#my roommates only let me keep him in the living room if he has no pantaloons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fxstpace · 4 months ago

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the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

⇢ pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au ⇢ word count: 19.7k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ⇢ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either.

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all.

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that.

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require.

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee.

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought.

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?”

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?”

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider.

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn.

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn.

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots.

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag.

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines.

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?”

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes.

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :)

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him.

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is.

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap.

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea.

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths.

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago.

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own.

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.”

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones.

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him.

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says.

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused.

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again.

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well.

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?”

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand.

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead.

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants.

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway.

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :)

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest.

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat.

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.”

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence.

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours.

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils.

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching.

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him.

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory.

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back.

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well.

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him.

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying.

He remembers.

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly.

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want?

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?”

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin.

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects.

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm.

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves.

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired.

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow.

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts.

��I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again.

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon.

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat.

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity.

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table.

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane.

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit.

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him.

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?”

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone.

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly.

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into.

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship.

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan.

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth.

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips.

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily.

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name.

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed.

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause.

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching.

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu.

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him.

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that.

#mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #mingyu imagines #seventeen imagines #mingyu x y/n #seventeen x y/n #mingyu x you #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #svt x y/n #svt x you #seventeen #svt #kim mingyu #mingyu

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baby-yongbok · 4 months ago

Text

Home By 10

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Smut [MDNI] - dom!Bang chan x sub!Reader ✦ WC: 2k ✦ Summary: "I'll have her home by 10, sir" turns into "She isn't coming home tonight" ✦ CW: Unprotected sex, kind of rough sex, finger rimming (very light thumb in the ass action. very light), fingering, ass slaps, name used: Chan is referred to as Chris, baby/babygirl, my girl

✦Masterlist✦

Chris who meets your parents for the first time when you're staying at their place while your apartment gets some repairs done.

Chris who your dad says has the firmest handshake he's ever felt and easily has him smiling seconds after meeting him.

Chris who laughs when you nag at your dad to just let the two of you leave. He's still striking up conversation with Chris about his major and his plans for after university. Your boyfriend just smiles and answers, pushing up his glasses a bit while excitedly explaining all of the things that he has planned for after graduation in a few months.

Chris who your mother keeps saying is so much better than your ex in looks and manners. You scold her for it when she mumbles it to you for a third time, hoping that your boyfriend didn't hear her but one glance at him tells you that he heard her loud and clear.

Chris who smiles brightly when he shakes your father's hand and declares a soft “I'll have her home by 10, sir”. You almost believed it when he said it. Almost. But he's got your dad fooled. Hook, line, and sinker.

Chris who opens his car door for you just as he always does. He guards the top of your head to make sure that you don't hit it and closes the door behind you. Just like he always does.

Chris who relaxes into the dark leather of his seat when your father closes the door. He sighs, smiling at you just as brightly as he did earlier. “Baby” He coos, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “Missed you.”

Chris who drives you all the way to his shared apartment for some alone time since his roommate is out tonight. He drops his keys onto his dresser and kicks his room door shut behind the two of you with ease.

You sit on his bed, watching as he slips off his loose button up shirt, his hat and glasses. That's not the same man that was standing in your living room. “Well don't you look different?” You tease and he smiles, it's bright but his eyes are dark. “Do I?”

Chris who lays back on his bed and pulls you into his lap. “So what was it that your mom was saying?” He asks while playing with the lace at the hem of your mini skirt. “Something about me and your ex, right?”

He smiles, enjoying the reaction he gets out of you. “You weren't supposed to hear that.” He leans up and kisses away your cute pout while lightly squeezing the plush of your thighs.

Chris who only lets you deny answering him one more time before he stops asking and starts demanding an answer. “Baby, just tell me exactly what she said.” You huff a sigh, arguing that he knows exactly what she said.

Chris tsks, tilting your chin up so that you can catch his dark gaze perfectly. “Ah ah ah, I wanna hear it come out of your mouth baby. Tell me what your mother said.” His hand slides up under your skirt, disappearing under the lace.

Chris who coos so sweetly when you finally comply “That's it, babygirl. So she thinks that I'm better than your ex. Better mannered, better looking, Is that right?” You pant in his lap, barely able to answer as his fingers work smoothly inside of you. He had his methods of getting you to talk.

“Words, sweetie, talk to me.” You moan out a broken 'yes', nodding with your eyes closed tight. “Do you agree, baby?” He scissors his fingers inside of you then presses up into that spot, that one fucking spot. “Do you think that I'm better?”

Chris who has you moaning 'yes' over and over again as he curls his fingers into your sweet spot. He's gripping your hip, guiding you to ride his fingers while he kisses deep red marks into your chest. “Yeah? My girl thinks I'm better? What am I better at, huh?” He whispers, nibbling on the shell of your ear. “Kissing you? Touching you? Fucking you? Tell me, baby.”

Chris who flips the two of you over and presses the side of your face into the mattress with a fist full of your hair. He scratches at your scalp with one hand while the other flips your skirt up. He groans at the view of your ass, landing a hard slap on each cheek. “You need me to show you that I'm better, baby? Need me to remind you who's been making you scream on their cock? You want it? Tell me you want it.”

Chris who pulls your panties down your legs and sniffs them before throwing them onto his nightstand. You aren't getting those back, you know that. He lands a harsh slap everytime you whine for him to fill you. He spreads your cheeks, spits down onto your tight asshole and spreads the slick down to your pussy with his thumb, cursing at the sight.

Chris who teases your pussy with the head of his cock. He runs the leaky tip over your clit and up through your folds just to push against your entrance and repeat the process. You groan and moan his name, begging him with such a sweet tone that he nearly gives in. “Be patient, baby.”

Chris who sinks into you just a bit just to pull right back out with a distressed groan. He watches the way your cunt stretches around him, taking each inch smoother than the last. He teases you over and over again until he gives you everything in one smooth go. “Look at that pussy take my cock, fuck, baby.”

He moans a sweet strangled sound, Something that you could listen to over and over if your own moans weren't so loud in your ears. He spreads your ass again, pressing his thumb over your tight hole and rimming it with the pad of his finger and pressing in just a bit. “So fucking tight.”

Chris who grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh while he thrusts into you. He watches the bounce of your ass when your skin meets his, he groans at the jiggle of your thighs and the arch of your back. He throws his head back, moaning profanities through gritted teeth.

“Chris, Chris, baby, harder please please, more.” You're babbling, drooling into the bedding and your boyfriend smiles, it's fucked out and cocky. His tongue dips out of his mouth to lick at the corner of his lips and drives his cock into you at a harsh pace, one, two, three times before stopping and holding you against him. “You gotta earn that shit, baby. You want me to pound you? Want me to fucking ruin your cunt?” All you can do is moan and nod, exhaling shakily. He grabs a fist full of your hair, pulling your head back. “Fuck on me, baby. Ride my cock, lemme see you fuck yourself.”

Chris who holds your hair up into a ponytail while you fuck back onto him, you move your hips in smooth circles as you rise and drop your ass against him. He watches the way you move, the way your ass just keeps fucking bouncing. Your cunt clenches around him, your moans echo through his room and he convinces himself that you've earned a proper fucking.

Chris who lets your hair go, timing the drop of your head to the mattress with the snap of his hips so perfectly that it has you screaming into his comforter. He pulls you forward a bit, changing the angle just enough for his cock to bully your sweet spot. You're unraveling beneath him, moaning, drooling, fucked out and fucking pretty.

Chris is no better above you, he's moaning, grunting, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in a nearly futile attempt to keep his composure. He takes each heavy moan of his name as a queue to give you more and more.

Chris who pulls you up so that your back is to his chest while he's still buried inside you. He smiles that cocky smile when you groan at the position change. His arm hooks around your stomach and his other hand finds purchase around your throat. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am, baby?”

He moves slowly, letting you really feel the way his cock drags along your walls before he resumes his previous pace. He feels like he's in your fucking stomach. It feels like his cock is splitting you open and your clit throbs at the pressure. “Louder, c'mon.” He grunts, squeezing the sides of your throat just enough to give you a head rush. “Don't hold back, baby, louder.”

Chris who can tell by the way your pussy flutters and squeezes him that you're getting close. “Shit, babygirl is gonna cum, yeah? Tell me how much better I am whIle you fall apart on my cock.” You whimper, babbling about how good he's fucks you but nothing you say makes sense. “Can't even fucking talk.” His hand goes from your throat to your chin to turn your head to the side. “Look at me”

Chris keeps his rhythm only faltering for a second when you clench around him. “Whose cock makes you cry like this?” He kisses away a tear as it falls then follows with a soft kiss on your lips. You swallow the spit thick in your mouth and whimper a pathetic ‘yours’.

“Whose the best fuck you ever had?” He pounds an equally as pathetic ‘you’ from your spit slick lips and he smiles. “Whose cock are you gonna cum on? Hm?”

Chris who doesn't even let you mumble another pathetic whine before he's bending you in half so that you're face down, ass up for him all over again. His hand stays on the side of your face, keeping you in place while his other hand grabs your hip. You're locked in. His thrusts are brutal, relentless. His black tee is between his teeth as he pounds you. Your screams echo and seep into the neighboring apartment but he doesn't fucking care.

“C'mon, let me feel you, baby.” He reaches under you, strumming your clit like one of his guitars and you fucking sing like one. You cry out so beautifully that he can't help but harmonize with you. “Chris, Chris, Chris, b-baby m’ cumming.” You scream and he drinks it all up.

Chris who can barely hold himself together while you tremble beneath him, gushing and creaming on his cock. “Holy shit, you're gonna make me fucking cum. This fucking cunts gonna make me cum.” He's messy, licking drool from the corner of his mouth and taking his turn at becoming a babbling mess. He grunts and thrusts and gets closer and closer to falling apart.

“Don't you dare waste a fucking drop that I give you, you hear me? Take it all, take all my fucking - shit shit shit, I'm cumming.” He spills into you, eyes rolling back, bottom lip between his teeth and a groan so guttural it makes you moan. “You fucking emptied me, baby, fuck.”

Chris who pulls out slowly and spreads your cheeks again to see your mixed arousal drip out of your messy cunt. He stuffs it back in with his fingers cooing a teasing warning. “I said don't fucking waste it.” He punctuates his sentence with an ass slap and you jolt at the sting. “I'll just have to keep filling this hole, huh? Gotta fuck you full until you follow the rules.”

He falls into a rhythm of fingering his cum back into you and ‘accidentally’ pulls another orgasm from you. He chuckles, low and seductive as he slips his fingers between his lips to taste the sweet mix. “That's my girl”

Chris who cleans you up. Changes his bedding then cuddles you against his chest. You're still hazy, breathing softly into him while he grabs his phone and unlocks it. “Babygirl” he calls as he holds his phone up and clicks a picture just as you look up. He checks the photo, smiling at how fucked out you look even after he's cleaned you up.

“I'll send it to you.” He kisses your forehead, locking his phone. "You can show it to your dad when he asks why you didn't come home tonight.”

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months ago

Note

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

2K notes · View notes

focusonkayjay · 18 days ago

Text

stuck with you | (2/5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: computer sci major/ shy/ nerdy! jungkook, econ major/ popular/ influencer! reader, college au, roommates au, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook’s a hopeless romantic—emphasis on hopeless more than romantic. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he swore he heard bells chiming, like the angels from above were giving him a cosmic nudge. But he’s always been the awkward, nerdy guy—the one who blends into the background—while you? You felt like a dream way out of his league. Fate, however, had other plans and now, you’re his roommate and living with you—in all your effortless glory—is equal parts chaos and heaven. The only challenge? Keeping his ever-growing feelings in check. That is—until a cocky fuckboy with not-so-pure intentions sets his sights on you, and suddenly, just loving you from the sidelines might not be enough.

Word Count: 20.4k+

Chapter Warnings: butchered representation of a scene from the anime "attack on titan" (im sorryfjhjfghierg), mentions of blood and some gorey stuff because of the anime scene hhhh, jaehyun is a huge dick, heavy on the angst, lots and lots of angst, again some inaccurate econ and comp sci things, oc is just an oblivious cutie </3, did i mention angst

cher's notes: second part is here ahhhh !! there’s a lot happening in this chapter, so buckle up. also — i finally decided this mini series will have 5 parts in total, which means the chapters are gonna be on the longer side because i want to squeeze in everything. and to my lovely EBYT readers — the next part is officially dropping tomorrow YAAAHOOOO. thank you so much for reading and supporting, it means the world. stay tuned and let me know how you’re feeling about this series so far !! now let me go catch up on all your sweet reblogs and replies eeee !!

★ PLAYLIST ★ MOODBOARDS

two: it doesn't take much

"Kook, you free?" you call out, leaning against your doorframe, eyes fixed on Jungkook, who's sprawled across the couch, one arm draped lazily over his stomach as he scrolls through his phone. At the sound of your voice, he instantly looks up. "Yeah, why?" he asks, locking his screen.

"Come here." You don't wait for a response, disappearing into your room and like always, without a second thought, Jungkook gets up, padding down the hall to get to your room.

Jungkook loves your room.

Loves the way your room always carries a faint trace of vanilla intertwined with something floral—jasmine, maybe, or that one candle you always keep burning on your nightstand, housed in a delicate frosted glass jar. He loves how the soft glow of your LED lights bathes the space in warmth, how everything—your desk, your computer, your shelves—is so meticulously arranged.

Your room is just so... you, and every time he steps inside, he can't help but take it all in, admiring the way you've turned four plain walls into something that feels like a world of its own.

His gaze immediately falls on the huge box resting on your bed, and he doesn't even have to ask because frankly speaking, he's seen this sight plenty of times to know it's another PR package.

"Sit." You grin, already taking a seat on your bed, gesturing at the empty spot in front of you. "I got these lip stains in the mail today." you explain, excitement lacing your voice as you pat the box. "Wanna test them out with me? Pleasseeee."

Jungkook wonders why you're even asking, why you're evening saying 'please' because when has he ever said no to you?

He simply huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he settles onto the bed, sitting criss-cross in front of you like he's your personal test subject. You giggle as you carefully start unboxing the package, peeling back the layers of wrapping with an almost childlike excitement.

Jungkook watches, momentarily distracted—not by the package, but by you.

The way your eyes light up, the way your fingers move with care as if unwrapping something precious. The packaging is extravagant, unnecessarily grand for something as simple as lip stains, but when he sees the way it makes you smile, he figures maybe that's the point.

Maybe it's meant to make people feel like this. And if that's the case, then he hopes every product you ever receive comes wrapped in the prettiest boxes, because the look on your face right now?

Yeah, he'd like to see that again.

"Wow..." you breathe out, eyes wide with amusement as you take in the sight before you—eight lip stains neatly nestled inside the box. You weren't expecting this, especially not so soon.

The brand had sent you PR before, after that one tiktok you made for them, but this? The limited-edition collection, delivered straight to your doorstep? It was definitely a pleasant surprise.

"Look at all these shades." you gasp, voice laced with excitement as you carefully pluck out the first one. The colors range from soft pinks to deep berry tones, each more tempting than the last. You turn to Jungkook, eyes gleaming. "Wanna try this one?"

Jungkook raises a brow but doesn't protest because again, when has he ever said no to you?

"These are peel-off lip stains." you explain, twisting the cap and the scent—sweet, vaguely fruity—drifts up immediately. "Peel-off?" Jungkook repeats, skepticism creeping into his tone.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yeah, you apply it, wait a few minutes, and once it dries, you just peel it off. It leaves behind a stain."

He furrows his brows, still struggling to wrap his head around the whole concept, but he nods anyway. Because, really, if there's one thing Jungkook has learned, it's that when it comes to you and your beauty experiments, it's better to just simply go along with it.

"Come here." you say, nudging the box aside to make space as you inch closer. Jungkook straightens his back, his hands resting idly on his lap as he waits, patient and compliant, like always.

With one hand, you gently cup his chin, steadying his face. Your fingers are warm against his skin, and Jungkook swallows, trying to ignore the way his pulse betrays him. Slowly, with careful precision, you begin tracing the outline of his lips.

And that's when it hits him. The proximity.

It's not unfamiliar—this has happened before. Every time you apply something to his face, you get so, so close that he can almost feel your breath ghosting against his skin. But somehow, it never stops setting off a chain reaction inside him.

His breath catches the moment the wand glides over his lips, and he notices—of course, he notices—the way your eyes remain so intently focused on his mouth.

God, this is not good for his heart. His poor, overworked, utterly helpless heart.

Before his thoughts spiral any further, before he lets himself feel too much, he does what he always does—he closes his eyes. Shuts out the sight of you, the nearness of you, the way his chest tightens at the thought of you. Because he is not god's strongest soldier.

Once you finish filling in his lips with the product, you sit back, tilting your head as you admire your work. That's when Jungkook finally opens his eyes.

The color of the peel is darker than the actual stain—almost unnaturally so—and it makes him look... well, a little funny. You try to hold it in, but a giggle slips past your lips before you can stop it.

"What?" Jungkook asks, brows furrowing in confusion but the moment he speaks, something feels off. His lips feel stiff, like they've been coated in wax, and the weird sensation makes his frown deepen.

"Don't talk." you say quickly, waving a hand in warning. "You have to let it dry first."

His expression remains skeptical, but he still obeys. Your attention, however, has already drifted back to the box. While Jungkook patiently waits for his peel-off stain to dry, you figure it's time to test out another shade yourself.

"Which one should I try?" you hum, tapping your chin in thought. Then, pushing the box towards him, you grin. "You choose for me."

Jungkook takes a moment, scanning the neatly arranged tubes. His eyes land on a deep crimson shade—rich, elegant, the kind of color he just knows will look good on you. Without a word (because someone told him not to talk), he simply points at it.

You smile, clearly pleased with his choice, and take the tube in hand. Reaching for the little mirror on your desk, you carefully begin applying the stain to your lips, oblivious to the way Jungkook watches you, his own lips still tingling, his heart still hopelessly traitorous.

God.

The way you apply that stain to your lips—so slow, so precise, like it's a ritual rather than just makeup. The way your gaze lingers on your reflection, eyes flicking over every detail as you smooth the product across your lips with effortless grace.

Jungkook swears he's never seen anyone look so mesmerizing while doing something so utterly mundane.

It's ridiculous, really, how something as simple as this—just you, applying lip stain—has him completely entranced. His pulse trips over itself, his stomach does this weird, weightless thing, and suddenly, he's wondering if it's normal to be this enchanted with someone.

And then, just as quickly as you began, you're done. You twist the cap back on, set the mirror down, and turn to him with a soft, satisfied smile. You begin fanning your lips and gesture Jungkook to follow. He blinks, forcing himself to shake off whatever daze he's in before wordlessly copying you.

So now, the two of you just sit there, cross-legged on your bed, silently fanning your lips with comically serious expressions. If anyone were to walk in right now, they'd probably think you were performing some bizarre ritual.

Jungkook should find this ridiculous. Maybe even funny.

But all he can focus on is the soft curve of your lips, the way your lashes dip with each slow blink, and the effortless way you exist—completely unaware of just how much space you take up in his head.

After what feels like forever, Jungkook notices you reaching for the mirror again. His gaze follows the movement of your fingers as you carefully press against the edge of the lip stain and begin peeling it away. His brows knit together slightly because, for a second, it almost looks like you're peeling off a layer of your skin.

But then, as the translucent film lifts, the color left behind on your lips begins to show, seamlessly tinted like a watercolor painting. And suddenly, the whole concept makes sense to him.

You peel away the last bit and turn to him with a smile. "Looks nice?"

Jungkook nods, eyes still fixed on your lips, like he's studying every shift of color, every little detail. "Come here, let me do yours too," you say, gesturing him closer.

Without a second thought, he inches forward, bringing his face to your eye level, and for the second time tonight, he finds himself painfully aware of your proximity.

Your fingers gently take hold of the dried stain on his lips, peeling it away while Jungkook sits perfectly still, his breath hitching just slightly at the sensation, his gaze locked onto your face.

And then, just as the final layer comes off, you let out a delighted gasp. "Oh my god !!" you beam, tilting your head to admire the color. "This shade looks so good on you."

Jungkook blinks, lips slightly parted. He doesn't know what's worse, the fact that you're still so close, or the fact that you're looking at him like that, like he's something pretty.

You lean back slightly, pulling the box closer, skimming the fine print with a look of mild amusement. "Hmmm... it says here that these are kiss-proof." you giggle, tapping the side of the box. Then, with zero hesitation and far too much nonchalance, you glance at Jungkook. "Should we test that out?"

And that's it. That's how Jungkook dies.

You want to test it out?

With him?

Test it out... how exactly?

His brain stutters. His body forgets how to function. His soul quite literally leaves his body and ascends to the heavens for a moment before violently crashing back down into the reality of what you just said.

There are several things happening inside Jungkook right now, and none of them are good for his well-being. His heart is in the middle of a full cardiac arrest, his stomach is doing something between a backflip and a complete nosedive, and his entire nervous system has gone into DEFCON 1.

The mere thought of your lips on his—of actually getting to kiss you, even under the guise of some ridiculous experiment—is enough to send him spiraling. His pulse is thunderous. His breath? Completely nonexistent.

"You... you want to test it out?" he croaks, like he needs to double-check before his imagination starts running off the rails. You nod, completely casual, as if you didn't just send his entire life into turmoil. "Yeah, why not?" you shrug.

Why not ??

WHY NOT ?!

Oh, Jungkook can think of a million reasons why not. Maybe because he has spent months suppressing every urge, every look, every stray thought about how insanely, stupidly in love with you he is?

Maybe because the idea of your lips even remotely close to his, is enough to send him into a self-destructive spiral? Maybe because if this actually happens, if he actually gets a taste of something he has wanted for so long, there's no way in hell he'll ever be able to come back from it?

"Oh... O-okay." he stammers, because—obviously. What else is he supposed to say?

No? No?! That's not even a possibility.

He braces himself. Inhales sharply. Inches just the tiniest bit closer, his eyes fluttering shut, waiting, anticipating, standing on the precipice of something life-altering.

This is it. This is the moment his world shifts on its axis. The moment he has his first ever kiss kiss with none other than... you, the girl he's been hopelessly, irrevocably in love with for months.

And then—

A loud, exaggerated smooch sound fills the air.

But he feels... nothing.

No soft pressure against his lips, no warmth against his skin and that's when he slowly opens his eyes, only to find you inspecting the back of your hand.

"Wow, these really are kiss-proof." you muse, turning your hand under the light, admiring the complete lack of transfer.

Oh.

So that's what you meant.

Jungkook just sits there, utterly motionless, trying to reboot his entire existence. Of course that's what you meant—testing it on the back of your hand, like a normal person. Like a sane person.

Meanwhile, he? He was two seconds away from experiencing cardiac arrest over the sheer possibility of kissing you.

"You should do it too." you say, finally looking up at him, still completely unaware of the absolute catastrophe you've just triggered inside him.

Oh, should he? Should he go ahead and casually press his lips to his hand like this is some simple, scientific experiment—like he didn't just mentally prepare himself to kiss you, like he didn't just have a full-blown crisis over it?

Jungkook swallows hard, blinking at you in disbelief. He has two choices here—either expose himself completely and let you see exactly how down bad he is, or just go along with it, pretend he wasn't internally combusting moments ago.

So, with what little dignity he has left, he clears his throat, nods stiffly, and hesitantly lifts his hand to his lips. The second they touch, he glares at his palm like it personally offended him.

Yeah. Great. Exactly what he wanted to be kissing right now.

Eventually, Jungkook loses track of time. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting in your room, letting you test shade after shade on him, obediently parting his lips whenever you tilt his chin, watching as you do the same on yourself with that same meticulous focus that drives him absolutely insane.

By the time you're finally done testing them all, you lean back and let out a satisfied sigh. "Oh my god, I actually love this product." you gush, eyes twinkling. Then, you turn to him. Jungkook blinks, still caught in the haze of his own thoughts, and god, the poor boy looks exhausted.

"Oh my god," you gasp, brows furrowing. "Did I wear you out?" you ask and Jungkook stares at you. No, he's not worn out. He's still internally screaming over how catastrophically, idiotically stupid he is.

How could he have just assumed you wanted to kiss him? How did his brain take "Should we test that out?" and spin it into some earth-shattering, life-changing confession? How did he let himself believe, for even a second, that you—his roommate, his favorite person, the love of his goddamn life—were about to kiss him?

He wants to dig a hole and disappear. He wants to time travel back to that very moment and slap himself. He wants to not be this delusional.

"Oh... no, no." Jungkook says quickly, maybe too quickly, shaking his head in a way that's anything but natural. He hopes you don't hear the sheer devastation clinging to his words, the lingering disappointment he's trying so hard to swallow. "I was just... genuinely shocked at how well-made these products are." he lies, forcing what he hopes is a casual nod.

You beam at him, still completely oblivious. "That's true." you giggle, and just then, the doorbell rings. "Oh! That must be Jae!" you perk up instantly, getting off the bed without hesitation.

Ah. Right.

Jaehyun.

Jungkook had almost managed to forget about him for the briefest moment.

But of course, Jaehyun is still very much here. Still the same looming, overbearing presence in Jungkook's life—the human equivalent of an immovable roadblock, an unavoidable stop sign placed directly in his path.

It's almost like Jungkook can't escape Jaehyun.

No matter where he turns, no matter what time of the day it is, Jaehyun is somehow there, effortlessly inserting himself into your life in ways that makes Jungkook's skin itch.

Sometimes, he spots the two of you outside the econ building, standing too close, laughing at something he'll never be in on. Other times, he sees you sitting together along with Jimin in the cafeteria, Jaehyun casually taking up the seat beside you like he has every right to be there, like he's always been there.

But the absolute worst part? Seeing him here. In your shared apartment. In the living room. On the couch. In the kitchen. In your room. Jungkook hates how easily Jaehyun exists in it... like he belongs, like he fits. And of course, he's still your infuriatingly unavoidable, ever-present, stupid fucking assignment partner so Jungkook can't really say anything.

Jungkook hates it. Hates how it feels like Jaehyun never has to fight for a place in your world—how he just gets to be there. How, no matter how much Jungkook wants to, he can't just wish him away.

It's sickening. Truly.

And now, Jungkook has to sit here, lips still faintly stained from your little PR experiment, and watch as you rush to greet the very person who—whether you realize it or not—has become the greatest thorn in his side.

As Jungkook steps out of your room, he instantly spots Jaehyun stroll in behind you with that same effortless arrogance, the kind that makes it seem like he belongs wherever he goes, even when he doesn't.

Jaehyun's gaze barely lingers on Jungkook before a slow, amused smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes honing in on the faint stain of color still lingering on Jungkook's mouth.

"Yo, dude, are you wearing makeup?" He snorts, his tone laced with something condescending, something that instantly grates on Jungkook's nerves.

It's not the question that bothers him—it's how Jaehyun asks it, like it's some kind of joke, like he's pointing out something ridiculous for the sake of mocking it. Like he expects Jungkook to laugh along, to act embarrassed, to give him something.

But Jungkook isn't ashamed. Not in the slightest.

"We just tested out some lip stains." you reply casually, completely oblivious to the sudden change in the air between the two boys.

Jaehyun lets out another scoff of a laugh, shaking his head like he just can't believe what he's seeing. "Man, that's kinda wild." he mutters under his breath, but it's loud enough for Jungkook to hear, loud enough for it to hit exactly where Jaehyun wants it to and Jungkook's fingers curl into fists at his sides.

"Yeah?" His voice is low, dangerously calm. "What's wild about it?"

Jaehyun shrugs, all nonchalance and feigned innocence. "Nothing, man. Just not something you see every day." he says but the smirk still stays plastered.

Jungkook knows exactly what Jaehyun's doing.

He's seen it enough times, studied him enough to understand that he's the kind of guy who speaks in veiled jabs, just ambiguous enough that if you call him out, you're the one who looks like you're overreacting. The kind who masks condescension with an easy laugh, who pokes and prods just enough to worm his way under your skin but never enough to be held accountable for it.

Jaehyun gives him one last once-over before turning his attention to you like Jungkook isn't even there anymore, like he isn't worth another second of his time. And just like that, Jungkook has never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

"Kook, can you focus?" Taehyung grumbles, clearly unimpressed by how Jungkook keeps zoning out in the middle of their match. "Sorry." Jungkook mutters, forcing himself to snap back to the game.

His grip on the controller tightens, fingers moving instinctively as his character lunges forward in the video game, but the distraction lingers. His reaction time is slower than usual, and Taehyung instantly notices.

A few more minutes pass, and Jungkook spaces out again, his mind wandering somewhere far from the game, far from Taehyung's apartment, far from anything he actually wants to be thinking about and Taehyung finally snaps.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem?" He groans, chucking his controller onto the couch before turning to face Jungkook with narrowed eyes.

Jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. He's been here for almost an hour now, sprawled across Taehyung's couch after a long day at uni, because Taehyung had insisted they play Elden Ring together.

And normally, Jungkook would be invested, completely locked in, competitive, trash-talking Taehyung for every little mistake. But today, he just... isn't. Because, truthfully?

All he can think about these days is Jaehyun. And he hates it.

Hates how the guy lingers in his head like some ghost that refuses to leave, clinging to his thoughts in a way that feels unnatural. Hates how his presence is so deeply embedded in your life, hates the way you smile when you're with him, the easy way you laugh at his stupid jokes.

And most of all, he hates how Jaehyun always manages to worm his way under his skin, like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. It's the way he does it, too—so effortlessly, so casually, with those sharp-edged smirks and barely-there scoffs.

The snide remarks disguised as harmless teasing, the subtle but deliberate pauses before his dismissive looks, the offhanded, too-innocent comments that always feel like they carry an edge meant just for Jungkook to catch. It's calculated. It's infuriating. And worst of all? It's working.

But it's not like Jungkook can say that out loud without making himself look childish.

"It's nothing." he says instead, voice quieter than before, looking away. "Come on, Kook." Taehyung's voice softens, and Jungkook barely has time to react before Taehyung tugs the controller right out of his hands and sets it aside. "Talk to me. You've been like this for days. You don't say anything, but I know something's been bothering you."

Jungkook swallows, jaw tensing. "Come on." Taehyung presses, inching closer, his sharp gaze scanning Jungkook's face. "It's about Y/n, isn't it?"

Jungkook exhales through his nose, long and slow, because at this point, what's the use in denying it? Taehyung's like a bloodhound when it comes to this stuff and there's literally no escaping him.

"Okay, fine." he mutters, sitting up straighter. "But promise me you won't judge me." he adds and Taehyung blinks at him, looking downright offended. "Dude. When have I ever judged you? The fuck?"

Jungkook sighs because—yeah, fair. But still, admitting this out loud makes him feel ridiculous. Like he's a teenager with a stupid crush, and not a grown adult who should be handling his emotions better.

"Okay, listen." he starts "Y/n's been working on this assignment with some guy for the past few weeks, right? I think it's been, like, three weeks now?"

Taehyung nods, waiting for him to continue.

"And this guy..." Jungkook exhales sharply, fingers tightening into fists. "Something about him just feels off, you know? Like, I'm not saying I'm jealous, but the way he acts around Y/n, the way he acts in our apartment... it's just weird. He's way too comfortable."

Taehyung raises a brow at that. "Comfortable? In what way?"

"For starters, the way he talks to her." Jungkook leans back against the couch, shaking his head. "They're always laughing, cracking jokes, and sometimes... I don't even think Y/n notices it, but he just looks at her weirdly, you know?"

The moment the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets it, because that's when Taehyung's knowing smirk appears. "Ohhh...." Taehyung drawls, grinning like the menace he is. "From the way you're talking, you are most definitely jealous, Kook."

"Tae. That's not the point here." Jungkook says firmly, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. "Okay, okay, sorry." Taehyung lifts his hands in surrender, still smiling. "I mean, maybe they're just friends? They share the same major, they're in the same class... maybe that's why they seem so close? Maybe that's why he's so comfortable around her?" Taehyung tries, tilting his head in thought.

Jungkook's lips press into a tight line. "Yeah, well..." His voice trails off. "That could be it." There's a brief pause before he's talking again. "But still... something about that guy just feels so... eerie." he mutters, his brows knitting together. "Especially the way he looks at me."

Taehyung's expression falters slightly. "Looks at you?" he asks. "Yeah. Like I'm beneath him. Like he somehow knows what I feel for Y/n. Like he knows seeing him with her bothers me." Jungkook clenches his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "It's like he's taunting me without saying a word."

Taehyung tilts his head, considering. "Well... don't you think you might be reading into it too much?" His voice is softer now, genuinely questioning.

Jungkook lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, that's what I thought at first too. But it's happened so many times now that I can't just brush it off." He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Jaehyun just knows how to get—"

"Wait. Wait." Taehyung suddenly cuts in, eyes going wide. "Did you just say Jaehyun?" he asks and Jungkook blinks. "Uh... yeah?"

"Bro." Taehyung groans as he stares at Jungkook like he just dropped the biggest plot twist of the century. "Why didn't you fucking start with that?"

Jungkook blinks, completely lost. "Start with what?" he asks. Taehyung looks like he wants to throttle him. "That the assignment partner you're talking about, the guy who's been getting on your nerves, the one who's been way too comfortable around Y/n— is Jaehyun. Jaehyun from econ." He repeats, as if saying it again will somehow make more sense.

Jungkook furrows his brows, still utterly bewildered. "Uh... yeah? That's him? Do you know him?" he questions and Taehyung throws his hands up, exasperated. "Dude, of course I know him. He's on the soccer team." His voice is flat, like this should have been obvious.

"Wait. What?" Jungkook's eyes widen. Now that is brand-new information.

"You'd know this if you actually came to my games and paid attention to my team instead of coding." Taehyung deadpans. "But anyways, that's besides the point." He quickly waves it off, redirecting the conversation back to the actual issue at hand. "Kook, that guy... he's bad news."

Jungkook swallows hard, his fingers curling slightly. Because fuck, a part of him already knew. He had felt it from the start but hearing Taehyung say it out loud? That solid confirmation makes his stomach twist.

"Bad news?" He forces his voice to stay even, though his pulse kicks up. "Like... how bad?"

Taehyung sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Long story short? He's a huge fuckboy."

Of course. Of course Jaehyun was a fuckboy.

Jungkook should have seen that coming. Should have realized sooner. But before he can say anything, Taehyung keeps going.

"Not publicly, though. Not in a way that makes it obvious, I guess. He's careful about his reputation around campus, I think... but god, I've heard him talk in the locker room... so many times, with the guys. He goes to these high-end clubs, finds random girls from other universities... and sleeps around with them."

Jungkook exhales slowly, trying to keep his composure, but there's a bitter weight settling in his chest, pressing down like a warning he doesn't want to hear but needs to.

"And what's truly disgusting is..." Taehyung pauses, like he's searching for the right words—or maybe trying to stop himself from getting sick just thinking about it. "It's how he talks about it in the locker room. He gives these guys every explicit detail of what he did, like it's some kind of conquest. The way he talks about women—like they're nothing but objects—it's fucking sickening."

Jungkook clenches his jaw, his fingers curling into fists.

"I told him to cut it out once." Taehyung continues, his voice tight with disdain. "But he just brushed me off, laughed it off like I was being sensitive. Since then, I can't really stand the guy. We're nothing but teammates now. And honestly? I avoid him as much as I can." He lets out a scoff before adding, "Even the coach caught him once, warned him to keep that shit out of the locker room. It was getting that bad."

Jungkook looks up sharply. "And did he stop?"

"Of course not. He just got more discreet about it. Makes sure no one important is around, but I still hear him whispering sometimes, running his mouth like he always does." Taehyung replies, shaking his head.

Jungkook feels something dark stir in his chest, an unsettling mix of anger and unease.

"But so far..." Taehyung adds, hesitating for a beat. "I'm not really sure if he's brought up Y/n or spoken about her. But now that I'm hearing all of this from you... I can't help but wonder—what if she's his next target?"

Jungkook stiffens.

"You know Y/n..." Taehyung sighs. "She's popular. A lot of guys have tried to get her attention and maybe Jaehyun sees this whole 'assignment partner' thing as his way in. Like a slow game. Build some trust and then eventually, you know..." His voice trails off, but the implication is crystal clear.

And Jungkook does know.

"I have to go." he suddenly says, rising from the couch with urgency and Taehyung instantly nods in understanding. "I need to talk to Y/n before it's too late." he adds, hurriedly grabbing his jacket and bag.

Without wasting another second, he's out the door.

You're almost halfway through your research paper assignment with Jaehyun. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of data collection and analysis, a blur of brainstorming sessions, frantic note-taking, and the constant hum of keyboards clacking.

You've worked everywhere... in your apartment, in the campus library and you've also convinced him to work with you during some free periods because you really just want to get over with this paper.

And right now, you're seated on the floor in the middle of your living room, surrounded by papers, pens, post-its and your laptop as you work on the assignment.

"Ughhh, I'm so sick of this." Jaehyun groans dramatically, dropping his head onto the coffee table with a light thud. "You say that every week." you remark, not even bothering to look up from your screen as you highlight another key point.

"Yeah, well, every week, I mean it more." he huffs making you chuckle as you pat his back absentmindedly. "Just a few more weeks, and we'll be submitting this nightmare. We got this." you smile.

Jaehyun lifts his head, eyes filled with suffering. "I hate uni so much. Not only do we have this paper sucking the life out of us, but don't forget—we have that pop quiz next week too."

"Oh yeah." you nod, unbothered and still focused on your screen. "Should be fine. I'm already prepared for it."

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. "Of course you are. Ms. 'I go viral on tiktok and get straight A's' ...You stress me out." he comments, shaking his head. "That sounds like a you problem." You shrug with a smirk, finally looking at him.

"Okay, first of all—rude." he scoffs. "Second, how do you even have time to do all this? Like, I swear, you're out here thriving while I'm over here running on two brain cells, a prayer, and an iced coffee." he rambles.

"Skill issue." you shrug, turning back to look at your computer. "Wow. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss much?" he says, shaking his head. "You know it." You grin, clicking away at your laptop.

A few seconds pass before you exhale softly, rolling your shoulders to ease the stiffness settling in. "Hey, I'm gonna use the restroom real quick." you inform Jaehyun, stretching slightly as you rise to your feet and Jaehyun gives you a nod.

The second you disappear, the living room falls into an eerie silence but not even a full minute passes before the front door suddenly unlocks with a sharp click. The door swings open, and Jungkook storms in, slightly breathless, his eyes scanning the apartment with urgency.

"Y/n?" he calls out, his voice edged with something Jaehyun can't quite place. His breath is uneven, his shoulders rising and falling as if he ran the entire way here.

Jaehyun watches, unimpressed, as Jungkook's gaze finally lands on him—alone in the living room. "What are you doing here?" Jungkook blurts out, his tone laced with irritation, like he wasn't expecting to see Jaehyun here, at this time.

Jaehyun smirks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the coffee table, exuding pure, effortless arrogance. "What do you think?" he counters smoothly. The question is rhetorical, and Jungkook knows it, but it still grates on his nerves.

Jaehyun's cocky demeanor sets Jungkook's teeth on edge, but he doesn't let himself react—not yet. Instead, he steps further inside, eyes narrowing. "Where's Y/n?" His voice is sharp, cutting straight to the point, though he's still catching his breath.

Jaehyun's smirk widens, like he's amused by the urgency in Jungkook's tone. "Relax, coder boy." he drawls lazily, tilting his head. "What's got you so worked up that you had to come running all the way here?"

Jungkook clenches his jaw, already irritated beyond belief. "It's none of your business." he says flatly. For a brief moment, something flickers in Jaehyun's eyes, something almost akin to surprise at Jungkook's tone, but it disappears just as quickly, replaced by another insufferable smirk.

"Damn." he chuckles, his tone dripping with mockery. "Someone's got their panties in a twist today."

That does it and something inside Jungkook snaps.

He moves in closer, his entire body radiating tension. "Look, Jaehyun, I don't have time for your stupid fucking games." he grits out. "I know what you're up to, so cut the cocky bullshit and stop acting like you're above me when in reality, you're nothing but a pathetic fuckboy."

Jaehyun scoffs, his smirk faltering just slightly. "Excuse me?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I've always had a bad feeling about you from the start." he mutters, voice rough with frustration. "And today, it's confirmed. You're just another sleazebag who gets off on playing around with girls, and you probably think Y/n is your next target." His words are cutting, precise, but he's not done yet.

Jaehyun simply raises an eyebrow, his elbows still resting on the coffee table casually as if Jungkook's words don't faze him.

"You think you can weasel your way into her life under the guise of this assignment, play the part of the helpful, charming friend, gain her trust... and then what? Wait until she lets her guard down and try to get her to sleep with you?" His expression darkens, eyes narrowing with nothing but pure, undiluted disgust. "All while trying to step over me like I'm nothing?"

Jungkook's chest rises and falls steadily, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, barely contained. "Well, that's not happening." he states, still staring down at Jaehyun.

"Because I'm telling Y/n everything—who you really are, what you're trying to do. I'm going to make sure she knows exactly what kind of a pathetic excuse for a man you are before you get the chance to screw her over like you've probably done to every other girl."

For a moment, Jungkook is almost shocked by how easily the words flow out of him, but maybe that's because of the sheer anger surging through his system. Or maybe it's because of something deeper— his need to protect you. Either way, standing here, staring Jaehyun down, Jungkook feels no hesitation. No doubt.

"Are you done?" Jaehyun finally sighs, his tone almost bored. Jungkook furrows his brows, irritation flaring at how utterly unaffected Jaehyun looks right now.

"I mean, that was quite the speech." Jaehyung muses, nodding his head. "Didn't know you had it in you, coder boy." His smirk widens. "Seriously, I'm impressed. I didn't know you could string together sentences like that, let alone talk for a full three minutes straight while actually making eye contact." He chuckles, his voice dripping with condescension. "That must've taken everything out of you, huh?"

Jungkook inhales sharply, his fists twitching at his sides, ready to fire back, but Jaehyun doesn't give him the chance.

"Go ahead." Jaehyun spreads his arms out as he leans back against the foot of the couch behind him, as if inviting the challenge. "Run along and tell Y/n whatever you want." His tone remains even. "Tell her I'm some lying, manipulative fuckboy—see how that goes for you." His smirk lingers as he leans forward again, voice dropping just slightly. "You think she'll believe you?"

Jungkook stiffens at that and Jaehyun doesn't miss it.

"You got any proof?" he continues smoothly like he knows he has the upper hand here. "Because without it, you're just some desperate guy throwing baseless accusations."

Jungkook grits his teeth, his pulse pounding so hard in his ears that he barely hears the low chuckle Jaehyun lets out next.

"Y/n's known me for, what? A couple of weeks now?" Jaehyun continues. "And I've been nothing but a sweet, funny, cooperative assignment partner." He shrugs.

"So what do you think is more likely? That she'll believe me, the guy who's actually been good to her, or you, the guy seething in the corner, throwing accusations like a jealous little kid?"

Jungkook stands frozen, his blood simmering. Because as much as he wants to fight it, as much as he hates to admit it, Jaehyun's words are getting to him.

Because how is he actually going to convince you?

How is he supposed to make you see the truth, that Jaehyun isn't who you think he is? That beneath all the easy smiles and effortless charm, he's just another predator looking for his next game? How is he supposed to prove it when he has nothing to back up his accusations?

Sure, he heard everything from Taehyung—but that's all there is to it. And if Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong, if he hasn't pulled anything shady, hasn't let his mask slip even once in front of you, then what reason do you have to believe Jungkook? Why would you take his word over Jaehyun's?

"You know..." Jaehyun hums, dragging Jungkook from his spiraling thoughts. "If I were you, I'd be a little more worried about myself right now." He pauses for a beat, letting the weight of his next words settle in before he drops them like a grenade.

"Imagine if Y/n found out about your feelings for her."

Jungkook's entire body goes still. His stomach twists violently, his breath stalling in his throat. He blinks, trying to process, trying to breathe, but it's like Jaehyun's words wrap around his lungs and squeeze, choking the air from his system.

He feels stripped bare, exposed in a way he never has before, like Jaehyun just ripped open a wound he didn't even know was visible. "How did you—"

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, it's so fucking obvious." he drawls, his smirk widening as he watches Jungkook with a smug expression like he can see the panic seeping into his bones.

"Think Y/n will be pleased to know that the guy she's been living with is, what, obsessed with her?" His voice is teasing, but his words slice like a blade. "That he's been pining after her this whole time?" He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Man, that's gotta be mad awkward for her."

Jungkook feels his stomach drop.

No. No, you can't know.

You can't. Because if you did, if you ever realized the truth about the way he feels, it would ruin everything.

He's spent months burying it, shoving it down so deep it's almost suffocating—because he knows. And even though it's painful to admit, even though it eats away at him in the quiet moments when you're close but never close enough, he knows exactly where he stands in your life.

Just a roommate. Just a friend. Nothing more.

Living with you has been one of the best things that has ever happened to him, and he's never wanted to risk that. Not when you trust him so effortlessly. Not when you're so comfortable around him.

He needs you to keep looking at him the way you always have—not with wariness, not with hesitation, not with the painful realization that the person you've trusted all this time has been hiding something from you.

Because what if you pull away?

What if you start second-guessing every touch, every glance, every effortless moment that once felt so natural? What if you hesitate before leaning into him like you always do?

What if you stop walking into his room like it's your own, like you don't need permission, like you belong there just as much as he does?

What if you stop asking him for the little things—the things he's always loved doing for you? Testing out your makeup, dragging him into your random tiktoks, even though he's hopelessly awkward with them, handing him your phone and making him take a hundred pictures until you finally find the one.

All those tiny, insignificant moments that have come to mean everything to him.

What if you stop looking at him like he's your friend—like he's your safe place—and start looking at him like he's something else?

Something he was never supposed to be.

What if he loses the little piece of you he's been holding onto all this time? What if his feelings jeopardize everything?

"Oh hey Kook, you're back." Your voice cuts through the storm of thoughts threatening to pull him under, snapping him back to reality. His head jerks up, eyes instantly finding you as you step out of the bathroom, drying your hands.

Jungkook's eyes sting, a sharp, unwelcome pressure settling in his chest, like a dagger wedged right in the center of his heart. But somehow, out of sheer necessity, he forces himself to regain his composure for a fleeting moment.

He watches as you move so effortlessly, so unaware, casually making your way to the coffee table before settling beside Jaehyun, as if nothing has changed. As if the ground beneath him hasn't just shifted.

"Yeah... I... I'm back." His voice comes out steadier than he expects, but the hesitation lingers. His gaze flickers towards Jaehyun, who's now focused on his laptop, acting completely indifferent. But that smirk—that stupid smirk—still lingers on his lips, like he's utterly pleased with the way everything played out before you arrived.

Like he's already won.

When he notices you return to your work, the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filling the air, he takes it as his cue to retreat to his room.

Closing the door behind him, Jungkook throws his bag onto the bed and lets out the loudest sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his fingers against his temples.

God, he feels like he's stranded in the middle of nowhere.

That conversation with Jaehyun has left him shaken and probably extremely disoriented. Because now, he's trapped—caught between two unbearable choices.

On one hand, he has to warn you. He can't just sit back and watch as Jaehyun plays whatever twisted game he's playing. But on the other hand, he can't risk you finding out about his feelings because he would rather die than jeopardize everything between the two of you.

But even though his own emotions feel insignificant compared to your safety, compared to protecting you from someone like Jaehyun, the fear still gnaws at him.

You live with him, for fuck's sake.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel pressured around him, for you to start walking on eggshells around him.

He exhales deeply, slipping off his glasses before collapsing onto the mattress, an arm draped over his eyes. For a few moments, he stays like that, willing himself to silence the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Then—faint but distinct—the sound of the front door closing cuts through the quiet. His eyes snap open. Did Jaehyun leave?

Pushing himself off the bed, he moves towards the door, stepping out into the living room. His gaze lands on you almost instantly as he watches you clear up the coffee table, gathering your books and laptop.

"Did Jaehyun leave?" he asks softly grabbing your attention as you glance up, adjusting your things in your arms before offering a soft smile. "Oh, yeah. He just left."

Jungkook swallows, standing still for a beat too long.

Maybe he shouldn't let Jaehyun's words get to him. Maybe he's overthinking it because shouldn't he at least try? Shouldn't he say something? If nothing else, shouldn't he talk to you about it, regardless of his feelings for you?

You'd understand that, wouldn't you? You'd see it for what it is—just concern, just a friend looking out for you.

Right?

"Hey, Y/n..." Jungkook starts, taking a hesitant step closer. You hum in acknowledgment, making your way towards your room to put your things away. He follows quietly, maintaining a careful distance, his pulse drumming in his ears.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what's up?" you ask, placing your things on your desk before turning around to see him standing by your door, his posture tense and his expression troubled. "What's wrong?" you ask, your voice instinctively softening.

Jungkook exhales sharply, his eyes darting everywhere across the room except your face. "Um..." His hands curl into loose fists at his sides, like he's bracing himself. He's trying so hard to formulate whatever he wants to say, in a way that won't sound completely weird.

"Do you... do you trust Jaehyun?" he finally asks, his voice careful, but he can already see the confusion flicker across your face, the way you tilt your head slightly, the way your lips part as if you're waiting for him to clarify—because surely, you must have misheard him. "Do I trust Jaehyun?" you repeat, blinking.

Jungkook closes his eyes, the voices in his head getting louder and louder, and suddenly, the words are tumbling out if his mouth before he can stop them. "Yeah, like... um... you know, Jaehyun's a guy and... and like I said before, he's just so comfortable around you, and... I was just wondering—"

"Where is this coming from?" you interject, your eyes narrowing slightly. "It's just..." He inhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm worried about you because Jaehyun... he seems weird and I... I don't really trust him."

Fuck.

Why does he sound so wrong right now? He's trying his best to be rational, to not sound invasive, to not make it seem like he's overstepping. But every word that leaves his mouth feels off, like he's fumbling through a minefield, one misstep away from ruining everything.

Your lips part slightly, and you blink at him, utterly bewildered. "Kook, I'm not sure what you're trying to imply, but Jae's just a classmate and my assignment partner. That's it." Your voice remains patient, steady, but the confusion is unmistakable.

"And I get that you're worried... probably because, um, he's a guy, I guess?" You exhale softly, shaking your head, but there's no bite to your words. "But trust me, Kook. I know how to take care of myself." You're not defensive. You're not brushing him off. You're genuinely hoping your words reach him, that they ease whatever is twisting inside him.

Standing here, looking at him, the only conclusion you can draw is that Jungkook thinks Jaehyun has some weird intentions with you. And that's valid, you suppose—guys can be creepy, and you know Jungkook is just looking out for you.

But after spending so much time with Jaehyun, you've never once felt uncomfortable around him. Never noticed anything strange. So right now, this conversation barely makes any sense to you.

But then, something suddenly clicks.

You remember that conversation with Jungkook a few nights ago, when you were walking back from the diner, how he had casually, but pointedly, inquired about Jaehyun and made a comment about him getting a little too comfortable around the apartment.

So maybe... that's what's bothering him. Maybe Jaehyun's constant presence is just irritating him.

"Look..." you start again, offering a small, understanding smile. "if this is about him hanging around the apartment too much, I promise, I can always—"

"It's not about that." Jungkook cuts in quickly, shaking his head and your brows furrow slightly. "Then what is it about?"

"I just..." He exhales harshly, jaw clenching. "Y/n, I don't trust Jaehyun." he says again, but this time there's more certainty but Jungkook can tell you're still not catching what he's trying so hard to tell you.

You on the other hand, let out a quiet sigh because you get why he's saying this—you really do. But at the same time, you need him to understand that there's nothing to worry about.

"Kook..." you start gently. "I don't know why you feel that way, but I promise you, Jaehyun hasn't done anything weird."

Jungkook's stomach twists.

"I know guys can be creepy sometimes..." you continue, offering him a small, reassuring smile, "But Jaehyun isn't like that. We're really good friends, and I trust him."

You trust Jaehyun.

Jungkook barely breathes.

This—this is exactly what he was afraid of.

Because from where he's standing, it looks like Jaehyun has already sunk his claws into you, already manipulated you into thinking he's someone he clearly isn't. And if Jungkook pushes any further, if he insists, if he prods too much, it's only going to make him look bad.

It's going to backfire. It's going to make him look like the jealous, possessive friend who can't stand the idea of you being close to another guy.

And he can't afford that.

"I... I know that..." he stammers, pulse hammering against his ribs. "But, Y/n, he's a guy, and—" he still tries but you cut him off again. "And what?" you ask softly.

He's a fuckboy, and he probably just wants to sleep with you.

The words sit heavy on the tip of his tongue, pressing against his teeth, desperate to spill out—but he can't.

Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when you so clearly trust Jaehyun.

Jungkook feels his palms growing clammy while his chest tightens with frustration, with something deeper, something almost suffocating. God, he wants you to understand. He needs you to understand.

But how can he make you see it when every word he wants to say will only make him sound irrational? How can he explain when you're looking at him with those soft, patient eyes, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him?

"Kook, please." you murmur, shaking your head with a quiet laugh, like you're trying to put him at ease. Your voice is so warm, so gentle, but completely, utterly oblivious. "I really appreciate your concern, I do. But trust me on this, okay? Jae's a good guy."

You really don't see it, do you?

"I'm really thankful that you decided to reach out to me." you add, sincerity lacing every word. "But you're overthinking it, okay? So just... drop it, alright?"

You offer him another soft, patient smile. A smile that tells him you don't understand. A smile that tells him you think he's just being protective. A smile that makes his stomach churn because he sees it now... how easily Jaehyun has slipped past your defenses, how easily he's convinced you.

And Jungkook hates it.

But what can he do?

"Come on, let's have dinner." You say, effortlessly dropping the subject as you walk past him, gently patting his shoulder on the way.

But Jungkook stays where he is, frozen in place and he can't help but feel utterly defeated.

Days slip by after that conversation, and eventually, it fades from your mind.

You don't think about it much after that night—after all, Jungkook meant well. He always does. And in an effort to ease his concerns, you'd casually convinced Jaehyun to start working with you in the library instead of your apartment. It wasn't a big deal since it didn't change much for you.

Jungkook, on the other hand, notices immediately.

Jaehyun's presence in the apartment had significantly decreased, and he couldn't help but regret bringing the whole subject up. Because now, you're still meeting Jaehyun—just somewhere else. Somewhere he can't see. Somewhere he can't hear the way Jaehyun talks to you, or watch for any subtle red flags.

It's frustrating. Irrational, maybe. But Jungkook can't shake the feeling that Jaehyun is just too good at keeping up a friendly act.

But apart from that, thankfully, despite everything, things between you and Jungkook remain unchanged. You don't seem to think he was being weird or overstepping that night. You're still just as comfortable with him as ever.

Like right now, you're nestled beside him on the couch, stealing his nachos while your eyes remain fixed on the TV screen as "Attack On Titan" plays and even though you usually don't care much for anime, something about this one has intrigued you enough to sit through multiple episodes today.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is watching you more than the screen, quietly amused at how you keep shifting closer, your brows furrowed in deep concentration as you try very hard to make sense of what's happening.

He finds it endlessly endearing when you take an interest in the things he likes. Like the time you asked him to teach you Super Smash Bros. (only to suck so badly that he actually felt bad winning against you), or the time you spent an entire afternoon trying to solve a basic 3x3 rubik's cube, getting progressively more pissed off until he just scrambled it back up and pretended you were close.

Right now, your heart pounds as you grip the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the screen, watching in horror as Eren desperately struggles to save Armin from getting eaten by the Titan. "Please don't tell me one of them's about to die right now..." you whisper, half-hiding your face behind your hands, dreading the answer.

"Just keep watching." Jungkook murmurs beside you, eyes now fixed on the television as he pops a nacho inside his mouth.

Onscreen, Eren, still trapped inside the Titan's mouth, summons all his remaining strength to hurl Armin onto the rooftop—saving him from the jaws of death. Your breath catches in your throat, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Maybe—just maybe—Eren will find a way out too.

And then, the scene continues to unfold as Eren continues to talk and slowly reaches his arm out but—

The Titan's jaws snap shut.

"PAUSE! PAUSE!" you shriek, lunging for the remote, fingers fumbling as you mash the button in sheer panic. The screen freezes mid-frame, blood splattered in the air, the horror frozen in time. Your stomach twists as you turn to Jungkook, eyes pleading. "Jungkook, please tell me Eren is not about to die right now. PLEASEEE."

Jungkook leans back against the couch, exhaling like this is some tragic burden he's forced to carry. Of course he knows what happens next. He's a veteran at this point—he's rewatched this exact scene countless times but when his gaze meets yours, they're heavy with what you assume is sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Y/n... but Eren dies here."

Your stomach plummets. "What?"

Jungkook nods with a sad smile. "Yeah. This is one of the biggest plot twists in anime history. They made him seem like the main character, but it was all just a setup for Armin to take over."

You stare at him, mind reeling. "I—what? But—Eren... he can't just die like that!"

Jungkook sighs dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. "I know, right? It's brutal. But the whole story was actually Armin's from the beginning. Since he always wanted to see the ocean and all, from here on out, it's about him trying to avenge Eren." he explains.

You sag against the couch, hands tangling in your hair as a groan of devastation leaves your lips. "This is insane. I can't believe Eren just dies like this."

"Yeah. It sucks." Jungkook sighs and you're too deep in mourning to notice the way the corners of his lips twitch and the way he bites his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

Then, just as your grief starts to settle in, Jungkook reaches for the remote and resumes the episode. With a deep breath, you sit up straighter, drawn back into the story despite yourself.

Eren is somehow inside the Titan's stomach, floating among the grotesque remains of those who were devoured before him. He's shaking, eyes wide with horror, talking to himself as memories flash before his eyes. For a moment, confusion flickers through you. Wait—he's still alive?

The screen goes dark for a split second.

And then—

A monstrous arm bursts through the Titan's mouth, the sheer force sending the creature staggering forward. A sickening, gurgling sound rips through the air as the Titan's entire body begins to convulse, its back bulging grotesquely before—

BOOM.

A violent explosion of steam and blood erupts, and through the thick smoke, another Titan emerges—

A Titan that looks oddly familiar.

Your jaw drops and your entire brain short-circuits.

"WAIT, HOLD ON—" You practically leap off the couch, eyes glued still to the screen. "IS THAT—OH MY GOD—IS EREN A—"

Jungkook loses it. The absolute glee in his laughter is sickening as he throws his head back, body shaking as he cackles, completely and utterly entertained by your reaction.

And you? You seethe.

"YOU LIED TO ME?!" You whip your head towards him, betrayal written all over your face. Before you even process what you're doing, your hand finds the nearest couch pillow.

SMACK.

"Y/N, wait—"

"YOU LET ME THINK EREN DIED—" SMACK-SMACK-SMACK.

"BUT HE'S A TITAN NOW?!" SMACK-SMACK.

"HOW DARE YOU—"

Jungkook is laughing so hard that he's struggling to dodge your relentless attacks. He can barely catch his breath, eyes squeezed shut as he tries (and fails) to shield himself. He just couldn't help himself, your reactions are just too priceless.

"Y/N—wait—" he chokes out between laughs, trying to scoot away from you, but your vengeance is swift and unrelenting. And then—

It happens so fast.

Jungkook shifts to dodge another one of your swings, but his foot catches on the edge of the rug below, and in one ungraceful misstep, he stumbles—hard. Before you even realize what's happening, the momentum pushes you backward, and in the next second you land against the couch with a startled gasp, the pillow slipping from your fingers, and Jungkook falls forward—

Right on top of you.

Your breath hitches, the world around you shrinking into the mere inches that separate you from Jungkook.

For a moment, neither of you move as his hands remain planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in, while his chest hovers just above yours—close enough that you can feel the residual warmth radiating off him, but not close enough to touch.

Your eyes lock, wide and unblinking, both of you equally startled by the sudden shift in proximity.

Jungkook swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and he can almost hear the erratic pounding of his heart, the violent drumming echoing through his entire system, reverberating in his fingertips, in his spine, in the very air between you.

And you?

You gulp, pulse stammering in your system as a strange warmth curls in your chest, spreading like wildfire.

Has Jungkook always looked this good?

Because right now, with the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, with the way his lips are parted ever so slightly, he looks breathtaking.

And for some reason, the sight of him above you, his body framing yours, his scent wrapping around you like something dangerous, something intoxicating... has your stomach twisting into an unrecognizable knot, your chest doing peculiar things you don't quite know how to name.

You're not even thinking straight when your gaze unconsciously flickers from Jungkook's eyes to his lips.

And he notices—immediately.

For some inexplicable reason, his tongue darts out, running over his lower lip in a slow, almost instinctive motion. The simple action sends a shiver through you, and before you can stop yourself, your breath stutters out and almost in perfect synchrony, you both exhale.

Your body doesn't move—doesn't even attempt to push him off. And the strangest part? You don't want to. There's something about the way he's looking at you, hovering over you, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse stammer.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels utterly lost. What the hell is this? Why can't he move? If he had any shred of sanity left, he should be pushing himself up, putting space between you, pretending like this never happened. But he doesn't. He can't.

And why... why are you looking at him like that?

Suddenly—

The sharp, shrill chime of the doorbell slices through the air like a knife, shattering the spell in an instant. The tension between you snaps like a rubber band, leaving behind only the rapid pounding of your hearts.

Almost instinctively, Jungkook jerks upright, pushing himself away while you scramble to sit up on the couch.

"That must be—"

"I guess that's—"

You both speak at the same time, voices overlapping, only to fall into an awkward silence. Cheeks flushed, breaths still uneven, you both pointedly avoid each other's eyes, pretending as if the last few seconds never happened.

"That must be the pizza." you finally say, forcing your voice to sound normal and Jungkook nods quickly, still refusing to meet your eyes. "I'll... I'll go get it." he informs and before you can respond, he's already turning on his heel, practically fleeing towards the front door.

As soon as he disappears through the doorway, you sink back into the couch, exhaling a shaky breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Your hand drifts to your chest, pressing against the frantic beat of your wild heart, like a caged animal trying to break free.

You close your eyes for a moment, but it does nothing to erase the image seared into your mind because all you can see is the way he looked on top of you, the way he looked into your eyes, the way he licked his lips.

You have no idea what this feeling is, why the proximity has left you breathless, why your knees feel weak, or why your spine feels like something dangerously close to jelly.

Your fingers twitch against your chest, pressing harder, as if you could physically restrain the rampage inside you, as if you could will your body into forgetting the way he looked at you.

But it's no use.

Jungkook returns with two large boxes of pizza and a couple of soda cans while you keep your eyes fixed on the screen where Attack on Titan still plays, except the storyline passes by without meaning, your mind too preoccupied to register any of it.

Jungkook nibbles on his lower lip as he walks closer, setting the boxes down on the coffee table before hesitantly lowering himself onto the couch. He keeps a noticeable distance between you, his posture slightly stiff.

God, he hopes he didn't make you uncomfortable. Prays you won't start treating him differently after this. It was truly an accident, except for the part where he just stayed there, hovering over you instead of moving.

Maybe he should have moved. Maybe he should have reacted faster.

He's spiraling.

"That smells good." you say suddenly breaking the awkwardness before reaching for one of the boxes and flipping it open. Casually, you pull out a slice and hand it to him, like you always do. "Here."

Jungkook hesitates for half a second, his eyes flicking to your face, but when he sees that there's no awkwardness, no tension in your expression... just warmth and normalcy, relief washes over him like a tide.

"Thank you." he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile as he takes the slice from your hand.

You pull out a slice for yourself, and the two of you settle into eating, shifting your attention back to the anime playing on the screen. The silence between you isn't heavy, but Jungkook still feels the sudden urge to fill it.

"How's your assignment coming along?" he asks, taking a bite of his pizza. "Oh, we're almost done. We should be able to submit it next week." you nod, reaching for a soda.

Jungkook hums, chewing thoughtfully. Knowing that you're almost done with the assignment eases something in his chest. Maybe once it's submitted, you won't have to spend as much time with Jaehyun but before he can say anything, you let out an exhausted sigh.

"I genuinely can't believe this semester is finally ending. But honestly? I never want to relive it again." you shudder dramatically, cracking open your soda can and taking a long sip making Jungkook chuckle beside you. "Yeah, I get that. It's been brutal."

"What are your plans for the break?" you ask suddenly, turning towards him. "Oh, I'm heading to Busan. My parents have been on my case about visiting." he answers, shaking his head with a small smile and you snicker. "Sounds like they miss you."

"Miss me? Please." He scoffs. "The second I walk through the door, my mom's gonna be like, 'Oh, Jungkookie, since you're here, can you fix the WiFi? The TV remote stopped working too. Oh, and the washing machine is making a weird noise.' They just miss getting things repaired for free."

You shake your head, amused. "Well, don't blame her. You really are the most handy IT guy. You're always fixing things around our apartment too." Your voice softens slightly at the end, making Jungkook glance at you for a beat longer than necessary.

"Yeah, that... that's true. But I swear, just because I study computer science, my family thinks I can hack into the government or... I don't know... bring back deleted WhatsApp messages or something."

That, for some reason, makes you laugh harder than you intend to. "Wait... has someone actually asked you to do that?" you gasp between giggles. "Oh yeah." he breathes out, proceeding to take a sip of his soda. "My aunt. She genuinely believed I could recover messages from two years ago." he sighs.

"Plus, my sister's been dying to test out her new designs on me." he adds casually. Right — Jungkook’s older sister was an insanely talented tattoo artist. “Oh right, I forgot you’re her muse." you giggle, nodding toward his inked-up forearms.

It’s always fascinated you, the contrast between Jungkook’s usual nerdy demeanor and the bold, intricate sleeve that tells a completely different story. The first time you saw it, you couldn’t wrap your head around how someone like him could be covered in tattoos like that.

But then he told you the story of how his sister first practiced her art on him, how that one small design spiraled into something bigger, how he realized he loved the way it looked and the way it felt like carrying a piece of her work with him everywhere he went.

And to be brutally honest, you think it’s one of the hottest things about him because you’ve caught yourself staring more times than you can count — when he’s slicing vegetables while he's cooking or when he's using the screwdriver to fix something or when he stretches and the ink shifts across his skin like it’s alive.

Yeah, it’s impossible not to look.

"What about you, though?" he asks after a moment, shifting slightly on the couch to face you better. "What are your plans for the break?"

"I'm going back to Ilsan too. I miss my dad." You exhale softly, a small, fond smile gracing your lips.

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, a small smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, the two of you lapse into silence, but this time, it feels comfortable, like neither of you are skirting around something unspoken.

And soon enough, just like that, you're back to your usual self, tossing question after question at Jungkook, trying (and failing) to navigate whatever the hell is happening on the screen.

“I swear to god, if one more random character turns out to be a Titan, I’m throwing this pizza straight at your face.” you grumble, taking an unnecessarily aggressive bite of your slice and all Jungkook can do is bite back his smile, the kind that threatens to split his face in two, because do you even realize how ridiculously, unfairly cute you are right now?

With his afternoon class just half an hour away, Jungkook remains perched on the kitchen island, absently chewing on an apple while his eyes stay glued to his phone as he watches a video titled: "Can You Really Cook an Egg on a PS5?"

The answer, apparently, is yes—if you block all the vents, run Elden Ring on max settings, and let it overheat to the point of near combustion. The guy in the video is currently cracking an egg onto the console, looking way too excited as the edges start turning white and Jungkook squints.

There's no way that's safe.

Just as he takes another bite of his apple, the doorbell rings. He blinks, reluctantly pausing the video (he needs to see how this ends) before standing up. You're still in the shower, so with a sigh, he makes his way towards the front door to see who it is.

With the half-eaten apple still in his hand, he swings the door open, only to frown instantly because the person standing on the other side is probably not even the last person he wants to see right now.

"Why are you here?" Jungkook blurts out, not bothering to hide the irritation on his face or in his tone.

Jaehyun merely rolls his eyes before stepping inside uninvited, his shoulder deliberately bumping against Jungkook's on the way in. "Where's Y/n?" he asks, like Jungkook is some receptionist.

Jungkook scoffs at the sheer audacity but begrudgingly shuts the door behind him. "I asked you a question." he says, keeping his voice firm, his annoyance barely contained.

Jaehyun exhales dramatically, like Jungkook is just so exhausting to deal with. "None of your business." he says, shamelessly striding towards the couch and plopping down on it like he owns the place.

Jungkook glares, grip tightening around his apple. He considers throwing it at Jaehyun's head but ultimately decides against it as he crosses his arms over his chest.

At least, for now.

Just then, the bathroom door creaks open, and you step out, towel wrapped around your damp hair and your huge bathrobe cinched around your frame. You move towards your room but pause mid-step when you spot Jaehyun in the living room and Jungkook standing stiffly nearby.

"Jae?" you ask, furrowing your brows as you adjust the towel on your head. "What are you doing here?"

Jaehyun's lips pull into a lazy smile. "Since we're turning in the assignment today, I thought we could go together. You know... to Mr. Jung's cabin."

Right. Today's the deadline.

But you distinctly remember telling Jaehyun that you'd meet him on campus, so seeing him here unannounced throws you off a bit. You glance at Jungkook, and his expression tells you instantly that he's not quite pleased seeing Jaehyun here.

"Well... I thought I'd meet you directly on campus." you say, hesitant and Jaehyun shrugs. "I know, but I thought it'd be nice if we walked there together." He says, leaning back against the couch.

You press your lips together, debating. It's not that big of a deal, you suppose.

"Fine." you breathe out. "Give me a few minutes. I'll go get ready." you inform and as you turn towards your room, you cast Jungkook a small, almost apologetic smile, hoping Jaehyun's sudden presence isn't annoying him too much.

The moment your door clicks shut, Jungkook steps closer, arms still crossed over his chest. His gaze locks onto Jaehyun with barely concealed irritation.

"Why bother coming here when she already said she'd meet you on campus?" Jungkook spits out, his voice edged with barely restrained irritation. "At this point, you're just looking for excuses to show up here."

Jaehyun exhales through his nose, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he leans back against the couch. "Damn, dude..." he drawls, stretching his arms behind his head. "You're not even gonna try to hide how much you hate me, huh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking like Jungkook's irritation is just entertainment for him.

"You know... you really impress me." Jaehyun continues with a smirk, and though Jungkook isn't sure what Jaehyun is about to say, he can already tell it's something ridiculous and meant purely to get under his skin.

"I mean, I get it—my existence near the girl you're in love with bothers you. That much is obvious." Jaehyun chuckles, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "But honestly? I gotta give you credit, man."

Jungkook's brows knit together, irritation flickering into confusion. "What the fuck are you saying?" he grits out, keeping his voice low.

Jaehyun exhales, shaking his head like he's genuinely impressed. "Living with her must be a real challenge, huh?" His voice drops. "Knowing you'll probably never have a shot with her, but still having to see her every single day? Watching her, hoping—pathetically, might I add—that one day she'll just... what? Wake up and suddenly fall for you?"

Jungkook's grip tightens around the apple in his hand, and he's sure that if he squeezes any harder, it'll burst apart in his palm. But before he can put an end to whatever nonsense is coming out of Jaehyun's mouth, the bastard pushes forward.

"And to make matters worse, there's another guy in the picture. And it just kills you, doesn't it?" Jaehyun leans forward now, elbows now resting on his knees, his voice dripping with arrogance. "The fact that you can't do anything about it. The fact that you think I'm stealing something from you." He scoffs, tilting his head.

"But let's be real, Jungkook. Even if I weren't in the picture, do you really think you'd ever have a chance?"

Jungkook's breath hitches. His skin is burning, his blood is boiling. "Just shut the fu—"

"You really think someone like Y/n would ever like someone like you?" Jaehyun interrupts smoothly, his scoff laced with pure condescension. "She's probably just nice to you because she feels bad for you. Because you're... well, you."

Jungkook sees red. His vision blurs at the edges, his patience fraying thread by thread. How dare this guy walk all over him like this? He parts his lips to retaliate, but Jaehyun just keeps going, reclining back into the couch with that infuriating smirk of his.

"She keeps you around because it's convenient. Because you're her roommate. She includes you in her content because she doesn't want you to feel left out." He exhales a laugh, shaking his head like he finds the whole thing funny.

Then, he levels Jungkook with a slow, smug grin. "You're like her pet nerd, man. That's honestly just sad."

At that moment, something in Jungkook shifts. His expression, once hardened with anger, flickers, just for a fraction of a second. The fire behind his glare dulls and morphs into something else, something far more unsettling. Like a slow, sinking drop in his stomach, a quiet, insidious doubt creeping in where it has no right to be.

Because as much as he doesn't want to let Jaehyun's words get to him, as much as he's always told himself that whatever Jaehyun says is just meant to provoke him, somehow, this—this—feels different. It doesn't feel like empty taunting or a cheap attempt to piss him off.

It feels like the truth.

A truth Jungkook never wanted to consider.

His grip on the apple tightens again, but his pulse wavers. He wants to scoff, to roll his eyes, to tell Jaehyun to shut the hell up and get out. But the words just won't come out. Because somewhere, buried in the venom of Jaehyun's condescending smirk, in the way he speaks like he knows something Jungkook doesn't, a seed of doubt takes root.

Do you really feel bad for him? Do you really only include him so he won't feel left out? Is he just... convenient to you because you live together?

The thoughts come fast, scraping against his skull like nails on glass. It's stupid, it's ridiculous—it has to be. He knows you. Thinks the world of you. You're the last person to be that cruel.

But it doesn't take much, does it?

Not for someone like Jungkook... someone who has spent his entire life standing on the outskirts, watching as the world moved past him like he was never meant to be a part of it.

Someone who has always been the quietest voice in the room, easily drowned out, easily overlooked. The boy who was more comfortable with equations and codes than with people, who found solace in screens or pages rather than conversations. The boy who never quite fit, who never quite mattered in the way others did.

It doesn't take much to convince someone like himthat someone like you—only keeps him around out of obligation. That maybe every laugh, every kind word, every inclusion was never because you wanted him there, but because you felt like you had to.

That maybe, in the grand scheme of things, he is nothing more than a convenience... a default presence in your life simply because he happens to live under the same roof.

And that? That thought hurts in a way he never expected. It coils in his chest, sinking deep into the cracks of insecurities he thought he had long buried.

Jungkook stands there, unmoving like a statue carved from the weight of his own thoughts as Jaehyun's words continue to ricochet inside his skull. Each syllable lands like a carefully aimed strike, while Jaehyun?

Jaehyun just watches him with that same smug, self-satisfied smirk, like he's basking in the sight of Jungkook's silence. Like he's thriving off the lack of a response, off the way Jungkook has been rendered utterly speechless.

The sound of your door unlocking shatters the silence.

Jungkook flinches, snapping back to reality just in time to see you step out, your hair now dry, your bag slung effortlessly over your shoulder. You're wearing a fitted top and a denim skirt that ends just at the middle of your thighs—casual, effortless, and yet, somehow, still unfairly perfect.

Your eyes immediately land on Jaehyun as you stride towards the couch, completely oblivious to the wreckage he's left in Jungkook's wake. "Let's head out?" Jaehyun asks, standing up from the couch with an easy smile and you nod before turning towards the door.

"Bye, Kook." you say, your voice soft as you smile sweetly at him. "Have a good day. I'll see you later."

You walk past him without a second thought, slipping into your shoes as Jaehyun follows behind you.

Jungkook turns to see you both at the door way and hears you both murmuring, something quiet, something casual, but it barely registers because he's still drowning. Still trapped beneath the weight of words that shouldn't have mattered but somehow do.

Jaehyun lets out an airy chuckle, throwing Jungkook one last look, before stepping outside with you.

And just like that, the door clicks shut, leaving Jungkook standing there, adrift in the silence, drowning in thoughts he never wanted to have, thoughts that now refuse to leave.

Because no matter how much he wants to shake them off, the seed has already been planted. And the worst part?

He's afraid it might have been growing there all along.

"I can't believe that stupid assignment is finally fucking over." Jimin exhales, shaking his head as he leads the way out of the teacher's lounge with you, Jaehyun and Namjoon following closely behind after just turning the assignment in.

"But seriously, it's insane how this semester is already wrapping up. Like, what do you mean we have finals in two weeks?" He groans, running a hand through his hair as you all make your way down the hallway.

"On the bright side, we've got our break coming up." Jaehyun chimes in, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets and Namjoon nods at that. "Yeah, and even though it's just a month, it's definitely needed." He sighs, cracking his neck, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

"Why don't we all grab something to eat together? It's Friday, and I think we deserve to blow off some steam after that absolute nightmare of an assignment. Plus... I'm starving." Jimin suddenly suggests, flashing a sheepish smile as he falls into step beside you.

"Honestly? Same." you nod, absentmindedly rubbing your stomach before glancing over at Jaehyun and Namjoon. "You guys in?"

"Yeah, I don't mind." Namjoon shrugs, stretching his arms behind his head. Jaehyun tilts his head slightly, as if contemplating, before nodding. "Yeah, sure. But real question—what are we eating?"

Jimin hums, tapping his chin in thought before his eyes light up. "I know this hotpot place downtown. Why don't we go there?" he suggests, glancing at the three of you who instantly give him approving nods.

Soon enough, the evening slips by as the four of you spend time together in the cozy hotpot restaurant, savoring both the food and the easy conversation. But eventually, with plates emptied and bellies full, it's time to part ways.

Namjoon is the first to leave, heading straight for the subway station with a casual wave. Jimin, meanwhile, slides into the backseat of his cab, rolling down the window to glance at you. "You sure you don't wanna come with?" he asks, brows raised.

You shake your head with a small smile. "It's alright, Chim. I'll walk."

Jaehyun, who was just in the middle of booking his own cab, quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket. "Then I'll walk with you." he offers. "Oh, you really don't have to." you say quickly, but he just shrugs, with a grin.

"Well, okay then, you guys figure it out. I'm heading out." Jimin leans back into his seat, already getting comfortable. "Y/n text me when you get home!" he calls out just before the car pulls away, leaving you alone with Jaehyun on the dimly lit sidewalk.

You turn to him with a pointed look and swat his arm. "Hey, you should've just booked your cab."

Jaehyun barely flinches, his expression entirely unbothered. "And let you walk home alone? Yeah, no thanks," he says easily, already taking a few steps forward.

You roll your eyes but fall into step beside him, the two of you blending into the steady flow of people weaving through the bustling streets—couples ducking into cafés, groups of friends spilling out of restaurants, neon lights flickering against the pavement.

Jaehyun suddenly smirks. "I gotta admit, I didn't expect working with you to be such a breeze."

You narrow your eyes at him, mirroring his grin. "What's that supposed to mean?" you challenge. "You thought I'd be a bad assignment partner?"

He shrugs, far too relaxed. "Sort of."

Your mouth falls open in mock offense before you swat his arm again. "That's so mean." You laugh, shaking your head, and just then, your eyes suddenly catch on a store display on the other side of the street that makes your heart skip a beat.

It's a toy store, the shelves stacked with colorful puzzles and games, but what truly grabs your attention is the bold sign right outside the entrance—Limited Edition 21x21 Rubik's Cube Available. On Sale Now!

"Oh my god..." you gasp, already changing direction without a second thought while Jaehyun blinks, watching in bewilderment as you suddenly make a beeline for the store. "Hey, uh... Where—"

"Can we make a stop there, please?" You interject, turning to him with an excited smile, practically bouncing on your feet as you point towards the toy store.

"The toy store?" Jaehyun asks, confused. "Yeah! They apparently have the 21x21 rubik's cube in stock—and it's on sale." You turn back towards the store, eyes practically shining. "I have to get it for Kook."

Jaehyun watches you, exasperated, but you don't notice.

Your mind is already elsewhere, thinking about Jungkook and his oddly specific hobby of collecting all kinds of rubik's cubes. You know how badly he's wanted the 21x21 variation—he's grumbled about it enough times, always complaining about how it's out of stock everywhere.

And now that you have a chance to get it for him, there's no way you're passing it up.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, has to fight the urge to groan out loud because are you seriously about to waste time in some toy store just so you can buy a damn rubik's cube for that nerd of a roommate?

This was so not how he had envisioned this walk going.

But before he gets the chance to question you again, he lets the thought go and sighs before lazily following you into the toy store and watching you get all giddy over a stupid rubik's cube.

All for that nerd Jungkook.

The moment you step into the store, your eyes instantly land on exactly what you were looking for. "Oh my god, he's going to love this." you murmur, already picturing Jungkook's reaction.

Jaehyun, however, instantly notices the price of the cube and his eyes widen in disbelief. "You're seriously spending that much... for your roommate?" His tone is incredulous, as if he can't fathom why anyone would go to such lengths.

"Um, yeah." you say nonchalantly, shrugging like it's the most obvious thing in the world. You glance at the price, completely unfazed because you already had a rough idea of how much it would cost.

Jaehyun scoffs, eyebrows raising as he struggles to mask his irritation. "Why, though?" he presses, trying to keep his voice casual. "Just because." you shrug with a smile, picking up a fresh box from the shelf before making your way to the counter without a second thought.

Once you step out of the store, Jaehyun falls back into step beside you, his irritation tucked neatly behind a mask of nonchalance. He decides to keep his focus on you instead, letting you ramble about some ridiculous high school memory.

It makes the walk easier, makes the time pass faster until, before either of you realize it, the familiar sight of your apartment building comes into view.

"Thanks for walking me home, though I hope you know it was completely unnecessary." You turn to Jaehyun with a small smile. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "You really need to stop acting like you're inconveniencing me. It's the least I can do for a friend."

You smile at that, but he's already speaking again. "We are friends, right? I'd hate to think I was just a temporary assignment partner to you." His playful pout makes you laugh. "Of course, we're friends." you assure him, tilting your head.

"Glad to hear it. So don't go pretending like you don't know me the next time we cross paths on campus." he teases. "Wouldn't dream of it." you reply with a giggle. He grins before glancing up at the darkening sky. "Anyway, it's getting late. You should head inside."

"And you should go home." you quip, nudging your chin toward him. Jaehyun exhales, rocking back on his heels. "Yeah, yeah. Well then, I'll see you around."

There's a brief pause before he subtly opens his arms, and you immediately recognize the gesture. Without much thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around to hug him.

Just a simple parting hug. No big deal.

Jungkook had returned from class nearly three hours ago to an empty apartment. He figured you were still busy with work, but somehow, being alone had only made it worse. His mind kept circling back to that conversation with Jaehyun.

In fact, it never left him. It had followed him all throughout his lecture, clung to the edges of his thoughts like a stubborn stain, looping over and over in the cruelest of ways.

And now, sitting out on the balcony of your shared apartment with a half-empty beer can dangling from his fingers after downing who knows how many before it, the conversation still refuses to let him go.

Jungkook glances down at the empty cans resting on the floor beside his chair and tips his head back with a sigh, staring blankly at the expanse of the night sky, hoping—praying—that maybe if he sits here long enough, the weight in his chest will lift.

But it doesn't.

Because no matter how much he wants to brush it off, Jaehyun's words had cracked something open inside him. Had made him look at something he had never even considered before. Had forced him to question things he had never thought to doubt.

That maybe, to you, he was just an obligation. A convenience. A pet nerd.

He exhales sharply, taking another swig of his beer, but it tastes awful tonight... too bitter, too sharp against his tongue. He scowls at the sensation, shifting in his seat as if the discomfort is something he can physically shake off.

And then suddenly, a faint murmur rises from the street below, breaking through the restless hum in his mind and his gaze flickers downward as he peaks over the railing.

And there you are, walking side by side with Jaehyun down the street and Jungkook instantly freezes.

You're holding onto a large paper bag, but he barely registers it, because all he can focus on is the easy, natural way you move together, the way your head tilts towards Jaehyun as you speak, the way you seem so comfortable with him by your side.

You were with him this whole time?

His grip tightens around the beer can, metal bending slightly under the force.

You submitted the assignment today. The whole reason you were spending time with Jaehyun in the first place, is over. So why are you still hanging out with him? Why are you laughing like that? Why is he walking you home at this hour?

His eyes flicker back to the bag in your hands.

Did you go shopping with him? Is he your shopping partner now? Did you drag him into different stores, let him see the indecisive way you hover over products, let him tease you over your choices? Did he help you pick things out, offer opinions that Jungkook thought were his to give?

It's stupid. So, so stupid. Jungkook knows he's being irrational, knows how miserably unreasonable it is to let something this trivial get under his skin, but god, he just can't help it.

The sick feeling in his stomach festers, spreading like an ache he can't shake off.

His eyes remain fixed on the scene below, watching as you and Jaehyun come to a slow stop in front of the entrance to your apartment building. He finds himself shifting forward, standing to get a better view, even though a part of him hates how this must look, how he must look, lurking on the balcony like some desperate voyeur.

But he just can't look away.

Not when he sees Jaehyun murmuring something to you, not when you giggle at whatever he's saying. And then—

Then you move closer.

Your arms lift, wrapping around Jaehyun in an easy, familiar hug and suddenly, something inside Jungkook snaps.

A sharp, piercing ringing floods his ears, drowning out everything else. His vision blurs at the edges, his throat tightening with something he doesn't want to name. He exhales sharply, chest heaving with the weight of something too much, too sudden, too overwhelming.

And he can't—he can't do this. Can't just stand here and witness whatever's going on between you and Jaehyun.

So before he even fully realizes it, he's spinning on his heels, retreating back inside the apartment, yanking the balcony door shut behind him with a force that rattles the frame.

The glass quivers.

And so does he.

Once Jaehyun leaves, you make your way towards your flat, your fingers tightening around the paper bag as a small, giddy smile tugs at your lips.

Before unlocking the door, you glance down at the bag, already trying to imagine what Jungkook's reaction is going to be when he sees the ridiculously oversized rubik's cube you've bought for him.

You fish out your keys and unlock the door, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes—but the moment you do, something feels... off.

It's too quiet.

No sound from the TV. No faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Not even the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard that usually fills the apartment late into the night. You pause, tilting your head slightly. Is Jungkook already asleep?

That's odd.

Stepping further in, your gaze drifts to the glass balcony door and that's when you spot the multiple beer cans scattered carelessly on the ground beside the familiar plastic chair and a frown tugs at your brows.

Jungkook drinks, sure, but he's never been the one to sit alone and down cans by himself. He always prefers drinking when you're around, and even though his tolerance is high, something about this... him drinking alone, doesn't sit right with you.

You shake off the uneasy feeling and head to your room, placing the paper bag on your nightstand. Maybe tonight isn't the best time to surprise him. If he's drunk, it can wait till morning.

Still, the nagging concern in your chest refuses to settle so you pad across the wooden floor and stop outside his door, softly knocking. "Hey, Kook? Are you asleep?"

Silence.

On most nights, you'd take that as your cue to leave him be, assuming he's already knocked out. But tonight, you hesitate because something about this doesn't feel right. You wait a few moments, debating whether to push further, before slowly and hesitantly turning the doorknob.

"I'm coming in." you warn softly, pushing the door open and your eyes immediately find Jungkook, curled up under the covers, lying on his side with his back turned to you. His shoulders are tense, posture stiff like he's bracing for something.

"Kook?" you call out again gently, but the way he curls in tighter, pulling the blanket up higher over his frame, is enough to tell you he's not asleep. "Hey... what's wrong?" you ask, still lingering by the door, unsure if you should step in or step back. "I saw the beer cans..." you add, hoping it might coax him to talk. "You never drink alone. Did something happen today?"

Under the covers, Jungkook grits his teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. He doesn't want to hear your voice right now, not when every syllable feels like salt in a fresh wound. Not when his mind is still replaying the sight of you and Jaehyun.

Not when the bitter taste of the beer still stubbornly sits on his tongue and not when Jaehyun's voice, his words, his taunts are all clawing their way back up to the surface, pressing against the inside of Jungkook's skull until he feels like he might combust.

He knows if he opens his mouth now, something ugly will spill out, something raw and twisted that he doesn't even fully understand himself.

But you're still there. Still standing at the threshold, your worry so palpable it practically seeps into the room. You take the smallest step forward. "Jungkook..." you try again. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is... I'm here."

Your voice is a comfort you don't even realize you've become... a warmth he never asked for but somehow clung to, thread by fragile thread, until it wrapped around him like a lifeline.

And that's exactly the problem.

Because comfort breeds hope, and hope is a dangerous thing for someone who's spent too long convincing himself he didn't deserve it in the first place.

Suddenly the sharp sound of his tongue clicking fills the silence, loud enough to make you flinch. "Can you just leave me alone?" he spits and you freeze for a brief moment at his tone. You've never heard Jungkook talk like that.

"I... what?" you ask, confusion laced into your tone. "I just wanted to check—"

"Why do you always act like you're entitled to walk into my room whenever you feel like it?" he snaps, voice raised just enough to sting as he sits up abruptly, sheets pooling at his waist, and when you get a look at his eyes, you're confused. There's something storming behind them... something troubled, something restless, something dangerously close to breaking apart.

"What— I'm— Kook, what... what's wrong?" you stammer, your voice small, fragile against the weight of his glare. He exhales sharply, like the air itself offends him, yanking the sheets off his body with a roughness that startles you as he stands to his feet. "Just get out." he mutters.

And something about the way he says it, the way he looks at you, rubs you the wrong way. You don't know if it's the alcohol talking or if it's pure, unfiltered anger, but if there's one thing you've never done, it's disrespected Jungkook. So why the hell should you stand here and let him tear into you like this, when you have no clue why you deserve this in the first place.

"Excuse me?" Your arms fold across your chest, feet planted firmly into the ground. "What's with the attitude?"

"Attitude?" He lets out a hollow laugh, the kind that doesn't belong to the Jungkook you know. The sound of it makes your stomach turn. His gaze locks onto you, and that's when you see how his eyes glisten but there's no time to process that because he's already speaking again.

"I'm sick of you."

Three words. Brutal and merciless. They hit you like a slap you never saw coming.

"I'm sick of you walking into my room like you own it. I'm sick of being your personal mannequin every time you can't pick a fucking outfit or decide between two pairs of earrings. Sick of you asking for my opinion like my words mean something — like I mean something, when we both know the second you get what you want, I'm invisible again."

Your heart stutters in disbelief, chest tightening with each accusation hurled your way. But Jungkook's just getting started, words spilling faster now, sharper with every breath.

"I'm sick of being your backup plan — the human crutch you lean on whenever it suits you. You only come to me when you need something. Someone to just go along with everything you say. Someone to play your little sidekick in this perfect world of yours." His voice cracks, but he powers through it, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle twitch.

"I'm done being your fucking plaything, Y/n."

The air between you turns suffocating, his bitterness clashing against your confusion like a storm building with no place to go.

"Jungkook??" you start, but your voice falters halfway, cracking under the weight of confusion clawing at your throat. "Where... where is this even coming from? Look... I think you're really drunk right now and—"

"Can you just leave?" he interjects with a scoff, running a hand through his already-messy hair before turning his back on you, like the mere act of looking at you is too much to bear. "Go back to Jaehyun." he mutters.

"Maybe he'll help you pick out a new set of nails. Or film a tiktok. Or whatever it is you need to feel relevant today." The jab is low, muttered under his breath, but sharp enough to slice through your already fragile composure.

"What does Jaehyun have to do with any of this?" you demand, voice rising just slightly, the confusion twisting into something bordering on anger. Because none of this makes sense... not the venom in his voice, not the sudden shift in his attitude, and definitely not the way he's acting like you're the villain in some story you didn't even know you were a part of.

"CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LEAVE ??" This time, he practically yells, voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. There's something almost desperate in the way he says it, like he's begging you to go before he loses the last shred of control he has left. Like he knows the alcohol is working overtime, dragging out words he doesn't mean, words he won't be able to take back once they're out in the open.

"No." Your voice is steady, even as your heart pounds in your ears. You step forward, planting yourself firmly in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck this is all about. Because right now, you sound completely ridiculous." Your hands fly up as you speak, your frustration boiling over.

"Oh, I'm ridiculous?" He lets out a hollow chuckle, one that makes your stomach knot as he turns to face you. "Right. I'm the fucking clown here for actually caring about you, when it's so painfully obvious that the only reason Jaehyun's even nice to you is because he wants to fuck you."

The words hit like a slap, and even Jungkook looks momentarily stunned by how harsh he sounds. But he doesn't take it back. He doesn't soften. Instead, he holds your gaze, daring you to react.

Your lips part, but no words come out at first. There's only that awful, twisting ache in your chest, followed by a low, trembling whisper. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Oh, come on, Y/n." he snaps, throwing his head back, hands planted firmly on his hips like he's trying to hold himself together. "Are you seriously that naive? You actually believe a guy like Jaehyun is just being friendly? You seriously trust him?" The laugh that follows is humorless, dripping with disbelief.

"What is your problem with Jaehyun?" you ask, voice sharper now, anger slowly overtaking the confusion. "I know him better than you, Jungkook. And honestly? It just looks like you have no idea what you're talking about and I'm so tired of you always twisting him into something he's not. It's exhausting."

"Right. Of course." Jungkook's laugh is sharp enough to slice through a bone, and it makes your blood boil. "Of course, you'd say that because I'm the crazy nerd who has no idea what he's talking about while he's your precious friend. So excuse me for actually giving a shit and trying to fucking warn you because god forbid someone who cares about you tries to protect you."

You scoff, disbelief flooding every inch of you. "Do you even realize how insane you sound right now???"

"Right, so now, I'm insane." he laughs again, shaking his head. "You really don't get it, do you? I'm only reliable to you when you want to film some trend for your tiktok page or you need someone to hold the camera for your pictures or... or give you an opinion on your outfit, or help you test out your makeup. That's all I am to you, isn't it? Some idiot you can pull into whatever you want because I'm convenient. Because I'm easy."

The accusation knocks the air clean out of your lungs. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint ringing in your ears... the kind that comes when a blow lands too hard, too fast, leaving no time to brace for impact. You don't know if it's the alcohol swimming in his veins or if there's something deeper unraveling inside him, something that's been building for longer than you realized.

But either way, your mind spins, your eyes sting, your heart stumbles over itself, and all you can do is stare at him, wide-eyed and breathless. "You really think... I'm that shallow?" You whisper, feeling your whole body tremble. "You really believe... that's all you are to me?"

"I don't think, Y/n. I know." The certainty in his voice makes your heart break. "Because let's be honest, Y/n... you're so fucking oblivious. So blind to anything that doesn't fit neatly into your perfect little world. All you see is you... your life, your influencer crap, your curated existence where every outfit, every angle, every caption matters more than the people standing right beside you."

He exhales harshly, running a hand through his hair, frustration dripping from every word. "You never bother to look past what's directly in front of you. If something isn't wrapped up and handed to you in plain sight, it doesn't fucking exist to you. And if anyone tries to warn you or tell you something you don't want to hear, you'll just brush it off like it's noise because you always know best."

He pauses, closing his eyes as his tongue pokes his inner cheek. "So tell me, Y/n. Why the hell am I even standing here, wasting my time, wasting my breath, when I already know exactly how this ends?"

There's a pause... a silence so deafening it drowns out every other sound, leaving nothing but the roar of your own pulse thundering in your ears. Your entire body feels like it's on fire, skin prickling, blood boiling beneath the surface. Your legs threaten to give out, and your chest aches like your heart might splinter apart right there in his room.

Because the sight before you feels like something out of a nightmare — a version of Jungkook you've never seen before. So cruel. So angry. So intent on wounding you in ways you never thought he could.

And knowing this is how he sees you... this twisted version of you he's built inside his head, it makes you sick to your stomach. You can't even recognize yourself in the reflection of his words. You can't recognize him either because in his eyes, you're nothing more than a girl who uses him, a girl who takes and takes and never sees the damage left behind.

You can't even stand to look at him right now.

"Fuck you." your hoarse voice cuts through the air, sharp and trembling all at once, and for the first time all night, they seem to actually land. It's like the phrase itself snaps Jungkook out of the angry haze he's been spiraling in, dragging him harshly back into reality.

And suddenly, the weight of everything he just spewed... every cruel word, every accusation dripping in bitterness, crashes down on him all at once.

His mind was already a mess, thoughts piling up and collapsing under their own weight, and god knows how many cans of beer only poured gasoline over the fire. But now, standing here, watching the way your eyes glisten with heavy tears you're clearly fighting not to let fall — he knows.

He's gone too far.

But it doesn't matter, because you've already turned on your heel, walking out of his room as the door slams so hard behind you that it rattles the frame and Jungkook just stands there... frozen, knowing damn well there's no point in running after you now because the damage is already done.

And maybe, there's no coming back from it.

The minute Jungkook's eyes flutter open, a sharp, splitting pain shoots through his skull, forcing a low groan from his throat. His head throbs in time with his heartbeat, and for a moment, the only thing he can focus on is the sheer discomfort pulsing behind his eyes.

He doesn't even remember when sleep managed to claim him — doesn't know if it even could be called sleep at this point. It felt more like passing out, drowning under the weight of alcohol and exhaustion, until everything just shut down.

Maybe it was the beer. Or maybe it was the emotional storm he set loose in his own damn room.

Unlike you, no amount of alcohol could ever grant Jungkook the mercy of forgetting. Every word he spat out, every venom-laced accusation, every careless action from last night still clings to him like smoke in his lungs... impossible to breathe past, impossible to forget.

Sobriety doesn't cleanse him, it only sharpens the edges of his guilt, replaying the night in vivid clarity until it's all he can see.

He exhales shakily, running a hand down his face as he sits up. His body feels heavy, like guilt itself has settled into his bones.

Luckily, it's the weekend so he has no classes to attend, but university is the least of his concerns right now. Because beyond this door, past the thin walls of his room, is you. And the thought of facing you feels like stepping onto a battlefield he already lost.

God, why did he go so far last night? Why did he let everything boil over like that? He desperately wishes that he could justify it somehow, but there's no excuse good enough to make sense of the way he tore into you.

The combination of alcohol, unchecked insecurities, and the festering jealousy he had been trying to swallow down for weeks turned him into someone cruel.

And the worst part is, he knows exactly where it all came from. Knows that half the venom he spat at you wasn't even his own voice, but a twisted echo of all the insecurities Jaehyun had planted in his mind. All the doubts he thought he buried. All the fears he thought were beneath him.

And yet, he let them sink in. Let them wrap around his throat until they came spilling out in words he can never take back.

He hates it. Hates himself for giving them power. Hates that he let jealousy and insecurity turn him into someone you probably don't even recognize. Someone he doesn't recognize either.

He can't believe it, can't wrap his head around the fact that he hurt you, of all people. The one person who's always been there, always understood him in ways no one else ever could. The one person he's loved... quietly, desperately, for longer than he's even willing to admit to himself.

With a heavy sigh, he steps out of his room and drags himself to the bathroom. Cold water might not fix much, but maybe it'll wash off the grogginess, the self-loathing, the stale bitterness clinging to his skin.

Because no matter how much he wants to hide out in his room forever, he knows he can't avoid you. Not when you live under the same roof. And when the time comes to face you, he knows... the look in your eyes will hurt more than any hangover ever could.

Once he's done freshening up, Jungkook steps into the living room, his gaze immediately drifting towards your closed bedroom door at the far end. He wonders if you're still asleep — or worse, if you've decided to barricade yourself inside for the entire weekend just to avoid him.

The thought alone sends a fresh pulse of pain shooting through his already throbbing head.

Maybe he should go for a walk. Clear his mind. Let the cool morning air numb the edges of his spiraling thoughts. Maybe if he can think straight, he can find the right words for an apology that doesn't sound pathetic and a way to piece together the wreckage he caused.

It's laughable, really.

An apology couldn't possibly erase the things he said. But still, it's the bare minimum and it's all he has right now.

Dragging himself towards the doorway, he opens the shoe cabinet to grab his sneakers, but his hand freezes mid-air. Three shelves — the ones you always claimed for yourself, filled with your endless collection of shoes — are almost entirely empty.

The heels you complained about but wore religiously. The sandals you slipped into on lazy mornings. The sneakers you wore everyday to university. They're gone.

Not rearranged, not tidied up — just gone.

His brows knit together in confusion. He blinks once, twice, willing the image in front of him to change. Maybe he's imagining it. Maybe his mind, already clouded with regret, is playing cruel tricks. But the shelves remain just as bare, the emptiness staring back at him like a gaping wound. And that's when the cold fear starts to settle in, slithering into his veins like ice water.

Without wasting another second, he turns on his heel and practically bolts to your bedroom. There's no hesitation when he pushes the door open, no knocking — because suddenly, his fear outweighs every sense of decorum.

And when he steps inside, the fear that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind solidifies into something much heavier. Because right there, in plain sight, is your half-empty wardrobe with the hangers swinging slightly out of place and the remaining clothes pushed messily to one side.

He steps further in, eyes flickering to the bed where the sheets lay crumpled and tangled and then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifts to the nightstand, landing on the paper bag. The same one you'd been clutching in your hand last night when he spotted you with Jaehyun from the balcony.

It shouldn't matter. Not right now. Not when there are far more pressing things to worry about — like the fact that half your belongings are missing and your presence is nowhere to be found. But despite the rational voice in his head, his body moves on its own as he steps closer and his fingers ghost over the edge of the bag, just enough to peer inside.

His eyes widen the instant they land on the box inside, the bold, unmistakable letters printed across the top feel like a punch straight to his gut — sharp, unforgiving, and entirely deserved. His stomach churns violently, and there's a hollow ache expanding in his throat, the kind that comes when guilt is so heavy, it feels physical.

Jungkook feels like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk this earth — no, worse than that. Like the human embodiment of every bad decision, every reckless impulse, every thoughtless word that ever left his mouth.

He stands frozen, rooted to the spot, staring down at the 21x21 rubik's cube box — the same one he had spent months obsessing over, scouring every website, visiting every store, only to come up empty-handed every single time because it wasn't available anywhere.

And now here it is, sitting quietly in a bag you brought home, a silent reminder of how deeply you knew him, how much you cared, even when he was too blind to see it.

How you always seemed to hold on to the most trivial things he said, like the things he barely even remembered saying himself. Like the other day when Jimin had mentioned the ruckus you had caused at the grocery store, just to hunt down a snack that Jungkook loved so much.

Or the way you never — not even once — made him feel embarrassed about the things that made him who he was. Like those nights you curled up beside him, watching anime even though he could tell it wasn't really your thing.

Or the times you clumsily grabbed a controller, trying to navigate a game even after admitting that video games made your brain feel like it was overheating.

And that one time, when he was knee-deep into coding some app, you sat beside him for hours, asking the silliest questions. Like if 'public static void' was some secret spell, or if the code could understand sarcasm, or if bugs were actual tiny creatures living in his laptop.

But he didn't mind. Not even a little. Because you were there, genuinely interested, even if you didn't fully understand.

In a world full of people like Jaehyun, people who sneered at his interests, mocked his passions, rolled their eyes at the things that lit him up inside, he had you. You, who never dismissed his hyperfixations as childish or weird, who never made him feel like his interests, his passions were boring or not worth the while.

Because you cared, even when you didn't have to. Even when it would've been easier to just ignore him and dismiss the things he likes, you stayed, trying to understand his world just because it was his.

How, all throughout high school, he was just there.

Not the life of the party, never the one anyone texted first — or at all, if he's being honest. Never the one anyone saved a seat for at the lunch table or dragged along for spontaneous midnight runs to the arcade.

Too quiet. Too awkward. Too easy to overlook.

He was the background noise in everyone else's coming-of-age story, a shadow against the walls of every hallway, a name barely anyone remembered until the attendance was called by the teacher.

Just there — existing, breathing, occupying space, but never truly seen.

People passed him by like scenery, glanced through him like glass, mostly acknowledged his presence only when it was impossible to ignore like a bump in the hallway, an accidental brush of shoulders, a group project where they needed just one more person.

To them, he was a placeholder. A footnote in stories far more interesting than his own. And he thought he'd made peace with that... with being invisible.

Until he came to university — and met you.

Until he was searching for a roommate — and somehow, it was you.

You, who pulled him out of his shell and into the light with nothing but gentleness.

You, who welcomed him into your world, made space for him in something you were passionate about, something that mattered to you so deeply... something he turned around and tore apart with careless words and cruel jabs last night.

The very thing that brought you both closer, the thing you once shared with him like a piece of your heart, folding him into your world of silly videos and spontaneous laughter, making him the unexpected star in a spotlight that had always belonged to you, became the very thing he ridiculed.

And that truth is a punch to the gut, because if anyone else had disrespected your passions like that, he would've fought them on the spot. But it wasn't anyone else — it was him.

And suddenly, it's as clear as day that none of this is the beer's fault, none of this is Jaehyun's fault. Every cruel word, every misplaced accusation, every ugly insecurity that spilled out of him last night — all of it, every ounce of damage, was his own. His own mistake. His own idiocy. His own inability to believe he could be worthy of someone like you.

He ruined the one thing that truly meant the world to him... the one thing that gave him the chance to connect with you, to laugh with you, to simply exist beside you and said things he didn't mean, lashed out in ways he never intended, all because he was too caught up with the noise inside his own head.

He swallows hard, still staring blankly at the box, almost like if he blinks, it might vanish... like if he stares at it long enough, he can somehow rewrite the truth of what it really is.

He can't believe how effortlessly his mind turned against you, how easily he assumed the worst — how quickly something so pure became something ugly in his head.

That it could've been an outfit, an accessory, something trivial that Jaehyun had helped you pick out. That you had replaced Jungkook, your little shopping partner, your unqualified but always eager style consultant, with a person like Jaehyun.

The very thought now feels ridiculous, almost laughable, if it didn't make him sick to his stomach.

He jumped into conclusions without a second thought, all because he saw you with another guy. As if you owed him an explanation. As if he had some unspoken right to be angry, to feel betrayed — when the brutal truth was, even when he learned the whole truth about Jaehyun and tried to warn you, he never once gave you the honesty you deserved.

Never told you the real reason behind his distrust, never admitted what he had heard from Taehyung, because he was more worried of overstepping, more afraid of looking like the villain in your eyes, more scared of you finding out about his feelings.

"Jaehyun has a reputation." he could've said. "Taehyung's heard the way he talks in the locker room — the way he talks about girls. So you should be careful around him."

It was that simple. That's all he had to do... say those words, or at least something close to them. Just a moment of honesty, instead of hiding behind vague warnings and random questions like "Do you trust Jaehyun?"

So how could his concern ever be justified when he never gave you the full story? When all he ever did was beat around the bush, hoping you'd read between the lines he was too paranoid to write?

He doesn't even realize when the first tear breaks free, sliding silently down his cheek but by the time the second one falls, it's almost impossible to ignore the pain in his chest.

You were planning to give him this. A gift that showed, in the simplest yet loudest way, just how much you saw him, how much you remembered even the tiniest parts of him... the parts no one else ever cared to notice.

And in return, what did he give you?

Cruel words sharpened to cut, accusations flung carelessly into the air, every insecurity he had rotting into poison and spilling out of his mouth all because some random person triggered him. He gave you doubt, and hurt, and every ugly, jagged piece of himself he never meant for you to see.

And now, you're gone.

<-part 1 // part 3 ->

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aeristudios · 1 month ago

Text

Stupid Cupid

➻❥ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are madly in love with your best friend and it's eating you alive. One day you will tell him how you feel, but you have to deal with his girlfriend first.

➻❥ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: best friend!hansol x reader

➻❥ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, roommates au, best friends to ?, angst, fluff, smut

➻❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, jealousy, fight is kind of intense, kissing, protected sex, nipple play?, fingering, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, missionary, multiple orgasms?

➻❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9.1k

➻❥ 𝐀𝐍: This for the collab "Lonely Hearts Cafe", hosted by @camandemstudios. This story truly stressed me out and I couldn't have gotten through it without @yoongihan, @seokgyuu, @okiedokrie and & @haologram for looking at this for me. I don't do well with deadlines and the words just weren't coming to me naturally. It was eating me up and giving me headaches lol. I hope despite that, you all like this labor of love 😭

You are in love with Hansol.

Hopelessly, stupidly, trip over your feet when he’s around, butterflies in your stomach kind of love. He’s everything you could want in a guy and your best friend, someone you can just chill with no expectations. You both love Star Wars, attend anime cons together, and are allergic to peanuts. You share a home with him and it feels like home in your heart when he’s near. You’re in love with Hansol. There is only one problem: he has an on-and-off girlfriend.

A girlfriend you particularly hate.

Kelsey is always around, taking up your space, and it’s aggravating. You wish you could say that it’s not serious, but to your chagrin, they have been on and off for a couple of years. It’s bad enough that you can’t tell Hansol how you feel, but then you have his girlfriend, a huge social media influencer, always at your condo every time you’re there. You would think she would like to take her “influence " elsewhere. It’s exacerbating.

“Hey there girl,” Kelsey calls out as you walk to the kitchen. She is sprawled out with her laptop on your living room floor rug, wearing a cut-off shirt, the tiniest shorts you have ever seen, and knee-high socks. Where does she live again?

“What’s up?” you respond, barely hiding the irritation in your voice.

“Oof, you’re definitely not a morning person,” she scoffs. “Do you think you can stay out tonight? Vernon has this Hollywood thing he has to attend to tonight, and he is stressed about it. So I want to help him relax if you know what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrows at her referring to him as Vernon, which he only tells his coworkers to call him. Hansol is a cinematographer, and a damned good one. He works for a major film studio and is invited to parties all the time. He only goes for the free food and booze, he says, because those people don’t care about anything but themselves and their pockets, let alone pronouncing his first name correctly.

Kelsey is not a coworker; she is, unfortunately, his girlfriend. Why doesn’t she call him by his preferred name?

“What does you wanting to help Hansol relax have to do with me being here?” you ask, making yourself a cup of coffee.

“Well.” She clicks her tongue. “It’ll be pretty awkward for me to be blowing his brains out while you’re here, ya know?”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying what is on your mind, instead focusing on making your elaborate coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup on top. This girl really has some nerve.

“Kelsey,” you let out a small sigh. “I’m not leaving my house because you want to fuck. Do whatever you please.” You slam the whipped cream can on the container. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Irritated, you walk past her and speed into the hallway, almost running into Hansol, who is leaving his bedroom. Wearing a red shirt and pajama pants, he has bedroom hair and a hint of sleep in his eyes. He looks adorable.

“Where are you running off to?” His voice is deep and groggy.

“I am running away from that peach of a girlfriend you have in there.” You roll your eyes. “Plus, I have to get ready for work.”

“Oh no, what did she do now?”

“Nothing, aside from asking me to stay out of the condo that I pay for tonight so she can fuck you as loud as she wants,” you say bluntly.

Hansol’s eyes widen in shock, the little sleepiness he had evaporated. “She didn’t say that?”

“She just about said that,” you sigh, leaning on the wall. “Look, I have to get ready for my day, but we have to have a conversation later. Not tonight, because I know that party is happening. But at some point, we do.”

“Okay,” he says, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” you sigh again, deeply this time. “Let’s just chat soon, okay?”

You step into your room and shut the door, your heart beating out of your chest. That was not a conversation you want to have early in the morning, and Kelsey being around more and more makes you erratic. Eventually, a conversation will have to be had about how much time she is spending here and everything. But right now, you will sip your elaborate coffee and try to get through the day.

You met Hansol on the first day of college. You needed help finding your classes and ironically you shared some classes required for your majors. You wanted to be a film director and figured a film studies degree would get you there. Hansol loved being behind the camera, recording the magic in front of him. You shared the same study group and met your other best friends, Minghao and Wonwoo. Minghao has a good eye for design and wanted to work on set designs and costumes while Wonwoo is equally obsessed with cameras, often geeking out with Hansol about the different models they wanted to collect one day. You even lived together at one point, your friendship group known as the “core four”, until one by one, everyone moved out and it was just you and him.

You didn’t fall in love with him right away. It was a slow, simmering thing that snuck in and robbed your heart and mind before you realized it. You were together all the time and enjoyed the same things. You’ve seen each other at your worst, depended on each other, and celebrated your successes together. Hansol was your go-to for everything, and you didn’t realize until he started dating Kelsey that you were in love. But how can you tell him that?

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Minghao sits next to you during your lunch break the same day, bringing you meat and stir fry that he brought from home. His girlfriend, Mei, who is an excellent cook and very sweet, sent you a text this morning that she was bringing some with him to the studio today. You worked for a major studio as an SFX artist, falling in love with prosthetics and makeup in one of your courses and deciding to pursue that instead. You still have your bachelors in film studies and your love for film hasn’t changed; you just went on a different path. You’re happier for it.

“Thank you for the food,” you breathe, purposely dodging his question.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing you Tupperware of colorful stir fry. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything is wrong with me?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow with a familial side-eye as he distributes utensils, the kind of look parents give you when they know you’re telling a lie. He knows you so well, and he has always been good at reading people. You can talk to him about anything, and he is going to give you the hard truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. After a moment, you tell him what happened this morning and he is silent, taking it all in.

“She is really getting on my nerves,” you huff, accidentally slamming your plastic fork on the table. Your colleagues around you look in your direction nervously, and you are mortified, wishing you could wiggle your nose and disappear like the genie on the old TV show.

“Are you sure it’s because of her, or is it because of him?” Minghao asks casually, taking a sip of his tea.

“W-what do you mean?” you play aloof, not wanting to open another can of worms. “This has nothing to do with Hansol, though I wish he would tell her to not come over to our place all the time. I don’t get what he even sees in her.”

“Sure,” he says with a smirk, barely containing his amusement. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you are in love with him.”

“Ugh,” you groan, sliding further in your seat. “I wish I never told you that.”

“You didn’t have to.” His smile widening into a teasing grin. “Even the blind could see your bleeding heart for him.”

“Yeah, apparently everyone can but him,” you mutter, taking a stab at your food.

Minghao chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well don’t take your frustration out on the food. Mei put a lot of love into that.”

You mumble “sorry”, feeling guilty and eating your food in silence. If it were another day and you were in a better mood, you would savor it more. But all you want is for the work day to end, so you can curl in your bed and figure out how to navigate this unrequited love.

“What if I told him how I felt?”

You look up slowly at your friend, gauging his reaction. He already has the look of disapproval, and your stomach is in knots.

“Yeah, that’s a terrible idea,” he says firmly. “Do you really want to start drama in the middle of the busiest season for us? Not to mention Kelsey will blast this all over social media.”

“I’m not scared of her,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

Minghao chuckles again, but it is lighter and paired with concern in his eyes. “Just think it through okay? Things are already complicated, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

He places a supportive hand on your shoulder as he packs up what’s left of his lunch and goes back to work. You sigh, knowing that he’s right, but it still doesn’t make it easier to hear.

You planned to sleep through whatever escapade Kelsey had in mind with Hansol. You had your nightly tea with cinnamon horchata and set your phone to play ambient/vaporwave music to drown out whatever noise they might bring. They aren’t exactly the quietest people when they are in the mood, and you have been dreading it since this morning.

A lot of times you have wondered what it would be like to experience him for the first time. You’ve heard enough of them to have an idea of what he is like, but it’s different from actually feeling him inside you, with his hands caressing your body. You want to feel his lips on yours and your skin against his. Is it possible to crave something that you’ve never had? You are tired of hearing the headboard banging against the wall and the moans that follow soon after. You are irritated with it all— You wish it were you instead.

You heard the security system beep when the front door opened, and you lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable shuffling of feet and sloppy kisses that would follow after. Your stomach turns at the thought of her hands all over him, whispering sweet things in his ear that have no meaning. Silence ensues, leaving you confused, and your nosiness gets the best of you. Slowly getting out of bed, you slip into your house shoes, exiting your room quietly as you brace yourself for the grand display of affection you were used to seeing. Instead, you find Hansol on the couch, taking a hit of his vape, tiredness etching around his eyes.

“How was the party?” You probe, taking a seat next to him and crossing your legs. “You look partied out.”

“It was alright,” he mumbles, taking another hit of his vape.

“Alright?” You quirk an eyebrow. “You have been talking about this party all month and it was just alright?”

You noticed his disposition and you don’t want to pry, but his nonchalant attitude is eating at you. Hansol can be hard to read sometimes, but you know him. He’s quiet with everyone else but not with you—he tells you everything.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

Hansol reluctantly answers, sighing heavily as he takes one more vape hit before setting it on the armrest. You move closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Kelsey and I broke up again,” he said, the heaviness of his words linger in the air. The sadness in his voice is clear, and it hurts you to see him upset. “She wanted to bring a friend to the party and you can’t exactly do that. So when I told her no, she got all pissed at me, we argued and she broke up with me.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I’m really sorry, Hansol. Despite how I feel about her, I know you really love her, and being broken up with sucks.”

He looks at you, his brown eyes reflecting a mix of tiredness and frustration. “She said it was more than just not letting her bring her friend to the party. She says I never consider her feelings and that’s not true. It just feels like we’re always going in circles. One minute, we’re good; the next, it’s like… it never even mattered.”

“Yeah, that can be exhausting,” you pause, wanting to say more but unsure how to articulate the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. This is not their first break up, but it affects him all the same. Seeing Hansol be madly in love with someone who keeps taking advantage of him burns you to your core. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who will take care of him with love and respect. Someone who values his ideas and cares about him as a person. You would give him the world if you could.

“I hope I am not overstepping,” you say cautiously. “But this isn’t your first rodeo. Why do you keep going back?”

His silence is deafening, and he has an uncomfortable expression on his face as he tries to find the right words to say. “Look, Kelsey can be a lot and full of herself, but she cares in her own way. When it’s just us, she is so attentive, funny, and warm—sort of. She has her moments,” he sighs again. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has. I love her.”

Hearing him declare his love for her leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s bad enough that you didn’t realize you were in love with him until after he started seeing her, and now after hearing this, you can never tell him how you feel. It’ll fuck up everything, despite it gnawing at you inside.

“For what it’s worth, I hope that you two will be able to talk it out and figure out what you want to do.” You tell a strong lie, but you don’t want to hear more about his love for her. You can’t take it. “Do you want to chill for a bit? We can watch Revenge Of The Sith if you want.”

He cracks a small smile, and for a moment, the weight in his eyes lightens. “Yeah, let’s just chill for a bit. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” you reply, scrambling from the couch. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

Tears threaten to break free as you beeline it to the kitchen, your heartache paining worse than before. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has… I love her.” You keep replaying it in your head over and over. You almost wish you never left your room, and went to sleep like you planned. At least you would still have a bit of hope, instead of a cracked heart.

A few weeks pass, and as the season change, so does the light in Hansol’s eyes. He is getting back to his normal self and is laughing again. As happy as you are for him, it feels like your heart is being pierced by shards of glass. It was foolish of you to think you could ever be with him, and Minghao was right: it will just complicate everything.

You know he isn’t completely over Kelsey, and it’s going to take more than a few weeks to get over someone you love deeply. You used to have daydreams of cuddling with Hansol on the couch, watching horror movies, and being madly in love… you have to put it to bed, for good. You start distancing yourself, little by little. Whether it’s staying late at work or finding different excuses to be out of the house, it doesn’t matter. You’re still there for him as a friend, but you want to be free from this unrequited love. It was fucking with you.

So here you are, at a bar, sitting with your date Seungcheol, who you met on a dating app. You just wanted a quick fix for your heartache, and they say the best way to get over someone is to get under another, right? He’s the one to fulfill that.

Within an hour of talking to him, you learned he was the typical tech bro who went to an Ivy League school, liked to mansplain everything, and thought he was God’s gift to women. Whatever. It’s not like you planned on seeing him again after tonight.

“You look real nice in that outfit,” he says, practically drooling over your little black dress and heels.

“Do I?” You flirtatiously quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Seungcheol nods, taking a sip of his gin. “I can’t wait to see what you look like underneath.”

It takes every fiber in your being to roll your eyes and walk out of there. Guys like Seungcheol annoy you, and you deal with them in small doses and go about your business. But he is a means to an end, and you will bat your eyes and tell him what he wants to hear to get what you want. You will deal with the consequences in the morning.

You gaze at the clock displayed on the wall and it’s a quarter till eleven. Tired of hearing him talk, you lean in and whisper in his ear, your lips barely touching him. “Do you want to get out of here then? You said your place isn’t that far, right?”

His eyes are lit with desire, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom while he settles the bill. Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, you take a good look in the mirror, adjust your dress, and apply the last bit of cherry red lipstick. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminates the traces of perfectly good makeup that you only bring out for special occasions.

“Is this really what you want?”

Your words echo against the walls, your question answered by silence. With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, taking one last look before exiting the bathroom. Of course, this is what you want— you wouldn’t have gone this far if you didn’t. Seungcheol waits for you at the bar, biting his plump bottom lip as he scrolls through his phone. Seungcheol is as hot as they come, and it certainly makes this decision a bit easier.

“Are you ready to go?”

He looks up as you close in on him, linking your arm through his. “Of course, I’m going to pull the car around front.”

You watch him walk away, twiddling your fingers as you wait in suspense. The bar smells of wood and stale beer, the heat pushed on blast to counter the cold outside. You slip on your coat, walking towards the front door when you hear laughter, a familiar one that brings butterflies to your stomach. Turning to your left, you see Hansol, walking into the same bar you’re leaving, with Wonwoo and a girl you don’t know. He was always a simple guy, wearing jeans and his favorite “Revenge Of The Nerds” hoodie with a goofy grin on his face. It’s your favorite thing to see.

All the feelings you keep trying to push aside rise in you at once, and when your eyes lock with this, you feel warm. Getting over him will not be easy.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Hansol says curiously.

“She probably has a hot date,” Wonwoo teases and nudges your shoulder.

“Well actually… I do.”

Wonwoo’s mouth spreads into a wide grin, happy to be right. His girl companion tugs onto his coat, mumbling that she is freezing. She’s a short thing with jet-black hair and wears a nice shirt and a skirt that shows off her legs. Wonwoo isn’t the serial dater type, so it is a high possibility he’s on the same mission you were: fuck and move on.

“Really?” Hansol’s voice peaks an octave higher than normal. “Who’s the guy?”

“O-oh, um, you don’t know him,” you stumble through your words. “He’s just someone I met. We are heading to his place actually.”

“W-what?” Hansol looks surprised, his expression etched with concern. “Are you sure it's a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, looking down at your heels. “I’ll send you my location when I’m there, okay?”

In the nick of time, Seungcheol pulls up in his Mercedes, opening the car door from his seat to let you in.

“There he is,” you announce, walking towards the luxury car. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Hansol stares intently at Seungcheol before looking at you, his eyes softening as you get into the passenger seat. You wave as he pulls off, the bar becoming out of view as you drive through downtown. Your nerves are shot, and you feel rattled. Of all the places to be, you had to see him at the bar? The universe has a sense of humor.

“Who were those people back there?” Suengcheol’s deep voice breaks through your thoughts. “The one with the hoodie looked like he was going to pound me.”

“Oh they are my best friends from college,” you say casually. “Well, I don't know the girl but yeah. Besides, Hansol, the one with the hoodie, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You can confidently say out of all the years you have known him, Hansol, you have never seen him get aggressive with anyone. The most emotion you see from him is when he talks about cameras, film, or his love for Kel—.

“I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

Shaking your head and changing the mood, you strategically place your hand on his thigh, smiling mischievously. “Now are we going to talk about my friends all night, or do you want to do something more exciting?”

To say Hansol is bothered is an understatement.

You didn’t come home last night and even though he knew where you were, it still gnaws at him. It was unlike you. You always came home. It’s irking him. You are always there.

Hansol noticed that you hadn’t been around as much, and he assumed it had something to do with work, which he understood since you both work in the same industry. But seeing you with that guy with the fancy Benz, dressed in clothes you rarely wear and your hair different from your usual look—it was all he could think about. You looked beautiful last night, and he wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. What maddened him the most was that he couldn’t figure out why. He just knew that you were not there, and it didn’t feel right.

Hansol slowly got out of his bed and checked the time on his phone, 9:37 am in bold letters on his lock screen. His head raged from the hangover he caught from last night’s drinking. He is a lightweight and he knows he drank more than he should, but he was still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup with Kelsey. It’s been a few weeks and though he was feeling better, he still cared about her. He just wanted to not think or feel for a few hours. Now his thoughts are plagued by you.

He sauntered out of his room, the sunlight hit him like a wall, momentarily blinding him. He reached for a bottle of water, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. A few moments later, Wonwoo opened the spare room, yawning and adjusting his glasses. Hansol was too drunk to drive, and Wonwoo was sober enough to take him home. The date that he brought last night, who he learned was named Jules, sheepishly appeared behind him, adjusting her dress as she took her walk of shame. Hansol heard murmuring but couldn’t make out what they were saying, but shortly after the door shut with a click, with Wonwoo leaning against it, an amusing grin on his face.

“Is that your next victim?” Hansol teased.

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged. “She is more tolerable than the others.”

“Uh-huh,” he surmised, drinking the last bits of his water. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

Wonwoo is a notorious dater if you want to call it that. He has always had the philosophy that being tied down isn’t for him and he would rather run through the mill than be with someone he always likes. He is a fine art photographer who travels quite a bit, and he is always bragging about how it wouldn’t make sense for him to be in a relationship. He blows where the wind goes, and Hansol has always respected that he stayed true to himself.

Wonwoo chuckled as he grabbed the water next to Hansol, clutching it as he drank it empty. He looked at your closed room door, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“She isn’t here?” Wonwoo probed, pointing at your door.

“No,” Hansol mumbled, followed by a slight ping in his chest. “She might still be out.”

“Uh, huh,” Wonwoo concluded, eyeing him oddly. “Sounds like she had a good night.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Hansol said bitterly, his fingers rubbing his right temple. “It’s not like her to stay overnight at some douche’s house. Something is up.”

“A douche, huh?” Wonwoo curved into a sly grin. “How do you know the guy is a douche? He could be a cool guy.”

“Come on, he drives an S-class Mercedes and wears an Apple watch. I’m willing to bet he’s some tech bro.”

“And?” Wonwoo challenged. “That doesn’t make him a bad guy. If I don’t know any better I would say you are jealous.”

Hansol rolled his eyes at his accusation, though the thought of you canoodling with the tech bro made him feel a certain way. “I’m not jealous. I am just… concerned, that’s all.”

“Yeah, let’s call it that.”

The alarm beeped from the front door and you walked in slowly, looking as put together as you did last night. Hansol paled as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Wonwoo looked amused, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“Oh hey, party girl,” Wonwoo greeted you. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you now?” You said with raised eyebrows, slowly taking off your heels.

“Y-yeah, we were wondering if you made it home,” Hansol said nervously. “Well, you’re here now so.”

“Did you have a good time?” Wonwoo probed you further. “Will you see him again?

You look down at the floor, your face heating up from embarrassment. They typically don’t ask about your dating life, so why does it matter now?

“Maybe,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I’m going to go shower and get out of these clothes.”

Hansol watched you as you walked into your room, shutting the door behind you quietly. He is relieved that you made it home safe, but he still feels conflicted about how he feels. Is he in fact, jealous?

“I’m going to go home and get some sleep,” Wonwoo announced, clapping a hand on Hansol’s shoulder.

He let himself out and Hansol went back to his room, collapsing on his bed. Stirred emotions and thoughts rumbled through his head, and he closed his eyes, determined to think things through with a clearer head.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he sluggishly grabbed it, groaning at his notifications. A new message from Kelsey flashed as he swiped up on his screen. “I miss you.”

It’s been over a week since you saw Hansol, and you would be a liar to say that you were fine. You miss him.

Your night with Seungcheol was fun, and he was a good fuck, but your mind kept drifting back to Hansol… imagining it was him. Seungcheol was nice enough to let you sleep in if you wanted and made sure you were good before you left, but you know it’s not going to go anywhere. Deep down he knows that too.

God, you are a mess.

You decided to keep busy with work and find things outside of your condo that made you happy, and that’s what led you here tonight, at the local movie theater. Around this time every year, they play five showings for free as a thank-you for the community supporting the theater for the past ten years. Princess Mononoke is the movie of the night, and you are standing in line, waiting to buy your ticket. It’s one of your favorite comfort movies in the world, and you never miss a chance to watch it, especially when you are feeling down.

The weather is cooler than what was forecasted, and the slight breeze makes you tug on your coat tightly. You and Hansol did this every year together—and it feels weird alone. Unnatural even. You remember having long discussions about the movies you saw and what made them great. You love seeing the twinkle in his eye when he talks about the type of camera lens that was used and what it took to get certain shots. In return, he would listen to you vividly as you rambled about the time and craft it took to create special effects or a certain mask. Those times made you feel connected with him in a way no one could understand, and it's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him.

You purchase your ticket and walk inside the old building, the smell of buttery popcorn attacking your senses as soon as you open the door. The interior has been the same since you have been coming here, with high lights in the ceilings, vintage movie posters, and the same plush crimson carpet that matches the drapes on the windows. It has character and it feels cozy, like you are a kid again.

You give the attendant your ticket and he rips the lower stub, pointing you in the direction of which theater room you need to go to. Your stomach rumbled with a slight ache, reminding you that you have not eaten since this morning. You were never really the breakfast type, as you normally just wake up and go about your day. You have a million things on your mind, and just for a little while, you want to shut it off. Princess Mononoke usually does that.

Your phone buzzes slightly in your jacket and you look at Hansol’s name on the screen, hesitant to answer. It wouldn’t hurt to hear his voice for a little bit, right?

“Hey, you,” you say, biting your lip.

“Hey, turn around,” he replies, his voice sounding louder than it should.

Turning around slowly, you watch him walk through the doors, the sunlight trailing behind him like a halo. He sports an old college hoodie, faded jeans, and a smile, and in this moment, he almost takes your breath away.

“I would ask what you are doing here, but I know better than that,” you joke lightheartedly.

“Yeah, you know I’ll never miss this,” Vernon says, looking around at the theater. “Man, this place still looks the same.”

“I know,” you agree, fidgeting with the ticket in your hand. “How did you know I was here?”

“Because I know you,” he shrug. “I tried calling you to see if you wanted to come tonight, but you never picked up. So I came here.”

“You called?” You give him a puzzled look. “I don’t remember you ca—”

You scroll through your notifications, seeing the three missed calls from him throughout the day. Even texted you but you didn’t see it. You had your phone on do not disturb mode, and you didn’t think to check any of your messages. Maybe you are just being childish.

“See,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes teasingly. “Are you watching Mononoke too?”

“You know it,” he nods. “I’ll grab the popcorn and nachos. Go find us a seat?”

You watch him make his way to the concession stand, butterflies swirling in your stomach as the familiar feeling of home swells in your chest. You head to the third room on the right, snagging seats in the middle row that give you a perfect viewing of the movie. The lights dim as you sit down, with the old previews from 1997 playing on the screen giving you a major flashback to the past. In this moment you feel good and content, despite wanting to come here alone and avoid Hansol at all costs. You wouldn’t call yourself a fickle person, but you are glad your plans did change. Being around him feels just right.

The movie starts a few minutes later, and Hansol appears right as it starts, searching the rows until he finds you. His face softens and his lips curve into a smile, taking a seat next you and handing you a popcorn and a cherry coke.

“I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

You shake your head softly, avoiding his gaze and the pitter-patter he gives your heart.

“No, you made it just in time.”

Hansol had a good time with you.

It felt comfortable and familiar to be with you while he watched one of his favorite movies. He didn’t actually know that you were going to be there; he just took a chance and hoped you would be there, and like fate, you were standing in the middle of the theater. There was no awkwardness, he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells every time he had something on his mind. You just got him, and it felt like a breath of fresh air.

It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and you have been hanging at the house more. Before he was lucky to catch you in the mornings when you left for work or you would come home late at night when he was already asleep. Even though things were getting back to normal, his thoughts of you continued to grow, and even though he wasn't sure of a lot of things, he knew one thing: he had missed you.

“Earth to Vernon, hello?”

Hansol snapped out of his thoughts, refocusing on Kelsey as he sat across from her at her house. She asked him to come over and talk, and after thinking it over, he agreed, setting up a time to talk when she came back in town. Kelsey looked beautiful, sporting a white halter top and blue jean shorts, her skin sun-kissed from the vacation she took to the Cayman Islands. Her raven-black hair fell past her shoulders, swaying slightly as she talked about her trip.

“Where is your head at today?” Kelsey pouted, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I feel like you aren’t listening to me.”

Hansol shook his head, shaking you out of his mind. “I’m listening. All I do is listen.”

“No, you don’t,” Kelsey retorted. “You didn’t listen to me about the party or kick that girl out of your condo—”

“I already told you, that’s not happening,” Vernon pushed back. “ And that girl has a name. Why would I kick her out? It makes no sense.”

“You know why Vernon.”

“No, I don’t. You’re being unreasonable.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. “We have been together almost three years and you haven’t asked me to move in. I asked you plenty of times to think about our future and to limit your time with her. You refuse to do it. Why is that?”

“Whoa, that’s bullshit!” Hansol’s anger rose through his chest. “You have never said “let’s move in together” or anything like that. If anything, all you have talked about lately is getting you into industry parties to build your brand. Also, I did start spending less time with her. What are you on about?”

“Because I am supposed to be your best friend!” Kelsey shouted. “You don’t even do the same things with me that you do with her. I bet she leaps with joy every time we have a break.”

“She’s not like that,” Hansol said defensively. “She’s always been there for me and encouraged me to work it out with you. To your other point, every time I ask you to do something with me, something I want to do for once, you say it’s childish and that I need to grow up”

“Because Vernon, who the hell still watches Star Wars?” Kelsey scoffs. “You are not a nine-year-old boy. You’re a grown man. Fucking act like it.”

Hansol sighed, feeling drained and defeated. Star Wars meant a lot to him, as it was the main inspiration for why he wanted to get into cinematography and study film. It’s how he bonded with his dad. She knew that and still decided to insult him about it every chance she got. He wasn’t sure what the future looked like before he arrived, but the tension he felt in his chest and the ache in his heart made things a lot more clear. He still cared about Kelsey, more than he should, but it’s time to move on

“This… isn’t going to work,” Hansol rubbed his temple. “The fact that you still call me Vernon, knowing how formal it makes me feel, says a lot. I don’t know what happened to the girl I fell in love with, but clearly she’s gone. We’re done.”

“Yeah, right,” Kelsey said incredulously. “You aren’t leaving me—”

“Yes, I am.” Hansol resolved. “This relationship has been one-sided for a while now. I’m sick of this.”

Hansol got up from the table and handed her his copy of her apartment key. Kelsey looked bewildered, realizing that he was serious, and he wasn’t coming back this time.

“So that’s it? You are just going to throw this all away? For her? She’s in love with you and you don’t even see it. All the times you have let her disrespect me and put up with her crap. I bet this was her idea.”

“You weren’t exactly nice to her either,” Hansol retorted, his heart beating out his chest. “She has been there for me when you weren’t. She cares about what I’m interested in. We like the same things. I don’t have to wonder if she cares about me and my family loves her. She’s smart, kind, beautiful and I love he—”

He stopped himself before he completed his sentence, shook at what was about to come out of his mouth. He was still grappling with his feelings for you and what that meant, and he still couldn’t put any words to what it all meant… until now.

“It’s not just about her,” Hansol said. “It’s everything with us, and the fact that you still don’t get it, tells me everything I need to know. Take care, Kelsey.”

He left the apartment before she started her next tirade, with a storm brewing in the night sky. He hated the way she talked about you like you were insignificant. You didn’t deserve the vitriol Kelsey spat every time you came up in conversation. You weren’t the warmest person, but you always made him feel seen and were there for him no matter what. You got his humor and his late-night thoughts about the latest webtoon he just read. His thoughts of you biting your lip when you’re nervous or the quirky thing you do with your eyebrow when you tell a story; he loved it all. It took for this to happen to see what he had in front of him all this time. He missed you when you aren’t around and it drove him crazy to see you on a date with that tech bro.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut as he turned the ignition: he’s been in love with you this whole time. Now how the hell does he tell you that?

The harsh sound of thunder makes the hairs on your neck stand up, dropping your iPad on your lap. It’s suddenly dark in your room, light from the partly cloudy day gone and replaced by storm clouds and flashing lightning. Your condo sits on the 10th floor, and the sound is much more elevated, sending chills down your spine. You hate being alone when it storms.

You heard Hansol leave earlier and you wanted to clear your head, and so you decided to work on some sketches for a project that is happening at work. You are creating a few masks for an upcoming horror movie, and you are throwing out a few ideas that may interest the producers. The only problem is that you never got around to actually work; instead you were drawing doodles around you and Hansol’s name like a teenager.

Every attempt you have made to distance yourself from him has become futile, and you decide to just accept the situation for what it was. Maybe one day you will work up the courage to tell him how you feel, but not being around him is agonizing, and you would rather have your best friend back than not have him at all. You can’t help the way he makes you feel, and until something changes, you’re okay with where things are… for now.

Another crackling sound of thunder makes you yelp, knocking your iPad on the floor and cracking the corner of the screen.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking at the damage.

Your nerves are shot, and you decide to make some tea to calm yourself while the storm rages outside. You place your iPad safely on the bed and slip out of your room, heading to the kitchen as the wind picks up and hurls rain against the windows. It amazes you how the day can go from sunny and hopeful to dark and tragic within a few minutes. Mother nature must be on one today, you think to yourself.

The alarm door beeps and Hansol walks in, completely unscathed by the storm. He slides off his black beanie that covers his short brown hair and lets out a sigh of relief as he locks the door behind him. His eyes met yours, and a small smile spread across your face.

“You made it just in time,” you say, pouring water into your teapot. “It’s about to get ugly out there.”

“Yeah.” he nods, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows.

You could tell something is bothering him, as you watch him take off his shoes and put up his jacket, but you don’t know what to say. Things have been so good between you two, yet the last time he opened up, he shared something you weren’t ready to hear. Despite everything, your concern for him remains strong, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Hansol replies, lost in thought. “Kelsey and I are done for good.”

“Oh?” you exclaim. “What’s changed?”

Vernon sits on the couch and you follow him, sitting cross-legged and across from him as he shares his feelings. “I went over there to talk to her, and I just realized that she just used me. She didn’t care about me or what I liked. It was always about her and what he wanted… plus she said some ridiculous things about you.”

“Did she now?” You quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “What did she have to say about me?”

You aren’t surprised that she probably said some rude things about you. It’s not like you were her biggest fan either and you didn’t hide it. Kelsey wouldn’t ever say it to your face though, and that always made you chuckle.

“She said you were in love with me and that you were happy every time we broke up.”

The words don’t register right away. You can’t have heard him say what you think he said. “She said what now?”

“She said that you were in love with me,” his words tumbling out like a confession.

Your heart starts racing, the feelings of disbelief and anger stirring in your chest. That wasn’t her secret to share. “I.. can’t believe she said that.”

“Neither can I,” Hansol sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like you have feelings for me, and wouldn’t tell me… right?”

Your breath catches, a deep ache forming in the pit of your stomach. This is something you longed for and dreaded for a long time. You could deny it and keep things the way they are, or finally tell him how you feel and change your dynamic forever.

“Hansol, I—”

“Are you in love with me?” He interrupts, his gaze intense. “I need to know if this is real.”

“What do you mean? And why does it matter?” You say bitterly. “ You are in love with Kelsey and will just go back to her. You always do.”

“What if I don’t?”

Your heart is pounding, and you take a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything. “What do you mean if you don’t?”

“I told you, I am done with her,” Hansol reiterates. “These past few weeks without her opened my eyes to a lot of things, and while I have been thinking about her less, you’ve been on my mind more.”

“What are you saying, Hansol?”

“I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you.”

The air is thick with uncertainty as his words echo in your head. You should be happy, relieved even that he wants to be with you. But in the midst of that, you are scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if he regrets all of this in the morning and decides to take it all back? You couldn’t handle that.

“I… Kelsey wasn’t far off,” you admit, biting your lip. “I wasn’t necessarily happy when you were sad about her, but I have always felt like you deserved better.” You pause to gather your thoughts. “I am in love with you, Hansol. I tried to put my feelings away and move on, date, or whatever. But every time I’m near you, it just hurts.”

Hansol pulls you into a warm hug, and you fully embrace his scent and the comfort you feel. You’ve imagined times like this when he would hold you in his arms and caress your face. You craved it even, wishing you could hear his heartbeat and feel him in ways you haven’t. But this feels too good to be true, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is real, or another dream.

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” you speak up. “You just broke up with her and I don’t want to be some rebound you’ll regret later—”

He kisses you. His soft lips press against yours earnestly, and you melt against him, losing the remaining inhibition you had in you. He leans you back against the couch; his kisses becoming deeper, igniting a fire in you that you thought would stay dormant forever.

“Does that feel like I’m unsure about what I want?” He breathes heavily.

“I don’t know,” a smile creeps on your lips, a mix of joy and relief flooding through your veins. “I think I might need another one just to be sure.”

He kisses you again and you return his vigor, your fingers entangled in his hair as you savor the moment. His hands glide down to your waist, touching the hem of your shorts that you hope he’ll tear away. You pause, nodding that it’s okay, watching him slowly slide your shorts down your legs.

“No panties?” His need is evident, almost salivating at the mouth.

Your face heats up as you briefly become shy. “It’s laundry day,” you mumble.

You gaze at each other before erupting into laughter, any remaining tension that was there gone immediately. This is how it always is with him, easy and light. He doesn’t have second or third questions, he just immediately understands. You couldn’t have fallen in love with a better person.

“I-I love you, Hansol,” you managed to say. “You don’t have to say it back yet, I know we have to figure this out. But just know, I love you.”

Hansol leans in for another kiss; this time it’s sweeter, tender, with enough meaning to know what it meant, “Don’t worry, I love you too.”

And with that, he stands up, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Kicking the door shut, you tear off each other's clothes, excitement and lust pouring through you as you lay on his bed, watching him climb over you. His body presses against yours, your arms wrap around his neck and back, your need for him growing stronger as he leaves kisses on your neck. “I need you so bad.”

Hansol groans as his hands grab your breasts, mesmerized by your hardened mounds. He sucks on each other carefully, his eyes closed as if he is savoring the taste. He worships your body, his tongue trailing down your stomach until he reaches your core, spreading your legs apart. You’ve played so many scenarios on what your first time with him would be like, and what kind of lover he would be. This is better than you’ve imagined.

“You’re so wet… for me?” he says in disbelief. “I get you like this?”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly as you anticipate his next move. He slips a digit inside of you, watching you squirm as he fingers you slowly.

“Oh god,” you praise him as he adds another one. “Just like that, please.”

Hansol leans down and lashes his tongue against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. The sheets bunch in your fists, your knuckles stretching out as his relentless mouth laps up your essence, savoring every drop. He explores every inch of your softness, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. His hands stroke his cock which is leaking with precum. You are ascending to a high that you never want to come down from.

“H-Hansol,” your voice is grained with need. “I’m so close.”

He moans in response, his breath hot against your skin, and the sound vibrates through you, intensifying the coil of tension within. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of bliss completely taking over you, whimpering his name as your legs tremble around him. White starts clouding your vision and you feel like you are on air, floating away into paradise. You feel him groan against your thigh, and you look down slightly, his cock dripping with his load as it coats his hand. You collapse on his pillow, trying to catch your breath, slowly coming down from cloud nine. You hear him leave and come back a few moments later, wiping you down with a warm rag.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” you tease him, closing your legs slightly.

“I’m sorry for that being short,” he says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I usually can last longer than that, you know… I don’t know what happened.”

You prop yourself up, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

You pull him into a hug, softly kissing his cheek and motioning for him to lay down with you. He climbs over you and hugs you from behind, cradling you so close you can feel his heartbeat. The sunlight peeks through the window, a sign that the storm finally passed. Happiness can’t even describe the word you are feeling right now.

“Fuck. R-right there.”

Hansol wanted to make up for last night’s performance, so he woke you up with kisses to your face, your neck, the curves on your body and most importantly, in between your legs. The way you grabbed his hair went his tongue went deeper, or the way you begged for him to fuck you. He was addicted to all of it. It was like he was making love for the first time.

“Please Hansol, I need you.”

He quickly slipped on a condom and slowly entered you, watching the way your lips parted as he inched in a little more.

“Are you okay? I am not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head slowly as you held onto his arms, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” you bit your lip. “I can take it.”

He almost came right then and there, hearing you talk like that. Feeling safe with him. He never experienced that with Kelsey, the feeling of being wanted, and truly loved.

He moved slowly, wanting to make sure you could handle it, and he was mesmerized by the way you looked when you were being pleasured. You goaded him for more, and he did that, stroking deeper while your nails dug into his back. You were tight, warm and welcoming like you were made for him. He loved the way your breasts bounced when he thrust harder and the blunt curses that left your lips when he lifted your legs.

If Hansol could, he would fuck you all day and night to make up for the past time wasted. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, and he wasn't the best with words, so this would do… for now

“I’m gonna cum—”

His mouth covered yours as your legs shuddered underneath him, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane. Your body glistened with sweat, your eyes wet from tears from being fucked out and he couldn't hold back anymore, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself into the condom.

Hansol thought he was in love before, and maybe it was because it was you, but he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. You were precious to him, and all he wanted to do was lay with you and watch movies all day, talk about mundane things…it didn't matter as long as he was with you.

“I… have a confession to make,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“I always wondered… what it would be like. With you.”

He watched you bury yourself in his sheets, feeling shy about your confession. Hansol chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and riding himself of the condom.

“So, did I live up to your expectations?” He asked tentatively.

You gently pull down the covers, smiling at him softly. “This is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

tagging: @heechwe @junniesoleilkth @iheartnonie @jaeyunsprincxss

#lonelyheartscafecollab #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #lapydiariesnet #ksmutsociety #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fic #svt fanfic #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #hansol angst #hansol smut #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff

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shinigamigloss · 2 months ago

Text

mr. perfect guy

✎ semester break has never been so much fun, all thanks to your brother’s best friend Leon.

cw: fem!reader and she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, slight size kink, praises!, cowgirl, creampie, the beginning is like sooo sugary and fluffy, but the ending is a pure filth + weird and corny jokes ewww word count: 2.6k just a lil note: this is a request by an anonymous person :3 and we’re 145 ppl eeek so this is a teeny-bean-y gift for those who follow me, and i was listening to ‘guy.exe’ when i was writing this (pls let’s have a moment of silence – yes im talking about that TikTok trend... six feet tall and super strong (insert a big bicep here) man i miss 2021) also this is my semester break aka i will be writing two more requests then i will probably disappear bc theres a big scary exam waiting for me

The winter semester break is finally knocking on your door. It’s been a hectic ride – caffeine has been pumping coffee beans through your veins. A long hard slog to keep up with the rollercoaster of sleepless nights and groggy mornings when you nearly dozed off during the exams.

The bottom line is that no one deserves this week of rest more than you. Staying at home – sleeping, smoking, drinking, and reading all day – sounds absolutely wonderful now, especially since those were the very things you couldn’t afford during that intensive deadline week.

Except that your dear mother makes a last-minute decision and crashes your week-long plan in the middle of the day. Safe to say your plans all went pear-shaped.

“It’s just a two-day trip. Your brother misses you so much—oh, I have such darling babies.”

Your mother kept reiterating these words, or equivalent synonyms and loanwords – in a loop the whole ride.

Perhaps you can sympathize with her.

After all, you hadn’t seen your brother in years.

When you decided to go to college in another city, your mother had moved in with you temporarily, and your brother was bound to stay in Washington, D.C. He said the job paid handsomely; he made a good living, yada, yada, yada. He even got a roommate, claiming that the apartment was a good value for money.

Now, you’re hoping his roommate is away visiting family for the holidays. Yes, it may be his apartment, and he may be subsidizing the rent, but that doesn’t really color your judgment.

Just how much merit can you have in the company of someone you know nothing about?

Ironically, though, things and your opinion do transmogrify in a different dimension. Later that night, upon entering the house, your eyes lock on the man who gingerly stoops to lift two oversized suitcases (no idea why you packed so much for a multi-day trip) as if he has nary a care in the world.

“Here, let me show you your room.”

He has a watchful mien, his eyes sharp and sunken, sparkling blue and pink-rimmed. Even if you’re not one of those “I’m sooooo crushing on my brother’s best friend” type of girls, by virtue of temperament, you can’t help but like him.

Not that he didn’t like your little coaxing and somewhat sheepish smile.

Little gestures, like the fact that he cooked your eggs just the way you liked them for breakfast (it’s a mystery how he could do that without really asking you), lulled you to the point of imprinting a Kennedy next to your first name. And a diamond solitaire on your ring finger.

In the midst of winter, even in the hiemal snow and gloom, he gave rise to those flowers blooming inside you that can only sprout in wintry days. Snowdrops and primroses.

Flowers in January.

After that spectacular night, you go out in the morning with your brother and Leon to catch the panorama of winter in D.C. at Rock Creek Park.

“I say we should put olives for his eyes,” you insert a scathing comment on the figure of the snowman you created from three globes of snow.

Your hands are on your hips.

“Coal would do better, don’t you think? Those bulging eyes should scare the passersby.” Leon’s quick to pitch in his two cents’ worth of ideas.

“Now that’s just cruel, Leon.”

Turning to him, you see that he’s already munched on more than half of the carrot in his hand.

“Did you really eat our snowman’s nose?”

You’re not exactly upbraiding him, but you’re partly reminding him of a little vignette of his mother. The disbelieving sibilance in your voice, how your eyebrows are drawn together and knitted, but on your lips is a very lentil grain of an amused smile. This is straight-up pulling teeth, and you’re so pretty in his eyes.

“Easy now, don’t get all uptight on me.” Leon’s been ready to face the music since yesterday, if not since the minute he was born.

Holding the ‘tin soldier,’ alias the now-headless carrot, in his hand, Leon puts the lone comestible in the center of the snowman’s skull.

He takes a step back and sticks his thumb out in a histrionic way, taking precise measurements of his masterpiece.

Obviously, it’s a well-proportioned enough capture. His aim must be well-honed, like that of a smooth operator.

“Uhm, what are you doing?” You squint at him.

“Just giving my little snowman Kennedy a nose with an aesthetic.” He rounds on you again, so unwary.

“Excuse me, but how come he carries your family name?”

“That’s because I’m his dad.” He sure says it convincingly. “You be his mom, and let’s now give our kid the nose of his dreams. A small monetary apology for my hereditary one.”

That’s bullshit. Balderdash. His nose is perfectly all right up your alley.

“I think you’re just bullshitting ‘cause you like the attention.”

A little bit of Leonian attitude never hurt anyone. Be stuck-up, sprinkle wisps of a wiseass, and all.

Nice to see a smaller version of you like that – at least, for Leon.

“How come you’re saying that now?” he ventures with a half-grin.

“It’s obvious. You say bad things about yourself so others will put you in a good light.”

You make it sound like you’ve auspiciously figured him out in less than a day. So easily.

Leon allows your words to sink in (or pretends) and suddenly lobs the snowball he’s gathered in his palm straight at you.

Oh, this is a war in your book.

No one could have guessed – least of all you – that you would be having a snowball fight with your brother’s roommate when just yesterday, at this time on the road, you wanted the guy simply out of the picture.

Life and fate have a way of playing fickle tricks on you, you suppose.

Your blood warms to him so readily, but your small, fuzzy, childish crush on him is a mere diversion that will only fade in two days. Neither you nor he is a teenager anymore. You have a college to swipe at, and he has some operose work to do.

Still. There’s absolutely nothing stopping the two of you from exchanging numbers.

It all happens so randomly.

It’s the itchy afternoon hours when he knocks on the door of the room you’re staying in, about three hours before you and your mom leave. After you confirm with a “come in,” he buzzes in.

Well, he didn’t exactly think you were going to greet him in a linen bathrobe or anything like that.

“Oh! My eyes!”

He folds his palms over his eyes like he’s been shot in the heart. It’s like he’s never seen a pretty girl in a bathrobe before; he’s acting like a silly schoolboy.

That crowns an impish grin on your lips, and he talks.

“Damn, a trigger warning could’ve been fine for the no-makeup look.”

“What?!” Your grin falls apart.

Dick.

The crux of it is that he barely manages to pull your number before you leave the premises – much to your chagrin. He could have asked your brother, which would have been one thing, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to do it, given that the monochrome banter and chirpy snickering between you and him had already made your brother a tad dubious.

Best to get it from the source anyway.

You were torn between texting him first or not. Hell, you were thinking about him even when you sat up in class – at the beginning, in the middle of lectures, and at dinner with your friends. He was in the little moments, the tiny details. Some of your friends were quick to catch on to your sleaze, and they all hit you with the same run-of-the-mill take:

“Ugh, your expectations are too high, girl. You’ll never find a guy like that. Waste of time. Just get your head out of the fucking skies and stop being delusional.”

You even consulted a friend you genuinely believed was a genie or a witch. Grudgingly, under your compulsion, she pulled tarot cards for you.

“Umm, yeah. He likes you, whoa! Actually, he thinks your tits are so cute. I think he sometimes does fuck his fist when he thinks about you,” she averred, and you batted your lashes like a half-wit.

Guess what happened after that reading session?

Leon texted you his first message at 5 AM on that fateful day.

“You’re still holding on to me?”

What a flashy piece of texting.

Who cares? A message is a message, and exceptions are the rule.

So you kept texting each other until the spring semester. You said you wanted to visit D.C., and he kept telling you to stick to your studies.

“Think about your future salary, sweetheart. Fuck it. You’re gonna get that bag.”

Then there were the cute names he called you alongside his adjuvant-worthy pep talks. You could not get enough of them; they made your heart sing like a dove in an aviary cage.

He called you on certain evenings, and your long conversations felt like a frosty dessert after a hearty meal.

“You’ve finished a whole semester, yeah? That’s my girl. Don’t you think you deserve a treat from me?”

It was eating you up inside. He was eating you up inside. The thing is, neither you nor he dared to label this thing between you, but he could very easily take you out for an exclusive dinner.

—

Now you’re here, waiting for him to pick you up. It’s exactly eight, sharp. Not a minute late.

“I can’t let you go till you try the lamb agnolotti.”

Leon’s very persistent. He personally drives you to his much-loved (read: flaunting his Italian roots) Fiola restaurant.

The food is beyond spectacular and assertive enough to leave a dulcet aftertaste on your palate, paired with the sherry. You can tell he’s got good taste.

“My stomach is bloated. Any more of this, and I’ll end up in a food coma.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He tuts.

—

The car ride after dinner, wrapped in the crisp ambiance of a warm spring night, serves as a prelude to the long, long night ahead. You couldn’t control your hands the whole drive – but you had a valid alibi. This is what happens when the man you haven’t seen in months – the one you flipped out over in the ‘adjacent to a situationship but never enough to make it real’ phase – just happens to be sitting next to you.

“Jesus. Simmer down, will you? I’m driving—hey! Sweetie, keep your hand outta there. Not now.” Warnings, he doles out. Compliance? Questionable.

That changes almost the minute he ushers you into his tenement. He lures you into his room, props you up against the three-panel door, and eats your pussy from behind until your legs give out. No wonder he is a dab hand at it, and the cherry on the cake is your taste on his tongue – all moreish. He sucks and licks the cherry of your clit until the pulp is swollen and you cum on his tongue – the epiphany of the night.

The conclusion to the overall story is that you find yourself on his platform bed, riding his dick so idyllically.

You say he’s too big, but you take it.You ride him cowgirl.

“Fuck, look at you. Pretty pussy suckin’ me so pretty.”

Under you, Leon makes the most ear-candy-inducing noises he can ever muster. Pink-cheeked and greedy, he looks like one of those pretty porn stars with dreamy eyes and long lashes.

“Just like that, beautiful. Ride it—oh fuck!”

“Just shut up...” You reprimand him. He’s distracting you when all you want to do is ride and ride him more.

His rasping, labored puffs of air tickle your ears. The crystalline light caressing his skin like a shimmering roseate or the reflection of moonlight on rivulets makes it look like the lights are swimming around him. You wonder if he tastes that rich.

A rush of euphoria bubbles up inside you, stirring in the pit of your stomach – a deluge of sensations that he’s all too familiar with as your tight clutch of cunt enfolds him. This really must be a dream, he thinks. You look divine – head tilted, hair in a cute mess, playing amok with your little love-starved clit.

As if on queer cue, Leon’s phone chimes janglingly.

Really, Leon?

Everyone puts their phone on silent – particularly when they’re fucking and deep balls inside somebody.

You pay no heed to it; you just fuck yourself on his cock, but the ringing phone goes off again. Very importuning, to say the least.

Leon’s painfully nearing, and you’re about to hit your second orgasm. The arbitrarily splashed colors are now bokeh blurs behind the penumbra of your eyes.

Tring, tring!

It happens again. Those stupid flip phones and their stupid ringing.

On the phone, Leon can barely get his mitts on, the name that flickers on is none other than your brother’s.

“Shit,” he thinks. Now he’s in the deep end. You won’t hold back, and neither will he cease those thrusts, kissing your cervix beneath you.

Well, he’s already pushed that green button once. No going slack now.

With a palm on your mouth, Leon blocks your enviable blubbering and hushes you.

“Leon, my man, I’m real sorry. Really needed to call you. Seems like my sister’s MIA. Said she’d be with her friends and busy tonight, but it’s no good. It’s pretty late. You seen her? Did she call you by any chance? Anything helps, Kennedy, I’m biting my nails here.”

Poor, poor worried brother.

Since Leon can’t really say, “Your precious little sister is all over me, riding me breathlessly,” he immediately adopts his “on pins and needles” character.

“No. Where —unngh!— seen her? Me? Nope, not me.”

“Oh, hell no. Are you taking a shit in the toilet? What is all that pushing for?”

Actually fucking your sister’s cum in her pretty little hole, Leon doesn’t say it, but those are the exact sentiments that course through his head.

And who’s he to take away the one thing you desire most anyway? Anything for a pretty girl who already looks like a fucking goddess when she creampies on his cock.

A pretty lie never hurt anyone.

“Huh. Yeah. Well, if you’ll pardon me, damn it.”

“Whatever. Just spray those floral air fresheners after you finish your job, you asshole.”

When Leon hangs up his phone and makes sure you ride the fading butterflies of your bliss, he seizes you by the dip of your waist and rams you underneath him.

“Seems like you really got your big brother worried,” he says and reaches a hand down to array your right leg around his hip.

“What do you say we go for round two before he gets home?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil 4

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steddieasitgoes · 1 month ago

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Eddie helps Jeff and Grant move into their freshman college dorms. Eddie's not going to college; it took him six years to graduate high school. He's not about to put more time and now money into a dead-end education, but he respects the guys' decision.

They're upset the university's stupid roommate questionare didn't pair them together. They answered everything exactly the same, and yet they still got split up. It's bullshit. Eddie knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. But it is what it is. Jeff doesn't want to make waves with the school, and Grant's just happy they accepted his sorry ass, so they'll have to live with it.

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are currently figuring out how they're going to smuggle a microwave into Grant's room. Eddie leaves them to it, already holding a box marked for Jeff in his hands. He saunters out of the elevator and down the hall toward Jeff's room, nodding his head at anyone who does the same to him.

College is weird, he thinks. No one has sneered at him -- not even the frat dude bro type who checked Jeff and Grant in earlier. Maybe it's true what they say, college is full of open-minded people. He'll let the boys be the guinea pig on that one.

Jeff's door is half shut when he gets there, which is weird because he knows they left it wide open. They still have to bring in his record collection, and even though he ditched hundreds at home, the box is still way heavier than it should be. Having to put it down to open the door is a no go.

Thankfully, the box Eddie is carrying now is rather light so he turns and uses what little ass he has to bump the door open before sliding inside.

He stops dead in his tracks as Jeff's roommate turns to meet his gaze.

Eddie doesn't believe in God, doesn't believe in angels -- he likes to think Demons exist, but that's more of an aesthetic thing than anything else -- but he's pretty sure he's in the presence of an angel.

No, he's certain he is.

The large window between the beds shoots rays of sunshine through the horizontal blinds, painting the guy in beautiful shades of yellow and orange. And jesus h. christ the shadow gives off the illusion of a halo around his gorgeous, lush, perfectly styled hair.

He's wearing a sweater -- how he's wearing a sweater in the sweltering heat, Eddie doesn't know, but he is -- with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Eddie can't help but let his eyes take in the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin, unmarked with ink like his own but decorated with freckles and moles that Eddie wants to trace, connecting them like constellations he spent decades staring at on the roof of the trailer back at home. And, okay, maybe a few other unholy thoughts also pop into his head -- sue him.

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that. Of course Eddie's first thought upon stumbling on an angel is to wreck them.

"Hey, I'm Steve," the man says, extending a hand out to Eddie.

Jesus H. Christ, it's bigger than any hand has any right to be. Eddie's mind immediately wonders what else might be bigger than most. He can't help it.

"You must be Jeff," he smiles. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yep, that's me!" Eddie says without thinking it through. He scrambles to put the box down and reaches out to shake Steve's hand.

It's a firm handshake, what Wayne would call "business-like," but it sends a burst of electricity coursing through Eddie's body. It's silly, really silly, but Eddie doesn't think his hand has ever fit so perfectly in someone else's before.

Maybe they're soulmates. He doesn't believe in those either, but he could if this Steve guys is his.

Steve smiles and drops his hand a second later and Eddie tries his best not to buckle under the loss of touch.

"What do you think of the place?" Steve says. His hands shoot to his waist, settling there as he gives the room a bitchy glance over. "It's a lot smaller than I was expecting."

"At least it's only a double," Eddie says. "My friend's stuck in a triple."

Poor Grant. As if losing out on rooming with Jeff isn't enough, he really got fucked.

Steve whistles lowly. "Damn, man, that sucks."

He squats then, digging through an already unopened box, and Eddie feels faint. His jeans were already tight, but with his new angle, they're stretched to the max, leaving very, very, very little to be imagined. And Eddie has no problem imagining anything, much less what the skin under those pale blue jeans looks like.

Steve's shirt rides up a bit as he leans over more, really sifting through the box now, and the tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers is enough to send Eddie into full-blown gremlin mode.

Maybe he should have applied to college.

"So, Jeff," Steve says, standing again and glancing between the two beds.

Neither has seemed to claim them yet. Jeff -- the real Jeff -- didn't want to be rude, and judging by the single box Steve's been looking through, he's only just started the move-in process.

"Got any bed preferences?"

Sharing it with you.

No, no! he scolds himself.

"Nope, have at it," Eddie says, casting his arms out wide and bending at the waist. He's not sure why he's done it, but by the time he registers how weird it might be, it's too late. So he commits to the bit, and it's worth it when Steve chuckles.

"Cool, cool," he nods. "I'll take this one, then." Steve shuffles over to the bed farthest from the door and tests the firmness with his hand. It gives just enough to make Steve smile. "I can work with this, if you know what I mean."

Eddie thinks he's really gone and died then because Steve honest to god winks at him.

Winks!

At. Him.

Eddie!

What the fuck.

"Yeah," he croaks, a little awkward and a whole lot aroused. He needs to get out of here before he jumps Jeff's roommate and accidentally gets him kicked out. Better yet, he needs to figure out how to get enrolled and kick Jeff out of his room himself. "Alright, well, I've got more shit to bring up, so I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Eddie nods then bolts, ditching the elevator altogether and taking the three flights of stairs two at a time. Jeff's still arguing with boys when he gets down there, sweaty and out-of-breath.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Gareth snaps.

"Oh no," Jeff winces. "Is my roommate a dick? Did he chase you out?"

"No," Eddie pants, shaking his head widly. He reaches out with both hands and slams them down on Jeff's shoulders way harder than he needs to. "Your roommate, Steve-- he's-- I think I'm in love."

The guys burst into laughter.

"Here we go again," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"You just met the guy," Grant adds. "How could you possibly be in love?"

"You can't be in love with my roommate," Jeff scolds, shaking Eddie's hand off of him.

"Jeff, Jefferson, Jeffery," Eddie rambles. "I am in love. He is the man I am going to marry. The one who will father my children. The one to tame this wild horse--"

"You've slept with two dudes, Eddie. I don't think that makes you a wild horse," Gareth scoffs.

Eddie ignores him. He doesn't have time to deal with Gareth. Not when Steve is upstairs waiting for him.

"I need to go back to him."

Eddie moves to step around the three, eager to grab another box with Jeff's name on it and get back to Steve. Back to the love of his life. But Jeff blocks him.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jeff says, reeling Eddie back in. "I have to live with this guy for a year. You are not going back up there and making it weird."

"Well then I have good news for you," Eddie says, wicked grin already breaking out onto his face.

"This can't be good," Grant mumbles.

"You don't even have to go up there. He thinks I'm Jeff."

"Okay, but you're not Jeff," the real Jeff says, crossing his arms. "I'm Jeff and I'm going to go to my room and introduce myself to my roommate and you're going to stay far, far, far away from him."

Eddie shakes his head. "You can't do that! He'll think I'm a liar."

"You are a liar," Gareth butts in.

"Eddie," Jeff groans. "I have to go up there! I live here. I'm Jeff. He needs to know the truth."

"Or, or!" Eddie shouts, full of frantic energy now. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, mind reeling a million miles an hour as the plan starts to form in his head. This could work. It could totally work. "How about I pretend to be you for the next year and you can be me."

"Dude, no!" Jeff scoffs. "I worked my ass of to get here. I'm not trading lives with you so you can try to fuck my roommate."

"Oh, I won't have to try," Eddie says. "He might have already offered."

"Oh my god. My roommate thinks I want to fuck him."

"Your roommate doesn't even know you exist," Grant corrects.

"What were you thinking?" Jeff shouts.

"He clearly wasn't thinking with his head," Gareth says.

"This is a disaster."

"No," Eddie says, shaking his head. He doesn't know why they're being so catastrophic about this. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. "Okay, new plan, I'll pretend to be you but only in your dorm. You can still go to class and do all the college shit. I'll only be Jeff to Steve."

"And where am I supposed to live?"

"With Grant."

"Asshole! I'm already in a triple! We can't house another person."

"And you're not even enrolled!" Jeff adds. "What happens when the RA finds out? I'll get kicked out and you'll--"

"Go to jail."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't think people go to jail for impersonating college students, Gare."

"They might!" Gareth says, throwing his hands up. "Are you really going to risk going to jail just for a chance at fucking Jeff's roommate?"

"Well, I hope it would be more than fucking. I did say I was in love."

Gareth doesn't get it. The only thing he's ever loved is his drum set -- and he can't marry that. Not even in bumfuck Indiana.

He goes back to ignoring Gareth and focuses on Jeff. He braces his hand on his shoulders again and slinks down to his knees. He's not above begging. Not for this. Not for the angel that is Steve who is probably wondering where he is right now.

"Jeff," Eddie says, hitting the pavement. He retracts his hands from Jeff's shoulders and clasps them together in prayer. He's making a scene.

"Get up, you're making a scene," Jeff hisses, yanking him back to his feet. Eddie goes willingly and Jeff huffs. "Alright, alright. Let me think."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Grant chimes in. "Eddie's plan is shit. It'll never work."

"I know that!"

Eddie watches as Jeff paces in a circle with his eyes closed. If he wanted to, he could bolt right now. Grab a box and make a run for it. Lock himself and Steve in the room and not come out until he's sure Jeff won't rat him out. Holding Steve hostage might not be the best impression to give Steve though, so he stays put.

"Okay, how about this," Jeff says and Eddie gives him his undivided attention. "The two of us are going to go back to my dorm and we're going to set the record straight--"

"No! That's--"

"Eddie," Jeff says, firmly. "If you really do love my roommate or well, you want to eventually love him. You have to tell him the truth."

Jeff's right. He's always right that's why he's going to college on a scholarship and Eddie's not. But he doesn't like it. Steve's going to think he's a total weirdo and he'll never get a chance to see what's actually under those tight ass pants.

Still, Jeff's right.

"Fine."

Steve really is an angel because he doesn't even bat an eye at the truth. He does laugh, but Eddie doesn't mind that. He wishes he had his cassette recorder and a mic so he could record it. It's music to his damn ears, and he knows a thing or two about music.

Jeff and Steve hit it off and Eddie tries not to pout about it as he continues lugging in box after box. When Eddie's van is finally empty, Grant and Gareth meet up with them in Jeff's room. Steve introduces himself and Eddie can tell they're both silently judging him.

Yes, this is the dude he would risk going to jail for, Gareth. Eddie thinks, he hopes Gareth gets the message in the glare he shoots his way. He thinks he does.

It turns out Steve also has a best friend who just moved in, too. She's in a different building than them, but he's meeting up with her for pizza at the parlor down the street. He invites them all to go and Eddie says yes on behalf of all of them a little to quickly.

When they get there, Steve introduces them all -- Jeff, Gareth, Grant. He gets all their names right, even Gareth, but when he gets to Eddie, he smirks. "And this," he says, smiling as he slings an arm around Eddie's shoulder. "This is not-Jeff my not-roommate."

"Hi, Not Jeff," Robin says.

Eddie laughs and introduces himself to her with his real name and Robin nods before her eyes lock on with Steve. He can tell they're non-verbally communicating with each other. It's not unlike the way he is with the boys. One look is all it takes sometimes for them to know what he's thinking.

It's weird watching it happen from the outside and especially difficult when he's still stuck under Steve's arm. Not that he minds that part not at all.

Finally, her lips quirk up into a smile and she pulls her gaze from Steve, letting it land on Eddie. At the exact same time, Steve's name gets called and he excuses himself to get pizza, leaving the two of them alone.

Robin's smile falters just a bit as she takes a step closer to him, replacing the spot where Steve just was. "Just so you know, I'm obsessed with Murder, She Wrote. If you hurt him, I know where to hide your body."

Eddie doesn't have time to even think of a retort before she's scampering off to help Steve with the pizzas.

He might not be enrolled in college, but he has a strange feeling he's going to spend a lot of time up here from now on.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #unnamed freak #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #college au #stranger things #stranger things fic #and they were NOT roommates #dani writes

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rosenclaws · 3 months ago

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New Years Eve Hideaway || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: It's New Years Eve and you were hoping for this to be the time to tell Logan how you feel, but he's no where to be found.

warnings: angsty kinda (Logan has PTSD and fireworks set him off), fluff, makeout sesh, alcohol/drinking, swearing.

wc: 1.8k

a/n: I thought of this last night and cooked it up in time for new years!! I'm from the west coast so I've got a long way to go until 2025 but I hope you all have a great new years eve/new year and stay safe and have fun <3333 Also if you see me reuse gifs no you didn't.

Wade's place is as lively as ever. New Years Eve was a celebration and for Wade it meant getting absolutely shitfaced and being around the people that you love. The music was turned up to eleven and his apartment was cramped. You said hellos and caught up with a few people you hadn't seen in a while like colossus and Yukio, you love Yukio.

"Wade! Nice party!" You shout as you finally find the host.

He's all decked out in gold glitter and those stupid new years glasses. He hugs you tight and offers you a cup of a mysterious liquid. "It's my own creation!" He said happily as he drank from his own cup. You look down and swear there's glitter in there and so you gently put it to the side.

"You ready for the new year?" You ask and he smiles.

Things were really looking up for Wade. He's back to being Deadpool, him and Vanessa are talking again, and he's got all the people he loves surrounding him. Not to mention a new (very hot) roommate. Your eyes dart around the room. You try to keep it subtle but Wade reads you like a book.

"Looking for Wolvie?" He says with a grin.

He clocked your crush on the man immediately. Relentless jokes and teasing at the both of you about hooking up, dating, a threesome. That last one earned him three claws to the stomach so he left that one alone, for now.

"The big bad wolf fucked off somewhere. Very rude if you ask me. You’d think the guy who did rubbing alcohol shooters would be all over free booze.” Wade shakes his head as he finishes the rest of his drink.

“You think you know a guy.” Wade’s attention gets turned elsewhere as Mary Puppins starts to piss on the couch.

When he leaves you let out the disappointed sigh you were holding in. You loved Wade you really did and you would have come anyway but you were really hoping to find Logan here.

As embarrassing as it sounds you wanted to use tonight to finally tell him how you felt. If things went well then maybe you’d get to have a new years kiss and if they didn’t go well you could blame it on the alcohol and hope he believed you.

You grab the weird drink Wade created and decided if he wasn’t here you might as well get drunk. As you move you fail to notice Shatterstar standing right behind you.

“Shit!” You curse as knock right into them spilling Wades mystery drink all over yourself. He apologizes and you tell him its no big deal. You lived down the street and you really didn't want to leave the apartment to change.

"Wade! Can I borrow your tide pen?" You ask knowing he has a whole box still stockpiled from before his red suit. He sticks his thumbs up and you weave your way through the crowd.

"Pretty sure this is Wades room." You mumble as you open the door.

The first thing you notice is how the room smells. Whiskey and cigar smoke. This isn't Wades room, it's Logan's. It's messy, the sheets are strewn everywhere. There's empty bottles by the bed but there's also pictures hanging up by a piece of tape. Some of Laura, some of Wade and Al, and to your surprise some of you. Its only group photos but you're there.

You're broken from your trance by a weird noise. A muffled noise, what the hell? Carefully you walk up and throw open the closet doors, hoping to god it wasn't a rat or something.

"Logan?" You ask in disbelief. This massive man is sitting on the hard closet floor. Clearly cramped and he's got a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He grunts out. He's clearly not interested in talking but you're not going to leave him on the ground.

"Seriously? Look I'm sure if you wanted to ditch the party there's bars open all night." You try to joke but he doesn't laugh.

There's more to his face than his typical grumpiness. In fact it takes a second to notice. You sit down across from him and you see it. There's this far away look in his eyes, behind the rage, there's fear.

"I get it, the closet it can be nice. Comfortable." You reach out but hesitate. Silence settles over you and you tap your fingers on your knee, not really sure what to say anymore.

"You should go back to the party." He gestures his head to the door.

"I don't want to anymore. I uh, I really only came to see you." You confess. He raises an eyebrow but stays quiet.

"If you want me to leave I can but, It's new years and well...I have a walk in closet. You know the big kind that has more space." You offer.

He's silent and you think you've pushed it too far. This was stupid I mean who asks a man if he wants to sit in your closet. He gets up and places the bottle on the ground, holding out his hand to you.

"You just gonna sit there?"

You and Logan manage to sneak out of Wades pretty easily. Grabbing a pizza and a few bottles of soda (and one bottle of champagne) you head to your apartment. Your closet was much more spacious than Logans for sure but the two of you were still close. You turned on some movie on your laptop and you and Logan ate the pizza.

“God why is there so much singing.” Logan says with a groan.

“Because its a movie musical, look if you didn’t want to watch than you could have said something.”

“What kind of name is the Greatest Showman anyways.” Logan huffs and you roll your eyes.

Your shoulders bump into each other as he reaches for his soda. Though the movie was already half way through, you hadn’t really been paying attention. You were too focused on Logan. He was so close, his arms were big and so musclely.

That’s not even a word but you couldn’t think straight, not with your crush sitting right next to you. He smelled nice, like fresh shampoo. As the movies plays you notice the time, its almost midnight.

“The fireworks should be soon!” You move to go back outside to watch but Logan stays glued to the floor. That fear coming back into his eyes.

“Logan?” You crouch down next to him.

“Don’t worry about me sweetheart, go enjoy the fireworks.” You don’t move.

You don’t ask him to explain either but something tells you he shouldn’t be alone. You turn the movie back on and let it play, letting your head rest on his shoulder as his hand gently comes to rest on your knee. Both of you don’t want to move, afraid of doing the wrong thing.

“Fireworks. They just bring back bad memories.” He mumbles.

He’s over 200 years old but nightmares of his life before still haunts him. He fought in pretty much every war, lost friends, watched people die. He’s been surrounded by violence and gunshots all his life and in the heat of battle he doesn’t even flinch. Even as recently as last Tuesday he’s has bullets fired at him and he just spit them out.

But for some reason fireworks just get to him. It triggers something in him, this deep seated fear that makes him freeze. Most years he’s been shitfaced drunk and isn’t even awake by the time the clock hits twelve.

But this year was different. He had friends and a place to live, a party to go to. He had you. He knew you were coming and he wanted this year to be different. That maybe he gets to truly start fresh with the turning of the year.

But his brain just wouldn’t shut off, spiraling into what ifs and filling him with fear of loss and the worst possible outcomes. So he holed himself in his closet waited for the night to be over. Until you found him and you smiled that pretty smile and instead of laughing at him you joined him.

“That’s okay…Fireworks are overrated anyways.” You don’t know how to help, you don’t want to press but you want him to know you’re there.

There's muffled cheering through the walls and a boom echoes through the closet. Its not as loud but you can still hear it. Without thinking you grab Logan’s hand. Squeezing it tight as the fireworks outside start their show.

“Look you don’t have to-“

“I want to. I want to be here with you.” You cut Logan off before he even has the chance to feel guilty. You reach over and turn the volume up on the movie.

“Happy New Year Logan, there's nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you.” You say sincerely, a soft smile on your face.

He stares at you, it takes a second for him to truly understand that you want to be there with him. That its not guilt or pity you feel for the man, but something more.

Slowly the two of you lean closer, like a trance has spelled the both of you. The fireworks fade to the back as your lips touch. Both unsure at first but once you get a taste of Logan you want more. You wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him towards you.

One of his hands cup your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly as his other hand places itself on your lower back, bringing you as close to him as you can get. He tastes like cherry soda and his lips feel just right against yours.

"Logan..." You whine as your lips finally part. He groans as he ducks his head, moving his lips to your jaw and down your neck. Sucking a small spot when he notices you start to melt in his arms.

"Never had a New Years Kiss before.". He purrs and you find that hard to believe.

"Glad it's you." He captures your lips in another kiss as the fireworks seem to subside, not that either of you notice.

Starting off the year together, intertwined in each others arms. All Logan wanted was a fresh start, a true start where he changes from the man he was into the man he wants to be. This is the start to that, he's no longer the violent angry man he was. His world had been flipped upside down and sometimes he still wonders if he really deserves it all.

I mean, after all the pain he's caused how the hell could someone like you ever fall for him, care for him. It's crazy to think about but Logan is going to take this and hold on to it for as long as it lasts. Hopefully it lasts forever. Logan slams your laptop shut and moves it to the side, making room for you to lay down on the ground.

Maybe this new year isn't looking too bad anymore.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #worst!logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett

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bearforcecaptions · 4 months ago

Text

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

#male transformation #theme: possession

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aurynsia · 4 months ago

Text

Slim Pickins

James Potter x Reader

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Summary: You pine over your roommate’s friend from school at a party while he’s on a call with his ex…

Warnings: Miscommunication trope, slight hurt -> comfort, James is stuttering like a lovesick FOOL so good luck reading the dialogue, reader is referred to as a girl with she/her pronouns and presents femininely, Marlene being the greatest match maker of all time!

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: “A boy who’s jacked and kind…”so, James Potter?

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Sitting alone at your roommate’s dinner party, you gazed longingly at the boy who poured a sudden dose of affection into your once-loveless world, a disgruntled frown pressed against your lips.

Only meeting a few weeks ago on a frantic night of music and drinking, Marlene had practically dragged you over to the tall boy with a grand smile spread across his bespectacled face.

You were so enamoured after your first introduction, you completely missed the way the boy - James - leaned tentatively over to Marlene to whisper words of admiration.

“Just like how you described…is it too early to ask for her number? So pretty…” the muttered compliments and queries were drowned out by the blasting music, assisted by your complete lack of self awareness as you pined over the way his hair tickled his neck when he leaned towards your roommate.

You had danced your way through the nerves, guided by the soothing rhythm of pumping bass and new beginnings as you formed a core memory with your roommate and new friends.

Tonight was a different story.

James stumbled around your living room, a few drinks too many compromising his composure as he rambled on the phone to his old girlfriend.

Marlene had told you all about James and Lily, king and queen of their grade, and the sudden end to their relationship after graduation.

While you were relieved to hear the boy was single, you couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy as he rambled on about something excitedly, cheeks blushing and smile only growing wider.

You nursed your drink in your sweaty grasp, feeling the depressing effect of alcohol wash over you like a wave over the Scottish shoreline.

James passed subtle glances towards you, throwing his drink around in his hand as he spoke animatedly down the line to an undoubtedly amused redhead.

Your jealously sparked into unbridled envy, willing yourself to turn back time and dance carefree once again, grinning at the handsome new face as you crossed the dance floor blindly in your memory. You slumped in your seat, allowing your vision to blur as your eyes fell in your intoxicated haze.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James was all but yelling down the line to his lover-turned-friend, gushing enthusiastically through a permanent smile. “Seriously, she’s so cute! I wish you were here to meet her, I think you’d really get along,” He rambled, glancing in your direction every second moment.

“Yes, Potter, I’m sure we’d form an unbreakable bond over shared experiences of being relentlessly pursued by you,” Lily quipped, voice laced with a lighthearted tease. “Oh, shush. You won’t have to deal with my antics anymore if this lovely girl has anything to do with it. I think I’m gonna ask her out tonight, Lils!”

Lily was the only person in the school-born friend group who moved too far away to attend any of Marlene’s late-night gatherings, only kept in the loop by drunken phone calls from the bustling London apartment.

She meant the world to James as one of his closest friends, so he assured her repeatedly that it was crucial she knew about his obsessive new crush before he made a move. Physical distance couldn’t stop him from updating her on every new development in the capital city, constantly obstructing the peace and quiet of her comforting cottage.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Lily sighed in partial satisfaction, but mostly in exhaustion at the late hour of the night. “Go get your girl, Potter.”

With that final encouragement, James passed on hurried farewells before hanging up on the past. Now, his gaze was fixed on his future. His cheeks heated at the sight of your soft face, eyebrows furrowed in drunken fatigue.

With a final breath of courage, he pushed through his chorus of friends, Marlene squeezing his shoulder as he passed in knowing encouragement.

Striding along the path of dirtied plates scattered across your dining table, he finally found comfort in leaning against the wooden surface just in front of your current seat.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You stirred at the sound of a deep cough - James clearing his throat to gain just a moment of your attention. “Enjoying the party?” he laughed nervously, never one for small talk with a girl he fancied.

Your eyes winced as you forced your best, welcoming smile at the boy. “Yeah, I am, just uh- lost track of my drinking an hour or two ago…” you admitted, forcing your eyes open to meet James’ bashful gaze, feeling almost sinful at the pleasurable warmth that shivers through you at the sight of his golden eyes.

“So, listen- uh…Marls said you were too good for me and I can’t help but agree with her, I mean,” he shifted his weight to balance his drunken nerves, “you’re brilliant. But I promised myself I’d shoot my shot anyway.” He scrambled to sit beside you, abandoning his position against the table as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief, blinking in a fluster that successfully woke you from your alcohol-induced slumber.

“So, um…I really, really like you. You’re so bright and- and gorgeous, and I’m really quite obsessed with you,” he rattled with embarrassed laughter, “I thanked Marlene a thousand times over for introducing us, and I just can’t let an opportunity like this - with you - go to waste. So, with this liquid courage…” he shook the drink in his hand, “I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner some time. With me. Just us.”

You might as well have called for “clean up on aisle your floor” because your jaw wouldn’t be lifted from the wood beneath your feet any time soon.

“I- I mean, yes! Of course! That…that would be great, James, really,” you responded on autopilot after stunned silence, lost in his lovesick gaze as you subconsciously leaned closer to his warmth. James lit up like a lamp at dusk, grinning ear to ear as you inched closer in unexplored yet familiar comfort.

“Brilliant.”

Your roommate and her friends watched on with smiling pride before leaving you to whisper and giggle like school girls sharing meaningless secrets, bathing in the light of blossoming romance over the candlelit remnants of dinner.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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siddyyyyyyyy · 4 months ago

Text

Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his head, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guilty as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

#fanfic #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #x reader #drabble #one shot #masterlist #mdni #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #dc red hood #red hood #red hood x reader #no evidence this time

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itneverendshere · 6 months ago

Note

wait you guys watching milo one night, and rafes like “when is it gonna be out baby”

this was ridiculously cute to write oh my god!!!!! love their dynamic 😭😭😭😭 thank you for the request ❤️

so blessed to be looking at you- r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Milo's little hand gripped the sleeve of your hoodie, his fingers sticky with remnants of the peanut butter crackers he’d demolished not twenty minutes ago. You’d just finished washing the kid’s sippy cup when you heard the familiar thud of Rafe’s feet on the floor behind you.

You were at his house, tucked into the living room, the glow from the huge fireplace casting shadows over everything. Milo was sitting cross-legged on the rug, eyes locked on some cartoon with way too many bright colors. Every once in a while, he'd giggle at something on the screen, and it made your heart swell.

Rafe slid up behind you as you walked into the living room, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’re real good at that, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, like always, but smiled anyway. “Yeah, well, someone has to be. My sister’s been running that graveyard shift all week. Milo’s practically my roommate at this point.”

He laughed softly, his chest vibrating against your back. He watched you twist the cap back onto the cup and set it down on the coffee table before turning you around in his arms. His eyes watched you closely, "You're so good with him," he said again.

You shrugged it off, though you warmed at the compliment. “I’ve had practice. Milo’s been around since I was seventeen, so I kinda had to figure it out.”

His hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer before he stepped away, glancing over at Milo, who was still oblivious to the conversation.

“Kid’s lucky he’s got you.”

You leaned back against the couch, watching Rafe watch Milo. It was something you’d noticed over the past few months — how he had softened around Milo, almost like he’d started to think of him as part of your little world. Whenever your sister needed help with him, Rafe was always down to hang out, no complaints.

If anything, he seemed to like it.

You’d only been dating for a year, but you’d already lost count of how many times he’d mentioned wanting kids. Not in a weird, pushy way, but just casually. Whenever you’d see a baby at the beach or out on the boat, he’d smile, and that sparkle would hit his eyes, and he’d say something like, “That’ll be us one day.”

You loved that he thought about it, thought about you like that, but you were always quick to keep him in check. You were still figuring out this whole relationship thing. Still, seeing him watching Milo like that, looking all soft and affectionate? Yeah, it did something to you.

“You good over there?” You asked, breaking him out of whatever trance he was in.

Rafe blinked and looked back at you, grinning in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow.

He walked over, plopping down next to Milo on the floor, ruffling his messy curls. Milo laughed, swatting Rafe’s hand away, then promptly went back to his cartoon.

“When’s it gonna be our baby?” Rafe asked, so relaxed, you almost thought you misheard him.

“What?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “I mean, you and me — we’ve talked about it before. You’re so good with Milo, and I like having him around. Feels right, y’know?”

Your heart did that stupid flip-flop thing again, and you bit down on your bottom lip to stop you from smiling like an idiot. You knew he was serious, even though he was trying to make it sound light.

“Rafe, we’ve been dating for a year,” You reminded him, “Let’s not go putting the cart before the horse.”

He tilted his head, giving you that lopsided grin that always made me weak. “A year’s a long time, baby. I know what I want.”

You sighed, but there was no hiding the fact that you loved hearing him say stuff like that. He was so sure, so steady. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place — how Rafe could be chaotic, reckless even, but when it came to you, he was all in.

You walked over to the couch, dropping onto the cushion and grabbing the remote to turn down the volume on the TV. Milo let out a little whine but didn’t protest too much since you left the screen on.

“You don’t even know what it’s like yet,” You teased. “Babies aren’t all cartoons and snacks, Rafe. They cry. A lot. Not to mention toddlers.”

Rafe shot you a look, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re acting like I didn’t grow up with two little sisters running around screaming their heads off all day. I know what I’m getting into.”

You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Okay, but babysitting your sisters is different than being there 24/7. Especially when it’s your kid. There’s no off-switch.”

He just shrugged, “I don’t need one. I’ll figure it out with you.”

That comment alone hit harder than he probably even realized. With you. Like it was just a given that whatever future kids came into the picture, they were going to be both of yours. He didn’t treat the idea like some far-off possibility — for Rafe, it felt like he was already there, just waiting for you to catch up.

You leaned back against the couch, watching him with Milo. Your nephew had crawled into Rafe’s lap now, not really watching the TV anymore, just playing with one of his trucks while Rafe absentmindedly pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Does it freak you out?” He asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Huh?” Your head snapped up, meeting his blue eyes.

“The baby thing,” he clarified, looking almost shy, which was weird for him. Rafe never did shy. “Like, when I bring it up. Does it freak you out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out how to answer that without sounding like you were completely against the idea — because you weren’t. You did think about it, just like Rafe did, but maybe with a little more hesitation. It wasn’t that you didn’t see a future with him. If anything, you were more sure of it now than you’d ever been. But the whole baby thing? It was a lot. A lot of responsibility, a lot of life changes. You weren’t were ready for it yet, especially at twenty-one.

“I wouldn’t say freaked out…” you started, choosing your words carefully. “It’s more like—I just want to make sure we’re ready, you know? We’ve got time.”

He traced patterns on Milo’s back, the little boy already dozing off in his lap. “I get that,” Rafe nodded, “I’m not trying to rush you. Just— sometimes I think about what it’ll be like. Like, really picture it. You, me, and a little one.”

You smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

The way he was talking, so openly, like this was his ultimate dream? It made your heart swell.

He wasn’t just saying it to sound cute —Rafe wanted this. Wanted you to be a part of it. You could tell that much by the look in his eyes, the sincerity there.

“Yeah,” you said softly, finally letting yourself imagine it, too. “I think about it sometimes.”

He grinned at that, like you’d just given him all the confirmation he needed. But then he tilted his head, studying you like he was reading every single thought racing through your mind.

“Don’t even think about it,” You warned him, scootching yourself away.

Rafe practically beamed, scooting closer to you on the couch like he hadn’t just been told off. “What? I’m not thinking about anything.”

You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Oh, please. I know that look, Cameron.”

His grin widened like he was proud of himself for whatever scheme he had cooking up in his head.

“Okay, maybe I’m thinking a little. Can’t help it when you’re over here making me all soft and sentimental.”

It was so typical of Rafe to be half-joking, half-serious, always pushing just enough to get you thinking but not enough to freak you out. He had this way of getting under your skin and making you picture things.

Milo stirred in his lap, his body shifting. You both glanced down at him, expecting him to be waking up from his half-snooze. Instead, Milo blinked his big eyes open, looking groggy but alert.

“Where’s da baby?” Milo mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, making the tiniest pout you’d ever seen.

You and Rafe exchanged confused looks. “What baby, buddy?” Rafe asked, ruffling his curls softly.

Milo sat up, his brows furrowed, like he was personally offended by the question.

“The baby! Dere was a baby! Where it go?” He looked around the room like it was hiding behind the couch or something.

Rafe glanced at you, utterly baffled, his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Uh, Milo? I think you were dreaming, dude. No baby here.”

But Milo was having none of it. He looked at you now, all wide-eyed and serious. “No, dere was a baby! You had it, Auntie!”

You blinked, totally caught off guard, as Milo scrambled out of Rafe’s lap and stood up on the couch, looking around the room with this stubborn determination like he’d misplaced his toy truck. “Auntie had a baby! Where is it?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. You raised your hands in surrender. “Milo, I swear, there’s no baby. Just you.”

Milo gave you a look that said he did not believe you. He crossed his little arms, glaring at the both of you like you were in on some kind of conspiracy.

“You’re hiding it.”

Rafe finally lost it and let out a snort, leaning back on the couch, looking at you with amusement written all over his face. “You’ve been holding out on me? You got a secret baby I don’t know about?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully in the ribs. “Don’t start.”

But Milo was still adamant, his little voice growing more insistent. “Auntie, I saw it! You were holdin’ da baby, and it had little feet! And it was cryin’! Where it go?”

You knelt down so you were eye level with him, “I think you were dreaming. You must’ve been sleeping really deep.”

Milo’s face scrunched up in thought, his head tilting to the side as he tried to process it. After a few moments, he let out a dramatic sigh, clearly disappointed. “Oh. I wanted to baby again.”

Rafe laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “This kid, man…”

You couldn’t help but smile at the whole thing, though there was something about the way Milo had said “Auntie had a baby” that sent a warm shiver down your spine. You caught Rafe’s eye, and he was already smirking, as if to say, See? Even Milo’s thinking about it.

Before you could answer, Milo yawned and plopped himself back down on the couch, clearly over his phantom baby drama, like it had never even happened.

Rafe leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “I mean, maybe Milo’s onto something.”

You gave him a playful shove, trying not to let the heat rise to your cheeks. “Shut up. He’s just dreaming, let’s get to bed.”

He chuckled under his breath as he got up from the couch, scooping a now sleepy Milo into his arms. Milo barely protested, his little head already resting against Rafe's shoulder, soft snores escaping his lips. You swore that kid slept like the dead. You grabbed his blanket from the armrest and followed them down the hallway.

As Rafe tucked Milo into the small guest bed, you couldn’t help but stand in the doorway and watch the scene. He was so gentle, pulling the covers up to Milo’s chin and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. After making sure Milo was comfortable, he quietly shut the door behind him, and the two of you headed toward his bedroom. Sliding into bed, you were aware of Rafe’s eyes on you the entire time. He lay down beside you, resting on his side, propped up on his elbow. His other hand traced light patterns along your arm. Rafe’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer leaving just the sound of your breaths syncing up in the quiet room. He rested his chin on top of your head, his thumb lazily tracing circles on your back, like he couldn’t stop touching you.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

Rafe chuckled, his chest vibrating under you. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to memorize my face or something,” you teased, though you could feel his heart pounding steadily beneath your cheek.

He let out a soft sigh, his hand moving to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looked down at you, it almost made you blush.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life now. That you’re here with me.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his voice. You looked up at him, suddenly feeling a little breathless. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice still quiet. “I’ve had a lot of crazy moments in my life, but this? Right here? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking him square in the eyes. “You know you didn’t give me much of a choice right?”

Rafe smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, didn’t I?”

You gave him a playful slap on the bicep. “Nope. You practically steamrolled your way into my life.”

He chuckled softly, his hand catching yours and pulling it against his chest, holding it there as his thumb rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out. Can’t say I regret it.”

He was stupidly charming. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Rafe grinned wider, pulling you closer until your noses nearly brushed. “Exactly. So, no complaints from you.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I should’ve played a little harder to get. You barely gave me time to breathe.”

His lips twitched as he leaned in, brushing them against yours in the softest kiss.

“I just knew what I wanted.”

392 notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 11 months ago

Text

Second Choice | San [NSFW]

Choi San - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~11.1k O_o

Pairing: San x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Actual Plot, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Friends-to-Lovers, One-Sided Love, Sharing a Bed, Comfort

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Precious, Sweetheart, Love, Pretty/Sweet Girl, etc.), Nightmares/Bad Dreams, Tears and Crying, Swearing, Unrequited Love, Kind of a Love Triangle, Kissing, Dirty Talk, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation (Just a tad), Dacryphilia (Kind of), Creampie Kink (Not really Breeding so…), Marking/Hickeys/Scratches, Wall Sex, Window Sex, Mirror Sex, Big Dick! San, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! Reader is on the pill), Multiple Rounds

Author's Note: Holy Fuck, look at what I did 🫢. This is…long, as you can see. There is about equal parts fluff and angst and possibly even more smut. Had this brewing in my head for a few days after I went down a San rabbit hole. I went through a roller coaster ride of emotions writing this, so good luck reading it, my dudes.

Wooyoung is not in this, but he is mentioned and is somewhat of a love rival? Also Reader has a dog in this, so sorry if you don't like dogs or something…

PS. The middle pic of the banner is Mark and Renjun 🤪

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

Glancing at the clock, tick-tick-ticking away, you sigh; 2:38 am. It’s much, much too early (or too late) to be awake, but you know there’s no way you can fall asleep. The first nightmare wasn’t nearly as bad, so you were willing to go back to sleep, but when it happened again, you just couldn’t. So, you’re sitting on the couch, some random rerun playing on the TV. You have to keep the volume low, not wanting to wake San up. He’s sleeping with the door open so his cat can come and go. Byeol is sleeping in the armchair and you’re jealous that he can do so in peace. San’s staying in Wooyoung’s room while he’s gone, and since your sister had somewhere to be that weekend as well, you’re home alone. It freaks you out to be alone in such a big place, never really having lived on your own. San offered to stay with you, and you were a bit reluctant to agree, but did so. It’s not that you aren’t close with San, you are, since Wooyoung is your roommate, it’s just odd without Wooyoung there too. Turning around to glance behind the couch, you dog is snoring away in her dog bed, laying on her back, legs folded down over her chest. She’s so sweet, but she’s a husky and therefore makes the bed way too hot for her to sleep with you. Every so often, you have really bad nightmares, and normally slip in next to your older sister and be able to sleep in peace. However, she isn’t home, so you have to sit on the couch and watch the TV, at an hour where nothing good is on.

“Why are you up?” San’s voice startles you, and you spin around again to look where he’s coming from behind you. Your dog’s soft snores stop, but she doesn’t even roll over from her spot, falling back to sleep easily.

“Nightmare.” You shrug, turning back around and he shuffled sleepily around the couch to sit next to you.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep?” His eyes are almost closed, and his hair is mussed up. He’s wearing a pair of thin black pants with a thin sweater to sleep. The collar is very low, and paired with his wide shoulders, you can see most of his toned chest. By that point, you’re used to it, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t tempted to ogle him.

“No. I…Uh, normally crawl into bed with Nara, but…” You shrug again, pulling your fluffy robe back up to cover your shoulder, only in a thin tank top underneath. Picking at a stray string on your own thin pajama pants, you feel antsy under his gaze.

“What about Cookie?”

“She’s too warm…” You both sit in silence for a good minute or two, and you try to just watch the TV. It seems he’s thinking.

“Um, I’m going to use the bathroom… Do you… Do you want to sleep in my- Wooyoung’s bed with me?”

“No! I…I mean…” You clear your throat.

“I… That’s fine, but would you mind…using my bed?” You cannot sleep in Wooyoung’s bed, especially with San. You’re willing to try anything at this point, feeling exhausted, and you really need to sleep. Last time you tried to tailor a dress while so tired, you poked your fingers at least seven times.

“Yeah, be right back.” He flashes a sleepy smile, shuffling toward the bathroom, the sweater crooked, revealing part of his shoulder. Licking your lips, mouth suddenly dry -nervous- you shut the TV off, but hesitate to get up. When he comes back out, you finally force yourself up and you lead him toward your bedroom. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, your light string around the room glowing a gentle deep pink.

“You need that off?” you ask him, pointing at the lights.

“No.” He moves toward the bed, turning back to look at you, waiting. Swallowing hard, you undo your robe, acting like you’re naked underneath. After is falls, you dash to get under the covers, embarrassed about your think top and lack of bra. Gently, he gets on the other side, and you lie down stiffly, flinching when he pulls the blanket over himself, the higher up on you. Your face heats and since you have no makeup, you’re sure he can see you get red. Maybe not in the low light…

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” San’s voice is very soft, and you feel like crying. You’re not for sure if you’re just that flustered or embarrassed, or what. Just replying with a nod, you turn on your side, not really able to look at his face, but his hand is already up between the two pillows. Your hand shakes a bit, reaching for him, and he gives you a warm smile, linking his fingers with yours. He isn’t the biggest of the friend group, but he’s still much bigger than you, his hand nearly swallowing yours completely.

“I’m right here, you can go to sleep.” He whispers and you let your eyes close, hoping he can’t see the tears hanging on your lashes. It’s still taking you a while to fall asleep, lying there with your eyes closed for nearly half an hour. At this point, you’re more distracted with his hand holding yours than the thought of having another nightmare. San’s always so soft and gentle with you, despite his harsh appearance. He’s sweet and is always careful to make sure you aren’t too uncomfortable. You know, deep down, he probably likes you, but you just ignore the idea. It’s like some weird love mismatch going on. Your sister is in love with her friend-with-benefits, Wooyoung likes your sister, you like Wooyoung, and San likes you. You know Wooyoung likes your sister, but he has no chance in hell. Your sister is enamored with Younghoon, and the only reason they aren’t an actual couple is because she’s in denial, afraid of commitment, and doesn’t like feeling feelings.

Still being most awake, you have to make sure and hold completely still when you barely feel his fingers brush a stray strand or two of hair off your forehead. You hear and feel him shuffle just a bit closer, not having to far in your full-sized bed. Holding as still as you can, you tense further when he lightly presses a kiss to your forehead. You bite the inside of your lip to keep it from quivering. Only relaxing when he settles, you don’t open your eyes till you can tell he’s asleep from the way his breathing changes. Blearily, you look over his face, so peaceful and pretty. Despite falling asleep, his hand is still just as secure in yours. You wonder what time it is, and as you do, sleep slowly overcomes you as well.

~₸o₸~

When you wake up in the morning, your bed is empty next to you, and you can hear Cookie eagerly inhaling her food.

“Slow down, you’ll end up throwing up.” You hear San scold the dog and when you roll over to get out of bed, the clock reads 11:47.

“Shit!” You sit up quickly, yanking your tank top and pajama pants off, slipping on a bra, white t-shirt, and max dress over. Your hair is messy in its braid, but once you take it out, your hair falls in nice soft waves. Your feet softly thump on the hardwood floor as you job down the hall.

“Sorry I slept so late!” You call to hime, he’s resting against the counter, watching the husky rapidly crunch on her food.

“It’s okay!” He assures and you dash past the kitchen, toward your studio to start working. It’s good you work from home.

“I think it’s because I fell asleep so late!” The only reason he hears you was because he follows after you, plopping down in your rolling chair as you start getting pins and thread out.

“When do you have to go to practice?” San’s a dance instructor and it’s extremely convenient that his studio is just across and down the street a bit from your apartment complex.

“Three.�� He gets up, turning the chair around so he can sit in it backwards, backrest to his chest. You huff, tucking hair behind your ear again, but it falls into your view again. Grumbling, you grab your glasses off the table, putting them on to rest on the end of your nose to get the right angle to focus on where you’re doing a difficult stitch. Gladly you can hear his footsteps on the wood floor; you’re able to prevent a flinch when his fingers find your hair. Kneeling behind where you are to get the right height, you force yourself to continue the stitch, just very slowly as he braids your hair for you. Not having a normal hair tie, he grabs a stray rubber band from your kit to tie the end.

“Thanks.” You murmur, pretending to be focused to hide your reaction. You hope your head is bowed enough he can’t see your red cheeks.

“What do you want for lunch?” You try to maintain some kind of casual normalcy. He hums and you can hear the chair roll and inch when he sits back down. Him watching you never fazed you before, but his gaze feels like fire on your back.

“Pizza?”

“Sure, if you get my phone, you can reorder what we got last time.” You wave toward your device on the desk next to you.

“Code?”

“Same as the front door.”

He types in the number, and you hear it click open, and he taps away on it. Glancing over at him, your eyes focus on where his partially unbuttoned shirt it tucked into his pants. You’d hemmed that pair of jeans so he wouldn’t have to pin them tighter anymore.

“Use the 3033 card?”

“Yes.”

“Twenty-three minutes.” He tells you, placing the order then goes to sit back down.

“How much?”

“Like eighteen.”

“Can you get me the thread in slot L-2?” you ask, motioning behind you toward the thread storage. He rolls over and you hear shuffling, keeping your hand out so he can rest the spool in it. Expecting him to just hand it to you, he actually gets out of the chair and sits on the floor next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Buttons in this fabric tend to get loose easily, or fall off, so I’m having to fasten them differently. You deftly and quickly start your task, and he marvels at how fast you do it. Tying the thread off, you stick the needle in the pincushion you have on your wrist, grabbing a longer one again.

“You’re really good at his.” San looks at the smooth stitches you have done, even though they’re by hand, not machine.

“Practice.” You let a small smile grace your lips.

“Do you always do everything by hand?”

“Depends on what I’m doing most of the time, but some clients want it completely hand sewn.” You pull a pin out, dropping it back into the little box and continuing. You fall back into rhythm even with his intense gaze watching what you’re doing. His fingers mess with a scrap of fabric lying on the floor, then he picks it up, weaving random pins through it, trying to mimic what you’ve done.

“Can you teach me to sew?”

“Probably. It’s not hard. Getting to this point is though.”

“Did you teach Wooyoung?” Your hands freeze at the question, heart thudding harder.

“N-no. Well, I tried, but he kept poking himself.” He laughs.

“Sounds about right- ow!” Your eyes flick to him, sticking the end of his finger in his mouth, putting the pin riddled fabric down on the desk.

“Like that~” You giggle, and he huffs bashfully. He keeps watching, getting up quickly when the doorbell rings so he can get the pizza. Finishing your stitch, you take the pin cushion off and make sure there isn’t anything sharp on the floor, then lay your glasses down as well.

“Hot, hot!” He breathes hard through his mouth, trying to cool off the bite as you walk out. He wasn’t expecting the sauce to still be so hot, but the pizza place is very close. It only takes so long since it’s busy for lunch. You let him talk while you both eat, and you only partially listen, not understanding most of it anyway; some video game you haven’t ever played and have no knowledge of.

“I think I’m going to head to the studio now.” San helped you clean up, then sits on the edge of the entryway to get his shoes on.

“Bye, (Y/N)!” The door shuts, leaving you staring at it. Sight Deeply, you go back to your work, trying to not let your thoughts loop out of control.

~ų-ų~

Your eyes fly open, chest heaving, sweat pooling at the small of your back. Breathing hard, you stare at the small star-like dots on your ceiling.

“Fucking-“ You sit up, leaning forward and rubbing over your face with your hands. Huffing, you throw your comforter to the side and get out of bed. Stomping over to your dresser, you put on the pajama shirt that matches your pants over your tank. Grabbing your phone, you shuffle out to the living room, hesitating before dropping yourself and your device onto the couch. Looking toward the door to the other bedroom, it’s slightly propped open for the cat. Your dog is noticeably absent, so you walk softly over to the door, peaking in. Cookie is laying at the foot of the bed on a spare blanket San most likely had laid out, Byeol loafing in the curve of the husky’s body. The sight makes you smile, and you glance to where San is sleeping. Laid out like a starfish, the blanket hits him around the middle, and one of his feet is sticking out from under.

“(Y/N)?” His voice catches your attention when you start to step out of the doorway.

“Y-yeah?”

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“Yes.” When he starts to get out of bed, you try to protest.

“Come on.” He ignores your stumbling words, sliding past you in the doorway, his hand grabbing yours as he moves. He leads you back to your room, getting into your bed without hesitation.

“San-“ You get in as well, but stay sitting up as he lies down.

“Just…sleep.” He mumbles, grabbing the back of your shirt and pulling you down into his arms. Shuffling under you so he can get more comfortable, your head ends up resting on his shoulder, his other arm around your waist. He falls back asleep fast, his fingers that were running over your hair stilling. Your heart is thudding hard, you can even hear it pulsing. How the hell are you supposed to fall asleep like this? You ponder the question, but at the same time, your eyes are growing heavy, and sleep is washing over you. At first, you’re only about half-asleep, somewhat aware still of his soft breathing. Right as you begin to actually go to sleep, you feel a soft press on the corner of your mouth. This wakes you up fully, but you manage to keep your eyes closed, body limp. Did he just kiss you? His fingers are back to running over your hair, “you have no idea, huh?” His voice is so quiet that even though your nose is near his throat, you barely hear it. San sighs, kissing your forehead, you can tell this time for sure. Finally, you can’t fight sleep off, and fall asleep in his arms.

~T3T~

Once again, when you wake up in the morning, he’s already out of bed. You can’t hear anything else, and when you glance at the clock, it’s a little past 9. Getting up with a stretch, you look to the empty side of your bed. Giving in to your intrusive thoughts, you pull the side of the comforter he’d been using up to your nose and you sigh. Smells like him, and you hate how good that makes you feel. Dropping the blanket like it’s got, you scamper out of bed and make your way down the hall. Peaking around the archway that leads into the main room of the apartment, you see he’s not in the kitchen and the bathroom door is open. Your dog barks happily and comes to greet you and as you pet her, you notice a note on the counter. He’s gone out to do some things and lets you know he’ll be back for supper. You aren’t sure if you’re disappointed or relieved at this. You only have two, maybe three more nights before your sister returns; Wooyoung is supposed to not long after. You’re worried what you might let, or want to, happen the longer you’re there with San, just the two of you. For some reason, you feel horrible about your rising affections with San, but you have no commitment to Wooyoung in any way but your own feelings toward him. It would probably be better if you try to move on, but there’s a small part of you that hopes your sister will get with Younghoon, then Wooyoung can move on and go to you. While you logically understand that will probably not happen, you still hope.

Continuing with your day as normal, you finish the suit you’d been working on and are able to move on to a dress that was commissioned. You enjoy making whole ensembles more than making adjustments and other altering jobs. Going over the list, you see you have nearly all of the materials and supplies already, but you most likely will need even more of the right color thread. You can wait a bit though, since you aren’t sure when you’d run out. As you’re rechecking your list, your phone starts to ring. Hitting the answer button and putting it on speaker, you put all the supplies on the desk.

“This is (Y/N).”

“Hello, Miss Hwang. I’m a delivery driver for Blooming Day Flowers. I’m just wanting to make sure you’ll be at home in the next fifteen minutes?”

“Oh, uh, yes.” You have no idea who could have sent flowers.

“Great, thanks!” He hands up and you blink back at the flashing ‘call ended’ on your phone. Trying to keep going with your job, it’s hard, your thoughts wandering to who the heck sent flowers. When the bell rings, you quickly go to the door and the man on the other side smiles, holding a bouquet of flowers in a vase. There are two different purple flowers, some a golden yellow, and more smaller white filler flowers.

“Oh, thank you!” You take the bouquet, and the man has you stamp on his clipboard. He takes his leave, and you move further into the apartment, door shutting behind you. Placing the vase on the counter, you pluck the little card from the top, reading the text on the front.

“Praying for a good night’s sleep! Inspired by holistic sleeping-remedy flowers: Lavender, Passionflower, California Poppy and Valerian!” You read out loud, figuring out who it’s from before you flip the card around. You have to take a deep breath, fighting back tears once again.

Thought this might help? ~San

You take several measured, deep breaths. It doesn’t work, a tear rolling down your cheek before you can stop it. Placing your hand down on the counter, you don’t have to get close to the bouquet to smell the fresh lavender. Not normally one for flowers, this is the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you. You lick your lips, letting out a shuddering breath, you can taste the salt of your tears. You’d thought he has a crush on you -something small- but this? It seemed like he lo-

“Fuck.” You jaw clenches, the card crinkling where your thumb presses it too hard. Sniffing aggressively to prevent your nose from running, you let the card go, smoothing it out a bit. You sniffle had again, upset with your own mixed emotions and stomp back to your studio. You were trying but failing to continue working without getting tears and snot on the red fabric.

~τ-τ~

“(Y/N)! I got food!” You hear him easily even though you’re back in your room, the door closed. For the last house you’ve been sitting on the floor, back to the wall, facing your bed. You had tried lying down, but the comforter still smells like him. You tried to read and distract yourself, but you kept getting the pages wet. Tears are still drying on your face and new ones come up when you hear his voice. You’re so tired at that point, head pounding. Your hand is at your mouth, arms crossed on top of your knees, and you bite at your thumbnail. Working for another three hours after you got the delivery, you put it out of mind, but everything came back when you spotted them on the counter, coming out of your studio.

“(Y/N)?” San calls again, but you still don’t reply.

“(Y/N)?” He’s coming down the hall and you get up reluctantly, sniffing hard while grabbing a tissue. You blow your nose, and he knocks on the door.

“Come in.” Your voice is a bit hoarse and when he comes in, seeing your eyes and cheeks red, tissue rubbing at your nose, his face falls.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He immediately comes forward, hands going to your cheeks, thumbs running over the skin.

“J-just…” You force a smile.

“I was moved from you sending me flowers, then I was reading…” Your lie is pretty believable since your book is still open, face down on the bed.

“Oh.” He slumps in relief, and you wish he hadn’t removed his hands from your face.

“You really liked the flowers?” His brow furrows nervously.

“Yes, San. They’re…” Your breath shudders but you cover it with a soft chuckle.

“They’re beautiful, and so thoughtful.” You play with the balled-up tissue in your hand, not able to look him in the eye.

“Good! I got food from the place on the corner you like so much.” He leads you out to the main room and you slowly follow. You try to maintain your normal attitude while you eat, and it gets easier as you both joke and he tells you about his day. Your phone dings and you glance down. When the name registers, your entire body stiffens and you exhale hard, picking the device up to look at the message.

You doin’ good? Is Sannie playing nice?

Wooyoung…

“Is it Woo?”

“Yeah.” You nod a bit, typing out a simple ‘yes’, and send it. His phone dings then as well and he scoffs at what he reads.

“He knows you’re lying.” San shoots you a deadpan look and your jaw drops a bit, then you clear your throat.

“Why does he think that?”

“You didn’t capitalize it. It’s too short too.” San sticks his tongue against his cheek, making it poke out. You roll your eyes.

“Bitch.” You sneer, grabbing the phone and redoing the message.

I’m not lying. I’m busy. Grow up.

You aren’t normally terse with him like that. He’d definitely know something is up. Backspacing, you redo it once again.

I’m not lying. We’re busy eating. I’m fine, and yes, San is being nice. Really nice.

You hit send and you don’t get a reply after he reads it, but San’s phone goes off. He glares at what he sees, not bothering to reply himself, putting his phone face down on the counter; he even mutes it.

“What did he say?” You’re curious but try to maintain a neutral tone.

“Little shit, just something about not becoming your new best friend.” It’s a lie and you know it, but let the topic drop.

“I’m going to play a game with the guys for a bit, do you want to watch?”

“You’re gonna use Woo’s computer?”

“Sure am.” He smiles, his dimples revealing themselves. You consider it, then you’re about to say yes, then consider it again.

“I think I’ll finish the show I started the other day.” You tell him and he shrugs, going off to do what he said after cleaning up his dishes. You haven’t finished yet, so you take the last few bites, then just leave the dish in the sink. Slumping over to the couch, you put on the show and only kind of watch it. You’re rewatching it anyway…

~ò×ó~

“Fuck!” You sit up, your heart beating so fast, breathing so hard you feel like you’d just run a mile. Not caring how bad it messed up your hair, you bury your fingers in at the scalp, pulling on the strands to center yourself in the waking realm. Why the hell were your nightmares coming back so strong? In the low pink light of your room, you glare at the bouquet of flowers on your dresser. They did jack shit…

“Don’t take it out on the flowers…” You scold yourself, sitting back against the headboard. You do so quite hard, enough so to rattle the frame, and the attached nightstand. The glass of water you had on it falls over, the glass shattering on the hard wood.

“Shit!” You almost get out of bed, then move to go to the other side so you don’t land barefoot on glass.

“(Y/N)?” San peaks his head in, not in his pajamas yet, so he must’ve just gotten done with his game.

“Hey, wait!” He stops you as you move to start picking up the pieces, slippers on just in case. He’s in crocs, so he takes the trash can from you, using his sleeve over his hand to gently pick up the fragments and throw them out. He looks up when you hand him a roll of tape. He pulls the section off and tears it off, smacking it against the floor to pick up any small bits that might be left.

“What happened?” San throws the tape away too and you put the bin back down.

“I…I had another nightmare, and so I rattled the bed frame and the glass on the nightstand fell…”

“Another? Maybe you can’t sleep without me~?” He smirks playfully, but it falls when he notices you don’t even twitch your lips.

“Give me like five minutes.” He holds his hand up to motion for you to wait, heading back down the hall. Sighing you sit on the bed, feet on the floor. Staring at a small scratch on the wall that was left by your keys when you tripped and caught yourself once, you ponder what your bad dreams might mean. Why were you have so many? You almost never had more than one in such a short time frame. Was it really just from not having your sister around? That doesn’t make sense…

“Here, let’s get to sleep.” San comes back in, wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Seriously? Out of all the things he could possibly wear, he has to put on that? Did he not know what the simple combination does to girls?

“Come here.” He’s gotten under the covers, arms open, waiting for you. Swallowing hard, you lie back down in his embrace, feeling comforted already. That scares you, honestly, almost more than the bad dreams.

“What are you thinking about?” He sees your pensive face.

“Nothing-“

“No. Tell me.” You huff in reply.

“Did…Did you kiss me yesterday night?” You feel him stiffen, much like you normally do.

“I did, on the forehead-“

“No. Tell me.” You shoot back at him. San stays quiet for a second and you can almost hear the wheels in his head turning.

“Yes.” His reply is soft, like the kiss on the corner of your mouth from before.

“What do I have no idea about?” He really hadn’t thought you were awake, and he shifts nervously before responding. The man is taking his sweet time, and you’re about to give up, not having the energy to press the issue.

“How much…I like you…” He finally gets out; your suspicions are confirmed. He thought you’d flinch, stiffen up, even hitch your breath, but he gets nothing, so he pulls way enough to look at your face. It’s flat, but your eyes are glossy.

“How much?” His eyes widen at your question.

“How much?” He repeats.

“How much do you like me?” He licks his lips, nervous, but then the nerves seem to dissipate. The hand on your waist goes up to cup your cheek, the arm under your head wrapping around your shoulders. When his lips lightly touch yours, you at first thought the contact generated a static shock. But he doesn’t flinch back, instead he fully presses his lips to yours. You shiver, easily melting into the kiss. Your hands fly up to cup his jaw, the ends of your fingers burying into his hair. He grunts, rolling a bit so he’s leaning over you some. You whine when his hand rests on your hip, thumb brushing the exposed skin from where your tank top had rode up. Your hands move down, one going to scratch at the hair on the nape of his neck, the other slinking under the collar of his shirt, over his broad back. San takes the opportunity when your whine slightly parts your lips, tongue brushing the lower one. You let him in, whining louder as his tongue tastes yours. He’s over you complete then, forearm easily holding his weight over you, the hand on your hop slipping lower past the waistband of your sleep pants. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t, know you might regret it, feel horrible, feel like you used him, feel like you’re somehow betraying Wooyoung…

“(Y/N)-“ San pulls away from the kiss, both of your lips starting to swell from the pressure, saliva leaving a strand of connection.

“Just- please- need you-“ You heave out and he groans. Making sure he’s still closer enough to brush his lips over you, he gets up on his knees, kneeling over you more, one thigh pressing between yours to keep your legs open. He wrestles with his shirt a bit, pulling away enough to get it over his head and off, his mouth sealing back to yours as the throws the shirt behind him somewhere. As San’s tongue runs over your own, the roof of your mouth, your teeth, anywhere it can reach, you can’t help but feel over him. His soft skins stretches over his toned chest and abs, his broad shoulders and back leading down to his narrow waist. While he swallows your tongue and moans, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your pajamas shirt, hauling you up to sit so he can take it off. Your tank is swiftly removed as well, joining his own shirt somewhere on the floor. He bites your lip when he pulls back from the kiss, leading a trail down to your jaw, neck, over your throat and collar bone. His hands on your bare skin feel searing, one on your lower back to lead you to lift your hips. San leads you to wrap your still covered legs around his waist, his other hand cupping your breast, kneading the flesh, the skin pebbling into goosebumps from the sensation. You gasp hard as his lips warp around one of your nipples, and at the same time, he grinds his growing hard-on into your rapidly soaking cunt through bout of your pants. He’s spurred on by your breathing picking up, soft moans escaping you. As he kisses over to and seals his lips over your other nipple, he wrestles your pants and panties off at the same time.

“S-San-!” Your whole body twitches as his fingers meet your glistening folds, the first easily sliding in, wiggling against your walls.

“Fucking soaked, precious.” He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and through your fingers pressing against him. You mewl when his kisses go back up to your neck, full on whimpering when his tongue licks a path from the bow of your collar bone and up to the base of your ear.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby girl.” His low voice, right in your ear, takes your breath away, his second fingers spreading you open. He tries to chuckle at your yelp as he softly presses his teeth against the skin of your neck, sucking hard, working blood to the surface of your skin to leave his mark.

“W-wat-!” Your body shudders, back arching, head thrown back when he adds a third finger, his thumb pressing over your clit.

“Gotta get your cute little pussy ready, you’re too tight for my cock, love.” San’s nose runs over your throat, then rests his forehead on your collarbone. He looks down at where you’re sucking his fingers in, not able to hold in his mirth. He loves how tiny you feel under him, writhing and whimpering. He’s been waiting for this for so long, and he knows you’re vulnerable, and shouldn’t be taking the opportunity, but he’s weak. If you’re going to ask for him, he’ll give you what you want.

“Fu- God! San~!” Your cunt clenches his fingers, pulsing with your heart as he circles your clit, lips going back to hover over yours.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He prompts and you immediately do, blunt nails digging into the skin of his upper back, head lolling against the pillow. San smirks above you, watching your eyes roll back in your head as your cunt spasms, soaking his hand. Your body shivers one last time as he removes his fingers, barely registering as he laps his tongue over his fingers, groaning at your taste. Your tired eyes try to focus as he climbs off the bed, trying to also figure out what he’s doing. You yelp when his hands on your ankles yank you down the bed, the comforter falling to the floor and he kneels on it, leveling his face with your swollen cunt.

“San-?!” Your voice ends in a very undignified choking sound as he buries his tongue inside your core, filling the voice his fingers had left. He wasn’t planning on fucking you open with his tongue; you taste too fucking good. His strong hands grip your inner thighs, so hard he’s definitely going to leave bruises, holding you open. Your body is still weak from your orgasm, so you can’t fight him anyway. San presses his tongue against your gummy walls, pulling back so he can swipe through your golds, then circle your clit. You’re still sensitive, the sensation jolting you, he can feel your muscles spasm under his hands. Your next orgasm is coming on fast, and your fingers weave through his hair, trying to ground yourself through your hands, his own not allowing your hips to ride his tongue.

“S-San~!” You fall apart on his tongue that time and he eagerly drinks and swallows every drop that falls from your needy cunt, reveling in the pleasure he’s bringing over you. Kissing your swollen nub, you whimper, and he stands up; even though his pants are loose, they’re tight around his hard cock. Your eyes are glazed over, head rolling to the side, staring at the wall. Your gaze is drawn back to him as he pulls the waistband of his pants and boxers up and over his swollen dick, and your mouth waters when the clothing falls away, leaving him naked.

“Fuck.” You huff, still catching your breath and he can’t fight the smug grin that spreads over his face. No wonder he felt the need to prep you, you don’t even know if you can get your fingers all the way around him.

“Come here, precious.” He easily lifts you to haul you back up the bed, gently letting your head hit the pillow. The other he brings to rest under your lower back, finally letting you down. Your hips angle up allows him to sit up higher on his knees to give him better leverage. When the fat head of his cock meets your cunt, you clench your jaw, readying for the stretch,

“Wait, do I need a con-“

“Just fuck me, San.” You want to sound more assertive, but you just whine like a spoiled child.

“Okay, precious~” His smirk grows, and he wraps his arm around your left leg by the knee, the other leg spread with his hand on your inner thigh. When San starts to press in, you gas with each breath, trying to breathe though him splitting you open. You’re so tight around him, gummy walls erratically spasming around his cock, your wet heat feeling incredible. He groans low and long as your cunt swallows each inch of him, somehow accommodating his thick length.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” He coos as he bottoms out, adjusting your legs to spread you open even further, giving him a perfect view. You’re so wet, your slick already glistening on the base of his cock. Your entire body is in shock, almost. Everything seems to be spasming at him rearranging your guts, filling you so completely and wonderfully, you ponder if anyone could suffice after him. You’re already drunk on his delicious cock, and he hasn’t even moved yet. He can tell from having felt it on his fingers and tongue, that your cunt is throbbing, ready for you to cum again. He’s going to fuck you through your high so many times that tears would flow over your cheeks again, but from bliss instead of sorrow and frustration. He wants to fuck every little negative thought out of your pretty head, drive away the memory of the nightmares, wants to leave you with only thoughts of him; his hands, his lips, his tongue, his voice, his cock… He’s already making headway it seems.

“Can I move, precious?” San leans down to gently kiss at the corner of your mouth, tongue brushing over your bottom lip. You nod, whining, not able to think to get a word out. He barely pulls out an inch, making you whimper, the searing stretch filling you with painful pleasure. San artfully snaps his hips, the tip of his cock hammering your back wall and cervix, pelvis meeting your clit, sending you even closer to the edge. The next thrust is a little deeper, a litter harder, and your whole body goes limp; the third thrust nearly makes you black out. Your cunt spasms, squirting slick and wet over his groin and balls, core clenching around his cock so tight he had to breathe hard to hold back, He chuckles as your orgasm waves through you over and over, and he wonders how long you’ve needed to get fucked. He’s so glad he’s the one to do so, and he’ll eagerly do it again and again, till you’re dumb and stupid for him. A tiny voice inside him keeps repeating to him that he’ll always be able to fuck you better than Wooyoung, that his best friend would never be able to ravish you the way he’s planning. Over and over-

“San, please, please…” He isn’t sure what you’re begging for, but your high has laid, so he continues. Throwing your legs over his elbows, pressing closer to you so you’re nearly folded in half, he huffs a laugh.

“You want me to fuck you good, love?”

“Yes!”

“Want my cock to fuck you stupid?”

“Yes, fuck, please~!” His hips roll, leaving only a bit more than the head of his cock in you, before filling you fast and hard again. Your kind of already flimsy headboard thuds hard against the brick wall, creaking under the power of his hips slamming his cock into you, skin slapping, grunts leaving him and mewls leaving you. Your fingers turn white as they grip your sheets hard, worried that the worn material might tear despite your blunt nails.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N)~” San groans, letting one of your legs go so you wrap it around his narrow waist. The now free hand grips over the one you had up by your head, easing your fingers out of the sheets so they can instead weave through his. San’s lips fall back to yours, thrusts growing shallower but no less hard, you feel like he might dislodge a kidney with the strength behind each motion. As his pelvis meets yours, he grinds into your clit, and you’re growing closer to another orgasm, and he’s planning on letting go with you. He tries so hard to maintain his rhythm, almost having to just grind into you to keep control, fucking so deep inside, you think he’s in your throat.

“Cum for me, precious. Come on my cock.” San pulls back from the kiss, and his words grant your relief, your final climax really does make your vision go black, flashes of white dotting your vision and his voice rumbles through the room as his hot cum paints your insides white. He cums so much that his release spills out from where he splits you open, a mix of your cum dripping onto the sheets. You fall limp like a rag doll, eyes closed, chest heaving, little whines accompany each breath. He’s heaving for air as well, the emotions he felt from finally being inside you, pleasuring you, hits him. If he already liked you, he’s truly infatuated now, never wanting to leave your hold or your warmth.

~(\δωδ(\~

When consciousness finally washes over you, it takes you a second to figure out why the hell you’re so sore. Your thighs are sore, random spots on your neck and shoulders, your hips, back, and cunt. Everything hits you then, and your body protests as you wiggle on the bed, trying to get the strength to sit up. Your bed is once again empty despite having shared it for the night.

“Fuck…” You wince as your lower half pulses as you get out of bed, legs incredibly weak. You’re naked as the day you were born, and you pretty much limp over to the bathroom. After relieving yourself, you finally look in the mirror, gasping. There are several dark red and purple marks over your neck, shoulders and chest, one mark even has teeth marks.

“Choi San!” You scold despite his absence, rubbing the little bruises and wincing. You’re glad you work from home, because there’s no way to cover the hickeys in the middle of May. You take a shower, the hot water washing away many different layers from your body. You wince when the water flows over your sore pussy, still a bit swollen from being pleasantly ruined by San’s monster cock. Getting out of the shower, you get dressed in a matching tank top and shorts, the mint-colored fabric is soft and loose. There’s no way you can handle any pressure on your cunt, so you go commando. San’s already seen everything anyway. Nervously and shakily going down the hall to the main room, you hear the shower running. Cookie lifts her head from where she lays right in front of the door, slowly getting up and stretching before going to greet you.

“Good morning~” You coo at your pup and then limp over to the fridge; your dog whines a bit at your strange gait. She watches with interest as you pull some ingredients out of the fridge, needing some protein to compensate for the intense work out you’ve gone through. When your husky smells the bacon as soon as you open the package, she starts to wag her tail, whimpering.

“No begging.” You scold your dog, and she’s so well trained she simply hangs her head and trudges away, down the hall and presumably into your sister’s room. You barely hear the shower turn off and the door open over the popping and sizzling of the bacon and eggs in their pans. You assume he’d go to his room to get dressed, but you startle when he wraps his arms around your middle from behind.

“San, I’m cooking!” you scold, trying to pry his arms off of you. Your heart rate spikes, more from fear than bashfulness. You still haven’t processed what happened the night before, especially not emotionally.

“Sorry~” He giggles and lets you go, but only move to stand next to you. Your face is warm, and your eyes sting a bit, brow furrowing. Once all the food is plated and the heat of the stove is off, you turn to him, taking a step back.

“San, I think-“

“Let’s eat first, precious. I tired you out.” He takes both plates, walking around you to get to the dining table. You follow after him slowly and he pulls a chair out for you which you gratefully sit down on. Then you regret it, the hard wood pressing into your sore thighs and groin. You then notice he’s in a white tank top and blue track pants, towel around his neck. He always looks so good… Despite wanting to talk with him, you’re really freaking hungry, so you eat first, trying to ignore his warm and fond gaze. You know before you let him rail you into next week that you’d regret it. You do, you regret it and feel guilty; feel like you used him, feel like you betrayed Wooyoung… The final bite of food is harder for you to swallow along with the knot of emotions rising up. Your breath shudders, and he notices the tear fall from your eye and onto the empty plate.

“Hey, baby girl, what’s wrong?” He immediately get up, coming to your side and kneeling so he can look up at you. Your crying picks up then, your hands covering your mouth to try and muffle your sobs, scooting back and away from him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeat between each sob that makes you gasp, desperate to let out the emotions that’ve finally boiled over.

“Oh, precious.” He sighs, trying to pull you into a hug, but you push your chair back further, standing up so fast the chair rocks, then falls back, clattering onto the floor. San stays where he is, feeling utterly helpless as you crumble to the floor. You ball your firsts on the wood floor, tears splatting on your skin and the floor. Despite wanting so bad to go to you, he stays in the same spot, not wanting to step over the line.

“God, I’m such a fucking bitch.” You whimper to yourself, and he can’t disagree more.

“No, no, precious girl, you’re not.” He finally gets up, kneeling back in front of you, but not trying to touch or hold you.

“Yes, I am! I… God, I used you. I took the chance, and I shouldn’t have. I…what about…” You heave for air, and he feels his heart breaking. Sighing, he shifts to sitting with his legs crossed instead, waiting patiently for you to calm down.

“What about Wooyoung?” Your voice is quiet, but not only did he know what you were going to say, he had a feeling that’s what your issue is. He feels a bit like he took advantage of you since you were obviously emotionally weak at the time. Why do you feel like that though? Does it hurt to see you so upset because of your feelings for his best friend? Of course. But he knew the situation going into it.

“I’m sorry, San. I can’t do this… You’re Wooyoung’s best friend-“

“Are you in love with Wooyoung, or is it just a crush?” His question throws you off.

“I…I don’t-“

“Why are you waiting for him when it’s possible he’ll never go to you? I’m right here.” He insists and you sniff, trying to stop your tears.

“But if there’s a chance-“

“Look, I didn’t want to go here, but… Wooyoung is in love with your sister, okay? He doesn’t just like her, or have a crush on her, he’s in love. If you’re not in love with him, you can drop it, right? …I’m right here.” His voice gets a bit unsteady, his own emotions becoming difficult to control.

“I think you should go home.” Your sobs have quieted, but that sentence pierces him harder than everything else. He wants to argue, try and convince you, but if you need space, he’ll give it to you.

By the time his bag is packed and he’s leaving Wooyoung’s room, you’ve gotten up off the floor, picked up the chair and are cleaning the dishes from breakfast.

“If you need anything…” He drifts off, hand on the doorknob. You trudge over to the door as he opens it, planning on locking the door with the chair after he’s gone. You won’t meet his eyes, and he prays desperately that you won’t have a nightmare that night without him, or anyone else, there.

“When the door closes, you slowly lock it with the chain, dropping your hand. He’s standing on the other side of the door, not wanting to leave yet. He closes his eyes tight when he hears you start to cry again. You lean against the door after it shuts, sliding to the floor in a heap, sobbing once again. You’re beginning to realize you like San…like him back. Maybe even more than Wooyoung, which terrifies you. Just over the short amount of time he’d been staying with you, he’s needled his way into your heart, more than just a friend. Little do you know, San is still on the other side of the door, trying not to cry himself listening to you sob. Your near wails quiet as new feelings bubble up. You thought you wanted him gone, so you can process, but thinking of him leaving shatters you.

“Please, please, please-“ He suddenly hears you speaking, stepping away from the door. He hears the chain rattle as you unlock the door, and open it. You aren’t expecting him to still be right there, but relief washes over you. You begin to cry again, more in relief, and he immediately goes back in. He drop his bag and returns your embrace, hugging him closer to you as you cry. San rests his cheek against the side of your head, petting your soft hair, a few tears of his own hitting your shoulder.

“(Y/N), oh sweet girl.” He sniffs, easily holding you when you go limp in his arms. You let him lift you princess style, refusing to loosen your arms’ hold around his neck and shoulders. Kicking the door closed, he carries you over to the couch, sitting down so you can sit on his lap. Your sobs cease, his hands rubbing comfortingly over your back.

“I’m sorry.” Your soft whimper hurts him; to hear you sound so defeated.

“(Y/N), precious, why are you so sorry?”

“I-I used you…”

“How?”

“I was upset and took advantage of your feelings for me.”

“I know.” You pull back abruptly, gaping at him.

“Sweetheart, I took advantage of you too. You were vulnerable-“

“San, San…” He starts to ramble nonsense, so you cup his jaw, bringing his attention back to you.

“I’m sorry I was being…” You lick your lips, thinking, “I let my feelings for Wooyoung cloud my real- You asked if I love Wooyoung? No, I don’t. It is just a crush…” Your thumb runs over his cheekbone, his wide, beautiful eyes shining up at you.

“I know that I’m not your first choice. I understand that. Honestly, I don’t care if I am your second choice, or even your third. All that matters, is that you choose me in the end.” You sniffle at his words, huffing a slightly sad laugh.

“I thought that there was only one choice, but…”

“But?”

“You’re right here.” You sigh, your own face softening; you’ve finally rationalized everything. Why your heart would thump so fast, why his actions would bring tears to your eyes… When you needed him to hold you to keep the nightmares away and why they came back when he wasn’t there…

“(Y/N)… I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but- I love you. I love you so much, I have for so long.” His own emotions are bubbling up, his own eyes tearing up along with yours.

“We’ve known each other, what, five years?” You nod, whimpering, trying to not cry harder.

“I started liking you three months in. It was when you went to adopt Cookie, and you were mobbed by all the puppies… You laid there, giggling, and I wanted to be one of those dogs. So bad.”

“F-for that long?” You’re so shocked you stop crying. San hums, rubbing your bag, hand slipping under your tank top.

“I’ve held back so much. Every time you have something on your lip, I want to kiss it off. If you’re cold, I want you to have my jacket. I want to buy every little charm or pretty thing that makes me think of you. To go to Namsan tower and put a lock on with you…” He stops when you slump forward, resting your cheek on his shoulder, and he hugs you closer. Your heart wanted to break earlier, but all his words fill the cracks in with gold.

“I’m sorry I was so blind, and selfish, and stupid. I’m sorry I can’t say ‘I love you’ back, because I really don’t know at this point. But I do know-“ You sit up to look at him, “I really, really like you. Will you forgive me for being a horrible person?”

“You’re not a horrible person, sweetheart. Not only are your emotions everywhere, you’re sleep deprived.” His hand goes to cup your cheek, brushing another stray tear away.

“Will you show me something?” You bow your head a bit, face reddening, hands fiddling with the bottom of his sweatshirt.

“Whatever you want, precious.”

“Can you show me again, how you feel about me?” Your voice is soft, a bit embarrassed, thinking of what you had asked him last night. Yes, you’re sore, but in the best possible way, and you want- need him again.

“Are you sure, pretty girl? I don’t think I can hold back like last night.” His voice is lower, but his gaze has sharpened. What the hell does he mean by that? He held back? What the fuck is he going to do that’s more intense than last night.

“You held back?” You question and he huffs, a sexy and smug smirk gracing his handsome face.

“Hm. I did. Can you handle me full force?” His eyebrow raises in question, and you swallow hard; he can hear it.

“I think I can…” Your voice is quiet, quivering, but you’re excite. Your cunt throbs, still sore but you’re getting hot quickly.

“I need a solid answer, precious.”

“Yes. I can.” His smirk glitches into a giddy smile for a second, but he gathers his composure.

“What should I do first…” He wonders aloud, many different possibilities running through his head.

“Can I make a suggestion?” You try to sound coy and smug like him, but it doesn’t really work.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“I…” You exhale carefully, normally not so shy, “I want to swallow your cock.” Your eyes flit up to look at him and his eyes roll back in his head as he groans.

“Precious, are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“

“I want you to fuck my throat, then cum down it~” You’re building your confidence back up from the response you’re getting from him. Your lips are at his ear, your tongue flicking the little earring he had in, then you kiss the side of his neck.

“On the floor then, baby girl.” He almost gasps at how fast you scramble off of his lap, eagerly and obediently sitting on your knees. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his sweatshirt off, then removes the tank he had on underneath. San bites his lip, trying to not giggle as you ogle him. He notices your hands twitch on your lap, ready to take his pants off yourself.

“Tell me, do you mind if I do all the work?” The intention is clear in his words and tone.

“Yes, please~” You shuffle in your crouch, but stay still. Your eyes zero in on the bulge in his pants, whimpering in need as he once again lets his pants fall. His cock is only about half hard; you wiggle your jaw knowing it will end up sore too. You want to be sore completely and all over when he’s done with you. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking it a few times, stepping forward so he’s withing reach, but you stay still.

“What a good girl you are~” He hums, and you eagerly open your mouth when the head of his dick touches your lips. You groan at the taste of him, swirling your tongue around the tip, sucking lightly.

“Fuck-“ San sighs, hands going to your hair, leading his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you look up at him with wide, hazy eyes. As you hears you take a large inhale through your nose, he keeps going and your whole-body shudders as his cock goes down your throat. Your cunt clenches desperately against itself, not having anything inside to satisfy her.

“Of, fucking hell, sweetheart.” He groans, your nose pressing to his pelvis. He’s impressed you haven’t gagged yet, but you’re swallowing over and over trying to get used to the sensation. He stays there like that for a second, to the point where your head begins to swim a bit, the lack of air is intoxicating. When he pulls his hips back, just enough that you can desperately suck air in through your nose, he registers the depth that allows you to breathe.

“Count, precious. I’ll bottom out every five thrusts, ‘kay?” He instructs and you nod with a whine in acknowledgement. You try to hold your jaw in the same position, eagerly sucking on his cock as he thrusts, inhaling deep when he goes all the way. Each time he groans, grinding his pelvis against your face. You know he has stamina, and even though he doesn’t block your airway each time, your vision is spotting a bit, but not enough for you to stop him. The taste of his precum building makes your mouth water, a mix of your saliva and the salty fluid drips on the hardwood floor and your lap. The slick sound and the mess on your face and his cock brings him that much closer. San smirks at the prick of tears in the corner of your eyes, welling up from hit fat cock battering your throat.

“Mmh~ I’m going to cum down your throat, precious. Just like you want~” His airy chuckle turns to a groan, and he tosses his head back, struggling to keep his rhythm. His dick pulses hard on your tongue and you finally move yourself, hands going to his butt, holding him so he can’t pull back.

“Fuck-!” He grunts and cums, pumping thick globs of hot cum into your mouth and down your throat. You keep swallowing, only gagging a bit from the sticky substance, and he finally pulls out so you can catch your breath. More saliva and cum drips off your lips, your mouth open, panting. A drop lands on your chest, running down the skin and in between your breasts.

“Such a good girl, love~” San grins at your dazed expression, wide glossy eyes peering up at him.

“You safe?” You take a second to register his question, mind still foggy.

“Pill.” You manage to get out hoarsely, throat protesting for several reasons.

“Good, because I’m going to pump you full.” He smirks. You hold your hands up for him to help you stand, but he instead bends, wrapping his arms around your back and lifting you like a child under your arms. The ease to which he does so turns you on even more and you use your own core strength to lift your legs to wrap them around his middle.

He walks forward, pressing you into the wall by the door, cock fully hard again, rubbing over the damp spot of your shorts. Working with him to get your clothes off, you shorts are still dangling off of your ankle when his cock plunges into you. The sudden burn makes your cunt clench hard around him and he hisses, still a bit sensitive from his orgasm. You’re plenty wet, and he’d just fucked you only hours prior, but he’s so big. IT makes sense why he prepped you before, and it doesn’t help you’re still sore. But you couldn’t care less, the stinging pain just adds to your euphoria.

San groans when your nails dig into his back for leverage, scratching red welts into the skin.

“Ready?” He doesn’t wait for your response, thrusting up hard and shallow twice, then rolling his hips to slam into you full force. You throw your head back, hitting the wall a bit hard, but you’re too immersed in San and his animal pace. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. He has your legs over his elbows again, getting as close to you as he can, piercing your core with sharp movements, dragging you hopelessly fast to orgasm. It’s hard to catch your breath and moan, let alone speak words, tears built in your eyes. When they roll over your cheeks, he leans in to lick the salt away. He hates seeing you cry from sorrow or from being upset, but watching tears of pleasure flow over your red cheeks go straight to his cock. So cute…

“You’re so freaking pretty, precious. Love my cock so much you just wanna cry?” His chuckle’s slightly patronizing.

“Just go dumb, baby girl, think of nothing but my dick in your tight little cunt.”

“San!” You gasp, your next climax starting. He slows his pace so you can ride the waves, but doesn’t want to overstimulate you yet, so he forces his pelvis against your swollen clit. With each rolling crest of pleasure, your cunt leaks, making another mess on the floor.

San pulls away from the wall, walking to a different part of the apartment and you protest vehemently when he slowly pulls his cock from your still spasming pussy. He sets your feet down, spinning your around and you immediately place your hands on the window to stay upright- Wait, window?! You gape, looking out toward the park you can see from the window.

“S-San-?”

“No one can see you up here, at least I don’t think…” He chuckles and doesn’t allow any more argument and fucks back into you.

“Fuck~!” You nearly scream. Somehow, he’s eve deeper than before, and the front of his hips slap against your ass with each pound. Your hot breath is fogging the window, even the heat from your palms does so. San’s fingers press so hard into your flesh; you know there will be bruises there for sure, maybe darker than the faint yellow ones on your inner thighs from the night before. Struggling a bit with the height difference, you’re forced onto your tip-toes, legs quivering as each stroke of his thick cock saps more and more of your strength.

“Huh- I’m close precious. Gonna fill you up, fuck you full~” He licks his lips like a hungry dog. You squeak when his strong grip weaves through your hair, wrapping your braid in his fist, tugging lightly as he grinds his cock as deep as possible, filling your womb with even more of his seed. It’s so hot; he’s so deep and even the sensation of him tugging on your hair feels so good. Your body ekes out another smaller orgasm, helping him ride his out. He’s still hard, albeit a little bit less so. You don’t know if your poor little cunt and body can take much more, but your mind doesn’t care. If he wants to rail you till you pass out, you would thank him when you came to. When San pulls his cock out again, more globs of cum leak out of your abused hole, which is still twitching. He smirks at your quivering body, not having moved much, and coos as he easily picks you up like a sack of potatoes, then transitions to a princess carry. Your head flops as you pant for air, waiting patiently as he carries you back to your room, shutting the door to prevent your pup from following. However, when he puts you on the bed, he doesn’t join right away, instead heading for your standing mirror. He moves it to rest facing the side of your bed and you hazily register the act. Letting him maneuver you, he sits with you on his lap, back facing him, proud cock arching against your cunt.

“Look there, precious.” His hand lightly grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn and see your reflection. You’re an absolute mess, but you’re too focused on his equally messy cock and the fact that it still isn’t back inside you.

“San, hurry, please!” You whimper and he chuckles at your insistence, lifting you and slowly pushing you down onto him again. His legs are spread so your knees rest over them were spread wide too, leaving a perfect view of your small pussy taking his girthy dick.

“Fucking gorgeous, (Y/N)~” He praises, kissing the side of your head, jaw still in his grasp to make sure you watch.

“I want you to remember this, how it looks when I fuck you, and that no one will ever be able to after me.” His words make you whimper, the small noise rising in pitch and volume as he starts to thrust up into you, also moving you with the arm around your middle. Like you’re being hypnotized, you watch San’s cock pull out halfway before sinking back into you, so much cum and slick dripping from where he sits inside you.

“You’re so hot like this.” San grunts, the hand on your stomach sliding down to circle your clit. It stings, you’re overstimulated, and you feel his dick pulsing; he’s close too.

“One more for me precious, one more~” He coaches, then one, two, he cums again. There’s no more room inside you, the thick white jizz spills over, mixing with the squirting slick and making yet again another mess on the floor. You’re both panting, reveling in the afterglow, and sleep is trying to consume you once again. Later, you’re mad at yourself for not choosing San sooner. He never should’ve been the second choice.

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johnnysuhbmarine · 10 months ago

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What's my Problem? That's Easy, You.

Pairing: Haechan x reader Description: There’s no one on this planet that you hate more than your roommate’s best friend, Haechan, and he hates you back just the same. Though, sharing a best friend meant you had to see him all the time. When giving into one impulse desire ends with the two of you making out, it quickly develops into a friends (or enemies) with benefits relationship that the two of you agree to keep quiet about. Surely nothing could go wrong, right? Content warnings: swearing, insults, talk about sex, Haechan in skinny jeans, Haechan’s girlfriend (later ex) is really mean to him, lots of eye rolling and head shaking, sexual harassment from reader’s professor, death (not a main character but it affects Haechan), lots of making out…taking off shirts…etc, Haechan is hot and arrogant but kind of a loser when it comes to y/n (eventually), mention of a choking kink, corpse lyrics, they have sex but it’s closed-door/SFW, Haechan makes one really poor decision, angst with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. Word count: 21,108 :) A/n: Happy Haechan day! This has been in the works for entirely too long, but I’m excited to finally release a longer fic rather than one shots. This was only written because I had to do something after seeing Haechan in the ISTJ dance practice video cause he’s never left my mind since. Shout out to @fullsunstrawberry for listening to me talk about this fic instead of me actually writing it. Hey bestie, *waves* it’s finally finished :) Please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do. As always, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

You open the door to your apartment-style dorm room, and when you see a figure on the couch, you assume it’s your best friend and roommate, Jessica. The two of you met in a class last year and you were over the moon at the idea of rooming with her for the rest of university rather than the roommates you currently had at the time. However, instead of laying eyes on your best friend, it’s a guy you’ve never seen before, casually sprawled out on your couch. You jump in surprise and furrow your eyebrows as you address his presence. “Wha- who are you?!”

He moves his gaze from the TV up to where you were, still at the door. “Haechan…Jessica’s best friend? I’m sure she’s talked about me. Who are you?” He replies in a condescending tone, looking completely unenthused to be talking with you and, within seconds, you were beginning to feel much the same. You shake your head, annoyed.

“No, I’m the one who lives here so I’m asking the questions. What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You ask, though now just wondering how long it would be until he left.

He looks at you as though you were stupid, like talking to you was a waste of his time. Regardless, he gives you somewhat of an answer. “Are you dense? I’m hanging out with Jessica today. She let me in before she went back to go get ready.”

You freeze, anger coursing through your veins at the audacity of this guy. “I’m not dense. God, I hate people like you.” You spit back. Haechan raises his brows tauntingly.

“‘People like me’ as in?”

“Arrogant dickheads whose brain power is just used to keep track of how many beds they’ve been in.” You finish, rolling your eyes before moving to set down your backpack and grab what you actually came back to your dorm for - your purse. You miss the devilish smirk that Haechan bears on his face, but you don’t miss the cocky laugh that escapes his figure before he speaks up again as you cross the room.

“Strange, I don’t remember bringing up my sex life before this. It must be on your mind then, huh?” He replies seriously, getting you to pause again. You ball your hands into fists, taking a few steps so that you were back in each other’s line of sight before arguing with him some more.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You think everyone is thinking about sex with you. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not that attractive.” You say, more than glad when your last statement came out firm and serious…you typically weren’t good at lying.

Haechan lets out another laugh, stretching his arms up and bringing his hands together at the back of his head. “Yeah?” He questions lazily. “You’re not that hot yourself, sunshine.”

The nickname has your blood boiling. “Never call me that again. Besides, it doesn’t even make sense. You say I’m not hot and then call me sunshine. You know the sun is 15 million degrees Celsius, right?” You remark, but instead of making Haechan feel stupid, you seemingly gave him more ammunition.

“Oh,” he says as though he just figured out the answer to life. “So, you’re a nerd. I get it.” He adds, a stupid grin on his face.

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“You don’t get out much do you? Just spend all your time memorizing pointless facts and praying someone along the way finally has to find that attractive since you know you won’t pull a guy with your looks?”

You freeze, in a deadlocked stare with Haechan, both of your gazes filled with resentment. It wasn’t a pointless fact - you were an astronomy and physics double major, but saying that wouldn’t provide him with anything but more reason to call you a nerd, and the last thing you felt like doing was addressing the part about your looks. Instead, you shake your head, then motion to the purse you were now carrying rather than your backpack. “I’m going out right now, thank you very much. God. Tell Jessica to let me know whenever you’re going to be over. I’ll make sure to never be home for it. I don’t know how she can tolerate someone like you.” You spit out, turning to open the front door again.

“Right back at you.” Haechan replies, not letting up on his glare until the door’s completely closed again, then turning lazily back to the TV just as Jessica walks out from the bathroom.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you just talking to like that?” She questions, eyebrows raised, more than curious at the identity of who riled up Haechan like that.

Haechan shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t on the phone. Your roommate came in…and then left again.”

Jessica’s face drops from curiosity to disbelief. “You were arguing with y/n like that?!”

Haechan shrugs. “If that’s the name of your irritating roommate, then yeah.” Jessica rolls her eyes, doing the mental calculations of how long this semester was going to feel with her two best friends hating each other.

When you get back from bar and trivia night with your friends a few hours later, your living room couch is back to just being occupied by Jessica. You smile at her as you walk in and lock the door behind you, but her face when you turn back around is more grave than you think you’ve ever seen.

“We’re gonna have to talk about you and Hyuck.” She says seriously, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“Who the hell is Hyuck?” You laugh, and Jess just rolls her eyes playfully, nodding her head to motion for you to sit down next to her on the couch.

She looks you in the eyes intently. “Haechan.” She says, and your playful demeanor drops in an instant. “His real name is Donghyuck- but that’s besides the point. Look, he’s been my best friend for more than half of my life. He’s had an extra key to wherever I’m living every year of college so far…”

“No.” You answer firmly, and Jessica sighs.

“Y/n, he’s not a bad guy-” She starts, but you shake your head.

“I don’t care if he’s bad, I care that he’s the most aggravating person I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to have a key to this place.”

Jessica raises her eyebrows. “Not even if it doubles as a safety mechanism having someone other than the two of us be able to get in here should we need help?”

Technically, that could come in handy, but you don’t care. “No.” You reply, trying your best to be dismissive of the topic, but it’s apparently really important to Jessica.

“Y/n…” She says softly, and you roll your eyes with a huff of breath.

“Fine, but he’s not allowed to just come over whenever he’s bored. You two need to have set plans for him to use his extra key.”

“Deal!” She says as she lights up, and you try to imagine yourself in her position - you’d probably want to keep the tradition of giving your best friend an extra key, too…though your other best friend wouldn’t be as annoying as Haechan. Regardless, you liked seeing Jessica happy, and if this was what it took, then so be it.

A week later, you and Jessica found yourselves sitting on the couch watching Bones, a typical after-homework routine. It became disgustingly less typical when your attention was turned to the sound of a key unlocking the door to your dorm. You hide your groan but nothing stops your eye roll as soon as you see Haechan. His gaze passes right over you as he greets Jessica, apparently his goal today was just to pretend you didn’t exist. You couldn’t be too peeved - the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. However, you could be mad because you don’t remember Jessica saying anything about having plans with him today, and you watch as your one guideline for him having an extra key slips down the drain.

Jessica doesn’t think anything of it, of course she wouldn’t, he’s one of her best friends. “Hey Hyuck, we’re watching Bones if you want to join.” She says neutrally. Somewhere along the line, Haechan must have figured out you weren’t just a demon in one of his nightmares, because you had the pleasure of being the subject of his reply.

“Not if she’s still going to be here, too.” He says sternly, causing you to scoff.

“I was here first, you dick.”

At your side, Jessica sighs, seeming to know exactly where this was going as Haechan’s eyes light with fire. “Okay idiot, and I was her friend first.” He spits back, making you clench your jaw…and a fist. A multitude of insults could be thrown your way and you would’ve brushed it off, but ‘idiot?’ That gets under your skin every time. Though, because you were Jessica’s best friend, she knew that, and immediately jumped to calm you down.

“Okay…” She says, gently grabbing you by the shoulders and settling you back down into the couch. “Y/n, you are not an idiot, I promise. And Hyuck…” she continues, moving her flat gaze over to him. “You’re not a dick - though you make it very hard to defend you sometimes.” As Jessica finished, her gaze flicked back and forth between you and Haechan. The two of you shot your gaze off towards completely different walls of the dorm, refusing to look at the other even in the slightest. Jessica waited five seconds for either of you to say anything, but when that didn’t happen, she spoke up again.

“You guys are insufferable.” She begins with a sigh. “You know it’s my birthday this weekend. I was looking forward to being able to spend it with my best friends…all of them.” Her words are soft and you know she’s serious. Your shoulders drop.

“Where are you going with this?” You ask, immediately shutting your eyes in preparation for the answer you knew you wouldn’t want to face.

“Is it even in the realm of possibility for the two of you to get along for just one night? One dinner?” Jessica asks hopefully. You and Haechan finally whip your heads around to face Jessica, a matching look of terror on both of your faces.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.” You respond at the same time.

Jessica rolls her eyes, and you hate it because it meant your responses actually put her in a sour mood…and all you ever wanted as her best friend was for her to be happy. The horrible news is that she knew this, and used it to her advantage against the both of you. “If I put you on opposite sides of the table, could you at least be civil? For me.” She adds, the cherry on top of her already disheartened tone.

You and Haechan take one small glance at each other, enough to reach the same conclusion before you both respond. “Fine.” A smirk reaches Jessica’s face and you shake your head, getting up from the couch to instead find solace in your bedroom, letting Haechan take your spot without another word.

In what you thought was too little time, it was already the evening of Jessica’s birthday dinner. The dress code was fancier than you were used to, but all you had time for was one sigh at yourself in the mirror before Jessica was rushing you out the door. The two of you getting in the car must have been the trigger for her to start going over the game plan again, because the first thing she said as she pulled out of the parking lot of your dorm was, “there’s going to be thirteen of us there tonight. You and Haechan won’t be anywhere near each other, but even so, please just try and not hate him an overwhelming amount tonight.”

You drop your head to face your lap with a laugh. “Don’t worry. You know me, you know the last thing on my mind is ruining your birthday. I’ll be good.”

Her light laugh and nod in response let you know she believed you, and as she pulled to a stop light she looked your way for a moment. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

You roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Look who’s talking.” You say seriously. Your best friend was always gorgeous, but times like these it was hard to do anything but stare. Jessica shakes her head.

“Well, you know. ‘Dress to impress’ and all that.” She replies, and you whip your head towards her, your words coming out as though you were frightened.

“Who are you trying to impress? Please don’t tell me it’s Haechan. Oh my God. No. I can stand the two of you being friends but you cannot date him or I might die.”

At this, Jessica rolls her eyes, taking time to laugh rather than save you from your worst nightmare. “Y/n, how many times have I talked to you about guys in a romantic sense? Has any of it ever been about Haechan? No.” She answers for you. “It’s always been about…” This time she drags off and leaves you to fill in the blanks yourself. You finally get over the horror that could have faced you and your mind clears, causing you to light up.

“Mark! Wait, Mark is coming?!” You ask excitedly, making her laugh some more.

“Yes, Mark is coming. We are really good friends, after all. I’m just thinking if he sees me all dressed up, he’ll finally realize he has to ask me on a date sooner than later or someone else will. I’m getting tired of waiting for his dorky ass.” She replies, and you raise your eyebrows - you know she would wait forever for Mark, not that she necessarily should, but she would.

The two of you arrive at the restaurant to find out you were the first ones there for the party and start on checking in for the reservation. Then, as you both turn around from the host stand, you’re greeted with Mark and Haechan walking in together. You’re sure Mark looked great, but you would be lying if you said you even took one look at him. Instead, all of your attention was on Haechan, his white button-up tightly hugging his body, the look complete with rolled-up sleeves. You did your best not to stare, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyways, he wasn’t paying any attention to you. Instead, he was now entirely engrossed in conversation with Mark and Jessica. You don’t even know if he knew you were here, and in that moment you realized tonight was going to prove a lot harder than you originally thought, because you hated Haechan an overwhelming amount.

Thankfully, the rest of the party arrived soon after and you were all quickly seated, Jessica in the middle with you and Haechan at complete opposite ends as promised. Instead, you got to sit and talk with Winter and Jisung. Overall, you really couldn’t complain. Winter was one of the first friends you made on campus. On the other hand, you and Jisung had been partnered for a project one semester that saw the two of you sharing way too many 2:00 am coffees as you tried to squeeze the semester project into the span of two weeks - your friendship with Jisung feels more so like the result of trauma bonding, but you wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

That being said, dinner went pretty smoothly. After eating your main course, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, but you didn’t even make it ten steps before you realized you were being trailed. As you step into the hallway where the doors to the restrooms were, you turn around to face Haechan. “Really? You couldn’t wait until I was back at the table?” You ask plainly. Haechan furrows his brows.

“I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even realize you had gotten up from the table. I wasn’t paying any attention to you.” He remarks, and you roll your eyes.

“Right, all you ever do is pretend I don’t exist. How could I forget?” You say sarcastically.

Haechan scoffs, shaking his head. “Well, all you do is hate me for existing, so I feel like it’s a pretty even balance. Besides, every time I acknowledge your existence, it ends up like this.”

You pause for a moment, glaring at Haechan. Was it truly easier to pretend you didn’t exist rather than deal with the fact that you do. “I hate you.” You finally say. Haechan feigns surprise, moving a hand over his heart as if he’s just been shot. Though, his face neutralizes in an instant.

“I hate you, too. Can we get on with why we’re actually here now?” He asks, nodding his head towards the men’s room as he looks towards you with disinterest. You clench your jaw, not bothering to give him a verbal response as you walk into the ladies room, where you finally let yourself breathe again.

The rest of the dinner party went by quickly, and suddenly it was just you and Jessica back in her car. “Well, that went really well!” She said, beaming. You could hardly match the enthusiasm, though.

“Yeah…”

She chanced a look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Did it not go really well?”

“It was fine.” You reply softly, shaking your head. You didn’t want to ruin the night now after appearing to have successfully made it through dinner.

“You two weren’t even around each other.” She says, her underlying tone letting you know how confused she was.

“We ran into each other by the bathrooms.” You say, shrugging in your seat.

Jessica grimaces. “Didn’t go well, I’m guessing.”

You let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “I don’t understand what his problem is.”

“He doesn’t have a problem.” Jessica replies with a light laugh, and you shoot your gaze over to her in question.

“Really? So, he’s just always a dick?” You ask, trying your best to keep your tone light while also letting her know that, if that’s normal Haechan, you were harshly judging her choice of friends.

Jessica smiles, a small laugh coming out that’s more so just an exhale. “No…but maybe the issue is just the fact that you hate him. Maybe if you were a little nicer to him, he would calm down, too.” She says, doing her best to be convincing, but you just shake your head.

“I don’t want to be nice to him. Not ever.” You say firmly, and surprising you, Jessica just shrugs lightly.

“Well, I tried.”

You frown, looking over at her in the driver’s seat. “Sorry…it was a really fun birthday party, though.” You say, hoping she knew that Haechan didn’t ruin your day and praying that in turn, you didn’t ruin hers.

There seemed to be no reason to worry, though, because at the mention of the actual dinner party, Jessica lit back up. “Oh, you don’t need to tell me. I had a blast, and you and Haechan took care of all your fighting off-screen. Doesn’t bother me any.” She replies with a laugh, getting you to lighten up, too. Creating cause for excitement in itself, conversation for the rest of the drive back had nothing to do with Haechan. Instead, you learned that Mark did, in fact, figure out that his window of opportunity was closing and now he and Jessica have an official date tomorrow. In other words, the two of you squealed the rest of the way home.

It was close to a week later when you next saw Haechan again. It took Mark and Jessica one date to realize that they wanted to make things official, so you ended up seeing Mark around much more often than Haechan for a little bit. Though on Friday, the familiar turn of the key in the door was heard while you and Jessica were watching Bones in the living room, and you knew your mortal enemy was making his comeback after six days.

Jessica paused the TV and you immediately got up from the couch, bringing your empty bowl of ramen to the kitchen so you could start on cleaning it. Then, Haechan finally made his way through the front door. You don’t bother looking up to greet his presence, he never did for you anyways. However, in an instant, Jessica was off the couch and grabbed Haechan by the wrist, stopping him from sitting down.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” She says as Haechan turns to look at her.

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, I’m fine. They just wanted me to try a new brand of contacts since my other ones got discontinued, but these irritate my eyes. I just haven’t had the chance to go back and switch brands again, and I’m not really in the mood to pay for more contacts and waste all the money I just spent on these.”

“Take them out.” She replies instantly, and Haechan lets out something of a forced laugh.

“Well that’s the thing, these are weekly contacts, and I don’t have a case or solution with me to store them…and I don’t want to buy all that just for me to possibly switch back to daily contacts again soon.”

Jessica lets his wrist drop, seemingly understanding. From the kitchen, you shake your head, not remembering when you became so invested in the first place. In an instant, you finish with your bowl and head to your room without a word.

You lasted in your bedroom doing homework for about an hour, which, everything considered, you thought was pretty good, but then you couldn’t stand the constant noise anymore from the other side of your bedroom wall. You threw all of your things into your backpack, getting up and storming out of the room.

“Agh! I hate his guts! I’m going to the library.” You proclaim loudly as you step back out towards the living room.

On the couch, Haechan looks over at Jessica. “She talks about me a lot, doesn’t she? I didn’t even do anything this time.” He says with a laugh, but you just glare at him.

“Grow up, not everything is about you.” You spit out before heading towards the door.

Jessica waits for you to be completely gone before she ever answers Haechan. “Ha, she’s actually talking about our neighbor on the right. Their bedrooms share a wall and he has an unrivaled sex drive. I think she was traumatized the first time she heard…it. Though now, it’s just extra noise and it irritates the hell out of her when she’s trying to study.” Haechan’s jaw drops in surprise, the corners of his mouth wavering as he tries not to laugh. Jessica shakes her head, a smile coming onto her face. “It’s a little bit funny.” She says, getting Haechan to finally break into a smile too before continuing their conversation from before you left. Though, with it being a Friday, it wasn’t too much longer before they themselves were out of the house, though their destination was the bar instead of the library.

The next few nights came and went, until suddenly it was Tuesday again, when Haechan and Jess typically grabbed dinner together. You were doing homework at the coffee table, figuring a change in scenery would help you focus - that and the fact that your neighbor on the right was having another fun night. Jessica was still getting ready in her room when Haechan walked in through the front door. From the couch, you move your gaze towards him, figuring out he’s been holding out on you when it comes to his clothes. Today, he showed up in a black t-shirt, totally normal and fine, though said shirt was tucked into blue skinny jeans, not totally normal nor fine.

“You’re staring.” Haechan says, bringing you back to real life. You shake your head, finally meeting his disinterested eyes.

“You don’t need to wear skinny jeans ever again.” You say flatly, and Haechan just scoffs before letting a smirk cross his face.

“My girlfriend wouldn’t take kindly to you telling me what to do.” He replies, and the news of a girlfriend only shocks you for a second before you snap back.

“Girlfriend? Wow, maybe you’ll get less annoying now that you’ve found someone willing to suck your dick.” You say, your face lighting up, although your tone conveyed how little hope you actually had in that happening.

Haechan narrows his eyes at you, his smirk turning evil. “Oh, I have a long, distinguished list of willing volunteers. Have you found anyone willing to suck yours yet?”

“Very funny.” You reply monotonously. Haechan just rolls his eyes, about hitting his limit of words spoken to you for the day.

“Where’s Jess?” He asks, his typical disinterest when it comes to you now back in his tone. You shake your head before nodding it in the direction of her room, not wanting to bother with actually talking to him anymore, either.

The next week, a casual Thursday night that you and Jessica thought you had to yourselves was disrupted with a soft knock on the door, and Jessica moved from the couch to open it, promptly stepping back to let Haechan inside, and you hate the fact that his loophole to not using his front door key unless he actually had plans with Jessica was just to knock instead. He walks in normally, but Jessica grabs his forearm with raised eyebrows. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” She asks, considering the conversation from a little over a week ago.

You watch from the couch as Haechan visibly gulps, dropping his head to try and cover up his saddened expression. “...she doesn’t like when I wear them.” He states, and immediately you and Jessica both know he’s talking about his girlfriend. Despite never meeting her, you hated her guts. Ever since she got with Haechan, all she’s done is be toxic. You know so, because Haechan ends up at your dorm basically every night seeking comfort from Jessica after his girlfriend spends their dates degrading him the entire time.

You immediately pop up from the couch and storm to your room, slamming the door behind you, though that was more so accidental. How Haechan’s girlfriend treated him was none of your business, and not worth you getting worked up over, but his constant need to decompress in Jessica’s presence meant you had to see him a lot more than you would have ever liked, and that’s where you started having problems. If his girlfriend was actually nice and cared about him, you probably would have never had to see him again because he’d be spending so much time with her…it was your luck that the opposite happened.

Almost two weeks passed of seeing Haechan every single day, and you started just strictly staying in your room any time past 5:00 to try and avoid seeing him completely. Though, when the next Tuesday rolled around, you were the one to open the door in response to the firm knocks. You knew Haechan and Jess were going out to grab dinner tonight, it was a weekly thing, so you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just use his key. In an odd turn of events, the first thing Haechan says as he steps through the door frame is ‘thank you.’ You stand there in shock, and he takes it as a sign that he needed to elaborate. “Sorry, I didn’t come from my house so I don’t have my extra key to this place.” He explains, but now you’re hardly listening to his words. Instead, taking the proximity provided by neither of you leaving the doorway to study his face with a frown.

“Are you wearing makeup?” You question with furrowed brows. Surprising you, Haechan ducked his head, and his voice was weaker than you’ve ever heard as he responded.

“She said I have too many flaws on my skin right now and it was embarrassing her.” Your eyes widen. His girlfriend. His girlfriend, the reason he’s stopped wearing glasses and apparently the reason he has foundation and concealer covering his face right now. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. This is where you draw the line.

“Fuck that.” You spit out, grabbing Haechan’s wrist and dragging him to the bathroom with you.

He glances towards your physical contact before looking back up at you with scrunched eyebrows. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He asks as you place tons of different items on the counter.

“Taking off your makeup.” You reply sternly, and his eyes go wide.

“No, you can’t. Please.” He begs, and your heart chips a little. Your hand freezes above the water tap, sighing deeply in place of turning on the sink.

“Did you want to put it on or did she make you?” You ask softly, and Haechan’s face drops once again.

“She made me...” He replies in defeat, and you immediately turn the water on, much to his dismay. “You can’t take it off! I’m seeing her again tonight for something at her sorority!” His plea falls on deaf ears as you let the water warm up and start rubbing cleanser onto his face. You finally finish with your typical skin care routine for him, taking a step away to hang the washcloth to dry and start on putting your products away.

“If you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But don’t ever come over here in makeup she’s made you put on again, or I’ll give you a reason to need concealer.” You say offhandedly as you finish and walk out of the bathroom with Haechan in toe.

“Did you just threaten to punch me?” He asks, a scoff accompanying it.

“Of course I did. I despise you. You’re an annoying prick, but I don’t need you feeling bad about yourself for any reason other than that…especially for something like this.”

Haechan stares at you bewildered, trying to figure out if your words just meant what he thinks they did. “Y/n-”

“Have fun getting dinner with Jessica.” You cut him off, not giving his curiosity the satisfaction of an explanation. “Don’t worry about your girlfriend after…she won’t even notice. I gotta go do homework. Jess should be ready in a minute or so.” Then you were behind your closed bedroom door, fists clenched at your sides as you let anger run through your body. It wasn’t long before you heard Jessica come out of her room and start up a conversation with Haechan, and that was when you finally let yourself relax a little.

Haechan was the one to start intentionally avoiding you after that. You figure you probably crossed a line that enemies don’t, but you don’t regret it. You and Haechan weren’t friends anyways, so it’s not like him now avoiding you really changed anything - it just made your own efforts to avoid him even easier.

So, about a month passed of you and Haechan avoiding each other, and when that wasn’t an option, sending each other nasty glares and rude remarks. You tried not to start anything, seeing as his girlfriend was doing enough damage to his mental health in the first place, but you still couldn’t back down and let him win if he started anything. Nevertheless, it was your birthday today and you were determined to make it as great as it could be, starting with not having Haechan anywhere near your thoughts. Instead, you were more focused on the three classes you had today, almost all of your brain power going towards making up scenarios for how your conversation with your last professor would go.

As always, Dr. Choi never let your class out early, and you’re thankful you didn’t have a class following this or you would never get the time to ask him questions after. From your seat in the middle of the lecture hall, you made your way down to where his desk was set up, completely going against traffic as the rest of the students rushed towards the exits. As your footsteps grew closer to him, he looked up from his desk, a smile flashing across his face.

“Ah, y/n. You look…” He starts, and you freeze as you withstand his eyeing you up and down. You should’ve known better than to imagine a case where this conversation went any differently. Dr. Choi habitually let his gaze linger on you too long, even if you were in a big t-shirt and jeans, but now here you were dressed up for your birthday. “Are you here to ask for extra credit?” He continues, and you slightly cringe in disgust. You were too used to it to have a bigger reaction, and you knew that if you didn’t play it cool, he would be uncooperative anyways.

Instead, you just shake your head lightly as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “No, I was wondering if you could open up the exam again so I can see which questions I got wrong.” You reply seriously. You got a 96 on the exam in question, and you’re sure no one who gets a 96 on a quantum mechanics exam ever takes the time to care about those 4 lost points…but it almost bothered you more than if you failed. You weren’t unprepared - all that a 96 shows is that there’s something you genuinely did not know, and not being able to look at the answers after grades were posted wasn’t helping you figure out what that was.

Dr. Choi’s reply is fast, monotone…deliberate. “Depends on if you open up your legs.”

“Dr.-” You start flatly, but he’s quick to cut you off as his eyes light with fire.

“Into roleplay, are you?” He asks with a smirk, and if you were any less used to his behavior, you would have thrown up. Instead, you roll your eyes.

“No, Dr. Choi. You have a doctorate, so I’m being respectful. Is there any use in getting you to let me see the exam again?” You ask, staring him dead in the eye. His face loses its passion as he turns stoic, though maybe you could sense his disappointment in your dismissal.

“I told you my requirements.” He says somberly, and you just nod your head.

“Great. Thank you for your time.” You reply. Your walk out of class is natural in manner, but immediately once you get outside, your shoulders fall as you drop your head into your hands. You stand like that for only a moment to regain your composure, and then start up on your walk to your dorm. You had to get over it quickly and act like nothing was wrong. You still haven’t told Jessica about this professor. He was one of the heads of the physics department, so you’ve had to deal with him all the way up to now, and you’d have to deal with him after this course. You didn’t want Jessica to get all angry if there wasn’t anything you could do about it. So instead, you place a light smile back on your face and let yourself relax, knowing the rest of your birthday consists solely of time with your best friend - no vile professors, and no Haechan.

Another week goes by without a hitch, and so on Friday, you had spent most of the evening on the couch watching Bones. You had no homework and Jessica was out on a date with Mark for the night, not planning to get back until after 11:00. So, you figured you would occupy the living room rather than be huddled inside your bedroom hiding from Haechan if he had no reason to come over anyways. Though, it was only a little after 6:00 when the door to your dorm began to open, and you instinctively roll your eyes, knowing the only person it could be. “Jessica isn’t here, and frankly I’m gonna have to talk to her about you having an extra key-” You start as he opens the door, but then you finally see the state he’s in and worry begins to overtake your annoyance. “Haechan?!” You question, his tear-stained face a completely new sight to you.

His gaze has yet to be picked up off the floor, as he stands in complete defeat, his body shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if she would be here or not, and I couldn’t take the time to text and ask.”

You’re immediately up off the couch, though you’re still frozen in your spot a few feet away from him. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to make your voice sound calmer than you felt in an attempt to get at least some control of the situation.

Haechan shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have barged in. I shouldn’t be here.” He states, turning around to walk right back out of the door. He’s stopped though, by your firm tone.

“Lee Donghyuck, what is wrong?” This time, your question comes out more as a demand, and it’s enough to make Haechan freeze in his spot, dropping his hand that was reaching for the door knob.

“My dad got in a car accident. He didn’t even make it through the ambulance ride.” He says, his words cut up by his cries. Your world stops, and you just stare at him. You were already really bad at comforting people, and this was the last thing you were expecting to hear, not to mention the last person you expected to be confiding in you.

“Hyuck…” You begin, but all you can do is fumble for words you know won’t come. Haechan gives you the pleasure of cutting you off.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He replies, now fully crying again as he brings his hands up to cover his face. His sobs only silence for a second as he registers your touch. He brings his hands down to actually get visual confirmation that you were hugging him. You were standing in your living room and hugging your worst enemy, but you couldn’t just do nothing anymore. Your face pressed into his chest, you mumble out the best response you can muster.

“Here is just fine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I’m sorry Jessica isn’t home to be the one to comfort you. I’m sorry it’s me, instead. I know you probably have other friends but…I’m watching Bones if you want to join. We can watch, like, an entire season if you want, and I’ll order your favorite food. If you want. I just- don’t really want you alone right now, and I’m scared that if I kick you out, you won’t ever find your way back out of your bedroom.”

At your words, Haechan seems to settle a bit more into the hug, using one sleeve of his hoodie to dry up his tears before replying. “Bones sounds good. What season are you on?”

You pick your head back out of his chest, staring up at him with a weak smile, hoping it conveyed just how grateful you were that he accepted your offer. “Just started season four. Come on.”

You let go from the hug and motion for Haechan to find a place on the couch while you headed for the kitchen. While Haechan had been over more than you would have ever liked, your constant avoidance of him meant you had no clue what he actually liked. Instead, you stared at the open pantry with a frown before deciding to just grab all of your favorite snacks to share in hopes that he, too, enjoyed at least one of them.

You place them all down on the coffee table in front of the couch, but suddenly you feel too awkward to say anything. So, you just make hesitant eye contact with Haechan for a second or two before he breaks away to actually look at everything you brought over. Though, because you’re still staring, you manage to catch the faint “thank you” that left his lips as he reached for a bag of chips. Despite yourself, the corners of your mouth perk up in a soft smile as you finally move to sit down next to him on the couch…a few feet away, but next to him.

It would have been completely quiet had the show not been on. Apparently you and Haechan were still really bad at being even acquaintances. Though, with the introduction of a new character, you quickly found your in.

“God, she’s had like, two minutes of screen time and I already hate Agent Perotta.” You say with a slight laugh, trying not to let it show how nervous you were to talk to him. Instead of glaring at you or pretending your input was the last thing he needed, though, he nodded a bit, smiling.

“Thank God you said it, because I hate her, too, but as a man I feel like saying it out of the blue would be distasteful.” He replies, and before you could stop it, you let out a heavy exhale of laughter. Immediately, your hand reaches up to cover your face, but Haechan had already whipped his head towards you. “Did you just find me funny?” He questions, the smile on his face growing.

You quickly shake your head, though your face wears a matching smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This conversation is about Agent Perotta.” You say, looking back at the TV.

Haechan flashes his eyebrows up for a moment before redirecting his attention back to the show as well. “Yeah, I hate that bitch.” He says flatly, getting you to nod.

“I think this is the first thing we’ve ever agreed on.” You say, letting the shock factor show in your voice.

Haechan shakes his head, smiling in disbelief. “Should’ve known it was going to be about hating someone. Pretty sure you hate everyone except Jessica. I mean, what are we at now?” He teases, beginning to count them off on his fingers. “Me, Agent Perotta, your neighbor on the right, your professor who makes sexual comments about you…”

Immediately you jump up from the couch, staring at him with the widest of eyes. “WHAT?! How do you know about that?”

You watch as Haechan just shakes his head quickly, as if his previous statement would erase like an etch-a-sketch. “Oh, sorry. He’s on my list of people I hate. Mixed them up.” He replies like it’s nothing, and you don’t know how he’s being so nonchalant about this.

“Hyuck, we don’t share that class, how do you know about that professor? I haven’t even told Jessica.” You ask again, the panic beginning to seep through your words some more. You didn’t know how he knew, you didn’t know if he was going to tell Jessica, you didn’t know if it would change the way he viewed you, you didn’t know why Haechan’s view of you mattered because it was already shit anyways…all of it made you anxious.

Haechan hangs his head back, staring up at you from where he still sat lazily on the couch. “Please don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.” He responds, his orders strict but his voice calm. You just shake your head once more.

“Hyuck-” You start, but this time he rolls his eyes, finally getting fed up with the conversation.

“I just wanna watch Bones! Can we make this day about me again? Hello, I’m sad and in need of a light-hearted distraction in the form of crime-solving.” He says, his volume already much louder than it just previously was. Typically, his whining would just make you want to punch him, but he was right, at least a little bit. He was the one with the bigger stressor, and while it wasn’t a competition in the first place, you did want this to be a comforting time for him, not one where you grilled him over his knowledge of your personal life.

“Agh, you’re so difficult!” You shout back, though placing yourself down on the couch again anyways.

Haechan flashes a quick smile in response. “Great! You hate me, we hate Agent Perotta, we’re back on track. Press play.” He says, moving his arms out towards the TV in a showy fashion that you hated. Though, with Agent Perotta back on screen, it did bring up another truth.

“...I hate you less than I hate her.” You say quietly, but with your focus back on Bones, you miss Haechan’s smartass smirk falling into something softer in response. Then, Bones is the only sound to fill the dorm again.

A few hours and entirely too much takeout later, the front door opens again as Jessica walks through.

“Hey y/n, I’m home-” She starts, locking the door, but then she finally turns around to the living room and her jaw drops. “Hyuck?!”

“Hey!” You reply as though nothing were amiss. Jessica looks back and forth between you and Haechan more times than you could count, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You two are hanging out??” She questions, and Haechan just shrugs.

“I had a bad day. Needed some comfort.” He replies neutrally, but Jessica’s eyes just grow wider.

“So you decided to hang out with y/n? Who you typically can’t stand to be in a room with for more than 0.5 seconds.”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Jessica, he came over to see if you were here.” You say, stating the obvious. It doesn’t help Jessica’s shock.

“But when he saw it was just you, he stayed?” She asks, and you’re pretty sure you saw the mania start to set in behind her eyes.

“We’ve been watching Bones.” Haechan says with a smile.

Jessica shakes her head in disbelief. “And neither of you find this strange?”

“We hate Agent Perotta.” You reply with a smirk, and suddenly a wave of clarity washes over Jessica.

“Ah, common ground. Makes more sense.” She says calmly as she starts making her way to the couch as well. “Well, mind if I join-” She starts, but then Haechan’s phone begins to ring and he’s up off the couch in an instant.

“My mom is calling. I have to go.” He says, and the sadness and worry that you had managed to kill over the past few hours reappears in his voice in no time.

“Hyuck?” Jessica questions, but he just shakes his head in dismissal.

“I have to go.” He restates, and then makes his way to the door. You watch from the couch as he starts to leave, probably to go drive to meet his mom - this late at night…driving. Panic erupts in your system.

“Haechan,” you cry out, scrambling off the couch. He whips his body back around to face you rather than the door. Without thinking, you wrap Haechan in a hug, speaking softly into his shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

Haechan lets out a small sigh, knowing exactly where your mind was at. Gently, he places his arms around you, as well. “I hate you less than I hate her, too.” He says softly in place of replying to your last statement. You freeze in his arms and he’s the first to let go, his phone beginning to ring again and reminding the both of you he had somewhere to be. He’s quickly out the front door, leaving you to just turn back around towards Jessica on the couch.

“What was that?” She asks, completely confused again. You just shake your head.

“It’s really not for me to tell you. Haechan just…got really bad news today. But you’re his actual best friend, he’ll tell you as soon as he can, I’m sure. Then you can take over my role and do a much better job at comforting him or so help me God.” You reply, a small laugh accompanying the end of your sentence before you continue. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed, if you don’t mind. I hope your date with Mark went really well.” Jessica just nods from the couch, a little dumbfounded by your behavior if you had to guess, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain any further.

Within the following week, Haechan had told Jessica about his dad. However, he also told her another piece of news, which Jessica immediately relayed to you once she got back from hanging out with him.

“Hey, just thought I would let you know that Haechan and his girlfriend broke up.” She says after entering your dorm. You look up at her from the kitchen table, eyes wide.

“What?!” You question with more emotion than you could have imagined, but with the situation with his dad, was this really when she had to break it off and hurt him further. Jessica doesn’t answer your question, probably because it was incredibly vague. Instead, she moves on to her actual point of telling you.

“So, he might be over even more often than before.” She says carefully, trying to gauge how pissed you were gonna be at that piece of news. You just shake your head.

“Did he say why they broke up?” You don’t know why you asked, you didn’t care, but Jessica didn’t seem to think any of it was out of the ordinary.

“No, but he’s pretty torn up about it, which sucks because we both know how horrible she was to him.” Right, regardless of what horrible timing this was because of his already sad state, his girlfriend, or ex, probably wasn’t helping anyways while they were together. You figure Haechan dodged a bullet with the relationship ending sooner rather than later. You nod in response, speaking through a sigh as the past memories and stories about his ex replayed in your mind.

“Yeah…”

Jessica seems to be doing the same, but she shakes out of it quicker than you. “I think I’m gonna take him out to the bars next weekend or something. I don’t have a lot of free time right now, but I figure he could use a night out.” She says neutrally, and you nod, letting her know you probably couldn’t come up with a better idea.

“Yeah.”

Then two weeks later, you were telling Jessica to be safe as she left for the bars with Haechan. She extended the invite, but you figured Haechan probably had enough of you trying to support and comfort him, so you just told her that you’d stay home and to call if they needed a ride back. At one in the morning, that call came, but it was from Haechan rather than Jessica, and as you pick up, you forget the entire reason they went out tonight, your mind running on autopilot once you see his name light up your phone screen.

“What do you want?” You ask, your disgust at his call hardly hidden in your voice. You immediately feel bad though when he responds and his tone is much gentler than the one you used for him.

“Hey, Jess was the one who apparently needed to unwind tonight, so I let her do all the drinking at the bar…too much, apparently. I was gonna drive her back to your place but she was concerned about ruining whatever image she thinks you have of her in your head, so instead of her getting sick at your place, I let her get sick at mine. She just got in the shower, but I gotta be honest, now that I’m home, I’m pretty exhausted. Do you think you could come grab her?” He asks, and for a moment, you smile softly. You could tell Jessica had been stressed the past few weeks, truly probably needing the night out more than Haechan, and it was comforting knowing that he didn’t drink so that he could look out for her at the bar and back home.

You nod your head before realizing he couldn’t see it, and then you speak up, much softer than before. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Send me your address.” You say, then hanging up and grabbing your things to head his way.

Haechan opens the door in response to your knocking, the familiar bored expression back on his face. “You got here quicker than I thought you would…Jessica is still in the shower.” He states, as though your early presence was a huge inconvenience. You don’t pay attention to his tone, though. Your mind focuses on his clothes as you unintentionally scan his body up and down.

“Skinny jeans, huh?” You question with a straight face, meeting his eyes again as he smirks down at you.

“Well, I knew there was a high probability I’d see you tonight so I thought it would be fun to torment you-” You don’t know what came over you, but surely it wasn’t your fault. You told him not to wear skinny jeans ever again, and he did so just to spite you. Somehow, it all made him really hot, and you find yourself cutting off his words as you press your lips to his. You pull away quickly, shock covering both your faces as you simply stare at each other, eyes wide and breath heavy as you process what you just did.

You swallow hard, trying to remedy your suddenly dry throat. Your courage to look him in the eyes diminishes within milliseconds, and you drop your face towards the floor, which seemed to irritate Haechan to no end because as soon as your gaze met the floor, he walked the one step back over to you, grabbing your jaw to the point where it almost hurt and forcing you to look his way again. Then he kissed you harshly, and you fell right in line.

There was no romance in the kiss. Instead, something like lust had your tongues fighting for dominance with each other as your hands tried to memorize every part of Haechan’s body. The two of you moved with intensity, stumbling around the room because you couldn’t possibly stay still with the amount of passion embedded in this kiss. The first time you remember breaking away wasn’t so you could take a breath. You were fine never needing oxygen again. Instead you broke away to pull his shirt up over his head, discarding it to the side without much care. You immediately press your lips back onto his, but he’s quick to pull back this time, looking at you with a shake of his head as his eyes move back and forth between your two bodies.

“No fair!” He complains, causing you to roll your eyes before removing your own shirt to reveal your black lace bra because the universe was apparently on your side when you got dressed today. You watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he takes you in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “No fair…” He whispers before rushing to close the distance between you two again, but this time, his lips don’t land on yours. Instead, they find your chest as his hands squeeze at your waist. You throw your head back in response, giving Haechan the ability to leave a trail of kisses from your chest up your neck, stopping in the middle to nip at somewhere near your collarbone before his continued exploration, and you thank God that Jessica has the shower running to cover up the moan it produced from you. He kisses up your neck and jaw before eventually finding his way to your lips again, and you waste no time getting your tongue back in his mouth. Before you know it, he’s picking you up, just to throw you right back down on the couch. Your eyes open in surprise, but then the sight of him on top of you has you unable to function. For some godforsaken reason, he’s able to read you completely, chuckling as he looks at your breathless expression.

The sound of his laugh gets you to break out of it, and you rush to connect your lips with his again. Your hands trace up and down his bare back, your nails sending goosebumps to his entire body as they claw at certain spots. Your hands get caught in his belt loops, causing a smile to cover your face and impeding your ability to kiss him, but you couldn’t help finding humor in the fact that his skinny jeans caused all of this. You shake your head, pulling away from the kiss for a moment and making Haechan pout before he moves to suck on your neck again.

“God, you have such a slutty waist for no reason.” You spit out in feigned anger, hands resuming their roaming over his figure. Haechan pops up so his eyes could meet yours. A playful smirk on his face covering up the split second glance you got of him looking ready to devour you.

“You love my slutty waist.” He responds confidently, and while you would love to prove him wrong, you can’t bring yourself to. So, you open and close your mouth, fighting for words that would never come out, and for a moment, Haechan looks down at you with something resembling fondness written over his features, though you were positive you were making that up. He shakes his head softly with a smile before leaning back down to kiss you, and once his lips were on yours, his entire demeanor was coated with a certain roughness and desire again that had you weak.

The only thing that pulled the two of you out of your bubble was the sound of the shower turning off, and suddenly your background noise was gone, making everything feel more real. Haechan broke out of the kiss with wide eyes, rushing to get off from on top of you as he grabbed your shirts from the floor, throwing yours over to you as he fumbled to put his own shirt back on.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He says sternly, running a hand through his hair to get it back to somewhat normal. You rush to put your shirt back on, bounding off the couch before Jessica could walk out of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You reply in kind, refusing to acknowledge the pit in your stomach that formed as Haechan gave an uninterested eyebrow flash and went to busy himself in the kitchen, preparing to act normal for whenever Jessica eventually walked out so you could take her home.

It was only three days later when you saw Haechan again. More excited than usual for their Tuesday dinner, Jessica opened the door before Haechan could even use his key. “Hey!” She greets with a smile which he reflects right back.

“Hey!” He replies, actually stepping into your living room.

Jessica immediately starts talking about how she’s not even close to being ready yet but was swamped with homework and couldn’t wait for the forced study break that came with dinner, even though she had to go make herself look presentable first. Haechan nodded along, but you’re not sure he was listening at all, because even though Jessica was right in front of him, his gaze kept wandering over to you on the couch before he could noticeably snap his focus back to Jessica. You tried to stay natural, that way if Jessica actually followed his gaze over to you, she wouldn’t immediately suspect something. Though, when Jessica did finally go back to start getting ready for dinner, you jumped off the couch and dragged Haechan by the collar towards the corner of the room furthest away from hers.

“You have to stop being so weird around me. Jessica is gonna know something happened.” You say sternly, though you kept your voice at a near whisper just in case you weren’t as far away from Jessica as you thought. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over Haechan. He had never been this uncool before.

Haechan shakes his head, keeping his volume low though his words were more frantic than yours. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” You take a small step back in surprise, finally letting go of your grip on his shirt. That was probably the last thing you were expecting him to say, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart jump up in your throat.

“So…” You start, begging for clarification on what that meant.

Haechan moves his head down so that he’s able to make better eye contact with you, so that you could see the seriousness in his gaze. “So can we maybe see each other when Jessica isn’t getting ready in the next room?”

You swallow hard at the question. “That sounds like a lot of sneaking around.”

“It’s worth it for you.” He replies instantaneously, making you freeze again. He was saying a very right thing under what felt like the wrong context, and despite yourself, you try to remedy that.

“But- does it have to be all sneaky? I mean, couldn’t we just-” Though, that’s as far as he lets you get before he cuts you off, shaking his head with a small laugh.

“Y/n, be real. We don’t like each other. This isn’t something emotional, it’s physical. Yeah?” Right, this was your mortal enemy you were talking to. You guys didn’t like each other. An actual relationship would be the worst idea in the world, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he looks like a dream in skinny jeans…and you’d take what you could get.

“Yeah- uh, yeah. Let’s do it.” You reply, and Haechan flashes you a killer smirk before breaking away and settling himself on the couch to wait for Jessica to get done. You don’t join him, already feeling dizzy from the conversation. Instead, you just find refuge in your bedroom until they leave, but that night didn’t end without a text from Haechan, already making plans.

You and Haechan quickly fell into routine. The first time you went over to his house under the guise of you going to study at the library, you hardly said two words to each other. Instead, Haechan opened his door to your presence and immediately pulled you inside by your arm, pushing you towards the general direction of the couch so he could get on top of you.

The next time you came over, he opened the door to see your bright smile. “Hey, Hyuck-!” You could hardly get your words out before he pulled you inside and pinned you against the now closed door. Through heavy pants in between harsh kisses, he speaks.

“I love it when you call me that.”

You involuntarily smile a bit as you do your best to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Your name?” You ask sarcastically as he sucks on your neck.

He pops his head back up so he can look you in the eyes as he replied. “My name that the people who I care about call me.” You freeze, chills running through your entire body at his words, and in that moment, you knew you were fucked, because this was not just physical to you. Haechan was naturally flirty - a sweet talker. That wasn’t hard to deduce from his looks alone. He was hot and he knew it, which also meant he knew how to get whatever girl he wanted for the time being, but the idea of being a ‘time being’ girl of his began to make cracks in your heart. That night, you left with a spare key to his house and instructions of coming over whenever you wanted, for physical purposes, of course.

As soon as Jessica said she was going back home for the weekend, you immediately texted Haechan to let him know, and not even five minutes after Jess closed the door to your place, you opened it back up again to Haechan’s presence. “Hey, y/n.” He says with a smile you can’t help but reflect back to him.

“Hi, Hyuckie.” You reply bashfully. You watch as his eyes widen a bit, his smile now reaching the rest of his facial features. Without spending much time thinking about it, he leans in and gives you a quick peck on the lips before instantly retreating back and facing the floor. You laugh as you step back and actually allow him inside, figuring that kiss was probably too domestic for him to handle.

Since the two of you hadn’t commenced this whole operation at your place before, Haechan waited for you to take the lead on deciding where he could have you. You watch his idle presence, laughing a bit, much to his confusion, before shaking your head. “Come here.” You say, nodding your head, and he’s quick to follow.

“Um, y/n?” He says as you turn into the room. “This is your bathroom.”

“I know.” You say, bending down to grab something in one of your cabinets. Haechan just stares at you bewildered, even more so when you pull out a lens case and contact solution. You smile at his expression. “Go on then. I know you still haven’t switched contacts and I know you brought your glasses with you.”

“What?” He asks with wide eyes. You shake your head fondly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Your contacts irritate your eyes. You look cute in glasses. Please take out your stupid contacts and put your glasses on.” You watch as he dismisses your words, shaking his head as his eyes glaze with fear rather than confusion. You bite on the inside of your cheek, beyond pissed that his ex turned him into this. “Hyuck, you’re the hottest person alive. I don’t care about whatever your ex-girlfriend said. I understand if you get self-conscious and want to wear your contacts out in public, but you don’t have to with me. All I want is for you to be comfortable, and I know you’re not in your contacts.” You watch as he nods his head slowly, and you leave the bathroom with a soft smile as he gets close to the mirror to start taking his contacts out.

You sit on the couch as you wait for him to come out of the bathroom, scrolling idly on your phone. You pop your head up to meet him when you hear his footsteps cause the floor to creak. He looks small, his arms crossed, gaze aimed at the floor, and his glasses on. You smile warmly. “My pretty boy, come here.” You say, standing up with open arms, but Haechan freezes.

“What?”

You don’t know what he’s confused about until you trace back over your words, eyes going wide as you try and remedy the situation. “I- I didn’t mean to be so possessive, calling you mine and everything. I know you’re not…mine. I mean, this is purely physical. I wasn’t trying to be like- you know. It just slipped out. I’m sorry. Please come objectify me and make things normal again.”

“Y/n, you know you’re not just a body to me, right?” He asks softly, a skeptical eyebrow raised. You raise your head to look at him through narrow eyes.

“I’m not?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“But then- but this is just physical…you don’t- I mean we don’t like each other so I don’t know how-” Your stumbling words are cut off with a kiss that you melt right into. Haechan pulls back finally with a tired expression on his face.

“You seriously talk too much. Yeah, we don’t like each other, but that doesn’t mean I act as if you’re just some body for me to use. You’re y/n, which means you’re my favorite person to hate. And you hate me back, which is great because you always look so hot when you’re pissed at me, it gets right under my skin in all the best ways. And I get the pleasure of knowing what you taste like? Do you know how big a flex that is? I mean, come on. You’re the hottest nerd around, and instead of the other nerds who probably have the biggest crush on you being the ones to kiss you like this, I’m the one who gets to know you use dragon fruit chapstick.”

You’re able to let out a soft laugh. “You know it’s dragon fruit?” You ask in response, and Haechan raises his eyebrows, a smirk covering his lips.

“We kiss a lot.” He replies. You toss his words around visibly in your head.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we do it enough.” You say back, and Haechan just licks his lips.

“You don’t know how badly I want to make you eat your words.” He says through his teeth, and you just throw a taunting grin his way.

“Then why don’t you?” You ask, and Haechan audibly laughs before grabbing you by the waist and crashing his lips onto yours.

You break after who knows how long when your stomach starts feeling like it’s caving in on itself. Haechan wastes no time in moving his lips from your own to your neck, guessing you probably just needed to break for air. You roll your eyes with a smile. “Hyuck.” You say monotonously, making him pop his head back up to your joyless demeanor.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. I just-”

“Hyuckie,” you laugh, and he seems to calm down a bit. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today. I’m starving. I can’t physically kiss your pretty face anymore.”

Haechan shrugs. “Okay, let’s order a pizza.”

You look at him, bewildered. “What- I thought- you’re not just gonna…I thought you were gonna go.”

“And why would I do that?” He questions, making you scrunch your brows down.

“Because then it would be like us hanging out while we eat. Not…this.”

Haechan laughs again. “I know. Let’s order a pizza. We’ve watched Bones on your couch before. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna leave you so soon.”

The shyest smile crosses your face as you reach for the phone to call the pizza place. You stare down at the number entered on the keypad - all you had to do was press the call button. Instead, you turn your gaze back over to Haechan, holding your phone out towards him. “Can you do it?” You ask shyly, and Haechan’s brows furrow.

“What?” He asks with ample confusion. You drop your head in response.

“I get really nervous when I need to order something over the phone.” You reply, your words hardly audible under your embarrassment. Haechan shakes his head, but the biggest smile comes across his face.

“You’re so fucking adorable. Give me the phone, you go get the TV ready.” He says, and you snap your gaze back up to him, a small grateful smile of your own painted across your lips as you move towards the TV. “Just a large pepperoni pizza, yeah?” Haechan continues, and you turn back to him with a nod.

“Yeah.”

You immediately turn Bones on the TV for the two of you to watch while you eat, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find a normal activity such as this didn’t feel awkward at all with him anymore. Haechan finished eating before you did, and he frowned at the space between the two of you on the couch for only a second before sliding over and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You will your face not to blush at something as stupid as this, and you don’t even know if it worked. Regardless, there was still twenty minutes left on the episode when you finished eating, too. So, you made yourself more comfortable against his body.

Haechan started rubbing his thumb up and down your side where it had laid, incredibly too domestic for your liking. You try and shake it off pretty successfully, until his thumb moved ever so slightly to caress your covered breast. You sigh, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re an idiot.” You say monotonously.

He doesn’t look away from the TV, but he grins widely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replies. Though, his attempt to feign innocence is completely ruined when he straight up grabs your boob.

“Okay, that’s it.” You huff, switching from your position laying at his side to instead straddling him on top of your couch. Haechan looks at you as though he has no clue what you’re doing there, though his hands immediately latch onto your thighs, pulling you as close as possible to him.

“You had enough to eat yet?” He asks with a smirk.

You give a minimal shake of your head. “I don’t know, you look pretty tasty.” You hardly get through your words before your ability to speak is taken from you. Haechan kissed you with a passion that couldn’t be rivaled, as his hands left your thighs to grab your waist, trying his best to pull you even closer to him. You knew you messed up when you started moving your lower body against his, making him break away from the kiss immediately.

“Fuck, y/n!” He says loudly, but his grip on your waist only encourages you to speed up. As he tore his lips from yours, you moved to suck on his neck, another thing you shouldn’t have done. “No, no, no! That’s my job. Need your pretty neck.” He huffs, doing his best to remove your shirt. You let him, and then Haechan has a field day with your neck and chest as you still grind against him. Somewhere along the way, you managed to rip him from his shirt as well, your fingers lightly tracing his abs and making him go crazy. He eventually started dipping his fingers beneath the waistline of your pants. “Y/n, tell me to stop.” He breathes.

“Do I have to?” You reply in between kisses.

“Yes, y/n. I- You don’t know how badly I need you.”

“Show me, then.”

Haechan pulls back from your lips, staring at you intently. “Y/n, I refuse to let this be something you regret.”

You laugh a little, shaking your head in dismissal. “I won’t. I promise.”

Haechan looks at you as though he’s holding back his own laugh. “That sounded so certain. I would hate to be the guy that has you sure this won’t be as bad.” He replies, and you suddenly understand his interpretation of your words, causing you to duck your head, moving your attention to your hands that were currently fiddling with Haechan’s fingers.

“Oh, no. Hyuck, I’ve never…” Your words taper off, and Haechan looks at you with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, y/n. I can’t be your first. I mean, that’s a big deal, you know? You deserve-”

“Hyuck, there’s no one I trust more than you for this.” You say, cutting him off and getting him to render still. He licks his lips in contemplation, sighing heavily before he looks back up at you.

“You might end up bleeding - that’s okay. I don’t want you to worry about that or feel embarrassed at all because of it. I’ll clean you up after. If at any point you get uncomfortable, you tell me right away. I do not care what point that is, you tell me and it stops immediately, no questions asked. I will do my best to not hurt you, but you gotta tell me what feels good, okay? I’m gonna need you to be vocal and I mean it literally. I wanna make this about you, yeah? Tell me what you want and what feels good. And if you’re not 100% sure, I need you to be honest about it right now because-”

“Hyuckie.” You say gently, cutting him off. “I’m sure. You don’t have to worry.”

“Yes, I do!” He rebuttals. You just roll your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before making eye contact again.

“It’s okay. Look, all you have to do is wrap your pretty fingers around my neck and we’ll be good to go.” You say plainly. Haechan looks at you in disbelief.

“A choking kink? You’re kidding me.” He says, adding on a dismissive chuckle. Though, you just raise your eyebrows at him expectantly, letting him know you were serious, and he turns slightly shy.

You watch as he sucks on his lips, eyes darting down from your own as he fights back a smile. “Like, is this good?” He asks, wrapping one of his hands around your neck lightly. His face contorts as you audibly laugh.

“Absolutely not. Come on, choke me like you hate me, Hyuck.”

His eyes go wide as he pulls his hand from your neck. “You know, I don’t know if I want to take you to the bedroom anymore. You scare me.” He remarks playfully, but you send a pout his way and he instantly folds, picking you up from under your thighs and making his way to your bedroom. The two of you spend an ample amount of time just making out, exploring each other’s bodies. Then, with another check of assurance from Haechan and a rip of a condom packet with his teeth, he gave you a glimpse of heaven.

Afterwards, Haechan got straight to work on his promise of helping you clean up. “Alright, beautiful, do you wanna shower?” He asks, but you don’t answer his question.

“Don’t call me that.” You say instead, watching as he furrows his brows. You sigh, dodging his eye contact. “Too domestic…” You add on, and you can hear him sigh.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t call you that, but really, do you want to shower?” He asks again, and you nod. He immediately scoops you up, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom.

“I can walk you know?” You say playfully before he sets you down on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah? Guess I need to go harder next time.” He replies with a smirk, but your playfulness falls into genuine happiness.

“I’m glad there’s still a ‘next time’ after all this.”

Haechan drops his shoulders, taking the opportunity provided by the fact that you were staring at the floor to look at you with a softness in his eyes. “There’s always a ‘next time’ with us.” He says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before moving to start up the shower for you. Standing frozen, by the time you realize you had to tell him that forehead kisses were also too domestic for you to handle, he was already out of the bathroom.

When you walk back into your room wrapped in a towel, you’re shocked to see your bed stripped to just the mattress. You move your gaze to Haechan, a questioning look on your face. “Your sheets are in the washer right now. Do you have another set I can throw on your bed? If not, you can sleepover at mine. I’d just want to make sure we get your bedding in the dryer before we leave to go back to mine.”

You’re quite honestly dumbfounded, and a smile takes over your face as you shake your head. “No, I don’t have another set. You didn’t have to do all this.” You say softly, but Haechan snaps his head back to you in an instant.

“Yes, I said I would. And this isn’t about me. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” You answer truthfully.

“Can I get you anything?” He continues, and you shake your head.

“No.” You reply. There was a beat of silence, and you lick your lips. “Actually…” You drag off, staring up at him to make sure he actually didn’t care about you making requests. “Could you just- can you just hold me for a second?” You ask weakly, and Haechan’s eyes widen.

“Yeah…yeah! Come here.” He says gently, and you take the few small steps right into his waiting arms. You don’t hug him back, your arms instead at your chest, holding up the towel that was still covering your body. Though, if Haechan minded, he didn’t let it show. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his embrace comforting. Then, without being able to really explain why, you began to cry in his arms. Haechan didn’t seem shocked. Instead, he just ran one hand gently up and down your back, though not letting up on his tight hold of you.

“I’m sorry.” You say hoarsely. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Haechan kisses the top of your head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay. You’ve had an exhausting day. I’d rather you cry in my arms than alone.”

You dig your head out of his chest, using one hand to wipe away the remaining tears on your face. “You can’t be this nice to me.” You say seriously, and Haechan sighs.

“Okay, no more being nice to each other…after tonight.” He says, and you find yourself nodding your head in response, getting him to relax again. “Do you still want me to hold you, or do you want to get dressed and head to mine?” He asks, truly not caring either way.

You pull yourself out of his arms in response, facing the floor. “I’ll uh- get ready.”

The drive over to his place is quiet, with you staring out the window the entire time. Though, as soon as you walk through his front door, you find your words again. “I don’t regret it.” You say seriously. “And I won’t regret it when I wake up tomorrow. Or any time after that. I know I’m acting weird, but it’s not because of that. I promise.”

Haechan looks your way with a fond smile. “You aren’t acting weird, y/n. I put you through a lot today. I get it. Just come crawl into bed with me. I’ll hold you some more.” You don’t hesitate to give into his offer, though, you add it to the list of things that probably shouldn’t happen again if you don’t want to fall in love with Haechan.

You ended up spending the entire next day with Haechan, under the reasoning that this would be the most time you guys would be able to spend together without Jessica getting suspicious. The two of you were walking back into your dorm Saturday night so that you could put your bed back together and hang out some more, figuring Haechan could just spend the night here and leave in the morning before Jessica gets back. That plan is instantly ruined when you open up the front door and see Jessica moving around in the kitchen. As quickly as you could, you shove Haechan back into the dorm hallway with one hand and slam the door behind you, praying he got the hint that Jessica was here and you didn’t just suddenly turn into a bitch.

At the sound of the door slamming, Jessica shoots her gaze your way with a smile. “Hey, y/n!”

You force your legs to start walking, moving towards the living room as if everything was normal. “Hey, Jess. I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon.” You say, wondering why the hell she was already here. She waves an uninterested hand in the air.

“That was the plan, but I have so much homework and my parents had a brunch planned with some of their friends so there was really no reason for me to stay another night.”

“Ah.” You reply, trying to just sneak away to your room without any more complications. You had nearly gotten away with it, but before you can step through the open door into your room, Jessica speaks up again, making you turn back to her.

“Oh, yeah. Where are your bed sheets?” She asks, curious, and you wince.

“Uh, they’re in the dryer. I washed them.” You say neutrally, but Jessica raises an eyebrow.

“You? Washed your sheets? You never wash your sheets.” She says with a laugh.

“Yeah well, you know. Just seemed like they needed washed.” You reply, trying your best to sound normal.

“And uh- would that have anything to do with the hickies on your neck?” She asks, and you freeze on the spot, eyes wide as you make contact with her knowing expression, praying to God she didn’t know the all of it.

“Uh- yeah you know. I might’ve hooked up with someone while you were gone.” You say, fumbling through your words. You watch as Jessica lights up.

“Who?!”

Your throat turns dry, and you start fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you find someone to pin this on. “Johnny! You know, the kid from Chicago who takes the least amount of credit hours a semester as possible so he can spend as many years at college parties as possible? Him.” You look back up to meet Jessica’s bewildered face.

“Wow.” She replies, seeming to be incredibly amazed by your ability to pull Johnny, and you can’t even begin to imagine what she would look like if you told her you actually pulled her best friend, instead.

“Yeah, so- I’m just gonna go grab my sheets from the dryer and go to bed. I’ve had quite the weekend and we still have all of Sunday to get through.” As soon as you finish talking, you dart to where the washer and dryer were before rushing back to your bedroom and closing the door, immediately grabbing your phone to text Haechan.

Jessica is back early! I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face, but I didn’t know what else to do.

His response comes a few minutes later, finally letting you relax again. Don’t worry, I figured that was the case. I’m already back at my place…

Though you were glad he wasn’t still outside your dorm, because he definitely couldn’t come in now, your heart struggled with the idea of him already back at his house…without you. I wish we could’ve had our extra night together. I miss you, Hyuckie.

You watch as his text bubble appears and disappears. You bite on your bottom lip, opting to start putting your bed back together to keep your mind from running. After putting one corner of your fitted sheet back on, your phone dings and you instantly move to grab it and read his message. I thought we weren’t supposed to be nice to each other.

A small smile spreads across your face. He was making fun of you. You were the one who set those boundaries in the first place. You glance from your phone to your bed and immediately know how to respond. Don’t worry. I only wish you were here so you could help me make my bed like you said you would.

There’s my y/n. You read his text over and over again. Surely he just meant it in regard to your typical personality with him, the y/n he knew. Though, the more you looked at his text, the more you knew you didn’t want him to mean it in that way, you wanted him to call you his. That’s when you knew there was no way you could respond to that message. So, you continue the task of making your bed so you could go to sleep, trying to ignore how empty it felt without him.

Two days later, you walked back in from class to see Jessica and Haechan hanging out in your living room. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, and you quickly turn around and act like you were still fiddling with the door so you could take a moment to fix a neutral expression on your face…and prepare yourself to scowl at him once you turn back around.

“Hey, Jess. I’m home-” You start, moving to walk towards the living room. “-oh great. You’re here.” You continue with a roll of the eyes as your gaze lands on Haechan.

His deadpan stare looks you up and down as his nose scrunches in disgust. “Yeah, cause I was told you weren’t.”

You flash your eyebrows at him, unamused. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you.” You state as you start on your walk to your room. Haechan calls out after you.

“You already are, sweetheart.” He says condescendingly.

“Yeah, fuck you.” You reply back, closing the door to your bedroom and giving yourself the ability to actually breathe again.

On the couch, Jessica rubs her forehead. “You know, I thought things were actually gonna get better between the two of you after you watched Bones that one day.” She says with a small, but defeated, laugh. Haechan clears his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry to kill your spirits, but y/n and I are not meant to be friends.” He replies in kind before quickly getting the two of them back to their conversation topic from before you walked in.

You were getting through some homework when there was a knock at your door. Assuming it was Jessica, you throw the door open, though shock courses through you when you see Haechan, instead. He leans in to give you a soft kiss before standing straight up again, as if that type of thing was normal between the two of you. “Jessica is in the bathroom.” He says softly, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s great, but I don’t think that gives us enough time to fuck.” You respond with a laugh, though Haechan’s brows furrow.

“What? I didn’t come here for that. I came to tell you I’m sorry for being mean to you when you came in.”

Surprise runs over your face, but it soon drops into a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it, Hyuck. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know, but it didn’t feel good this time.” He responds, riddled with defeat, and you can’t help yourself from getting up on your tiptoes to lightly kiss him again.

You pull back quickly, facing the ground. “Hyuckie-” That’s when the sound of the bathroom door opening fills the air, and you immediately jump to lean uninterestedly against your doorframe, arms crossed in front of your body as your face falls flat. “Homework! So, can you stop annoying me just because Jessica is gone for one second and you can’t annoy her?”

As predicted, Jessica quickly finds her way over to the two of you, eventually coming to stand at Haechan’s side. “Can’t believe I come out of the bathroom to find you talking with y/n.” She says with genuine surprise. You make concerned eye contact with her.

“Talking? More like tormenting…” You say in response.

Jessica turns to look at Haechan, nudging him slightly. “Hyuck, I would be careful about pissing her off, now. She’s got some big men on her side that can come beat you up. I mean, she hooked up with Johnny Suh.”

Your face becomes painted with shock. “Jessica!” You yell, causing her to put her hands up in defense.

“Look, it just came out.”

Haechan makes eye contact with you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Hooked up with Johnny?! Really?” He responds, playing his part of not believing you pulled him exceptionally well.

You flash your eyebrows at him, doing your best to try and act all powerful now because you apparently hooked up with Johnny. “Yep! It was one hell of a first time.” You reply, and a soft smile is quick to adorn your face as you continue. “Not to mention he took…really good care of me after. You could learn something from him about how to treat women.” You add on, looking back up at him with a smirk. Almost all of Haechan’s body language could lead anyone to believe he hated you, didn’t give a damn about who you slept with, could hardly bother himself with this conversation at all, but his eyes were filled with fondness as he looked back at you. You inhale sharply, thankful when Haechan starts talking again to remind you of the environment you were in.

“Yeah? I’ll be sure to ask for lessons on how to tolerate you first.” He responds with a smirk of his own. Jessica finally gets fed up, rolling her eyes and grabbing Haechan by the arm to drag him away from you before you could argue any more. You almost instantly throw your homework back in your backpack, walking to the door to leave as you turn around to face them again.

“I’m gonna head to the library since I obviously can’t get any work done here. I’ll be back later tonight.” You say with a smile aimed in Jessica’s direction. She threw a thumbs up your way along with a ‘be safe,’ and then you were out the door.

You had just gotten to the library when your phone lit up with a text from Haechan.

I’ll pick you up from the library after Jess and I eat dinner.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, though really, you’re beyond glad he could see how much you wanted him tonight. I’d be pissed if you didn’t :)

His response is instantaneous. Yeah, yeah. Go do your homework before I fuck you dumb <3

Around an hour and a half later, you get a call from Haechan and you immediately stuff your laptop back into your bag before picking up the phone. “Hey, where are you sitting? I’ll come pick you up-” He starts, but you cut him off in an instant.

“Absolutely not. We cannot be seen in public together.”

“Y/n, this isn’t some big scandal.” He replies lightly, but you shake your head, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see it.

“You’re wrong. Everyone knows we hate each other and everyone knows Jessica is our mutual. If they see us together, it’s getting back to Jessica in an instant. Tell me where you’re parked and I’ll come to you.” A small laugh accompanies your words, even more so when Haechan pouts on the other end and you can imagine it vividly.

“Fine, but you’re never allowed to complain that chivalry is dead when you’re the one causing it.” You roll your eyes, stepping out of the library and immediately seeing his car anyways. You hang up on the phone and open his passenger door to slide into your seat. “Finish all your homework like a good girl?” He asks with a smirk and you send a glare his way.

“Shut up. I finished all but one assignment. I got a little distracted.” You drag off, and Haechan lights up.

“Oh my god, did you touch yourself in the library bathrooms?”

“No!” You reply adamantly before sinking back into the passenger seat a little. “But I would’ve if I had to wait any longer. Dinner took a long time, Hyuckie.” You add with a frown, and Haechan just shakes his head in the driver’s seat.

“God, it is taking everything in me to not throw you in the backseat and have you right here right now.”

You roll your eyes, more than aware that you couldn’t have car sex in front of the library. Instead, you place a hand on his cheek and kiss him deeply. He didn’t complain, figuring making out with you in his front seat was enough to hold him over since he couldn’t fuck you in the back seat. You let an entire song play through the radio as you indulged in Haechan’s taste, finally pulling back with a heavy breath before you could forget your morals. “Um…Please drive now so we can go home and you can undress me. I need you.”

Haechan tries to hide his smile as he shifts into drive and places his hands back on the wheel. “Yeah, yeah. Next stop…home.”

You stumble your way inside his front door, passionate kisses getting in the way of actually walking. The second you get inside, Haechan is sliding your shirt over your head. He keeps his kisses as consistent as possible until everything actually registers in his mind and he pulls back to look you up and down, absentmindedly licking his lips. “Y/n, goddamn.”

You look down at your chest just to laugh and fix your gaze back on him. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I did some shopping.” You say offhandedly, as though your new lingerie set wasn’t killing Haechan. He finally brings himself to look back at your face, not bothering to hide how pissed he was.

“On the couch, now.” He orders, and you just roll your eyes playfully, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to bring him along with you. In no time flat, he’s completely on top of you, kissing what seemed to be every inch of your body. Though, the second his lips land on your neck, you remember the new boundaries you had to set.

“Hey, you can’t leave marks on my neck anymore.”

“Oh, but Johnny can, huh?” He teases as he props himself up to make eye contact with you.

You roll your eyes. “He was the first guy that came to mind.”

Haechan shakes his head. “I’ll make sure you can never think about another guy again.” He says with conviction, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“God, you’re so hot.” You say through an exhale, and Haechan just laughs before moving to suck and nip at your neck again. “Hyuck, that didn’t mean you could still bruise me, baby.”

He hums against your skin, finding a way to respond without putting too much space between your two bodies. “Can’t help it. You look so pretty, all marked up as mine.” He mumbles. You sigh, running a hand gently through his hair as he works on your chest instead.

“Hyuckie, I’m not yours.” You say softly, trying to make sure the defeat you felt while admitting that didn’t show. Haechan freezes immediately, and when he finally finds his ability to move, it’s just to press a lingering kiss on your lips.

“Just for tonight. Be mine just for tonight.” He says, though it comes out more so as a question. You let out another small sigh, shaking your head before moving to connect your lips to his again.

“Jessica knows I don’t do any homework past 10:00.” You tell him as you break apart. Haechan takes a moment to glance at his watch, reading the time before nodding his head softly.

“I’ll get you back by then. Don’t worry.” From then until 9:45, Haechan spent all of his time making sure you were his that night.

It was about two months into whatever it was that you and Haechan had gotten yourselves into. You were currently sitting in the living room. You knew Haechan was fully aware that Jessica wasn’t home, so now you were just waiting for him to burst through the front door at any moment. When he finally does, he walks to put his keys and wallet down on the counter before making his way over to where you were sitting and placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Hey,” he says smoothly, causing blush to cover your face. You still weren’t used to the days where he would be more gentle with you, not that you were complaining, but it was unfamiliar nonetheless. You smile back at him, about to respond when he finally moves his gaze to assess what you’ve been up to. “Are you playing Mariokart?” He asks, and you laugh from slight embarrassment.

“Yeah. Had to kill time while waiting for you somehow.” You say as you hit the home button to exit out, but then you notice the smallest traces of sadness cross his face, causing you to smirk. “Did you want to play?” You ask, and Haechan shoots his gaze back over to you, looking more like a boy than ever.

“Of course I want to play!” He replies, and suddenly your laughter isn’t from embarrassment anymore. You move to grab another remote for him so the two of you could play together. You spent the next two hours playing Mariokart with him, trying to perfect all the circuits so you could collect all the best trophies, and though today’s physical touch went no further than celebratory kisses, playful shoves, and your head on his shoulder, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Though, it brought about a fundamental truth - you were not having passionate sex with your enemy. No, you found that you liked being around Haechan.

The two of you had finished a quick dinner before the realization hit that Jessica would be coming back home from her night class soon. With a shared glance, you and Haechan both knew he should probably head back to his place. You reluctantly walked him to your front door, hand reaching for the knob to open it when Haechan’s hand grabbed hold of your own. You look up at him, confused, but he just stared down at you with a grin before leaning in to kiss you. “We can do this more often, too.” He says softly as he pulls back. You raise your brows in question.

“Kiss?” You reply, trying to figure out what he was referring to.

Haechan laughs, shaking his head and making his hair fall messily around his eyes. “No- well, yes, I always want to kiss you, but I’m talking about just hanging out. You know, playing Mariokart and all that…if you want! We don’t have to, I can just come over and immediately undress you and I wouldn’t mind that either-”

“Hyuck,” you say with a laugh, cutting him off. “We’ll hang out more, don’t worry. Besides, we still have the 200 cc circuits to beat.”

You watch as he smiles brightly back down at you before leaning back in, this time to kiss every inch of your face and turn you into a giggling mess. “I’ll see you soon.” He says smoothly, and then he’s finally out the door and leaving you blushing profusely because you think Haechan just admitted to enjoying being around you, too.

A couple of Fridays later, Haechan lets himself into your dorm as casually as ever when he comes over to actually hang out with Jessica. At the sound of the door closing, Jessica walks out from her room to greet Haechan, who already had his attention occupied by the new addition to your kitchen table. “Flowers? I didn’t know you could keep things alive.” He jokes as he turns around to face Jessica. She just rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“They’re not mine. Y/n bought them, and for your information, I can actually keep flowers alive way better than she can, thank you very much.” She replies, and Haechan turns back to study the bouquet again, trying to memorize them before Jessica could catch onto his actions.

“Should’ve known y/n bought them - these aren’t the prettiest flowers by a long shot.” He says with a scoff.

Jessica shakes her head. “You should be glad she isn’t home right now to hear you say that. The bluebells in there are her favorite flower in the world.” At this, Haechan shoots his gaze back towards Jessica.

“Really?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows after the fact to try and cover up the genuine curiosity that painted his question. Jessica seems not to notice as she just nods her head, but that’s when you finally come in through the front door, and they both turn their attention towards you.

You didn’t know Haechan was going to be at your place right now, but you probably should’ve guessed with it being a Friday - if Mark and Jessica weren’t going on a solo date, their friend group typically hung out and bar hopped all together. Regardless of the fact that Jessica was there, you couldn’t bring yourself to put on a look of disgust once you saw Haechan. Instead, you were radiating off a sort of empty feeling - you weren’t really sad, just hollow, not concerned enough to fake-hate Haechan. You don’t say a single word in greeting as you just go to your room and start getting things ready for a shower.

Haechan turns back to Jessica with raised eyebrows. “Where did she just come from?” He asks, wondering what the hell had you looking like that.

“Ummmm, today’s Friday, right?” Jessica asks, then looking at the time. “She just got back from quantum mechanics.” She answers, and that seems to calm her worries - she would look dead every time she had to sit through quantum mechanics, too. On the other hand, Haechan’s hands balled into fists. He knew that class was with your dick of a professor, and he could only guess as to what disgusting things he threw your way this time that had you feeling so dirty you had to shower right away.

Haechan wanted to barge into your room, wrap you in the biggest hug, and let you cry in the comfort of his arms, but he couldn’t - not with Jessica here. With every muscle in his body tensed up, he thought about the consequences of his actions should he go wrap you in a hug anyways, but that wouldn’t be fair to you. You were a part of whatever relationship the two of you had going on, and you both agreed that relationship stayed hidden. He couldn’t ruin that now without your consent.

Instead, he just looked back at Jessica flatly, flashing his eyebrows in recognition of the answer, and then quickly moved along. “Do you wanna head out to meet up with the guys?” He asks in return, and if there was any desperation in Haechan’s voice conveying how much he needed to get out of your dorm before he cracked, Jessica didn’t pick up on it. She nodded, grabbing her things, knocking on your door to let you know they were heading out, and then following Haechan out of the dorm.

Before you knew it, six months had passed since Haechan lost his dad, and you decided to surprise him with his favorite meal. It wasn’t like the two of you weren’t planning dinners/hangouts/hookups basically every day anyways, but you still wanted this one to be more lowkey, more intimate in an emotional, rather than physical, way, and a surprise dinner would do just that. You picked up his favorite takeout for the both of you before driving over to his place, pulling out your spare key to his house with excitement overtaking you as you walked in.

“Hey, Hyuckie. I’m here with din- Oh god.” Your face, along with the bag of food in your hands, instantly drops as you turn back from the closed door to his living area, only to notice him on top of another girl…his ex. Tears immediately sting at the back of your eyes, and you’re using everything in you to not let them fall down your face.

Haechan pops up as soon as you had started speaking, his eyes wide as he turns to look at you over his shoulder, and his body still straddled over his ex. “Y/n!” He yells out in shock.

His ex moves to prop herself up on her elbows, giving her a clear view of your frozen state at the door. Then, she rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Oh, I forgot she was the one getting my sloppy seconds.”

Your brows furrow. In any case, this could have been two friends grabbing dinner together. There was no way for her to so confidently say you were hooking up with her ex without him saying so. You face Haechan with betrayal covering your entire being. “So much for not kissing and telling, huh Haechan?” You spit out before walking back out of his place and slamming the door.

When you were finally outside, that’s when you gave yourself the chance to bawl your eyes out. You knew you wouldn’t be able to drive home safely without letting yourself cry beforehand. What sucked is that it gave Haechan time to fling the front door open. “Y/n-” He starts, grabbing your wrist to stop you from walking. You do your best to face away from him entirely, yanking your wrist out of his hand and cutting him off.

“Don’t touch me, Haechan!” You choke out, and he lets go immediately, regardless of the desperation on his face.

“Look I-”

You stop him again, his voice alone sending more tears down your face. You finally turn to him, slowing your words down so your voice doesn't crack, or at least, you tried to. “How long has it been going on?”

Haechan’s face and shoulders drop in unison. “This is the first time she’s been back over since the break up.” He replies softly.

You shake your head, none of it making sense and all of it hurting you. “Why…?” You had more of a question prepared, but that was all you could get out. You watch as Haechan sighs.

“I ran into her at a darty today. She approached me and started conversation. I tried not to involve myself in it, but she laughed and told me I was stupid for not wanting to talk to her because she said no one else will ever love me. And when I went to refute, I accidentally mentioned you. And she- she laughed again, telling me that I was dumb for thinking you would ever care for me, cause you hate me. And I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. And so then we ended up here.” The more he spoke, the more enraged you became. You shake your head in disgust.

“Fuck you!”

Haechan’s eyes widened. “What-”

You make sure to maintain eye contact with him as you begin to speak, though your words were broken up by your intense sobs. “You couldn’t think of anything to say against her point?! Who was the one washing off the makeup she made you put on? Who was the one telling you that the last thing you needed to do was cover up your stupid pretty face in the first place? Who was the one with a contact lens case in their bathroom so you could take them out and wear your glasses while you were over because you’re more comfortable in them? Who was the one you came to for comfort when you lost your dad-?”

“I went over to find Jessica!” He yells, cutting you off, but you don’t take any of it.

“But you stayed when you saw it was just me! Haechan-”

“Can you stop fucking calling me that?!” He pleads, tears now running slowly down his own cheeks.

All you can do is shake your head again sadly. “I don’t understand how you could go through all of that with her and then go back to it. Do you know how idiotic I feel?! Sneaking around and lying to Jessica because I’m hooking up with her best friend, who everyone thinks I hate, by the way, behind her back. Being so euphoric from your touch that I want to tell the world but I can’t because you told me I couldn’t tell anyone, and I wasn’t gonna break that promise because I wanted to be able to keep seeing you- would do anything to keep seeing you. Thinking that maybe there was the smallest chance any of this was real to you, too. To be so upset over something I have no right to be upset about because you were never mine.”

“Y/n-” He says as gently as he could given both your states. You lose the courage to look him in the eye, instead dropping your gaze to the floor as you respond.

“I feel like an idiot, Haechan.” With that, you turn to get back in your car and go home, and Haechan doesn’t stop you.

You continued to cry the entire drive back home, but you managed to stop the debilitating sobs, and instead soft, insistent tears just rolled down your face. You unlock the door to your house, your voice cracking as you announce your presence.

“I’m home.”

“Y/n-” Jessica starts excitedly, but then she sees your state and instantly panics. “-are you okay?! What happened?!” She continues, running up to where you stand defeated at the entryway.

“Is everything okay?” A male voice adds, and you sigh as your cries get more intense again.

“Mark is here. Of course Mark is here. Cause you guys are together and happy.” You say in a snarky response, and out of your peripheral, you see a frowning Mark take two steps back from the hug you and Jessica were encased in.

“Y/n, what is going on?” Jessica asks, more confused than ever because you’ve never been anything but happy for her and Mark. You shake your head rapidly in response.

“Nothing. You would hate me.”

Though your face was buried in her chest, you can sense her rolling her eyes. “I can assure you, I wouldn’t.” She states plainly, and though you knew she definitely would once she actually knew what was up, you took her words for what they were worth and your explanation tumbled out of your mouth.

“I’ve been hooking up with Haechan behind your back.”

Jessica immediately pulls away from the hug, making concerned eye contact with you instead. “WHAT?!”

Mark glances between the two of you, feeling incredibly like he was intruding, even more so because Haechan was his friend, too. “I’m uh- gonna go grab food!” He interjects before dashing out of the door behind you. With him gone, you continue with your explanation.

“For months, Jess. And we agreed not to tell anyone because it was just a friends with benefits thing, or enemies with benefits I guess. But it was more to me. It was real. I love him, Jessica.” The words just tumbled out of your mouth, but they were true, you knew so the second you said it. You loved Haechan.

Jessica looks at you with a frown. “So why the tears?” She asks gently, and you immediately drop your gaze to the floor, embarrassed, ashamed.

“I went over and unlocked his door with my spare key because we were gonna have dinner together.” You say slowly, your words finally coming out more even.

“Yeah?” Jessica probes when you had seemed to stop talking completely. You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid more tears from falling, but then you just spit it out.

“He was with his ex. On top of her. On the couch that knows my imprint.”

Jessica’s eyes widened impossibly. “Y/n-”

“Why the fuck would he do that, Jessica?” You practically shout, your rage finally mixing in with your sorrow.

Jessica just shakes her head, sucking on her bottom lip. “I don’t know.” She replies softly, and then she just holds you in silence until your tears finally stop and you move to lock yourself in your bedroom.

Two days later, when there’s a knock on your door, you assume Jessica is there to try and get you to eat something again. You slump over to open your bedroom door, already preparing how to tell Jessica you still couldn’t imagine stomaching food yet, when instead, it’s Haechan’s worried gaze meeting yours. Your eyes widen, stinging with tears already, but you can’t bring yourself to close the door just yet - maybe it was the fact that he was in his glasses, goddamned skinny jeans, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Y/n, it was the worst mistake of my life.” He says sincerely, and you drop your gaze to the floor.

“What? Getting together with me or her?” You ask with venom.

His response is instantaneous. “With her. Obviously!”

“You sure? You sure she doesn’t love you more than I do?” You spit back angrily, daring to look him in the eyes once again just to glare at him.

The sadness in his face neutralizes in an instant, and he stares back at you with wide eyes. “You- do you- do you love me?” He asks hesitantly in response, and the tears you’d been holding back fell freely now.

“I’m not fucking putting myself through this.” You respond defeatedly, and you immediately close the door in his face, running to bundle up in bed in a mess of tears.

When you finally step out of your room again to grab a water bottle, you’re met with the bouquet Haechan had in his hands now laying on the counter. You walk up to it, reading the sticky note now attached.

This was the only bouquet they had with bluebells…I know they’re your favorite. Coincidentally, one of their meanings is forgiveness (according to the flower shop guy, at least). There’s nothing I want more than your forgiveness. Y/n, I messed up so bad, I know, I’m sorry. I never should have done that. I don’t know why I did that, not when you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m sorry I never made you mine when I really had the chance. I was terrified you didn’t feel for me the way I do for you, but now I know how stupid that was. You’re the only one to ever care for me the way you do, and if you decide that what I did was too terrible, just know you’ll forever be my standard…my beautiful, incomparable standard.

When Jessica walked in through the front door after grabbing lunch with Mark, she found you still standing there in the kitchen, looking down on the now tear-stained note as your body still shook with sobs.

She walked over to the counter, silently sliding the note away from where it laid in front of you to read it herself. From your right, you hear her sigh and she’s quick to put down the note and wrap you in a hug instead. You stay crying in her arms for what you felt had to be too long, but she never said a word about it if it was.

Your days quickly started to blur, all of them feeling the same as you would drag yourself to class and then back home, with no extra plans to ever keep you occupied or active. You were currently on the couch, sweats adorning your figure, Bones on the TV, and a pint of ice cream in your hands. You had given up on trying - no longer caring about nice outfits or makeup, hardly eating anything of actual substance. As long as you had enough energy to sit through class, you considered it a win. It was after dinner time when Jessica got back from one of her dates with Mark, closing the front door to turn around and see you as her face falls.

“Hey…how are you?” She asks lightly, walking over to where you sat in the living room.

You don’t move your gaze away from the TV, or more so, the ice cream you were eating. “Fine. Why?” You reply monotonously, and Jessica looks at you defeatedly.

“Because sweetheart, it’s been two months and you’re still devouring pints of icecream at a time on our couch.”

“I don’t like life without him.” You spit out in reply, though your voice is weak, and the more you thought about how true the statement was, the closer you got to tears.

Jessica reaches over to brush some of your hair back from where it covered your face, making sure the two of you could make eye contact. “I know. He feels the same way, you know?”

“You’re just saying that.” You snap back instantly, but Jessica shakes her head.

“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t do that to you. Every time I go over to his place, he looks almost exactly like you do. He keeps beating himself up, saying he should’ve stuck to his plan for your birthday, that everything would’ve worked out perfectly if he knew you at least tolerated him before he indulged in your physical attractiveness.”

This finally gets your attention, and your face fills with confusion, feeling something other than sadness for the first time in two months. “Wh- what do you mean his plan for my birthday?”

Jessica seems surprised at the question. “Oh, I thought he would’ve told you. He was gonna pick you up from class and walk you back here so he could wish you a happy birthday.”

In an instant, all of the color drains from your face again. “Why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. He never told me.” Jessica answers seriously, now cementing the idea you had in your mind of what happened, everything clicking into place.

You finally speak again after what felt like forever of silence, your brain going 100 miles an hour. “...Do you know where he is now?” You ask seriously, and Jessica doesn’t hide her shock at your change in behavior.

“No, but I can find out. You okay?” She asks, and you just shake your head.

“No. No, not at all.” You reply, and you’re already up off the couch, rushing to put the pint of ice cream away and change into nicer clothes as Jessica texts Haechan, who just so happened to be at home…because his daily routine practically reflected yours over the past two months.

You knock harshly on his door, pacing back and forth as you wait for him to answer, nerves coursing through your entire being. After what felt like a lifetime, the door cracks open, and all of your movements pause. At first, it’s hardly open enough to see him at all, and you gulp back your awkwardness. “What do you-” He starts quietly, but he quickly recognizes you from the tiny view he allowed himself, and suddenly the door is swung wide open. “Y/n?”

You stare up at him, heart melting at the sight. He was in a big hoodie and wearing his glasses, making the corners of your mouth perk up in a smile. Though, the smile quickly drops as you take in the rest of his features. Jessica was right, he looked as bad as you. To be fair, he was still the most attractive man alive, but he had dark circles around his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

You lick your lips, which were now noticeably dry, building the courage to speak as you did so. “You were gonna pick me up from class on my birthday?”

His eyes go wide as he moves his gaze away from you for the first time since he opened the door. “I-”

“Hyuck.” You cut him off, staring up at him intently and getting him to crack with a huff of breath.

“Yeah…yeah I was. Jessica said it was your birthday. And we still weren’t friends then, but I would’ve felt bad not at least wishing you a happy birthday. So I texted Jessica to see where you were and decided I would just walk you back from class. And I-” He breaks off with a faint laugh as he recalls the memory. “I put on a pair of skinny jeans beforehand because I figured even if you hated me, you found me at least a little more tolerable in skinny jeans. Then I went to go pick you up. When you didn’t come out with the rest of your class, I went inside the lecture hall to see what was up or if I just missed you somehow. That’s when I saw you talking to your professor. That’s when I heard his comments. You weren’t even in anything close to scandalous anyways. You just dressed up for your birthday. You were pretty. That was it, so I figured it wasn’t a one-off thing. How you handled it made me think it wasn’t the first time for it to happen, either. You could barely see your wince. The same couldn’t be said for me, though. I was mad, fuming. I got out of there as soon as I could so that I’d be out of sight by the time you got out. If you saw me and started a conversation, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from bringing it up. God, I was so angry, and I figured that wasn’t what you wanted on your birthday.” He faced the ground while he spoke, but you studied his figure the entire time, your eyes finding their home as they landed on Haechan again after all this time. You hardly let him finish his last word before you speak up.

“Tell me you want to kiss me.” You say, and Haechan finally whips his head back up to face you, eyes wide in surprise. “Tell me you want to kiss me and have it mean something outside of these walls.”

“What?!” He responds, visibly thrown off. You don’t have the patience for it.

“Hyuck!” You say, and Haechan seems to come back to the moment, nodding his head rapidly.

“I do! I want to kiss you. Always.”

The biggest of smiles overtakes your face as you press up on your tiptoes to finally lock your lips with his again. One of his hands immediately flew to your waist, while the other placed itself lightly on the side of your face, holding you as though one harsh movement would cause this moment to break, this dream to end. When you pull back for air, Haechan wastes no time. “Y/n, please be my girlfriend. Please be mine. Please let me tell the entire world that you’re mine.” He says, his intonation practically making it a beg.

You nod your head before digging it into his chest in a tight hug. “I’m yours.”

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