, pushing you on to your hands and knees as he re-entered you from behind. You moaned, head dropping as he grabbed your hips, resuming that same merciless pace only now he was hitting even deeper.

“Look up,” he murmured in your ear. You did as he said, raising your head until you met the gaze of your own reflection. “Oh shit,” you gasped, walls clenching around him. He grabbed your chin, pressing his chest against your back as he leaned over you. “I want you to watch me fuck you,” he growled into your ear. “Watch yourself cum.” You moaned but maintained eye contact with him through the mirror. In the darkness of the room, his eyes glowed and he seemed even more dragon-like than before.

You pushed back, meeting his hips and thrusts with as much force as you could muster but you were getting weaker with each snap of his hips against your ass. His cock seemed to swell inside you or maybe it was your walls clamping down and not wanting to let go but he filled you so deliciously and with each rut, you were pushed closer and closer to your climax.

“That’s it,” Minghao said, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and let go.” His freehand moved from your hip to between your thighs, working your clit in time with his thrusts as he propelled you over the edge. You came with a scream as a loud clap of thunder shook the house and the very mountain it stood on.

Minghao fucked you through it, chasing his own high as he finally released inside you, painting your walls in his hot thick cum. There was more of it than you could initially comprehend, filling your walls and no doubt every crevice of your womb. Pregnancy was the last thing on your mind and you moaned, pushing back onto him, milking him for every bit of cum he had.

“Careful sweetheart,” Minghao purred into your ear, moving his hand to your throat and holding it firmly but not squeezing. “We have all night,” he continued.  “I’m not done with you just yet.

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[amyzworldds]

안녕~ could you write about the 14th member seventeen currently: like she decided to prank so to speak to scare the members for laughing at her and decided to be closed and serious for a while and the members were really scared. If you like this idea, then thanks in advance💕💕

Title: Maknae Mutiny

Masterlist

When Seventeen’s lively maknae yn is shut down by her exhausted members and they overlook her missing cardboard standee, she retaliates with a silent treatment, ignoring them while laughing with others. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor, with a lil bit of angst

Seventeen had been running on fumes for weeks. Music shows, fan signs, late-night rehearsals—their comeback buzz had turned into a relentless grind, and all 14 members were begging for silence and sleep. The dorm, usually a circus of noise thanks to yn’s antics, felt like a zombie den. Hoshi had fallen asleep mid-sentence yesterday, Seungkwan’s sass was down to a mumble, and even DK’s eternal sunshine had dimmed to a flicker. They just wanted peace. But yn? yn was a different beast.

Sure, she was tired—her under-eye bags could carry groceries—but her energy was a renewable resource. She saw her exhausted members slumped on the living room couches, looking like deflated balloons, and thought, I’ve got this. I’ll cheer them up! So, after a grueling practice day, she burst into the dorm, arms flailing, voice at full volume, ready to be their human espresso shot.

“Guyss! You won’t believe what I saw on the way home!” she chirped, pacing the room like a caffeinated squirrel. “This guy on the subway was wearing socks with sandals—socks with sandals!—and I swear he was staring at me like I stole his lunch! I almost laughed so hard I fell off my seat, but then I remembered I’m an idol now, so I just smirked like a pro. Oh, and then there was this dog—huge, fluffy, looked like Mingyu oppa if he grew fur—”

Mingyu, sprawled on the couch with a pillow over his face, groaned, “Yn, please… not now…”

But she didn’t hear him, too caught up in her one-woman comedy show. “And then! Then! I saw this ad for a new ramen flavor—spicy cheese, can you imagine? We should try it! I bet it’d wake us all up! Oh, and speaking of waking up, last night I dreamed I was a superhero, but my power was turning into a giant pancake—don’t laugh, it’s serious! I was flipping through the sky—”

The members nodded tiredly, eyes glazed over. Seungcheol rubbed his temples, Jeonghan stared at the ceiling like he was praying for teleportation, and DK managed a weak, “That’s… nice, yn-ah…” Hoshi was already half-asleep, muttering, “Pancake… sky… huh?”

She kept going, oblivious. “So anyway, I was thinking we could do a tiktok where I’m the pancake superhero and you guys are, like, my syrup squad! It’d be hilarious! Imagine Woozi oppa with a syrup gun—”

“Yn,” Woozi cut in, his voice sharp and exhausted. He was slumped in an armchair, looking like he’d aged 10 years in a day. “Can you stop? Please? We’re all dead tired. We just want to rest, and your nonstop rambling isn’t helping. At all.”

The room went still. Yn blinked, mid-gesture, her mouth open. “Oh… uh…”

“He’s right,” Seungkwan mumbled, dragging himself up. “I love you, yn-ah, but I can’t hear about pancake superheroes right now. I need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Joshua added, yawning. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“Quiet sounds good,” Vernon agreed, already shuffling toward his room.

One by one, the members chimed in—“Yeah, yn, too tired,” “Night, kid,” “Love the energy, but no”—and peeled off to their rooms, leaving yn standing there, deflated. Hoshi patted her head as he passed, muttering, “Funny story… tell it later…” and then he was gone too. Even Dino, her fellow maknae, just gave her a sleepy wave and disappeared.

Yn pouted, arms crossed. “Fine. Whatever. I was just trying to help,” she muttered. She’d been tired too, but she’d pushed through to lift their spirits. Now she felt like a clown who’d bombed her set. Shuffling to her room, she flopped onto her bed, still in her hoodie. “They’re just tired,” she told herself, yawning. “I said sorry last night when I bumped into Jeonghan oppa on my way out… they’ll say sorry tomorrow. We’re cool.” With that, she conked out, dreaming of pancake revenge.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Morning came, and the dorm buzzed with renewed energy. The members were back to their loud selves—DK belting a random ballad in the shower, Mingyu clanging pots in the kitchen, Seungkwan arguing with Vernon over cereal brands. Yn stumbled out, expecting a chorus of “Sorry, yn-ah!” and maybe a hug or two. Instead, they acted like nothing happened.

“Morning, yn!” Seungcheol called, sipping coffee. “You sleep okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” she said, waiting. No apology. Nothing.

“Pancakes today!” Mingyu announced, flipping one in the air. “Want some?”

She stared at him. “Sure,” she mumbled, but her pout deepened. No “sorry” from him either? Hoshi bounded in, stealing a pancake bite, and grinned at her. “Hey, you’re quiet today! No subway stories?”

“Nope,” she said flatly, glaring. Still no apology. The day dragged on—practice, lunch, more practice—and not one member acknowledged last night. By nightfall, yn was fuming. They want quiet? Oh, I’ll give them quiet. Dead serious quiet. Revenge quiet.

She stormed to the front door, where her life-sized cardboard cutout from a recent photoshoot stood guard. “You’re coming with me,” she muttered, dragging it to her room. Slamming the door, she plopped it by her bed and hatched her plan. “They think I’m too loud? Fine. I’ll be so serious they’ll beg me to laugh. I won’t crack—not a giggle, not a smirk. My soul might die laughing inside, but my face? Stone.” She cackled internally, imagining their freaked-out faces, then spent the night in front of her mirror, practicing her “serious idol” stare—lips tight, eyes piercing, zero nonsense.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the dorm was a graveyard. No blasting audios from yn’s room, no off-key singing, no clattering pans as she danced around the kitchen making breakfast. The members shuffled out, bleary-eyed, expecting chaos. Instead, they found… nothing. Yn emerged from her room, pancake plate in hand—one pancake, just for her. She sat at the table, eating silently, staring straight ahead.

“Uh… morning, yn-ah,” DK tried, flashing his sunshine smile. “No music today?”

She chewed, swallowed, and looked at him dead-on. “No.” Her voice was flat, her face a mask. DK blinked, unnerved.

At practice, it got weirder. Yn was a ghost—quiet, focused, no chatter. Hoshi, desperate to break the tension, tried his usual antics. “Hey, yn-ah, watch this!” He did a goofy tiger impression, complete with a roar and claw hands. Normally, she’d be rolling on the floor. This time? She turned, stared at him with a blank, serious gaze, and said, “Cool.” Hoshi shivered, whispering to Dino, “She’s scaring me, man. That’s not normal.”

“She’s not even rolling her eyes,” Dino hissed back. “She always rolls her eyes when she’s mad! This is… worse.”

Seungkwan tried next, sidling up with a grin. “Yn-ah, I saw this hilarious meme—guy trips into a fountain, total disaster. Funny, right?”

She fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Sure.” No laugh, no snort, nothing. Seungkwan gulped. “Uh… okay, never mind.”

Even Jeonghan, the master of chaos, couldn’t crack her. “Yn-ie,” he cooed, leaning in with his sly smile, “you’re so quiet today. Did Hoshi eat your snacks again?”

“No,” she said, voice monotone, eyes boring into him. “I’m fine.” Jeonghan froze, then backed away, muttering, “That’s… terrifying.”

By lunchtime, the members were whispering in a huddle. “She’s not mad—she’d be yelling if she was,” Joshua said, frowning. “She’s just… serious. It’s creepy.”

That night, yb sat in her room, smirking internally as she ate gummy worms—alone. Her cardboard cutout loomed in the corner, a silent ally in her war of quiet. She heard the members outside, their voices hushed and panicked—“She didn’t laugh at my joke!” “She stared at me like I was a ghost!”—and fought the urge to cackle. They want quiet? They’ve got it. Let’s see how long they last.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged on, and yn’s “serious mode” had morphed into a full-blown vendetta. Seventeen dorm, once a chaotic symphony of laughter and YN’s wild energy, was now a haunted house of awkward silence. She’d doubled down on her quiet revenge, and it was working—too well. The members tiptoed around her, whispering theories, while yn stewed in her room, her fury fueled by one glaring fact: no one had noticed her missing cardboard standee. That thing had been grinning by the front door for months—her self-proclaimed “dorm guardian”—and now it was gone, tucked away in her room, and not a single member had said a word. “They don’t even care,” she muttered to herself, glaring at her reflection. “Fine. They won’t notice me either. I’m a ghost now.”

Her plan was simple but savage: no eye contact, no talking, total isolation. She’d hide in her room forever, emerging only for practice, where she’d be a silent, creepy shell of her usual self. At rehearsals, she moved like a robot—perfect steps, zero chatter.

Back at the dorm, she’d bolt to her room the second they arrived, locking the door before anyone could blink. “Yn-ah, wait—” Seungcheol tried once, but the click of her lock cut him off. She’d sit inside, eating snacks she’d hoarded (no sharing this time), talking to herself in a furious whisper. “They don’t even miss my standee! It’s been weeks! That thing smiled at them every day—welcomed them home—and they’re just like, ‘Oh, cool, whatever.’ Useless members! And still no sorry? Wow, I’m invisible now, huh? Well, good! I’ll stay invisible!”

Weeks passed, and the members were losing it. The dorm felt cursed. No morning chaos—no yn blasting random songs, no kitchen dance parties while she burned toast for everyone. She’d emerge for meals, grab her plate, and vanish, all without a word or glance. At practice, she was a silent specter, her deadpan stare chilling the room. Hoshi tried cracking a joke—“Hey, yn-ah, I tripped over Mingyu’s shoe today, total tiger fail!”—and she just looked at him, unblinking, like he was a stranger. He yelped, hiding behind DK. “She’s possessed! That’s not her!”

“She’s creeping me out,” Seungkwan whispered, clutching Jeonghan’s arm. “She didn’t even laugh when I spilled water on Vernon yesterday. She just… stared. Like a serial killer!”

“Maybe she’s mad?” Joshua ventured, frowning. “But why? We didn’t do anything… right?”

“Last week was rough,” Woozi muttered, guilt gnawing at him. “I snapped at her about the rambling. We all kinda piled on. But she’s been quiet for weeks. This is next-level.”

Hoshi, ever the drama king, paced the living room, hands flailing. “Guys, hear me out—what if she’s been kidnapped? Like, the real yn’s gone, and this is a fake yn! Think about it! She’s too quiet, too serious—it’s not natural! Maybe aliens swapped her, or someone has her locked in a basement, and this is a robot clone!”

“Hoshi, calm down,” Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his temples. “She’s not kidnapped. She’s just… mad. Really mad.”

“Then why won’t she yell at us?!” Hoshi wailed. “She’s not even rolling her eyes! She always rolls her eyes when she’s mad! This is worse—she’s like a ghost haunting us!”

“I miss her yelling,” DK admitted, pouting. “She didn’t even react when I sang off-key yesterday. Just… stared. I almost cried.”

Theories flew—Jeonghan suggested she was pranking them, Vernon guessed she’d joined a silent cult, and Seungkwan swore she was plotting their demise. But no one could crack it. Yn’s silence was a weapon, and she wielded it like a pro, all while seething in her room. “They don’t deserve my noise,” she muttered, munching gummy worms. “Or my standee. Or me. Let’s see how long they last without their sunshine maknae.”

Then, one fateful evening, Dino stumbled into the breakthrough. He was shuffling through the dorm, half-asleep, looking for his lost sock by the front door. “Where’s that stupid—huh?” He paused, blinking at the empty spot where yn’s cardboard standee used to stand. “Wait… where’s her cutout thingy?” He turned, wide-eyed, to the members sprawled in the living room. “Hyung… her standee’s gone!”

Thirteen heads snapped toward him. Silence. Then chaos.

“What do you mean, gone?!” Seungcheol barked, jumping up.

“It’s not there!” Dino flailed, pointing. “It’s been by the door forever, and now it’s… not!”

“Oh no,” Jeonghan breathed, eyes widening. “She took it. That’s why she’s mad!”

“She’s been mad for weeks, and we didn’t notice that?!” Mingyu yelped, clutching his hair. “We’re the worst, ever!”

Hoshi gasped, clutching DK. “See?! I told you! The real yn’s gone, and this is proof! The standee was her soul, and now it’s missing, and we’re stuck with a fake—”

“Shut up, Hoshi,” Woozi snapped, but his voice wavered. “She’s not kidnapped. She’s just… really, really pissed. And we missed it.”

Seungkwan groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “We didn’t even notice her standee was gone? That thing’s been staring at us for months! No wonder she’s haunting us!”

“What do we do?” Vernon asked, looking spooked. “She’s not talking, not laughing—she’s like a statue. I’m scared to knock on her door.”

“We’ve gotta fix this,” Seungcheol said, pacing. “She’s mad about last time and the standee. We’ve been idiots.”

Inside her room, YN smirked, overhearing their panic through the thin walls. “Finally,” she whispered to herself, patting her hidden standee. “They noticed. Too late. Silent yn stays.” She popped another gummy worm in her mouth, plotting her next move, while the members outside scrambled like headless chickens, terrified of their own maknae.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The practice room had become a bizarre battleground. After weeks of yn’s eerie silence—her deadpan stares and locked-door standoffs—the members were on edge, jumping at shadows and whispering theories about her missing standee. They’d hoped practice would be a reset, a chance to figure out how to crack her icy facade. But when they walked in, they were hit with a twist that left them reeling.

Yn was laughing. Full-on, belly-clutching, snorting laughter, chatting up the backup dancers like she’d never been mad a day in her life. “No, seriously!” she cackled, leaning on one dancer’s shoulder. “He tripped over his own feet mid-spin—thought he was gonna take out the whole line! I couldn’t breathe!” The dancers roared, one clapping her on the back as she doubled over, wiping tears. She looked like the old yn—wild, loud, unstoppable. But here’s the kicker: she wasn’t talking to them. Not a word, not a glance. She danced around the members like they were invisible, her giggles reserved for everyone but her members.

The members stood frozen, mid-stretch, jaws dropped. “What… is happening?” Minghao whispered, clutching Wonwoo’s arm. “She was a statue yesterday—now she’s laughing? With the dancers?!”

“Maybe she’s over it?” Joshua said, hopeful, though his voice shook. “She’s back to normal, right?”

“Normal for them, not us,”Woozi muttered, eyes narrowing. “She’s still ignoring us. Look—she won’t even turn this way.”

Hoshi shivered, hugging himself. “It’s like she’s possessed again! Happy with everyone else, but we’re ghosts to her! I’m telling you, the standee’s cursed us!”

Jun, ever the optimist, saw an opening. “Nah, she’s fine now! See? Laughing, talking—she’s good! I’ll fix this.” He plastered on a grin, letting out a loud, exaggerated laugh—“HA! HA! HA! That’s hilarious, yn-ah!”—and strutted toward her and the dancers, arms open like he was joining the party.

The room went dead silent. Yn stopped mid-laugh, her face snapping into that blank, serious mask faster than a light switch. The dancers froze, awkward, as she straightened up, brushed past Jun without a glance, and marched to the far corner where one of their managers sat scrolling his phone. “Hey, manager nim!” shechirped, plopping beside him. “You should’ve seen this one time Hoshi oppa tried to do a flip and landed on his face— funniest thing ever!” She cackled again, leaning into the manager as he chuckled, oblivious to the stunned members behind her.

Jun stood there, mid-laugh, arms still outstretched, looking like a rejected comedian. “Uh… what just happened?” he squeaked, turning to the others.

“She shut down the second you got close,” Jeonghan said, smirking despite the tension. “That’s some next-level avoidance.”

“She’s laughing with the manager now?!” Mingyu yelped, clutching his hair. “She won’t even look at us, but she’s cracking up over there? This is torture!”

Seungcheol rubbed his temples, groaning. “She’s doing this on purpose. She’s fine with everyone else—just not us. We’re screwed.”

The members huddled, whispering like spooked detectives. “She’s playing us,” Vernon said, wide-eyed. “Happy yn for them, ghost yn for us. It’s creepy as hell.”

“I miss her yelling at me,” Dino muttered, pouting. “She didn’t even react when I tripped earlier. Just… stared.”

Across the room, the manager—Manager Kim, a chill guy who’d seen it all—noticed yn’s selective chatter. “Hey, yn-ah,” he said, still chuckling, “what’s up with you and the boys? You’re all buddy-buddy with me and the dancers, but you’re acting like the members don’t exist. What’s the deal?”

Yn crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks like a kid tattling on her siblings. “They’re jerks! Weeks ago, I was trying to cheer them up ‘cause they were all tired and grumpy, telling funny stories and stuff, and they just shut me down! Woozi oppa said my rambling wasn’t helping, and then they all ganged up—‘We’re tired, yn,’ ‘Go away, yn’—and left me standing there like an idiot! I said sorry that night, but they never said it back! And then—get this—they didn’t even notice my standee was gone! That thing’s been by the door for months, smiling sweetly at them, and they didn’t care it’s missing! So, fine, they want quiet? They don’t notice me? I’m done with them!”

Manager Kim threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his phone. “Oh, that’s gold! You’re giving them the silent treatment and the standee treatment? They deserve it, kid. Keep ‘em sweating—they’ll crack eventually.”

“Exactly!” Yn grinned, smug. “They don’t get my sunshine ‘til they grovel.”

The members, eavesdropping from across the room, paled. “She told him everything,” Seungkwan hissed. “And he’s on her side?!”

“We’re doomed,” Joshua whispered. “She’s got backup now.”

DK, the group’s emotional glue, couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t do this!” he wailed, breaking from the huddle. He bolted across the room, dropped to his knees in front of yn, and fake-cried into his hands. “Yn-ah, I’m so sorry! We were jerks—we didn’t mean it! I miss you so much—your laugh, your chaos, your stupid standee! Please forgive us!”

Yn blinked down at him, her serious mask flickering but holding. Manager Kim snorted, pulling out his phone to record. “This is going on the company group chat,” he muttered, grinning.

DK’s dramatics broke the dam. Hoshi dove in next, sliding on his knees beside DK. “Yn-ie, I’m sorry! I miss your yelling when I mess up choreo! I even miss your creepy standee staring at me! Don’t hate us!”

Mingyu joined, flopping onto the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice the standee! I’m terrible—forgive me! I’ll cook you pancakes every day!”

One by one, they piled on. Dino knelt, clasping his hands. “I’m sorry, yn-ah! You’re my maknae twin—I can’t live like this!” Seungkwan wailed, “I miss your sass—please talk to me!” Even Woozi, grumbling, shuffled over and muttered, “Sorry I snapped. You were just… loud. I was tired. My bad.”

Seungcheol, last to cave, sighed and knelt too. “We’re sorry, yn. We were idiots. We miss you—and yeah, the standee too. Come back to us.”

The practice room was a circus—13 grown men on their knees, fake-sobbing and pleading, while the dancers snickered and Manager Kim filmed, cackling, “This is blackmail material for years!” yn sat there, arms crossed, fighting a smirk. Inside, her soul was howling with laughter—they looked ridiculous, and she’d won. But her face? Still serious.

“Yn-ah, please!” DK begged, grabbing her hand. “We’ll put the standee back! We’ll worship it! Just stop this creepy silent thing!”

She stared at him, then at the pile of groveling members, and finally cracked a tiny, smug grin. “Fine,” she said, voice flat but eyes twinkling. “But the standee’s staying in my room ‘til I say so. And you’re all on probation. One more slip, and I’m quiet again.”

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, scrambling up, relieved but still spooked.

Manager Kim pocketed his phone, grinning. “Good job, yn. You’ve got ‘em trained now.”

As practice resumed, the members kept sneaking glances at her, half-expecting another silent ambush. Yn laughed with the dancers again, tossing a casual, “Nice try,” over her shoulder. The war was over—for now—but the dorm’s chaos queen had proven she could rule with silence as much as noise.

[scoupsakakitty]

Seungcheol Approved | Seventeen x 14Th Member | fluff

The members of Seventeen were enjoying a quiet break in their hotel room after a long day of rehearsals for their Nana Tour. Some were lounging on the couch, others were scrolling through their phones or snacking. The room was peaceful until the door opened, and Y/N walked in.

For a brief moment, everything fell silent.

Joshua stared at her, eyes wide. “Is that…?”

“What did you do?” Jeonghan squinted, processing the sight of her new hair.

Y/N stood confidently in the doorway, her hair now a striking black-and-white blend, styled perfectly in the “Oreo” style she’d seen on Chaewon. The change was bold and dramatic, but she seemed to own it.

She didn’t even flinch at their reaction.

“You look like an Oreo,” Dino said, barely holding in his laughter.

The rest of the members were in shock.

“Who gave you permission to do that?” Hoshi asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I called Seungcheol, and he said it was fine.”

The room erupted in confusion.

“What?” DK exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “When did you call him? And why didn’t you ask us first?”

“Yeah, right,” Mingyu laughed. “Seungcheol wouldn’t just let this happen without a proper meeting or something.”

Y/N’s grin widened. “I did call him. He’s the alpha, right? His word is law.”

The members were still processing when suddenly, Joshua pulled out his phone. “Wait. He’s awake, right? Let’s just double-check with him.”

The rest of the group gathered around as Joshua dialed Seungcheol’s number. The phone rang a few times before Seungcheol picked up.

“Seungcheol,” Joshua started, “quick question: did you really say Y/N could do this?”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, then Seungcheol’s voice came through, amused. “What? Did Y/N dye her hair or something?”

Y/N grinned proudly, holding up her hair for everyone to see.

“Well, technically, I didn’t say she couldn’t. She’s a grown adult, isn’t she?” Seungcheol’s voice was laced with teasing. “But honestly, I don’t get why you’re all making a fuss. If she called me and I said it was fine, then it’s fine.”

There was another pause. The room collectively groaned.

“I swear, Y/N gets away with everything,” Mingyu muttered, shaking his head.

The group turned to Y/N, who stood there grinning like she had just won a battle. “See? Permission granted.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Hoshi rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. “You’re lucky Seungcheol isn’t here to deal with you directly.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll just send me a new set of rules once we get back to Korea,” Y/N teased, flipping her hair.

“I still don’t understand,” Woozi sighed, rubbing his temples. “But whatever, I guess you’re allowed to be an exception.”

Seungcheol’s voice came through again, “Just remember, if it’s awful, I’m the one who has to take the blame for not stopping you.”

Y/N smiled even wider, “No worries, I’ve got this. It looks great, right?”

The members exchanged skeptical glances, but deep down, they knew better than to argue with Y/N’s boldness. It was clear she had gotten exactly what she wanted.

————————————————————————————-

@multiplums 🩵

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: Thinking about: Hairdresser X.MH by @nothoughtsjustfic

Thinking about: Hairdresser X.MH

💭Who: Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x reader 💭What: Fluff. Friends to lovers. Co-workers. Hairdresser Minghao. Hairdresser reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: None! 💭Summary:“For months now, you’ve pined after your co-worker and friend, Xu Minghao. You haven’t let yourself even entertain the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated in fear of getting your heart broken.

But, in the midst of bleaching your hair for you one evening, Minghao shows you that your heart will always be safe in his gentle hands.”

Masterlist

A/N – Thank you to my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for helping me with the summary! 💗

“What are you doing?” The amused tone of your co-worker and friend makes you look over at him where he’s sweeping up from his last client, and away from the mirror you’d been staring into while holding various shades of blonde extensions up against your face.

“I think I want to go blonde,” you inform.

“Oh, really?” He looks at your natural hair in surprise. “I always assumed you don’t like to colour your own hair, you’re the only one of us who has their natural colour,” he muses, prompting you to look over the other hairdressers and stylists around the salon.

Although you logically know they all have dyed hair, even in natural colours, because you’ve probably dyed and bleached all of their hair at least once over the past few years, it hasn’t really clicked until Minghao points it out that you are genuinely the only one without coloured hair. Even Minghao as the newest member of the team, has streaks of various colours mixed in with his otherwise dark and shaggy hair, some of which you had put in only days ago with left over dye from a client, turning the last of his blond streaks a royal purple.

“I used to when I was a teen, but it got messed up so much that I don’t trust people to touch it anymore,” you explain with a shrug and turn back to the mirror to try and decide which shade you like best. “I know everyone here is incredible at their jobs and I’d highly recommend them all, but I just can’t bring myself to let them near my hair with scissors, let alone dye.”

“Ah, so offering to stay behind with you today to bleach it for you is pointless,” he realises with a chuckle and moves to empty the dustpan and wash his hands.

When he returns, you’re looking between two different extensions in your hands. He plucks them both up and turns you to him so that he can hold them either side of your face consideringly. You can only stare at his focused features and hope that your awe for this beautiful, kind hearted and endlessly talented man isn’t obvious on your expression.

From the very first moment Minghao was introduced to you as the newest member of the team months back, you were taken. At first it was his natural beauty and uniquely elegant, yet artistic style, paired with his shy smiles that pulled you in. But as you got to know him and became friends, you realised that everything about this man is utterly endearing, and you would love to have the chance to know him romantically too. Yet, you don’t want to risk ruining your working and platonic relationship with him that you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself.

“This one,” he decides, lifting the blonde hairs in his right hand higher, making you look at it instead of him. Silently, you take the extension and turn back to the mirror to hold it up. “I think you’ll look stunning in that shade.”

“Yeah?” He hums in confirmation. “This one it is,”  you agree and notice the way he smiles because you approve his choice. “So uh, you don’t have anything to do after work?” You wonder.

“Hm?”

“You said you’ll stay to do it for me?” You turn just enough to peer at him and notice his expression turn mildly surprised. “I’d like that; I think I’d really fuck up if I tried to do the back myself.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’d love to have the honour,” he smiles softly. “We’ll do the patch and strand test now and bleach after work?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Hao.”

“Of course, any time.”

Which leads to a few hours later when everyone has gone home and the salon is closed for customers, the keys left with the pair of you today, Minghao pats the chair at his station invitingly, prompting you to sit and allow him to put the cape in his hands around your shoulders securely to protect your clothes.

He had finished with his last client with enough time to clean up his station and prepare everything needed to bleach your hair, including all of the foils and the bleach itself so it’s all set up neatly in wait for this moment.

“Sure about this?” He checks for the last time when he’s finished sectioning your hair and pulled on his gloves to get started.

“I trust you,” you assure, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. Minghao’s expression softens slightly, and his eyes do that tender thing they do sometimes, which never fails to make your heart race.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and brushes his hand over your shoulder before he grabs the bleach and gets started diligently painting it onto your hair.

As Minghao works, the two of you talk about everything and anything that comes to mind; art, movies, music, family, friends, work, food, nothing is out of bounds for you two but curiously, one thing Minghao never asks about, nor mentions, is romance.

You know he’s single thanks to co-workers having been excited to learn as much when he started, and they still regularly seem to be updated on his lack of love life, but he hasn’t once mentioned it to you or asked about your own. You can’t tell if he’s purposely not talking about it or if he’s just following your lead and not bringing it up.

Honestly, you’re kind of glad either way because you dread to think of the day he is no longer single, and you have to learn that someone else has his attention.

Sometimes, you think about just biting the bullet and asking him to get dinner with you after work as a date, not just as co-workers and friends. But every time you approach him to ask, you lose all your nerve and fail to make the distinction, so you end up sitting with him in the same restaurant as usual with your heart aching. Though his sole attention and bright smiles on you always picks you back up before dessert is over, so it’s not a complete loss. At least you still have him by your side as a dear friend, something you hope will remain for a long time.

By the time Minghao is putting the last foil in and moving around to stand in front of you with his careful gaze glued to the crazy silver mess atop your head, the conversation has only just ceased, to be replaced with a comfortable quiet.

It always amazes you that Minghao is a man of few words with his clients, he’ll respond to them politely and give smiles, but his clients know he’s not the one to go to if they want someone to listen to then blather away the whole time or gain a reciprocated line of conversation with.

Minghao is quiet and efficient, professional yet still friendly.

Yet he has barely stopped talking since he first started on your hair and not even just to respond. He’s started new topics, made jokes, and even walked away at one point from laughing so hard that he had to lean against the chair of the next station until he gained his composure, only to return with sweet giggles spilling from his lips.

It makes you feel beyond privileged to see the man like this; so open and bright when he’s always careful with his reactions and sparse words with all of your shared colleagues. Even outside of work when you go for staff meals and drinks out, Minghao tends to remain content in his calm bubble while watching everyone else act like fools with a little smile on his face. You would assume he’s just naturally a listener in all regards, but with you he instigates and talks, laughs, and playfully nudges you when you make jokes or tease him.

If you weren’t already so infatuated with the man, you’d think he likes you, but you refuse to entertain that thought and get your hopes up. You think it would crush you too much to have your heart broken by Minghao, even if you know he would be nothing but gentle with it all the same. He’d hand your shattered heart back in delicate, tender hands, and that would hurt even more than the rejection.

Sometimes you wish Minghao isn’t such a kind person, sometimes you wish he’d tell you to stop talking or turn down dinner invites, but he never does. He always turns to you to listen patiently and accepts with a smile on his pretty face. It both lifts you up into the clouds and drags you deeper into the aching abyss of your own feelings for him.

“There,” he declares once he leans back, eyes still darting over your head to check everything is correct even as he removes his gloves to toss onto the station behind him. “Now, we wait.”

“Now we wait,” you agree with a nod, causing the foils to bob above you, making Minghao giggle. “Don’t laugh,” you complain, gently nudging his leg with your foot in something so weak it can’t even be considered a scolding kick. He smiles at you brighter. “You should count yourself lucky to be here with me like this, I wouldn’t let just anyone make me look this insane.”

“I always count myself lucky when I’m with you,” he retorts simply and turns to tidy up as if he hasn’t just caused your heart to body-slam against your ribs erratically.

You can only watch, struck silent by his words, as he moves around to clean up, disappearing into the backroom to wash everything he needs to and put away items.

When he returns he starts to talk, though about what you’re not really sure, at least not actively because a part of you is always tuned in to Minghao enough to understand the topic and carry on the conversation naturally, as if a part of you isn’t still having a breakdown over his blasé words.

Minghao perches on the table of his station in front of you as you talk despite there being a chair a few metres on your left at the next station. His feet are on the floor pretty much underneath where your own are propped on the bar of the chair.

There’s not that much space between you right now so you’re glad he didn’t sit in the next chair, while also wishing he had so that your heart would stop racing with nervous hope.

As the topic ends, Minghao doesn’t start another one and you don’t have the brain capacity to even attempt to either. He hasn’t looked away from you once and there’s something contemplative in his eyes that doesn’t match his relaxed expression.

Then, only seconds after quiet envelops you both, Minghao leans forward, one hand lifting from where it’s holding the edge of the desk beside him so that he can gently cup your cheek a second before his lips touch yours.

You’re too shocked to respond, mind whirling and screaming as your heart tries to break free of the confinements of your chest to jump into his elegant hands to make a home there in his peaceful touch.

When Minghao pulls back after only a few seconds of soft pressure, he gives you small, apologetic smile and settles back against the table while both hands grip the edge. “Sorry, I just…I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time and couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

“Y-you have?” He nods and then yelps when you reach out to hit his arm.

“Ow! I said sorry!” He defends and flails to grab your hands before you can whack him again, even if you are barely adding any sting to your touch, not wanting to hurt him and he knows that, he has to know that.

“Why did you have to pick now when I look like this?!” You exclaim and free one hand from his hold to motion to your hair.

He glances up at the foils then looks at you. “I don’t understand.”

“I look crazy, Minghao! Of all the times you could kiss me, you chose this to be the first? Now this is what we’re both going to think of every time our first kiss comes up! Couldn’t you have chosen a time when I look decent?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he declares flatly then leans over to press a quick peck to your lips again. “You’re always beautiful to me,” his lips brush against yours as he speaks.

“Hao…” You reach up to touch your fingers to his jaw gently. “Do you mean that?”

“When have I ever said something I don’t mean?”

“I…Good point,” you concede then tilt your chin up the miniscule distance needed to kiss him. You feel his lips turn up into a smile before he kisses you back.

“I want to clarify,” he says when he’s leaning against the table again, but he’s slouched more now so that he can comfortably hold your hand with your fingers laced together. “I really like you and I would like to date you, not just kiss. But I’d of course like to do that too, a lot, if possible.”

“Very possible,” you confirm with an emphatic nod that makes him giggle as the foils flop around your head comically. “I’ve been trying to ask this for so long now but tonight, please get dinner with me, as a date, not just friends.”

Minghao doesn’t answer at first, but he does light up with joy before he sweeps back in to kiss you happily, hands cupping your cheeks to brush his thumbs over your skin adoringly.

After many kisses, Minghao finally agrees to get dinner as your first date before you kiss, and kiss until he has to wash the bleach from your hair.

Then you kiss some more and barely make it to the restaurant in time to eat. You don’t mind not being able to order dessert when Minghao pulls you in close once outside of the restaurant and out of the way, to slot his lips adoringly against yours.

You’d pick kissing this beautiful man over dessert any day and you’re finally understanding that the feeling, your feelings, are entirely mutual.

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Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[cheolieji]

could i request a 14th member!reader where she likes jun and all the members are watching his cdrama, exclusive fairytale, and she starts to get annoyed/jealous cos of the kissing scenes and then they all start to notice?

the drama - wen junhui

wc: 872

pairing: 14thmember!reader x jun

Idol au

genre: fluff

guide for requesting on my page, check [17] (pink highlighted) for my yes and no's

A/N: feel free to request guyss im currently more into writing short fics and drabbles rather than reaction

and I see a lot of you guys like 14th member fics so of course I'm open to that too!!

You’re squished between Seungkwan and Joshua on the couch, and honestly, you’re trying real hard not to let your eye twitch.

The living room is packed. Everyone’s here. Couch is full, the floor’s full, there are two guys in beanbags, and even more just hanging off armrests or leaning on walls. All eyes are glued to the TV. It’s Exclusive Fairytale night, apparently.

Jun’s drama.

It started out fine. You were even excited at first. Jun acting all cool and charming, pulling off the main lead thing like a pro. You’d teased him about it too. Told him he looked cheesy in the trailer and then totally took it back when the first episode dropped.

But now you’re three kisses deep and dangerously close to losing your mind.

Jun’s on the screen with his drama girlfriend. Her hands are in his hair. His face is doing that soft, dreamy thing where he tilts his head and stares at her like she’s the only person in the world. And then, yeah. He leans in. Again.

Someone whistles.

“Okay,” Vernon says. “He’s way too good at this.”

“Bro,” Minghao adds from the floor. “That’s not acting. That’s a lifestyle.”

Jun just laughs quietly like it’s no big deal. “Relax. It’s just a scene.”

You scoff. You don’t mean to. It just slips out, louder than you expect.

Every single head turns toward you.

Seungkwan grins like it’s Christmas morning. “Hmm? Something to say, Y/N?”

You try to play it off. “What? No. I’m just saying, it’s kinda dramatic, don’t you think? Like... she’s doing too much. All that hand-in-his-hair stuff? A little extra.”

Wonwoo looks at you over the top of his glasses. “That’s literally how people kiss in dramas.”

“Not all of them,” you argue, even though you know you’re losing this fast.

“Sounds like someone’s pressed,” Hoshi says, grinning.

“I’m not pressed,” you say, crossing your arms.

Joshua laughs. “You kind of sound pressed.”

“I’m not,” you say again, probably too fast.

Mingyu sits up a little, eyes lighting up. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

Your mouth opens and closes. “Of what?”

DK puts his hand on his heart like he’s feeling emotional. “Of Jun getting all this romantic action while you’re over here fighting for your life?”

You grab the nearest pillow and hurl it at him. “Shut up, Seokmin.”

The whole room breaks into laughter. Even Seungcheol’s smiling, and he usually doesn’t get involved unless it’s peak chaos.

Jun is still lounging in his armchair, completely unbothered, one arm over the backrest like he’s royalty or something. He’s got that tiny smirk on his face, like he’s watching something way more entertaining than the show.

“You good?” he asks, looking straight at you.

You stare at him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head slightly. “I mean, if it’s hard to watch, I can skip the scene.”

He’s messing with you. You know it. He knows you know it. Everyone else definitely knows it.

Minghao gasps. “Oh my god. He’s doing it on purpose.”

Dino leans toward the TV and mutters, “This is better than the actual drama.”

Another kissing scene starts. Of course it does. You sit there silently, arms crossed, face heating up, while everyone loses their minds all over again. They’re tossing out fake commentary like it’s a live broadcast.

“Look at the technique,” Jeonghan says, voice deep and serious like he’s analyzing art.

“He’s really in character,” Seokmin adds, nodding.

Meanwhile, you are physically holding back the urge to leave the room. Not because you’re annoyed at Jun. Okay, maybe a little. But mostly because your brain is screaming and your heart is being annoying and fast and you just know Jun is loving this.

You glance at him again. He’s already looking at you.

And when your eyes meet, he mouths something.

Just acting.

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips anyway. You hate it here.

And he’s clearly having the time of his life knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

@picheolinormrcha