#ncitynetwork

[choerrypuffs]

captain sparkle fingers revives me from the dead.

pairing: son of apollo!jaemin x daughter of hades!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst 

word count: 13.2k

author’s note: 3/4 done! omg i never thought we’d make it with all the emotional rollercoasters i’ve been on with this series 🥴 anyways thank you all so much for the love so far and i hope you guys like it! read the my 00 liner x camp half-blood series here! 

tag list: @junglewoos @forever-skz @treblesomeharmonies @inscentedreamer @notaroyal @jaehyunsjasmine @jishyucks @chuus-slug @kravitee @peachyyjaes @lenaluvs @struggle-kmpr @haikchoo-main @euphorin @ukiyoneo @strwbrryhoney @jeo-n @jinnieyeolele​ (please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!)

additional: special thanks to cat and moon for allowing me to put them in the fic <3333 

Of all the ways you thought your Saturday morning would go, spending it in the Underworld is definitely last on the list. 

You are, or technically your soul is, currently standing in the middle of the throne room in Hades’ Palace. It’s your first time here, so you make sure to take in the architecture since you’re assuming this is the last thing you’ll ever see before you’re sent off to one of the various sectors of the Underworld. The entire palace is made out of obsidian, the floors are bronze, and there are very minimal decorations. You notice a few skeleton soldiers scuttling around, but they don’t stay for longer than a few seconds.

The fact that the place is so wide and empty makes it extremely difficult for you to continue avoiding the giant elephant, or rather god, in the room right in front of you. 

The ruler of the Underworld and your dear old dad, AKA Hades himself, is sitting on his onyx throne made of bones with a very sour look on his face. He’s staring down at you, shaking his head with disapproval. His wife and goddess of spring, Persephone, is sitting beside him as she worriedly looks back and forth from you to him. 

“So, does this mean I’m dead?” you ask sheepishly, finally breaking the grim silence. 

“Not yet,” Hades answers flatly. “I brought you here because I wanted to know exactly what kind of trouble you got yourself into.”

“Well...I was on a mission,” you start, averting your eyes, “and, uh, there was a slight tussle with a Minotaur. And he may or may not have crushed me under his foot.” 

You and a small team of your siblings had been assigned to a classified mission that was investigating the mysterious augmentation of the monsters in Camp Half-Blood Forest and the concerning weakening of the Golden Fleece — a magical artifact that is integral to maintaining the protective border around the camp. However, your crew did not get very far because you received a distress signal from the heads of the camp, Mr. D and Chiron, informing you that many campers had been attacked by an enhanced Minotaur (along with other monsters) during a Capture the Flag game. Subsequently, you were immediately ordered to return to the camp. 

Unfortunately, that same Minotaur was waiting for you when you got back. 

Exhausted from shadow traveling (all Hades children are able to use shadows as a way of transportation) and caught off guard by the monster’s heightened abilities, you and your siblings struggled against it more so than you would like to admit. Before you even realized it, you had been knocked to the ground by a haphazard swing of the Minotaur’s axe and the last thing you remember seeing is the sole of its mangled foot descending upon you. 

You’d normally be embarrassed about it if you weren’t so concerned about your siblings along with the state of the camp as a whole. 

“Dionysus and Chiron are still sending my children out on these dangerous missions?” Hades demands. 

Why do you care, you want to ask. It probably just hurt his pride that his blood is doing the dirty work. 

You could count on one hand the amount of times you’ve interacted with your father, much less spoken to him face-to-face. It’s a running joke between you and your siblings that Hades neglects his children just as Olympus neglects him. 

“We’re the best suited for it,” you say nonchalantly, shrugging.

He gives you a pointed look, and you realize how ironic your words sound while you’re literally at death’s door. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Y/N,” Hades sighs, rubbing his temples. You wonder if gods get headaches too. 

“Well, it’s not like I want to be here,” you defend before quickly adding, “No offense.” 

“Your father is just concerned about you,” Persephone chimes in gently. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. It’s not that you dislike Persephone in any way; in fact, she’s actually quite sweet. Much more so than her husband. However, her words hold absolutely zero weight to you since she has no involvement in your relationship with Hades.

You open your mouth to politely brush her off but get distracted when you realize that your incorporeal form is flickering. You look down at your hands, which are growing more and more transparent. When you reach up to touch your face, your hand simply passes through you as if you’re made of thin air. It takes you a beat to finally register that you’re disappearing. Just as you go to question whether or not you’re actually dying this time, Hades speaks:

“You’re waking up.” He nods approvingly. 

A part of you feels somewhat disappointed that you are leaving so soon. Like you had more to say to Hades. As if you wanted to stay and keep talking. What were you going to say anyway? Tell him about your day? What Camp Half-Blood is like? Your interests and hobbies? 

It’s almost laughable.

“Y/N, I—” Hades starts, but his voice sounds so far away. 

You don’t get to hear the rest of what he says because you feel your conscious fading, and your eyelids begin to droop. Eventually, everything grows dark and quiet. 

You’re not sure what you thought was going to happen, but there’s only nothingness after that. It’s what you imagine being sucked into a black hole in outer space feels like—a darkness so black that you can’t even feel your own existence anymore. At first, you think you’ve died for real this time, and now you’re stuck in a strange limbo between the real world and the Underworld since you were in the middle of waking up.

Much to your surprise, you don’t feel scared at all. In fact, there’s a serenity in death that you don’t quite expect. Feeling exhausted, you want nothing more than for the darkness to swallow you. You think about your siblings and wonder if they’ll be angry with you for leaving like this. You wonder if your mom will be alright on her own. You wonder if Hades will be happy to see you again. A small, small part of you wonders if he’ll let you stay in the palace with him. An even smaller part of you wonders if he’ll be proud of you and what you’ve achieved.

Just as you feel yourself begin to fall asleep, there’s suddenly a beam of bright light that hurts your eyes. You can’t tell if it’s because the light is truly that bright or if it’s because everything around you is so dark. Either way, it jars you out of your drowsiness. You’re slightly annoyed, wanting to shield your face but unable to since you’re too weak to move. 

Someone is shouting, but their words are muddled—like you’re underwater. You want to retreat back into the darkness, but the light grows brighter and the voice gets louder.

“—Y/N!”

Someone's calling your name.

It’s not a voice you recognize, yet there’s something about it that immediately draws you to it. Despite not having enough energy to even shield your eyes, you slowly lift your arm and reach towards both the light and the voice. And as if the light and voice reached out as well and pulled you out of whatever void you were in, your eyes are suddenly wide open and staring up at a white ceiling.

There are more voices now, and they’re all shouting. 

However, you’re only focused on one voice. It’s still calling your name, The figures in front of you are hazy, but one is crystal clear. A boy, with light brown hair and kind eyes that are still kind even when his handsome features are twisted with panic. His hand is above you, an amber glow emitting from his fingertips and palms. You immediately identify it as the light you saw before. It is a warm, loving light. It embraces you rather than swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Y/N, can you hear me?” The boy’s lips are moving, but your ears feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton balls. 

You open your mouth to tell him, but nothing comes out. 

“Y/N?” 

Slowly, you lift your hand again and lace your fingers through his. His warmth envelops you like a spring breeze, and you smile weakly. 

“Yes,” is all you can whisper. 

You drift off again, lulled to sleep as if you were basking under the gentle rays of the sun. 

You wake up to a white ceiling again. 

Unlike last time, it’s deathly (pun intended) quiet. 

And it’s not nearly as cozy and fuzzy. 

Rather, it’s the total opposite. You feel like you’ve broken every bone in your body, which might actually be possible, considering how you were literally crushed. You open your mouth to call out for someone but can only muster a wheeze. Luckily, someone notices because you hear footsteps headed your way. The curtain that surrounds your cot is pushed aside, and you recognize him instantly. 

There's a boy with light brown hair and a big smile standing there. You’re not sure why you’re so certain, but you know that he’s the one who revived you. He’s so pretty that he feels more like an illusion than an actual person, but the comfort of his palm against your forehead when he walks over and checks your temperature solidifies his authenticity. 

“Good,” he mumbles to himself, taking a seat on the stool next to your bed. “your fever’s gone down.” 

You try to speak again, but your throat feels like sandpaper and you burst into a coughing fit. 

“Here, drink some water,” he encourages gently, reaching over and handing you a water bottle. 

“What happened?” you groan after taking a couple of sips. You try to sit up but a sharp pain in your side makes you falter. 

“Well...you died,” he states matter-of-factly, helping you lean back against the wall. “But I brought you back.” 

“Yeah, no shit. Thank you, Captain...Sparkle Fingers?” You end it as if you’re asking a question, cringing at the terrible insult. You were going to say Captain Obvious, but you vividly remember his fingertips glowing while you were in and out of consciousness and the nickname just popped into your brain. 

It probably should have stayed there. 

He looks concerned, leaning forward. “Um, let me check your head again.”

You swat his hands away. “I’m fine. It’s just a shitty nickname, Sparky.” 

He chuckles. “I’m Jaemin.” 

Ah, Na Jaemin. 

Since you and your siblings are normally always on missions to keep Camp Half-Blood safe, you ironically don’t spend a lot of time at the camp itself, so you don’t know most of the campers here. However, Jaemin’s reputation precedes him. The favored son of Apollo, he runs the infirmary and is basically the reason why campers are able to be as reckless as they are during spars and even missions. 

Not to brag, but you and your siblings have never gotten any severe injuries that a little nectar and ambrosia couldn’t fix, so you haven’t been here much. 

Well, until now. 

Wait—siblings.

Frantically looking around, you realize that the infirmary is completely empty other than the two of you. Turning back, you grab Jaemin by the shirt in a half-threatening, half-desperate manner. 

“Where are my siblings?” you demand. 

Jaemin barely flinches at your outburst, calmly removing your hands from him. “They’re fine. They weren’t as hurt as you, so they were healed pretty quickly. They’re resting in their cabin. They’ve been visiting you, but it’s really early right now, so they’re not here.” 

He speaks in such a gentle but firm tone that you find yourself immediately believing him. Then again, you have no reason not to. It’s just that you’re not used to being in a setting where the people around you (other than your kin) can be trusted. You feel the panic within slowly dissipate, and the relief hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Oh,” you whisper, slightly breathless. “I see.” 

“Deep breaths,” he says soothingly. 

You inhale and exhale, waiting for your heart rate to slow. Once you’ve pulled yourself together, you realize you haven’t even told Jaemin your name, since you were too busy grabbing him by the collar and yelling at him. “S-Sorry about that, I’m a little on edge.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he says jovially, having patiently waited for you to calm down.

“By the way, I’m—”

“Y/N. I know who you are,” Jaemin cuts in, smiling. His smile is so bright (those damn Apollo kids) that you’re slightly unsettled by it.

You eye him suspiciously. “It’s not really that weird that you know who I am, but the way you’re saying it is creeping me out.” 

“Oh?” He blinks innocently. “You didn’t seem too bothered by it last time.”

“Wait, what? Now, you’re making it sound like we hooked up or something,” you protest. 

“You don’t remember?” He gasps dramatically. 

“Okay, Sparkles, cut the bull—” 

Jaemin smoothly grabs your hand, nudging it open, before intertwining his fingers with your own. 

You let out a noise that’s a mixture of a gasp and a squeak. 

“Ring any bells?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You barely register his words, too busy gawking at your entangled hands.

You’ve never understood the appeal of handholding because it’s only a matter of time before both your hands become sweaty messes, but you think you get it now. His hand is warm and calloused and absolutely dwarfs yours. You find a solace in it that you’ve never had before. You wouldn’t mind holding it for a long time, even if it gets a little sweaty. 

Oh gods, you think to yourself, am I really this touch-starved?

You suddenly feel hot, and you wonder if that fever is coming back. Ripping your hand away from his, you point an accusatory finger at him. “What the hell was that?” 

“Aw, you really don’t remember? It made my heart flutter, you know,” Jaemin admits sheepishly. 

“You’re saying I did that?” you ask incredulously. 

“You did.” 

“You’re lying,” you snap. You wish you were confident that he was, but there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you did do that. You’re not sure how and where you got the courage to do so, since you were in the middle of dying. Who knew that teetering between life and death has the same effect as alcohol? It must be some sort of revival high.

“Well, if that’s what you want to believe.” He seems slightly disappointed, but you can’t tell if he’s just messing around again. 

You open your mouth to shamelessly deny it some more, but instead, you wince at a sudden stab of pain. Looking down, you notice a bit of blood seeping through your hospital gown. Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, his fingertips immediately brushing against it. A familiar glow emits from them, and the comforting warmth of his healing numbs the pain. 

“Your stitches must have been pulled,” Jaemin says. “You’ve got a pretty large gash on your side, so don’t move too much.” 

“Eh, it’s just a scratch,” you say nonchalantly, shrugging. “Give me some nectar and ambrosia. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of injuries, sometimes in situations with much less resources than now, and you’ve always come out of it alright — albeit with an occasional nasty scar. A couple of stitches don’t bother you. 

“Y/N, you died,” Jaemin says slowly, “you understand that, right?” 

“Crystal clear,” you reply wryly. You make the executive decision to not tell him about your spiritual trip to the Underworld, lest it freaks him out even more. 

“You nearly broke every bone in your body, not to mention severe surface wounds. This isn’t something that you can just walk off with a little nectar and ambrosia. You’re going to be on bed rest for at least two weeks. And even after that, you’ll still have to take it easy for a little longer before you can even think about holding a weapon again,” he explains. 

Your jaw nearly hits the tile. “You’re not serious.” 

“That should be my line. I can’t believe you think you can heal in a couple days.” Jaemin shakes his head. 

“I don’t even think I’ve ever physically been at this camp for two weeks.” 

You might’ve stayed at Camp Half-Blood for a little while when you first arrived, but you’ve basically always been on the road with your siblings. Since Hades' children are so powerful, they’re essentially the only ones that can successfully complete missions without grave injuries (with the exception of this time). You’ve always felt that you were more suited for protecting the campers rather than, say, canoe racing with the other campers. 

“Well, now’s your chance!” Jaemin claps his hands together cheerfully. 

“I have a mission to finish. Ask Mr. D and Chiron!” you protest vehemently. 

“Mr. D and Chiron are the ones who ordered you to bed rest,” he replies firmly, crossing his arms. “After consulting my professional medical opinion, of course.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re just some dude with sparkly magic.” 

Jaemin looks extremely offended. 

“Anyways,” you ignore him, “where are they? I’m going to talk to them right now. There’s no way I’m staying here.”

“They’re not here,” Jaemin starts carefully, “They’re out on...business.” 

You don’t like how he hesitates. Mr. D and Chiron would never leave the camp unattended unless it was something dire. “What happened while I was out?” 

Jaemin pauses, his expression clearly indicating that he’s weighing the pros and cons of telling you. 

“You can tell me now, or I’ll just find out myself,” you say matter-of-factly. 

He sighs, and you know you’ve won. 

“The Golden Fleece is gone,” he relents. 

It takes you a minute to process the bomb that he dropped on you. 

“Like...gone as in gone for spring cleaning or something? Because it does look filthy—”

“Gone as in stolen, Y/N. Also, it’s summer.” Jaemin raises an eyebrow. 

You and your siblings had been suspecting that someone was poisoning the Golden Fleece, which is why it was weakening, and now it all makes sense—whoever it is was preparing to take it.

“How are you so calm about this? Shouldn’t we be in bunkers right now? Without it, we’re basically just a bunch of sitting ducks for monsters!” you nearly yell. 

“It’ll be fine. The Hecate kids casted a protective spell over the camp, and it should hold for now. At least until we figure out what’s happening,” Jaemin explains. 

“Does anyone else know about this?” you ask. 

“Just Mr. D and Chiron, me, you, and the Hecate kids,” Jaemin says, “Mr. D and Chiron don’t want to send the camp into a frenzy. They want to keep as much normalcy as possible.” 

If the perpetrator was able to steal the Golden Fleece, then you have no doubt that they’ll be able to break the Hecate kids’ spell. You don’t doubt the Hecate kids’ abilities, but it’s just as Jaemin says: this is only a temporary solution. 

“Even so, we have to go find it,” you persist. 

“You are not going to do anything, except rest,” Jaemin corrects, “Don’t worry. Chiron and Mr. D are going to sort it all out.” 

“You can’t make me stay here,” you argue petulantly. 

He raises an amused eyebrow. “You wanna bet on that?” 

The two of you have an intense staredown. Well, intense on your end. It’s more...smiley on his part.

Even injured, you’re certain that you’re a better fighter than he is, but there’s something ominous about how calm and relaxed his aura is. Even though his posture seems laidback, you can tell by a glance that he’s stronger than he looks. You hate types like him—unassuming. It’s as if he’s inviting you to make a run for it, like a lion waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting gazelle. 

The stubborn, more competitive side of you believes that you’re good enough to get past him. However, the rational, more logical side of you understands that you’ll only be a liability to everyone else in your current state. You tend to routinely ignore the latter side of you, but now it's being backed up by the steel wall of defense that is Na Jaemin. 

“Fine, I’ll stay,” you grumble so quietly that it’s difficult to tell whether you were speaking or making a noise. 

But Jaemin still hears you, beaming. “Great!” 

What a great word to describe him, you think to yourself, this man is the literal definition of beaming. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

He looks at you as if the answer is obvious. 

“Sleep, of course. And get used to it too, because you’re going to be doing a lot of it.” 

You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a threat or not. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve slept when you’re awoken by some rustling and the sound of a stool being pulled forward. Groggily blinking, you look up and see the faces of your siblings. Cat, your sister, is staring at you with wide eyes. She’s got a couple of cuts and bruises on her but appears to be fine other than that. Fine enough to crop her orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and tie it in the front and pair it with some high-waisted jeans. Her dark hair is also meticulously styled and parted to one side, straightened to perfection. She has always been the more fashionable sister. 

Your brother, Sicheng, seems to have been injured the least. He has one scrape on his cheek, and that’s about it. However, he doesn't look as stylish. His hair is sticking up, his t-shirt is crumpled, and he’s wearing sweatpants. It’s obvious he rolled right out of bed (or was dragged by Cat). But he is just as surprised to see you looking back at them two of them. 

“Y/N?” Sicheng calls out tentatively. 

You don’t know how relieved you are to see them safe and sound until you realize there are tears forming in your eyes. Hades is well-known for not having many children, and it’s only ever been the three of you together. And it’s not like you have many friends at Camp Half-Blood, so they’re basically all you have. 

But you definitely will not be caught crying by them because you will never live that down. 

“Whoever moved your chair and made that awful noise,” you mumble, drying your tears out of sheer willpower, “your mom’s a hoe.” 

Sicheng doesn’t even try to hide his guilt. 

“Thank the gods you’re awake. You’ve been out for almost a week, and we thought you were in a coma,” Cat says, “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m a little battered, but nothing I’m not used to,” you grunt, sitting up. “I actually woke up earlier...wait, what time is it?” 

“5 p.m.” 

You try to calculate how long you’ve been asleep, but then you realize you didn’t know what time you woke up last time either. In fact, you don’t even know what day it is. The concept of time means nothing to you right now. 

Gods, I need to get out of this bed.

“I brought you cereal,” Cat says, pulling out a box of Lucky Charms from a bag. “Sicheng, get the milk and bowl.” 

Food has been the last thing on your mind, but the moment you see that creepy ginger leprechaun, your stomach lets out a growl that rivals one of a dinosaur. 

“This is why you’re my favorite, Cat,” you say happily. 

Sicheng furrows his eyebrows, but nonetheless reaches down and pulls out a styrofoam bowl and a pint of milk before pouring it into the bowl. 

You and Cat watch on in horror, as he pours the milk before the cereal. 

“What, on Demeter’s green Earth, are you doing?” Cat asks slowly. 

“Huh?” Sicheng shoots her a quizzical look before handing the bowl to her. 

You and Cat recoil from it like he just handed over poison. He looks at you and then Cat, clearly lost and waiting for someone to fill him in. 

“What is wrong with you?” you gasp, mortified.

“What?” Sicheng demands. 

“You just...poured the milk before the cereal,” Cat whispers. 

Now, he looks even more confused. “So what?” 

You and Cat exchange solemn glances. 

“He’s a serial killer,” Cat states, “you know I love a good pun, but pun not intended. This is serious.” 

“We must remove him from the family registry at once,” you say swiftly, “no one must know that we have someone who pours milk before cereal in our bloodline. It would bring dishonor.” 

“You guys are so annoying. Do you want the milk or not?” Sicheng snaps. 

“No need to get your panties in a twist,” you reply, gesturing for it. “Hand it over.” 

He rolls his eyes but obeys, and Cat also gives you the cereal. You have to carefully shake the cereal into the bowl so that the milk doesn’t splash all over the place. Despite your best efforts, a couple of drops still end up getting on your hospital gown.

“Great. Like I’m not dirty enough already,” you groan. You feel like an absolute swamp monster, sitting in almost a week’s worth of filth, and you make a mental note to take a shower as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to have to use some sort of Pavlovian technique and condition him into pouring the cereal first,” Cat ponders. 

Sicheng lets out a defeated sigh, but he doesn’t say anything else. After all, he’s used to life with two sisters. 

A comfortable silence falls between the three of you as you devour your cereal. You have so much you want to tell them, but you’re not even sure where to start. You want to tell them everything that happened with Jaemin (well, mostly Cat because Sicheng wouldn’t care). You debate on mentioning the Golden Fleece being stolen, but you opt not to since you want to respect Mr. D and Chiron’s wishes. 

You also try to figure out a way to bring up your encounter with Hades. 

But luckily (or not), you don’t have to because Cat does, piping up, “Jaemin says you died for a moment.” 

The underlying question is loud and clear. 

Did you see our dad? 

“Yeah, I did,” you say, both confirming her statement and also answering the question. 

Understanding the double meaning, Cat pauses for a moment before asking, “What...What did he say?

Sicheng tries to keep a straight face, to act like he doesn’t care, but you can tell by the way he’s clenching his fist that he’s hanging onto your every word. 

“He didn’t say much. I just told him what happened,” you say quickly, “and then I woke up.”

Neither of them know how to respond, and everyone grows quiet again. This time, it’s a little more awkward. Cat, again, breaks the silence. 

“Sicheng likes someone.” 

Now, that instantly shatters the awkward atmosphere. 

You perk up so quickly that you almost pull another stitch, eyes sparkling. Sicheng is looking at Cat like she just revealed the country’s nuclear codes to an enemy of the state. He’s also blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Who is it? When did all of this happen?” you ask, impatient for the juicy details. 

“No, wait—” Sicheng begins frantically.

“Her name is Moon,” Cat ignores him completely, not hesitating to delve into the story. “she’s a Poseidon kid. They met a couple days ago, while he was here with you, and she came to the infirmary to get some Tylenol because she had a headache. He thought she was cute, so he started talking to her—”

“Sicheng talked to a girl first?” you ask incredulously. 

“I know right? Anyways, they started talking, and she ended up lending him some manga to read since she likes anime and manga,” Cat gushes, “and he’s reading it! He doesn’t know a single thing about that stuff, but he’s doing it for her!” 

“Stop, oh my gods, that is so cute.” You cover your mouth. 

Sicheng has his head in his hands. 

“So, this is what you’ve been up to while I was dying, you little rascal?” You glance at him, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“How did you even find out?” Sicheng lifts his head up, ignoring your provocation and turning to Cat. 

“Did you really think you could just walk in and start reading One Piece and I wouldn’t question it?” Cat teases. “I asked my Aphrodite friend to snoop around, and she told me everything.” 

“You’re evil,” Sicheng hisses. 

“Well, when do we get to meet her?” you ask expectantly. 

“Never, if I have anything to do about it,” he mumbles.

“You don’t, so when do we get to meet her?” Cat replies, not missing a beat.

“—While I hate to interrupt this extremely riveting conversation that I was most definitely not eavesdropping on,” a different voice begins, “visiting hours are now over.” 

Sicheng turns toward Jaemin, staring up at him as if he just saved his life. 

Which might be a little true. 

You’ve been so invested in Sicheng’s love life that you didn’t even notice that the sun is setting. It’s only until you’ve all stopped talking that you realize how quiet the infirmary is, since everyone has left. 

“Alright, time to go. See you later, Y/N!” Sicheng stands up, giving you a half-assed side hug, before speedwalking away. 

“Don’t worry,” Cat reassures you calmly, “I’ll get it out of him one way or another.”

“I’m counting on you,” you nod. 

She waves you and Jaemin goodbye before leaving as well. 

“That was certainly...interesting,” Jaemin remarks after Cat is out of earshot. 

“I bet it was, you eavesdropper,” you smirk. 

He chuckles. “Can you blame me?” 

No, you can’t. 

“Anyways, here you go.” Jaemin gives you a bag containing toiletries, a change of clothes, and a towel. “I’ll show you where the restroom is.” 

You’re grateful that you’re finally going to be able to shower, but you’re also slightly humiliated that he noticed you needed one before you said anything. You wonder if you really smell that bad, trying to inconspicuously sniff yourself to see. Obviously, you don’t smell amazing, but it’s not as if you reeked either. 

Jaemin offers you his hand.

“I can walk by myself,” you retort stubbornly. A small part of you wants to take it because you remember how nice it was when you held his hand last time, but you’re much too prideful for it. 

He fights off a smile and retracts his hand. “Be my guest.” 

Annoyed at his smug expression, you kick off your blanket and get up. Well, “get up” is putting it nicely. The moment your feet hit the floor and you put your weight on them, your legs begin wobbling as if you’re a newborn giraffe. Pain shoots through your whole body, like mini daggers traveling through your bloodstream. Even though your broken bones were mended by the ambrosia, nectar, and Jaemin’s healing, they still feel broken. 

Because you refuse to admit Jaemin was right, you prepare to take a step forward. Luckily, Jaemin grabs your hand and places it on his arm for support before you can fall flat on your face. You don’t reject him this time, allowing him to help you hobble to the restroom. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, “you knew that was going to happen.” 

“You seem like the kind of person that always does things the hard way,” Jaemin hums, “so I didn’t really see the point in arguing.” 

Damn, he’s right again. 

“But I like that about you,” he notes, saying it so casually that it feels like he’s talking to himself.

You can’t tell if he’s being semi-flirtatious on purpose or if he genuinely doesn’t realize it. Either way, you’re still falling for it—hook, line, and sinker. Your cheeks are practically two round radiators, and your heart is pounding so hard that it’s painful. 

“Here we are,” Jaemin says, leading you into the restroom. He points to a small, step stool that’s in the shower. “You can sit on that while you shower.” 

You feel somewhat like an old grandma that is too old to stand in the shower, but you know you have no choice if you don’t want to collapse. 

“If you need help, I can get one of my sisters—”

“I’ll be fine,” you cut in, holding up a hand to stop him. 

Jaemin nods before leaving. Once he’s gone, you immediately make a beeline for the mirror. You can’t help but let out a gasp when you see your reflection. Your hair is absolutely disgusting, and your skin is so dry that it’s flaking off. The fact that Jaemin saw you like this makes you want to die from embarrassment. 

Not that you should be caring about what he thinks.

Shifting your attention, you fish out your toothbrush and toothpaste and furiously brush your teeth until your wrist is sore. Careful not to pull your stitches, you hop into the shower, reveling in the feeling of being able to wash away all the grime. 

When you emerge from your shower, Jaemin has turned off most of the lights in the infirmary. There’s a small lamp on the front desk, where he’s sitting, and there’s another lamp on the nightstand next to your cot. He’s so immersed in his work that he doesn’t notice you. A small smile makes its way to your face as you watch him. The dim lighting makes his skin glow; there’s a certain vibrance that all Apollo kids have, and Jaemin looks absolutely ethereal. His tousled hair falls into his eyes, but he’s too busy to brush it aside. He’s chewing on his lip as he furiously scribbles on a clipboard. He’s rather endearing like this, not so...composed. 

You begin to feel creepy for staring, so you clear your throat. Jaemin shoots his head up, giving you a tired smile. 

“Why’d you turn all the lights off?” you ask, padding over to your cot. 

“The infirmary closes at 8,” Jaemin says. “I’m finishing some paperwork and then heading off to my cabin.” 

“Wait, you’re just gonna leave me here?” you gawk. 

“The Apollo Cabin is nearby if there’s a medical emergency—” 

“I’m not talking about that. I mean what am I gonna do here alone? I’ll be bored out of my mind!” you complain. 

“Sleep?” 

“I already slept all day. Plus, my shower woke me up.” You shake your head. 

“Then, would you like for me to stay with you?” Jaemin grins mischievously. 

You shoot him a pointed look, even though your heart skips a beat. You loathe the fact that such a corny, cheesy line worked on you. 

“By the way, aren’t you scared that I’ll run off when you’re gone?” you ask, refusing to acknowledge his last remark.

He doesn’t respond, simply smiling. Even though he isn’t saying anything, it’s perfectly understood that he has already taken precautions for that. This man is always two steps ahead of you. 

“Fine, but at least bring me some books or something. You can’t expect me to go to bed at 8 every day,” you sigh. 

“Alright, I’ll stop by the library tomorrow,” he agrees, walking over to you and setting down a small plate of nectar and ambrosia. “and here, just in case.” 

“Thanks.”

Jaemin pauses, gaze trained on something. You’re not sure what he’s looking at until he reaches over and gently grasps a lock of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger, catching a droplet of water that was about to drip onto your collarbone. 

You inhale sharply, holding your breath. It’s so quiet that you’re afraid he’ll hear the thumping of your heart. 

“I should get you a hair dryer too,” he says quietly. Again, he uses such a nonchalant tone that it’s as if he’s just musing to himself. He’s so calm, yet you feel like you’re about to pass out. 

This is so pathetic, you think to yourself, I seriously need to get out more.

At this rate, you’ll be wrapped around his finger in no time. 

“Make sure to dry your hair properly. The AC is super cold in here, so don’t get sick,” Jaemin warns. You’re so frazzled that you don’t notice how he shakily flexes his hand when he pulls it back. 

A common cold is the least of your worries right now. 

“Well, good night, Y/N,” Jaemin says softly. 

“Night, Sparkles,” you say numbly, the nickname just naturally slipping out again. Even after he leaves, you continue to sit there in a daze. 

Without realizing, your hand slowly reaches up and brushes through the ends of your hair. 

Jaemin keeps his promise, bringing back both a hairdryer and some books from the library. Curiously, Fifty Shades of Grey is among his selections for you. 

“Huh. I didn’t know we had this,” you had said, holding up the book. 

“Apparently, the head counselor of the Athena Cabin ordered it,” Jaemin had replied, shrugging. 

“Interesting.” 

However, after a couple of days, you were bored again. After all, you can only read so much of terribly-written BDSM smut before it’s not funny anymore. Cat and Sicheng still visit, but it’s mainly to bring you junk food. There also haven’t been any updates on Sicheng’s relationship with Moon either, much to yours and Cat’s disappointment. 

You come in and out of sleep, but you never stay asleep for long. On the bright side, you’re able to stand up and walk around without assistance now, but you still can’t strain your body. Every time you think about the fact that you have a week or two more of this, you want to scream out of frustration. You’ve never realized how restless you were until now. 

You’re lying on your cot, trying to figure out if the ceiling paint is a cream beige or more of a neutral beige, when you notice Jaemin walking towards you in your peripheral vision. 

You haven’t spoken to him much since he’s been pretty busy the past couple of days, not only running the infirmary but also taking care of the duties of Mr. D and Chiron since they left him in charge of the camp while they were gone. You never realized just how many people come up to him on the daily and expect him to solve their problems—and how he actually does. It seems like a pretty heavy burden to place on one person, but Jaemin has handled it pretty well. Not only that, he still makes sure to keep a watchful eye on you and always leaves some ambrosia and nectar by your bedside even if you don’t see him do it. 

Sitting up, you notice that he’s carrying some sort of instrument in his arms. It’s one you’ve never seen before—golden and U-shaped, it’s similar to a harp but much smaller. 

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Jaemin says, carefully setting down the instrument and another book titled Lyre for Beginners. 

“What is that?” you ask.

“A lyre!” he replies cheerfully. “My father is famous for playing it.” 

“Don’t you think your plate is a little too full right now to be taking on a new hobby?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I do, which is why I’m not going to be the one playing it.” Jaemin smiles. 

You blink, finally understanding. “No.” 

“Yes!” 

“But I don’t want to learn the lyre,” you groan. 

“Do you have anything better to do?” he counters. 

“No, but—”

“It won’t be so bad. I’ll teach you,” Jaemin insists, flipping open the music book to a song entitled Hot Cross Buns. 

“You say it like it’s so easy, like you’re not some sort of virtuoso,” you say wryly. But he’s right, you have nothing better to do, so you begrudgingly indulge him. 

Jaemin sets the lyre on his lap, carefully positioning his fingers over the strings. He’s concentrating so hard that he could probably burn a hole through the sheet music. When he begins playing, you can’t help but furrow your brows at how…off it sounds. You’re no lyre expert, but even you can tell that it’s not good. The notes are out of tune, and the way he’s plucking the strings is clumsy and awkward. His eyes are darting back and forth from the music to his hands, and you finally notice the band-aids all over his fingers. 

He finishes the song with one last painful pluck, and he looks so relieved that you actually feel a little bad. 

“Well, how was it?” he asks, out of breath for some reason. 

You feel bad, but you’ve never been one to lie. “That was…terrible.” 

Jaemin doesn’t seem surprised by your answer, sighing. “Yeah. I’m not very musically gifted.” 

“Wait, aren’t all Apollo kids supposed to be musically gifted?” you ask. 

“My strong suit has always been healing, and I really focused on that,” Jaemin explains, “which caused me to neglect my archery and music abilities, so they’re not stellar. I don’t mind archery, but I actually really dislike playing instruments.” 

“Then why are you teaching me how to play the lyre?” You laugh. 

“Every time I looked over at you, you looked really bored, so I thought maybe this would be fun,” he admits, actually looking a little shy, “I got my sister to teach me some basics, but it didn’t really turn out well, as you’ve noticed.” 

“Is that why your fingers are covered in band-aids?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles to himself. “They actually hurt pretty bad.” 

You can’t help but smile. The fact that he went through all of that trouble just for you makes you indescribably happy. Your heart feels so full, pounding hard against your ribcage, but it’s not racing in that giddy, schoolgirl way like it was before. It’s beating in a way that makes you feel like Jaemin could be more than just a silly little crush—

You catch yourself. 

What was that? 

There’s nothing wrong with getting flustered by a cute boy from time to time, but you’ve never felt that emotion in your life, and you don’t know how to handle it. 

So, you do what you do best—deny and bury it. 

Get it together. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. 

“Well, so much for being Apollo’s golden child,” you tease weakly, after realizing that you should probably respond before Jaemin notices something is wrong. 

Jaemin looks genuinely embarrassed by the title. “I hate it when people call me that.” 

“Why?” You suppose now is not a good time to inform him that everyone calls him that. 

“Because it makes me feel like I have to live up to a certain expectation and that people will be disappointed when they realize I don’t,” Jaemin confesses. His figure is slumped, and he suddenly looks so small and vulnerable. That bright, almost unnatural smile is nowhere to be found. Now, he seems a lot more like a man who’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Jaemin is much more human like this. Less god. 

“Pretty lame, huh?” He laughs harshly. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, “but I like that about you.” 

You echo his words so instinctively. Though you’re not sure if he was being serious when he said them to you, you genuinely mean it. You like this side of him much more than the perfect golden child that smiles no matter what happens image that he tries so hard to project. You wish he showed this side more often. 

I like...

“I see,” Jaemin says softly, unable to look you in the eye. His entire face is a glowing pink, even reaching all the way to the back of his neck. You’ve never seen him this flustered before, and you can’t help but giggle. It seems he can dish it, but he can’t take it. 

When he realizes you’re laughing at him, he blushes harder. Grinning smugly, you take the lyre from his hands.

“Now then. Let’s play some lyre, shall we?” 

All he can do is nod. 

The two of you spend the next hour plucking aimlessly at the strings, both clueless on what to do. You manage to get through Hot Cross Buns, but neither of you know if it was correct or not. You’ve just started Twinkle Twinkle Little Star when Cat comes running into the infirmary. 

“Moon is talking to another man!”

You nearly snap a string, mid-strum. Jaemin also whirls around excitedly, a lot more invested than you thought. 

Cat nearly crashes into your bed, unable to stop her momentum. She is able to catch herself just in time, pausing to take in one big breath before spilling everything.

 “It’s Lucas, a Hebe kid! They’re eating together at the Dining Pavilion, and Sicheng is trying to spy on them,” Cat is speaking so quickly that you can barely keep up, “Either way, you have to come see this, Y/N!” 

You’re already halfway out of your cot, slipping on your shoes. 

“Not so fast,” Jaemin interrupts, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be on bed rest, remember?” 

“Come on, Sparky, it’s not like I’ll be doing anything that’s straining my body,” you plead, “I’ll come right back—actually, you can come with me! That way, you can make sure I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t. You want to know what’s happening too, right?” 

Jaemin hesitates, actually considering it. 

“Yeah, Sparky,” Cat joins in, adapting the nickname. “This is an emergency! If we wait any longer, they might not be there anymore.” 

“Okay, fine,” he gives in pretty easily, “but only for a little bit.” 

You and Cat exchange grins. 

The three of you make a mad dash (well, more of a swift powerwalk because Jaemin won’t allow you to run) to the Dining Pavilion. You all duck under an empty table, scanning for Sicheng. 

Fortunately, you notice Sicheng sitting all by himself at a table far off in the corner, very obviously spying on two people right across from him. You assume that the pair, a guy and a girl, is Lucas and Moon. Lucas has floppy brown hair and a face that reminds you of a Golden Retriever. Appropriately, he is goofing off. Moon is laughing at something he’s saying, and when you see her, you know why Sicheng and Lucas are fighting over her. She’s wearing thin, round glasses and has black shoulder-length hair. She’s so pretty, and her smile is absolutely adorable. Lucas seems to think so too because he stops what he’s doing to watch her laugh, a small smile on his face. 

Your heart hurts for Sicheng, who’s staring at her with so much longing that you think he’s going to start crying right then and there. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Jaemin whispers, “but they’re really cute together.”

That gets him a double elbow to the ribs. 

“Who’s side are you on?” you whisper back furiously. 

“Sicheng can come back from this,” Cat says determinedly. 

Her words linger in the air as the three of you keep watching, growing more and more discouraged. 

“Sicheng!” Cat whisper-yells, finally having had enough and trying to catch his attention. When he turns and sees all of you, he grows paler than a ghost. His expression is a mix of dread, fear, frustration, and exhaustion. 

“What are you doing here?” Sicheng asks through gritted teeth. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch some doofus steal your girl?” Cat demands. 

“Want us to go over there and teach him a lesson?” you offer. 

“You can’t give up now!” Jaemin chimes in. 

Now, Sicheng just looks mad. Getting up from his seat, he marches right over to you three. For some reason, you suddenly feel like a child that was caught stealing candy as he looms over you. 

“We need to talk,” he states, crossing his arms.

The three of you obediently crawl out from under the table and follow him back to the infirmary, walking in a single file line behind him like a bunch of ducklings. Once he arrives at your cot, he points at it. 

“Sit,” he orders, looking at you and Cat. 

The two of you carefully sit, hands folded dolicely in your laps. 

“And you too. Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Sicheng snaps, turning towards Jaemin, who was trying to make a smooth escape. 

Jaemin, mid-tiptoeing away, laughs nervously before sitting down next to you. Cat stifles a snicker at him being caught, while you mutter “traitor” underneath your breath. After you’ve all situated, Sicheng takes a deep breath. 

“What the actual hell is wrong with you?” he asks, trying to keep his voice down but only somewhat successful at it. “There’s a difference between meddling and just straight up stalking!” 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Cat grumbles, “we weren’t stalking you.”

“Yeah, we were just observing,” you retort. 

“Do I look like I’m in the mood to be playing this game right now?” 

You two fall quiet. 

“And you!” Sicheng glares at Jaemin. “Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one? I thought you were supposed to make sure Y/N stays on bed rest?”

“Yeah, it’s all Sparky’s fault,” Cat says quickly. 

Jaemin gawks at her. 

“We wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for Pikachu over here!” You immediately take advantage of the diversion, dropping a new nickname on the fly. 

He looks betrayed for about three seconds before furrowing his brows. “First of all, I feel like this nickname thing has completely derailed from its original meaning. Calling me Pikachu implies that I can generate electricity, when in reality—” 

“Enough!” Sicheng yells.

The three of you shut up. 

“You two always do this,” Sicheng sighs, “You distract from the conversation so much that no one remembers what we were supposed to be talking about.”

You and Cat exchange guilty looks. 

“Listen, Moon is—I’m serious about her, okay? So, please. I don’t need any more stress,” Sicheng says quietly. 

“Okay, we understand. We took it too far, and I’m sorry,” you apologize genuinely. 

Cat scoots to the side before patting the empty spot beside her. Sicheng reluctantly sits between the two of you. 

“We were too much. Sorry,” Cat says as well, “we were just worried about you.” 

“Were you really worried or just wanting to be entertained?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Both,” she replies, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “But we really are sorry.” 

You do the same, nudging him gently. 

“I know,” he says. 

“I’m sorry too,” Jaemin chimes in, reaching over and giving him a pat on the back. 

“Thanks,” Sicheng responds. 

There’s a brief pause before you all burst into laughter. 

“No, but seriously, how am I supposed to get Lucas away from her?” Sicheng finally asks after a while. 

You and Cat immediately jump into action.

“Okay, so here’s what you need to do…” 

“Here you go.”

Jaemin places a plate of ambrosia and nectar on your nightstand yet again. 

“Don’t you think I’m pretty much healed at this point?” you ask. All of your surface wounds are practically gone, and the phantom pain you’ve been experiencing has subsided too. 

“You might feel like it, but you never know what can happen in the middle of recovery,” Jaemin says warily, “and besides, you had an eventful day today.” 

You snort. “That’s an understatement. Sorry that you got roped into it. And that Cat and I tried to sell you out.” 

“I didn’t mind. I had fun today,” he says, something resembling a smile on his lips. However, it’s not like his usual ones. He looks incredibly sad, and even though you’re right in front of him, he seems so alone. “You have a wonderful family.” 

“Well, they’re kind of stuck with me,” you joke, trying to cheer him up. “It’s not like I have any friends.” 

“Same,” he replies, laughing. It doesn’t really sound like a laugh though. 

“Come on, you’re, like, the most popular person at this camp,” you insist, “everyone wants to be your friend.” 

“There’s a difference between being popular and having friends. No one here wants to be friends with me. They want to be friends with a version of me they’ve created. The golden child.” His tone is so cold that you almost flinch. 

“I’m your friend, aren’t I?” you ask quietly. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says dryly. 

“Sure I do. I know that you don’t mind archery, but you hate playing instruments. I know that you suck at playing the lyre, but you learned it anyway for me because you’re kind. You’re kind, but you also have a mischievous side. You enjoy eavesdropping on your patients’ conversations. You get invested in petty drama. You like to flirt, but you can’t handle being flirted back with. You can be a little scary sometimes. You’re a hard worker as well. You carry this infirmary on your back and still manage to take care of Mr. D and Chiron’s affairs. And you do it all without a single complaint. You say that you can’t live up to people’s expectations, but I think you’re doing a pretty damn good job.” 

The words flow out of you like a waterfall. You surprise yourself at how much you know about him. 

Jaemin is so quiet that you start to get a little embarrassed for monologuing like that.

“You think I can be scary?” he finally asks. 

“I just poured my heart out for you, and that’s all you can say?” you snap. 

He chuckles, and it’s a real laugh this time. “Sorry, no one’s ever called me that before.” 

“You don’t think you’re scary? Whenever I threatened to leave, you smiled all creepy and acted like you were going to take me down if I even tried!” you exclaim. 

“Oh, that. I was just bluffing,” he says casually. 

You blink.

“I’ve dealt with many of your kind before. If you think I have the upper hand, then you won’t do anything,” he explains. “It’s a mind game I like to play.” 

“You know what, I’m glad you brought the ambrosia and nectar,” you start, “because you’re going to need it.” 

For the first time since you’ve met him, Jaemin smiles. It’s not a smile that he plasters on for common decency. It’s not a smile he plasters on because he’s trying to hide another emotion. It’s not a smile he plasters on just because he doesn’t have another expression to put on. 

He’s smiling because he’s happy. Because he wants to smile. Because you make him happy and want to smile. 

Apollo children’s smiles are always bright, Jaemin being no exception. However, this smile is more of a soft glow rather than a beaming light, much like the glow that emits from his fingertips when he’s healing someone. This smile suits him much more than the gleaming, overwhelming smile that he usually has. 

What a dangerous weapon you’ve just discovered. 

One that you wish you could keep for yourself. 

“Thank you for pouring your heart out for me, Y/N,” Jaemin says softly. “You think too highly of me. Much more than I deserve, but I’ll try my best to meet your expectations.” 

You reach up and grab his face, squishing his cheeks together way too hard. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to live up to my expectations. Or anyone’s! Live up to your own expectations, dummy,” you scold him, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you. Unless you become a racist or something. You get the gist.” 

His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. 

“Got it, Sparkle Fingers?” You bring his face closer. 

Now that your face is only a couple of inches away from his, you hone in on the small details. He has golden flecks in his light brown eyes, and you wonder if that’s an Apollo kid thing. His lashes are feathery and thick, much longer than yours, which slightly annoys you. And against your better judgement, your eyes travel down to his lips. They’re pink and plush, but not too thick, and slightly chapped—not that it makes you any less willing to kiss him. 

Shit, you curse to yourself, quickly trying to retract your hands. 

It seems that you need at least a three feet distance between the two of you for your brain to function properly. 

He gently grasps your wrists before moving up to cover your hands with his own, holding them on his cheeks. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.” 

Your head is swimming, and you’ve lost your ability to speak, only able to muster a nod. 

Jaemin appears to be in a daze too, firmly (but still gently) holding onto you as if his life depended on it. The two of you can only helplessly stare at each other before he blinks a couple of times and realizes what he’s doing. He lets you go so abruptly that your arms can only fall limply to your sides. 

“A-And same with me! I’ll always be here for you too,” he stammers. Even in the dim lighting, you can see how red he is. “Anyways, get some sleep. It’s late. Good night.” 

He goes to leave, and before you can stop yourself, you grab the edge of his shirt. He nearly jumps out of his own skin, stiffly turning his head. 

“Y-Yeah? Is there something else you need?”

You don’t want him to go, but you can’t tell him that. But now you have to say something. Racking your brain for an excuse, you blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind.

“When I died, I met my dad in the Underworld.” 

You’re not sure why that was the first thing that you thought of, and you’re even more unsure of why you were dumb enough to actually say it. You and Jaemin just had a touching moment, and now you were about to ruin it with your daddy issues. 

Jaemin, to his credit, doesn’t stare at you like you’re insane. He just stares at you. In a neutral way, like he’s processing. 

“Wh-What? You spilled your secrets to me, so I’m just returning the favor,” you flounder. 

“Fair,” he admits, smiling, much to your relief. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed. “So, what happened?” 

You can’t believe you’re about to talk about Hades to Jaemin, of all people. You don’t even talk about your father to your own siblings. It’s a subject you’ve never really known how to address, and you suppose doing it with someone who has no ties to Hades could be good for you. 

“Well, nothing really. I just died, went to the Underworld, he asked me why I was there, and I told him,” you say bluntly. “By the time I finished talking, I woke up.” 

Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, gauging your reaction, before asking, “What did you want to happen?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, “I guess maybe I’d thought he’d be happier to see me.” 

“You think he would be happy that his daughter is dead?” Jaemin doesn’t say it in a condescending way, more like a genuine question.

“No, but...I thought he’d want to talk to me. To ask me how I’m doing. Instead, all he cared about the fact was that Chiron and Mr. D was making his kids do the dirty work,” you sigh. 

“Did Hades say that?” 

“He implied it.”

“How do you know?”

“I...don’t. But he’s never shown any interest in his children, so why would he be saying it out of concern?” you ask. 

“Maybe he never showed any interest in his kids because they would have to come to the Underworld, which means they would have to die,” Jaemin ponders. 

“We can visit him while we’re alive,” you counter. 

“But you would be surrounded by death. Maybe he doesn’t want the scent of death following his children,” he muses. 

You don’t say anything, considering his words. 

“Godly parents are...something. No parent is perfect, but godly parents are especially flawed. My dad is quite the character. He’s self-centered, frivolous, and behaves more like a child than his actual children. But I know he loves us in his own messy, unconventional way.” Jaemin laughs. He speaks about Apollo in a way that you’ve never felt about Hades. “Of course, I’m not telling you to forgive Hades or let go of your dislike towards him. No child should have to beg their parent for love. But I do think that he’s trying, in his own way. He’s just not doing a very good job of communicating it.”

“You think so?” you whisper it, like a hopeful child. 

“I do.” He nods. 

“I thought about him,” you continue, “I wondered if he would’ve let me stay with him if I had really died. I wondered if he would’ve been proud of me. I want him to be proud of me.” 

“I think he would’ve been very happy to hear that.” Jaemin smiles. “And Y/N?”

You look up at him.

“There’s no way that he isn’t proud of you, and I bet he would have told you if you had stayed there a little longer.” He speaks with such conviction in his eyes that you believe him. 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassed by how earnest he’s being. “Well, thanks to a certain someone, I never got to find out.”

Jaemin chuckles. “True. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I’m damn glad I brought you back.” 

Your face grows hotter, and you hope that Jaemin can’t feel the warmth radiating off of it. You break eye contact first, trying to tame the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Alright, but now I really need to go. And you need to rest,” Jaemin says, standing up. But not before he shoots you another mischievous grin. “Unless you want me to stay.” 

Your embarrassment is curbed by your annoyance. Now that he’s got you flustered, he’s grown arrogant again. 

A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but then that would be too real. 

You actually get a decent amount of sleep, despite everything that happened last night. To your surprise, you don’t go in and out of consciousness like you normally do. In fact, you actually have to be shaken awake. 

“Y/N, wake up,” someone whispers. 

At first, you want to just turn the other way and ignore them. Unfortunately, they keep persisting, and your groggy brain finally registers the voice as Cat’s. You force your eyes open, but you’re slightly disoriented. It’s still dark outside, and you register that it’s extremely early. 

“I’m up,” you mumble, “what’s wrong?” 

“The Golden Fleece has been stolen.”

That wakes you up instantly. You’re not sure how Cat figured it out, but you don’t know how to tell her you’ve known for a while now. However, you don’t have time to figure it out because she keeps going. 

“Chiron and Mr. D are back, and we’ve been dispatched,” Cat explains. “We’re leaving soon.” 

Even though your body protests, you push yourself up. “Wait, I haven’t even packed yet. What time is it?” 

She bites her lip, looking hesitant. “No, Y/N. We as in Sicheng and I. He’s still getting ready in the cabin, so that’s why he’s not here.”

The gears in your brain malfunction. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in no condition to go. Chiron and Mr. D are going to split the missions up. Sicheng and I are one team, and they’ve found another team to replace you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I’m fine,” you insist, “who are they sending?”

“I’m not sure. An Ares kid and a Nike kid, I think. I didn’t really catch their names,” Cat says. 

“Why would they send two people and risk two lives when I can handle it?” you protest. 

“Of course, you can’t. You’re hurt, Y/N. Jaemin didn’t even want me to tell you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying bye,” she sighs. 

“I have to go,” you assert. “I’m going to talk to Mr. D and Chiron right now.” 

“You can’t. You’re on bed rest,” Jaemin cuts in, appearing from behind Cat. 

“I think I could go the rest of my life without hearing those words ever again,” you mutter. 

He turns toward Cat. “Go finish getting ready. I’ll handle this.” 

Cat nods, giving you one last hug. “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“You can’t stop me now,” you say to Jaemin after she leaves. “You’ve already told me you’re bluffing.” 

“Please don’t make me do this,” Jaemin whispers, sounding genuinely pained. 

“I’m stronger than you,” you point out, going to push past him. 

He holds out his arm, blocking your path. You can tell by how tense his body is that he’s preparing to use his powers and/or physical force to stop you. If you wanted to, you could take his outstretched arm and put him out of commission right now. But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Why are you doing this?” you sigh. “Why do you insist on getting involved like this?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

“Is it because you’ve finally gotten me under your perfect golden boy spell, and it damages your pride now that I’m trying to leave?” 

You know it’s not true. You know you’re being cruel.  You just want to provoke him, to make him angry because you’re willing to lash out at anyone right now. 

He reacts only slightly, clenching his jaw. 

“What, did that hurt?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he answers hoarsely, a muscle in his jaw pulsating. 

“Good. I wanted it to,” you say childishly. 

Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to restrain himself. However, it only lasts for a brief second before he opens his eyes again, and he decides to say something. 

“You think I want to keep getting involved with you?”

You blink.

“I want more than anything to uninvolve myself with you, Y/N. Ever since you got wheeled into this damn infirmary, I keep finding myself doing stupid things just to keep talking to you. To keep finding an excuse to stay close to you. I never get involved with my patients, but I’ve been doing nothing but that when it comes to you. To the point that I’ve told you my deepest insecurities, only for you to weaponize it against me. But I know you don’t mean it. I know it’s because you’re worried about Cat and Sicheng, that you feel guilty about leaving them to do the mission on their own. Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t be angry. Angry at your self-destructive and self-sacrificing mentality that’s going to end up getting you killed for real this time. And the thought of seeing you like that again—”

He stops, shakily breathing in. You’ve never seen him this upset before. 

“I love you too much to let you do that to yourself. But it doesn’t matter how much I love you because you’ve never been the type to listen. You have to do things the hard way. No matter what,” he continues, “So, go. Go, and when you come back, I’ll pick up the pieces like always. Like the golden child I am.” 

It’s too late to regret what you said, yet you still do. 

You thought you were willing to follow your siblings to the ends of the Earth, and you still would, but Jaemin makes you hesitate. Jaemin makes Camp Half-Blood, a place that’s never once felt like home, feel like home. He makes you want to stay. 

But you don’t deserve to stay. You don’t deserve anything from him—and certainly not something as precious as his love. 

So, you leave. 

Your initial goal was to find Mr. D and Chiron, but you somehow end up on the Training Grounds with a sword in your hand. You’ve been whacking at the straw dummy for so long that you’ve almost created a hole in the cast iron armor it’s wearing. You’re covered in sweat, and your whole body hurts. If you had any stitches left to pull, then you’d have pulled them already. 

Much to your dismay, the sun is starting to set, which means you are that much closer to having to confront your problems. But first, you opt to take a shower first and continue to ignore them for a little longer. Wiping sweat from your brow, you return your sword back to the Armory before heading to the Hades Cabin. 

There is no way in Tartarus that you’re going back to the infirmary tonight. 

“Hey, new girl!” You hear someone shout. 

At first, you don’t turn around, but the voice calls out again. A girl with long black hair tied up into a ponytail and rosy cheeks is running towards you. She has long, slender legs that resemble an Amazon, and you can’t help but admire what a perfect specimen she is. You’re so busy ogling that you forget to correct her and tell her that you’ve been here for years already. Just not physically. 

“Here. Care package from anonymous.” She tosses a small drawstring pouch at you, and you clumsily catch it. The girl doesn’t even wait for your response before walking off. 

“Sooyoung, come on!” Another girl calls, gesturing for the girl you’re assuming is Sooyoung. 

“Coming, Sana!” 

You watch the two girls leave, arms wrapped around each other. You wondered if the gods were rubbing it in your face too. Sighing, you open the mysterious pouch and find a couple pieces of ambrosia in it. You blink a few times, trying to make sure that you’re seeing it correctly. 

Because there’s only one person who would’ve given this to you. 

You feel tears prick at your eyes. 

If Jaemin is mad at you, then he should act like it. He shouldn’t be kind. He shouldn’t make you falter. He shouldn’t make you question everything. 

He shouldn’t make you more in love than you already are. 

You take a piece of ambrosia and bite into it, hoping that it’ll make this pain in your heart go away.

After returning back to your cabin, you take a piping hot shower—where you realize that you are way too inept at emotions to be able to solve this yourself. You need an outside opinion, someone who can tell you straight. 

You need a friend. 

Cat and Sicheng are busy, which cross out your only options. 

Therefore, you take some desperate measures. 

Marching right up to the Poseidon Cabin, you knock. You begin to count to three in your head, deciding to bail right away if no one answers the door after three seconds. Unfortunately, someone does—and it’s not who you hope it is. 

It’s a boy you don’t know. He has wavy, light brown hair and has big doe eyes. His lips are naturally pouty and heart-shaped. He has an angelic face, but you can tell he’s also a troublemaker. He gives you a confused smile. 

“Hi, can I help you?” 

“Hi. I’m looking for Moon,” you say, twiddling your thumbs. 

“What’s your name?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m her, uh, friend,” you answer vaguely. 

He looks doubtful but opens the door wider for you to enter. You awkwardly step in. The Poseidon Cabin is absolutely stunning. The walls and floor all resemble the ocean, with seashells and coral adorning them. You’d take time to admire it more if you weren’t so desperate. 

“Moon, someone’s here for you!” The boy calls out. 

There’s a couple seconds of silence before you hear someone’s footsteps coming toward you. Moon emerges in her pajamas despite the fact that it’s only the evening with a One Piece manga in her hand. 

“Hyuck, this better not be some sort of stupid prank again. My favorite character is about to die, and I’ve been gearing up all day for a good cry—”

She stops, staring at you. 

“Hey.” You give her a small wave. 

She furrows her eyebrows. “Who—” 

“Listen, I know you have no idea who I am, but I really need to confide in someone right now and you seem to know a lot more about love than me,” you blurt out quickly. 

Both Moon and Hyuck look bewildered. 

“Um, okay,” Moon says slowly. “We can go to my room then.” 

You let out a sigh of relief and follow her. Without even introducing yourself, you take a deep breath and tell her everything that’s happened with Jaemin the moment she closes the door. Moon, shockingly, listens carefully instead of getting a restraining order. After you’ve finished explaining everything, her response is simple. 

“You fucked up. Bad.” 

“I know,” you groan, “what do I do?” 

“What else can you do except apologize and tell him how you feel?” Moon shrugs. “It’s up to him whether he wants to accept them or not.” 

“What if he hates me?” you ask. 

“He sent you ambrosia even after you said those terrible things to him,” she points out, “he doesn’t hate you. He will never hate you, but he also might not forgive you.” 

You nod. You’re not sure you deserve to be forgiven anyway. It’s selfish of you, but you just don’t want him to hate you. 

“Then again, he’s got it pretty bad. The man even learned the lyre for you,” Moon snorts. 

The lyre. 

You want to envelop Moon in a giant hug, but you don’t want to weird her out even more than you already have. 

“I have to go now,” you suddenly say. “Sorry for just barging in like that, and thank you so much for listening to me. I hope we can be friends after I resolve this.” 

You’re already halfway out of the door when Moon says, “Wait! What’s your name?” 

“I’m Y/N. Oh, and by the way, I wanted to let you know that Sicheng is definitely the better choice.” 

It’s just shy of 7:45 p.m. when you make your way into the infirmary. 

As you expected, Jaemin is sitting at the front desk, doing paperwork. Even though you only last saw him this morning, his face is much more haggard than you remember. He looks absolutely drained, like he’s barely able to hold up the pen in his hand. Not noticing you yet, he sets the pen down to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing. 

Luckily, you’re able to retrieve the lyre from your cot without him seeing. Inhaling deeply, you walk over to him, clearing your throat. His head jolts up, clearly not realizing someone was there. When he sees you, his gaze instantly softens before hardening again when he remembers he’s mad at you. 

“Y/N—” 

“No, wait,” you say quickly, “give me one minute.” 

Jaemin looks like he wants to say more but eventually closes his mouth, waiting. 

You carefully position your fingers over the strings before beginning to play Hot Cross Buns. Unfortunately, it’s not as grand of an apology as you had hoped because you forgot to grab the music book. Therefore, you were simply plucking Hot Cross Buns by memory, and you definitely did not have it memorized. It’s a painful minute, as you try to remember the chords but ultimately just playing whatever. 

When you finish, Jaemin just looks at you. Panicked, you open your mouth to beg for his forgiveness for both the song and everything else. 

“Jaemin—”

“I think you’re worse than I am,” he says quietly. 

Your jaw slightly hangs ajar, confused by his reaction. “Wha...What?” 

“I said, that was awful,” he repeats. 

“Oh. I’m...sorry?” You don’t know what else to say. 

“For the song?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For every—”

“Don’t,” Jaemin says firmly. “I don’t want you to be sorry. Because that means you’re sorry about us. I don’t want you to regret anything about us. I really don’t think I could handle that right now.”

“But I am sorry,” you insist, “But not about us. I am regretting. But not about us. I’m sorry for using something you confided in me with against you. I regret saying it. No matter what I do, I will never be able to take that back in this lifetime. You loved me, and I hurt you. It’s so selfish of me, but I still love you back. I’m not asking for anything in return, I just wanted to tell you. After this, I’ll go—” 

“Say it again.” Jaemin is up from his seat, walking towards you. 

“Oh, um, which part?” you ask, taken aback. 

“You love me?” he whispers. He’s close enough to reach out and touch you now, but he doesn’t. 

“Yes,” you confess, “I think I have for a while now, but I’ve been fighting it. I just...I was scared I was misunderstanding. And because I’ve never felt like this before. Something this strong.” 

Jaemin finally lifts his hand and brushes your cheek. His touch is feather-light, like he still isn’t sure if you’re real or not. 

“I love you, Na Jaemin,” you whisper, making sure he knows you’re real. 

Not Sparkle Fingers, not Sparkles or Sparky, not Apollo’s golden child.

Just Jaemin. 

Your Jaemin. 

“That’s all I want,” he says softly, leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. 

Jaemin’s kisses are so distinctively him. They’re warm and loving, embracing and coaxing you rather than forcing you. His hands cradle your face as if it’s made of glass as he pulls you closer to him. You stand on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Eventually, his arms find themselves wound around your waist, picking you up off the floor just a little. 

You’ve never noticed how nice he smells until now. You’re not sure how it’s possible, but he literally smells like sunshine. He smells like the warm ray of light that shines down on you when you’re lying on a hammock. He smells like the spring breeze that blows past you in a field of flowers. He smells like the spot of sunlight that kittens bask in during their naps. It’s a scent that you could inhale more than oxygen.  

He only pulls away when he senses that you’re running out of air. 

“I’m still a little mad at you though,” he says, slightly breathless himself. 

“Okay.” You nod, dizzy from both the kiss and his scent. 

“But...one more kiss.” 

LATER. 

“Okay, so here’s the game plan, Sicheng. Moon’s favorite character in One Piece is about to die, and I’ve been distracting her from that volume until you came back, so that you can be the one comforting her when she’s crying.” 

“Wait, Y/N!” Cat cries out, adjusting her binoculars (that she also stole from her Aphrodite friend). “Isn’t that Moon crying in Lucas’s arms right now?” 

You snatch the binoculars from her and hone in on the Dining Pavilion. 

“That son of a—”

“Should we ask Dad to send a zombie to harass him?” Sicheng asks. 

“Y/N, you do it. You’re his favorite,” Cat says. 

“Do you really think he’ll agree to that?” you hiss. 

“Uh-oh,” Jaemin says frantically, having taken over the binoculars. “Code Red! Code Red! He’s leaning in for the kiss.” 

“I’m going to pray to Dad right now.” 

[choerrypuffs]

my best friend wants to be abducted by aliens.

pairing: son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 14.6k (this was supposed to be 5k 😌)

author’s note: hi so here is renjun’s chapter to my 00 line x camp half-blood series (i’m sorry, i know it took forever)! thank you so much for all of the support, and i hope you enjoy 💞

warning: one (1) makeout session

You are currently crouched behind a cluster of bushes, trying to get a glimpse of your targets through binoculars. 

Does that sound stalkerish? Perhaps. 

Are you actually a stalker? Debatable. 

However, no matter how suspicious it looks, your motive is pure—for the most part. 

You’re spying on Kang Daniel (son of Hermes) and Park Jihyo (daughter of Apollo), both of whom are at the Archery Range. Jihyo is showing Daniel how to shoot, encasing him with her arms as she nocks the arrow for him. The tips of his ears are so red that they could practically be a flare; you can see how flamboyant they are all the way from your hiding spot. 

You start grinning like a maniac, excited that your plan is finally unfolding. 

You had noticed how awful Daniel was at archery during a training session a couple weeks ago, and you casually suggested to him that he should ask Jihyo for some lessons. You’ve always known that Daniel has been hopelessly in love with Jihyo since the moment he saw her (it’s a child of Aphrodite thing—you can just sense it), but she’s been oblivious to it this entire time. 

Well, until now. 

Just as you guessed, sparks flew immediately. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. You give them a couple more passionately-charged archery lessons before they inevitably surrender to their emotions and begin to date—and your predictions are never wrong. 

“Another job well done, Y/N,” you mumble proudly to yourself, “Mom would be so proud.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stop loitering by these bushes and stalking those two campers over there, or else I’ll have to report you to the camp director,” a sudden voice from behind you says. 

Letting out a loud yelp, you drop your binoculars in surprise and whip your head around to see who it is. You turn so fast that you almost fall backwards into said bushes, quickly using your palms to balance yourself. 

“Renjun, you asshole!” 

Huang Renjun, your long-time best friend and professional asshole, is standing in front of you. He’s wearing the iconic orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt with black jeans, his hands tucked inside his pockets. His dark hair is parted to one side, with a single lock of hair falling perfectly into one eye, giving him the I-wake-up-and-my-hair-is-naturally-like-this look (even though it’s most definitely not true). No doubt that he’s the best-looking person in the entire camp, but his brusque personality makes him a rose with thorns. Sharp thorns.

You often wonder how the two of you even became as close as you are. Children of Athena and Aphrodite notoriously clash due to their mothers’ history with each other. 

You met Renjun four years ago at Arts and Crafts Center, which is a hotspot for children of Athena. It was your first time at the camp, and you wanted to try making a ceramic (maybe a bowl or vase) to bring back to your family as a souvenir. Of course, you failed miserably and got snickered at by other Athena kids. Renjun, who had been sitting beside you, was the only one who didn’t laugh. He even gruffly gave you some pointers. Grateful, you complimented his painting—a mix of pink, yellow, blue, and purple watercolors that meshed together to resemble a galaxy. In return, he gave it to you.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” he had said nonchalantly.

Even though it was the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, and it’s remained one of your most prized possessions to this day. 

After that incident, you basically attached yourself at the hip with him. He would constantly complain about you following him around, but he also didn’t do anything to stop it. He’s been complaining for four, going on five, years now, yet he’s become your closest friend. Renjun likes act like you’re a pain in the ass (which isn’t untrue), but you know he cares about you. Even if he doesn’t verbalize it, you can tell by his actions; it’s all about the small things with him. Despite being rough around the edges, Huang Renjun is actually just a big softie on the inside. 

“—could you stop snooping around like a weirdo?” Renjun asks, cutting your trip down memory lane short.

You rise to your feet, dusting your palms off and glaring at him. “I’m not snooping around like a weirdo. I’m just snooping around on one of my projects, like a good matchmaker.”

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. He leans down and picks up your binoculars, handing them to you. 

You take them and hang them around your neck. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Aren’t you the one who asked me to meet you at the Dining Pavilion for lunch?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh, sorry! I lost track of time,” you exclaim. “How’d you find me?”

Renjun gives you a pointed look. “Well, seeing as how Daniel and Jihyo are your current quote-unquote project, all I had to do was figure out where they were because I knew you’d be somewhere close.”

You give him a sheepish smile. “You know me so well, Junnie.”

“The hell? Don’t call me that, it’s gross,” he snaps, pretending like he’s about to gag.

“You’re not cute at all,” you huff. 

“Neither are you,” he replies.

“You are so rude! You’ll never get a girlfriend with an attitude like that!” You place your hands on your hips.

“I’ll live,” he says, shrugging. 

You don’t know much about Renjun’s love life because he refuses to tell you anything; he’s like a stubborn clam that won’t open up. However, he’s made it very clear that he does not want your assistance when it comes to finding romance. Obviously, it hasn’t stopped you from trying, but this is one of the few things you can’t seem to make him give in to. 

Yet.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “Let’s go eat.”

The two of you walk to the Dining Pavilion, which is a relatively long walk from the Archery Range, but you make enough conversation that it feels short. When you arrive, you see that they’re serving chicken curry and rice. Your stomach growls embarrassingly loudly when the mouthwatering scent hits you, which prompts Renjun to laugh at you. You give him the middle finger and then turn around to grab a lunch tray. Once you get your food, you two sit at a table in the back. 

Before you begin to eat, you notice that your curry has chunks of potatoes and slices of carrots on it—you abhor carrots more than anything in this world. Noticing your disgusted expression, Renjun slides his plate over without even batting an eyelash, so you can pick out the carrot slices and give them to him. It’s a routine thing for the two of you, since you’re an extremely picky eater and he’s not.

After you take out all of the carrots, you begin to devour your food. You’re wolfing it down so fast that you’re basically asking to choke, in which you immediately do. A piece of chicken lodges itself in your throat, and you begin to cough violently. Renjun sighs, patting your back before handing you your cup of water. 

“I feel like I’m babysitting a toddler every time I eat with you,” he points out as you gulp down your water. 

“Thanks,” you say after you recover.

“For dislodging the food in your esophagus or calling you a toddler?” 

“Both!” you say cheerfully. 

Renjun shakes his head at you, but he’s smiling. You take advantage of his good mood by quickly reaching over and swiping a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl on his tray. He rolls his eyes when you pop them into your mouth and wink at him. 

“Um, Renjun?” A small, different voice cuts in. Both of you turn around to see who it is. 

Hwang Yeji, daughter of Iris and one of the most popular girls at the camp, is standing there. She’s fidgeting, and you can see pink dusting her cheeks. Her friends are at the table right behind her, giving her supportive looks. She smiles shyly at Renjun. 

“Can I help you?” Renjun asks, deadpanning. He isn’t rude per se, but it’s also not a friendly tone. 

Yeji slightly falters at his lackluster response. “Oh, um, I’m going to be performing at the amphitheater tonight...and I was wondering if you could come watch?”

“Why?” 

You know Renjun is asking because he’s genuinely baffled, but it doesn’t lessen your urge to want to slap him upside the head.

“N-No particular reason! O-Okay, bye!” Yeji turns on her heel and runs away. You watch her go back to her table, head hung low in defeat.

“What was that all about?” Renjun is still bewildered. 

No longer able to control yourself, you punch him in the arm. “You moron!”

“Ow! What the hell, Y/N?” he hisses, rubbing his arm.

“She invited you to watch her perform because she likes you!” you hiss. 

“What? No, she doesn’t.” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“Yes, she does! I should know of all people, you dingus. Even without powers, literally anyone else would be able to see that Yeji likes you!” You’re trying your best to keep your voice down, but he’s making it difficult for you. “You are the densest person on the planet!”

“Look who’s talking,” Renjun mutters underneath his breath. 

“I can’t believe you just blew her off like that,” you continue, not hearing what he said.

“How was I supposed to know she liked me? I’ve never even spoken to her,” he protests.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Couldn’t you tell by the context clues?” 

“What context clues?”

“Oh my gods,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“What do you want me to do then?” he asks tiredly. 

“Go to her performance tonight,” you say immediately, uncovering your face and whipping your head to look at him with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t really want to though. There’s no point in getting her hopes up if I don’t like her back,” Renjun states matter-of-factly.

“How do you not even have a little bit of interest in her? Look at her! She’s stunning!” You feel like your eyes are about to pop out of your head.

“I’m not saying she isn’t, but I just don’t feel anything special towards her,” he explains. 

“You’re actually insane,” you say incredulously. “There’s no way someone can look at Hwang Yeji and say they don’t feel anything special.”

“If you feel so strongly about it, you could date her,” he suggests.

“No, I’ve decided,” you cut him off, slamming your hand on the table with determination. “I’m going to find you a girlfriend.”

“I’ll have to respectfully decline your services,” he answers, sighing.

“Give me one week,” you plead, “all of my matches have worked out within a week. Please, Renjun? The worst thing that can happen is that you actually like someone and you two become a couple.” 

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” He tilts his head.

“Then, I’ll drop the girlfriend topic for good. I swear on River Styx. And I’ll also give up my title as Camp Half-Blood’s official matchmaker,” you promise.

“You gave yourself that title.”

“Shut up.”

“Why are you so adamant on finding me a girlfriend anyway?” he asks.

“Because you’re so set on not getting a girlfriend, and that drives me crazy. I want to know just who on this Earth can make you feel something special, if even Yeji can’t do it. I want to crack you, like a walnut,” you admit.

“Bad analogy.”

“Yeah, it sounded better in my head.”

Renjun falls quiet, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs the pros and cons of your proposition. Athena kids think way too much and way too loudly; they need to let loose and follow their hearts more.

You sit in anticipation for just a little longer before you see the tension on his face begin to dissipate and his features begin to droop. It’s an expression you know well; he’s going to let you have your way, like he always does. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You get five days. That’s it.”

You squeal loudly, launching yourself at him so you can envelop him in a big bear hug. He grunts as he catches you, saving the both of you from toppling backwards onto the floor. “You’re the best, Renjun!”

Even when he’s irritated or annoyed, Renjun never pushes you away when you hug him. He isn’t exactly the affectionate type, yet his embrace is always so warm and calming. His words may be cutthroat, but his actions are always gentle.

He circles his arms around your waist loosely as he sighs into your hair, seemingly waiting for you to pull back to face him before he says anything. When you do, he flicks you on the forehead instead.

Okay, so you take the his actions are always gentle part back.

“Ouch!” You shrug yourself out of his hold, rubbing the probably reddening spot on your forehead.

“Payback for punching me earlier,” Renjun says, crossing his arms. “But are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You have a perfect record when it comes to your matches. Plus, you’re losing two out of your usual seven days. Are you sure you want to risk breaking your streak?” he asks. 

“What makes you think it’ll get broken?” you shoot back.

“I don’t just think; I know it will,” he smirks arrogantly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

You feel your left eye twitch. Riled up by his cocky demeanor, you grab your cup and chug the rest of your water, wincing like you just downed a shot. Wiping your mouth, you point your finger at him.

“Huang Renjun, just you wait. I’ll make you fall in love so hard that you’ll forget your own name.”

ও DAY ONE.

The Athena Cabin is a marvel to you every time you enter it. Rather than a cabin, it’s a workshop and a library in one on the inside. There are beds pushed haphazardly against the walls, and if you didn’t know that this was the official Athena Cabin, you would’ve thought that the Athena children had simply just crashed at a random facility at the camp and decided to call it their place of residence. 

Renjun is still asleep, despite the commotion of his brothers and sisters running around in the library and/or constructing something in the workshop. His bed is located in the very back, hidden by a bookshelf that’s not frequented often. He’s curled up into a ball, with the blanket covering his head but you can still see tufts of his hair sticking out from under it. 

“Rise and shine!” you sing, lifting blanket off his face. 

His peaceful expression twists with discomfort as its exposed to light, and he immediately rips the pillow out from under his head and puts it over his face. He says something to you, but his words are muffled. You just assume it’s some sort of profanity. 

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty! We have business to attend to,” you say cheerfully, taking the pillow away and tossing it to the foot of his bed.

“And what exactly is this supposed business?” Renjun asks dryly, opening his eyes and squinting up at you. 

“We’re going to scout for potential candidates for you,” you answer as you grab his arm and pull him up. He reluctantly lets you, slumping forward like a limp puppet. 

“Isn’t that your job?” He raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his messy bedhead. Renjun always looks particularly adorable when he wakes up. His pajamas consist of a pair of basketball shorts and an extremely stretched-out t-shirt. The shirt is so big that it’s slipping off his shoulder, which makes him look like a little kid. His hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, and you can’t help but grin at how cute it is. 

“Yes, but you’re a special case.” You talk to him like he’s five, running your hands through his hair and messing it up even more. Renjun scowls at you, but he sits there and lets you do it.

“Geez, who peed in your cornflakes?” you tease, seeing his stormy look. 

“You.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll wait for you outside, but don’t take too long to get ready,” you say, finally retracting your hands. “No more than thirty minutes or else I’m gonna come find you!” 

He gives you another nasty look, and you blow him a kiss before skipping away. As you head back to the entrance, you greet a couple of Athena kids who pass by. Normally, Aphrodite and Athena children stick their noses up in the air and ignore each other, but you’re such a frequent visitor that they have had no choice but to accept you. It also helps that Renjun is quite popular, so the campers that don’t like you are forced to tolerate you anyway because you’re his best friend. 

That’s another thing you don’t understand—why Renjun hangs out with you when everyone around him is practically foaming at the mouth at the prospect of being his friend (or something more). But for reasons unknown to you, he chooses to ice them out and spend time with you instead.

It’s not that you’re inherently unpopular or someone that would “tarnish” his reputation, but he could probably find someone that annoyed him less and didn’t cause as much trouble as you do. However, you’re glad that he’s choosing to stay by your side in spite of how crazy you can get, because you’re not really sure what you would do without him. 

Not that you would ever admit that because Renjun would roast you to high Olympus.  

As if on cue, you spot Renjun trudging toward you. True to your request, he got ready within thirty minutes. In fact, it only took him about fifteen. He doesn’t look very happy, but he’s always had a resting bitch face (though you’re pretty sure he’s just pissed at you right now).

Strangely, you’re a little embarrassed to see him. You’re not sure why you suddenly thought of your friendship with him and got all sappy. You’ve never really been good at handling the mushy-gushy stuff—only helping others find it.

“Let’s get this over with,” Renjun says begrudgingly when he reaches you, crossing his arms.

“Okay, well, first thing’s first,” you respond, trying to get back on track. You loop your arm through his, which prompts him to instantly uncross his own so you can cling onto his bicep. It’s such a natural action for you that you don’t even think about how quickly he accommodates you. “What’s your type?”

“Where are we going?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he lets you lead him around.

“That depends on your answer to my question,” you reply breezily.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who figures that out? You know, with your whole Aphrodite-love-sense-tingle thing.” 

You ignore his dig at your ability. “Normally, yes. But seeing as you’re incapable of feeling any emotion other than bitterness, I have to directly ask you.” 

He laughs at your comeback. “I see. But even if I do tell you my type, what makes you think she will like me too?” 

“If she doesn’t, then just woo her with your irresistible charm,” you say sarcastically. 

“My irresistible charm has a tendency to make people hate my guts, actually,” Renjun says, shrugging. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

“Renjun, you are fully capable of making a girl fall for you,” you chide, huffing at his negative attitude. “I’m not concerned with that. My main issue right now is finding someone that will make you care enough to want her to like you back.”

“You think so?” he asks quietly, looking down at where your hand is resting on his arm.

“Hm?” 

“I hope you’re right,” he says a little louder, dragging his gaze away from your hand and giving you a small smile. “About being capable.”

When Renjun looks into your eyes, you feel him for the first time. Your heart wrenches with his, like a knife was driven into it and something keeps twisting it. It’s an excruciating pain that makes your lungs want to cave in, a pain so unbearably sad that it makes you want to assume fetal position and bawl your eyes out, an exhausting pain that drains you of all your energy until you want to collapse, a pain that makes you hate yourself—but it’s a pain you never want to get rid of. It’s a pain that makes you happy. It’s a pain you’re willing to endure for...for...for what? 

But the pain only lasts for a moment, flashing by like lightning. As you try to reach deeper, it slips through your fingers. Just as suddenly as it hit you, it vanishes. What remains in its place is the metaphorical iron wall that you always seem to run into every time you try to look into Renjun’s heart.

You can already feel your body starting to forget the pain. It’s so fast that you begin questioning if you even truly felt it in the first place, or if it was all some fever dream. You could also be having a stroke, so there’s that.

All jokes aside, you’re not sure what you’re more surprised by: the fact that Renjun has been feeling like this or how well he’s managed to hide it. 

And you’re not sure what you’re more hurt by: the fact that Renjun didn’t tell you or if you’re the one he’s trying to hide it from.

“—hello? Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Renjun waves his hand in front of your face. 

You jolt, blinking several times as you detach yourself from your whirlwind of thoughts. “S-Sorry! What were you saying?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Ghosts don’t exist,” you retort automatically.

“Yes, they do! How many times have I told you there’s no way that my glass bottle could’ve fallen from my bed without shattering, yet it was underneath my bed, completely and totally unsc—” He begins to protest. 

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. Thankfully, Renjun stops rambling about his ghost story that you’ve heard about a million times and trails off. His hands slowly come to rest on the small of your back, giving you soothing pats. It makes you sad that he’s always ready to comfort you when he’s the one that needs it. Your vision gets blurry with tears, but you hurriedly blink them away.

“How can you be so smart yet so dumb?” you whisper into his shoulder, clutching him tighter.

“You know, you’re sending me mixed signals here,” he says wryly. 

You hug him for a couple more seconds before pulling back. Reaching your hands up, you cup his face. Unfortunately, you do it a little too enthusiastically and basically slap both of his cheeks. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Renjun!” 

“Ow! What is wrong with you?” he demands, wincing. His lips are adorably jutted out and his words probably aren’t as angry as he wants them to be because you’re squishing his cheeks way too hard. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I will definitely find you a girlfriend. No matter what,” you declare with determination in your eyes.

Because I don’t want you to be in pain anymore. Because you deserve to be happy. Because you should have someone to lean on too, you want to say.

Renjun is staring at you like you’ve grown another head. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss. “Now, hurry up and tell me your ideal type.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

“Oh my gods, I’m fine. Stop with all the questions and just answer me!” you say, placing your hands on your hips.

“I think I’m starting to reconsider my ideal type right now,” he replies, eyeing you suspiciously. 

You sigh loudly. “Could you tell me one character trait that you would like in a girlfriend? Just one. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He snorts, and you begin to grow frustrated. “Renjun—”

“Stubborn,” he answers. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Of all the things you could’ve chosen, you went with that?”

“I finally answer your question and now you’re shaming me for it?” he shoots back. 

You put your hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry. Anything else you can think of?”

“Unpredictable. Hotheaded. Infuriating. Nosy. Reckless. Unable to take anything seriously. No concept of personal space,” he lists them off like he’s has it memorized.

“These are all terrible traits,” you point out, frowning. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Stop messing around,” you snap, giving him a small shove. “Some positive ones, please.”

Renjun pauses. “This might take a second.”

You give him a pointed look, crossing your arms and tapping your foot impatiently. At this point, you’re not even sure if he’s just joking or if he actually means it. However, it’s the only thing you’ve gotten out of him so far, so you have to work with it. 

“Dedicated,” he finally says after some intense pondering.

You exhale in relief. “Thank gods. What else?”

“Kind. Cheerful. Carefree. Funny. Always makes me smile. Marches to her own beat. An open book when it comes to her feelings. Says whatever is on her mind without thinking twice. Gets excited about things that don’t matter. Has a wonderful laugh. Able to see the good in me, even though I’m an asshole—”

As he continues, you eventually stop paying attention to his words and watch his expression. All of his features have softened, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He has the gentlest smile on his face as he talks, but you’re not even sure that he’s aware of it. 

You wouldn’t be a child of Aphrodite if you couldn’t recognize a boy in love, and Renjun certainly fits the bill. 

Suddenly, you feel an ugly sensation twisting in the pit of your stomach, coiling like a poisonous snake. It’s an awful feeling, and it makes you ashamed because it resembles jealousy way too closely for your comfort. You hate feeling like this, but you don’t know how to stop it. In fact, you don’t even know why you’re feeling this way. It’s foreign to you, but you know it’s not coming from Renjun. This is all coming from inside you.

“Stunning in every way,” Renjun finishes quietly. His voice is barely a whisper, but you can hear it clearly, as if it’s right in your ear. 

Digging your nails into your palms, you let out a low whistle. “That was very...specific.”

“Afraid of a challenge?” he counters, smirking. 

His banter makes you grin. It’s almost enough to make you forget the feeling in your stomach. You wonder why you keep getting worked up by yourself. Maybe the summer heat is getting to you, and you really are on the verge of having a stroke. 

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you retort dramatically, clinging onto his arm again. “Alright, let’s go!” 

“Where?” 

“The Training Grounds!” 

“Why there?” His nose crinkles. 

“Your ideal type is as Ares kid as it can get,” you say, snorting. “So, obviously, we’re going to their turf.” 

“Ares children are obnoxious and arrogant,” Renjun scoffs. 

“And you’re a smartass, so it’ll be fine,” you say breezily. 

He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

“You’re such a drama queen. Besides, it won’t be only Ares kids there,” you point out.

He shrugs in a noncommittal manner but ultimately lets you lead him to the Training Grounds. When you arrive, as expected, it’s mainly Ares kids there. For people who aren’t used to it, the Training Grounds could be mistaken for a battle royale, judging by how vicious it can get at times. Even though it’s just a bunch of sweaty young adults angrily swinging swords at dummies and each other. 

Stroking your chin, you begin to scan the area. It’s only when your eyes fall onto Park Sooyoung, the daughter of Ares that’s infamous for making men cower to their knees, that the lightbulb goes off in your head. 

“What about Sooyoung?” you ask excitedly, tugging on Renjun’s shirt. 

He frowns. “She hates me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say.

“She tried to throw a dagger at my head once,” he states flatly. 

“She does that to everyone,” you dismiss. “I think you two would work well together.”

“Please, enlighten me.” 

“She could be the brawn to your brain. She’s super rambunctious, while you’re more reserved and can keep her in check. But she’ll be able to teach you how to live a little, and you’ll just perfectly balance each other out. You know, that whole opposites attract and enemies to lovers trope,” you explain. 

“Enemies to lovers?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say dreamily, “You two start off absolutely despising each other, but neither of you can fight the tension building and eventually just get entangled in the throes of your passion!”

“Okay, Fifty Shades of Grey, calm down,” Renjun says, scrunching up his features in disgust. “Stop writing fanfiction in your head and come back to the real world.”

You glare at him for killing your vibe. “Just go and try to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to be mauled.” There’s actually a small glimmer of fear in his eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not gonna kill you. At least not in front of everyone like this,” you reassure him. 

“So you’re admitting that there is a possibility she would kill me.”

Fed up, you snatch his wrist and begin dragging him. He makes noises of protest, but you keep a vice-like grip on him. Sooyoung is sparring with some of her brothers (and frankly, handing their asses to them). You’re envious of how beautiful she is even with sweat dripping from her chin and tendrils of hair stuck to her neck. Her face is flushed with effort, but it makes her look like a peach. 

However, don’t ever judge a book by its cover because she proceeds to lift one of her brothers, as if she’s bench pressing him, and tosses him aside like a rag doll. He comes flying directly toward you, but Renjun wraps an arm around your shoulders and yanks you aside with his surprisingly quick reflexes. Sooyoung’s brother lands with a hard thud, right beside your feet.

Renjun holds you tightly against him as he scowls at Sooyoung, who is smirking at him. Your heart is pounding wildly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the adrenaline rush of one of Sooyoung’s brothers hurling towards you like a projectile or the way Renjun is cradling you to him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Renjun demands, livid. 

“Sorry about that,” Sooyoung says, trying to hide her amusement. 

“No, you’re not. You did it on purpose,” Renjun snaps. 

“Remove head from ass, Huang. If I didn’t think you’d be able to get her out of the way in time, I wouldn’t have done it,” Sooyoung responds, sounding bored.

“What if I hadn’t? Your tank of a brother would’ve knocked Y/N out,” Renjun says angrily, gritting his teeth. “And trust me, she doesn’t need any more screws loose than she already has.”

“Hey!” you chime in, offended. His arm falls from your shoulders and back to his side when you give him a dirty look. He seems a little surprised, whether the reason be from your sudden protest or how long his arm’s been around you. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sooyoung says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re here to see me, right?” 

Renjun opens his mouth to say something, but you slap a hand over his mouth. “Renjun thinks you’re really pretty and wants to train with you.”

Perhaps you could have delivered it in a smoother manner.

“Mm?” He stares at you with wide, horrified eyes. He’s trying to speak, but it’s all muffled by your palm. 

Sooyoung snorts, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Does he now?” 

“Yes. He’s just too shy to admit it,” you lie through your teeth. 

“Mhm, I’m sure he is,” she laughs. “What’s the actual reason you’re here?”

“Whatever are you talking about? That is the reason,” you answer sweetly. “So, what do you say? Wanna spar him?”

“Mmmmmm!” Renjun has you by the wrist, trying to remove your hand from his mouth, but you won’t budge. 

“You must think I was born yesterday,” Sooyoung sighs. “You’re trying to set us up together, right? Glad to see you’re sticking to your whole matchmaking schtick.”

“Maybe,” you admit sheepishly. “Also, it is not a schtick! I have a natural affinity for finding people that are compatible with each other, like all Aphrodite children, and it is my duty to use that ability in order to help others.”

Despite how proud you look, Sooyoung and Renjun exchange knowing glances, and she reaches forward and gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Stray strong, soldier.”

“Mm,” he responds, sounding tired.

You watch the interaction with a baffled expression. Neither one of them seems intent on providing any context for you. You’re hit with another pang of jealousy. 

“While it would be my utmost honor to be Renjun’s girlfriend, I will have to decline. Firstly, because I would definitely murder him by our third date tops. And secondly, because I already have a girlfriend,” Sooyoung says nonchalantly. 

Your hand goes limp and falls off of Renjun’s mouth, finally freeing him. Your jaw is hanging wide open, a direct invitation for flies. The both of you just stand there and gawk at her. 

“What?” you exclaim, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You have a girlfriend?”

Most Aphrodite kids are just naturally aware of all the couples at Camp Half-Blood whenever they see them, but you make it a point to keep tabs on them so you can avoid incidents like this while you’re trying to find matches for others. Clearly, you’ve missed one. 

“Ye—”

“Who is it?” you demand, resisting the urge to shake her until her bones rattle. “How could I not know about it?”

“Well, that was the goal,” Sooyoung explains, “we want it to be a secret.”

You’re gripping her so tightly that the tips of your fingers have turned white, though you’re sure it doesn’t bother her since she’s pure muscle. You want to know who it is so badly, but you respect her privacy, so you decide to let it go. Even if you really don’t want to.

“I understand,” you say solemnly, begrudgingly releasing her. Your body is slightly twitchy as you fight to control your need to snoop. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Renjun cuts in, half-joking and half-concerned. 

“Today has not gone well for me,” you sigh, spirit crushed by the sudden news and exhausted because of your weird mood swings that have been happening. “I’m hot, and I just want a nice, cold shower, followed by some nice, cold ice cream, and then followed by a nice, warm nap. We’ll try this again tomorrow.” 

“Want me to walk you back to your cabin?” Renjun asks. 

You nod, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Sorry to bother you, Sooyoung.”

“No problem. You’ll get ‘em next time,” Sooyoung says, trying to sound encouraging. 

As you turn to pitifully walk away, you notice Sooyoung and Renjun exchange another look in your peripheral. She gives him a thumbs up and he smiles wryly before he also turns to follow you.

It’s just the icing on the cake for your awful day. 

The walk back to your cabin is pretty quiet; Renjun sensing your foul mood and making the wise decision of letting you pout all by your lonesome (not that he’s much of a chatterbox anyway). You’re looking down at your feet as you walk, and he kindly navigates you through crowds and moves you out of the way when campers run by. This is something Renjun does often, since you have a tendency to not pay much attention to your surroundings on a regular basis, so you don’t even think twice about it. 

When you finally arrive, Renjun gives you a comforting pat on the back. “See you tomorrow. I’ll meet you here. Do not barge into my cabin and give me another rude awakening like you did today.”

You give him a strained smile and wink. “No promises.”

Of course, your act doesn’t fool him. He sighs. “Did it really bother you that much that Sooyoung managed to hide her relationship from you? It’s not like you to be so down after one failure.”

Honestly, that’s the least of your concerns right now. Did it hurt your pride? Yes, but you’ve recovered from a wounded pride countless times. 

What bothers you the most right now is the vile jealousy that you’ve stored in your heart. How shitty you felt when he was describing his ideal type (and how absolutely lovestruck he looked), or how bitter you were when you saw that Sooyoung and Renjun were in on something you weren’t. It eats away at you, seemingly within moments, before you even know what’s happening. But why? Where is it all coming from?

This is Renjun you’re talking about. Renjun, your best friend. Renjun, the one who’s always there for you. Renjun, the closest person to you other than your bloodline. 

Or so you thought. 

The pain that you felt from him earlier still haunts you, even if it’s faint. You’ve always seen Renjun as someone you can confide in, no matter what, yet it doesn’t appear like he feels the same towards you. In fact, an irrational part of you thinks you may be the one he’s trying to keep it from. 

And the paranoid part of you thinks Sooyoung knows about it too.

You know it’s horrible to think that, but you can’t control it. Renjun isn’t required to tell you everything he feels just because you do, not that it doesn’t hurt any less. It just bugs you that there could be someone closer to him than even you, which is an incredibly toxic mindset to have. You’re upset by the fact that you’re so possessive of him, yet you can’t seem to let him go either. 

I guess it’s alright if it’s Sooyoung, you admit to yourself, since she has a girlfriend.

You blink.

Wait, what? 

Before you can figure out what the hell your brain meant by that, you feel Renjun place his hand on your forehead. It jars you from your thoughts and you come back to reality, where Renjun is staring at you with furrowed brows as he checks your temperature. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been spacing out all day,” he says, clearly worried.

“F-Fine!” you answer way too enthusiastically. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “Just go get some rest.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you nod hurriedly, giving him a two-finger salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early! Don’t oversleep!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, smiling. You can tell he’s still concerned, but your brighter attitude relieves him just a tad. “Oh, and Y/N?” 

“Mhm?”

“I forgot to mention one more trait for my ideal type.”

“What is it?” You wish you had never asked him in the first place. Just when your mood was getting a little better, it sours just as quickly. 

“Dense,” he adds. 

You give him a puzzled look. “Huh?”

“I want her to be dense,” he states simply. 

“No way,” you argue, when his words finally register. “How is it gonna work out if both of you are dense as hell?”

“Who knows? Maybe our denseness will cancel each other out, and we’ll fall in love instantly,” he shrugs.

“Of course. PEMDAS and shit,” you jokingly agree.

“Exactly,” he says, nodding with a deadpan expression. 

You laugh loudly—a big belly laugh that makes Renjun beam. The tension eases off his features, and he seems much more reassured. Your heart swells at how hard he’s trying to make sure you’re okay, not that he would ever admit that.

“Okay, for real now. Bye, Y/N.” He gives you a lazy wave before walking away, shattering your touching moment. 

You huff at how he turned around without even letting you respond, though you still wave back (even if he can’t see it), and go back into your cabin. The moment the door closes behind you, you make a beeline for the shower. Peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, you close your eyes in bliss when the cold water hits you. 

As you let the water run down your body, you begin to feel more and more like a petulant child that just threw the biggest tantrum ever. You’re embarrassed that you overreacted like that and got so emotional for no reason. You chide yourself for being selfish. Just because you’re upset that Renjun doesn’t confide in you the way you do him, it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have someone. You should be happy for him when he finds a person he can fully open up to, even more so than you. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do for him right now? 

You shut the water off before slapping your cheeks hard, giving yourself a wake up call. Resolving to be more composed tomorrow, you decide to just take a nap for now as you change into comfortable clothes and dry your hair off. 

When you get to your bed, you see a small bowl of ice cream on your nightstand. Luckily, your shower didn’t take too long, so it’s still relatively frozen. It’s two scoops of chocolate, which is your favorite. You’re so excited that you almost miss the note tucked underneath the bowl. 

don’t know when you’re going to get out of the shower, so this might just be soup by the time you’re out. if that’s the case, drink it anyways since i went through the trouble of getting it. 

You snort. It’s so like Renjun to write a tactless note like this and not even bother signing off on it. If he’s going to be sweet, he shouldn’t ruin the moment by doing what he always does—opening his mouth (figuratively, in this case). 

But it’s not enough to wipe that big grin off your face, as you carefully fold up the note and put it in your drawer. 

He’s not cute at all.

ও DAY TWO.

The next day is about as successful as the first one, if not worse.

You had woken up with a game plan. Before you went to meet Renjun, you drafted up a list of campers that matched his ideal type (for the most part, since he was a little too specific). The goal was to narrow it down to a couple names before trying to march in head first, since that went disastrously yesterday. 

Unfortunately, instead of things going smoothly like you had hoped, you find yourself banging your head against a tabletop repeatedly.

You and Renjun are currently sitting in the library of the Athena Cabin, having been there for almost an hour now. He’s nearly eliminated your entire list that you so meticulously curated this morning. You’re starting to wonder if he’s purposefully being difficult just to see you riled up.

Renjun watches you hit your head a couple more times before outstretching his hand, catching your forehead in his palm and blocking you from hitting it against the table again. “Stop before you bleed all over the table, and I get stuck scrubbing it out later.”

You raise your head to glare at him. “I’ll show you bleeding all over the table.”

He doesn’t even blink at your threat, infuriatingly unfazed. “Are you done with your list already?”

“No,” you grumble, “I still have some left.”

“So, if I’m not interested in the rest, does that mean we’re done for the day?” he asks.

“Haha,” you say wryly, “you wish. If you don’t pick one, then I’ll just go through the list myself and pick one that I think is the most compatible with you.”

“Damn it.”

“Okay, what about Hyun Seunghee? She’s an Apollo kid. Super talented and sweet, one of the most adorable people on the planet, and loves art just like you,” you suggest.

“Seunghee is a very sweet girl,” Renjun agrees. “But I don’t think I have the energy to keep up with her. She’s even bubblier and more hyperactive than you, and I can barely manage dealing with you.” 

Sighing, you cross out Seunghee’s name on your list while simultaneously flipping off Renjun with your other hand. “Okay, what about Lee Mijoo? She’s one of my sisters, and honestly, she’s way out of your league but I’ll keep her in the running for now.” 

You figure it’s best to not mention that, despite being way out of his league, Mijoo has expressed some very...explicit interest in Renjun before. It’ll make things awkward if they do end up talking, and you aren’t one to expose your own sister like that.

“Ew, no way, that’s weird,” Renjun says, scrunching up his nose.

“What, why?”

“I don’t want to date anyone related to you. That would make us sort of related too, and the last thing I want is to be your brother.” He spits out the word like it’s a stale piece of gum that he’s been chewing for four hours.

“First of all, slow down, tiger. You would have to marry her for us to be related. This is just a casual thing. No one said anything about marriage. Second of all, that is so mean! Why wouldn’t you want to be in-laws with me?” you demand, offended.

“Don’t most people enter relationships with the intention of spending the rest of their lives with each other?” he asks, skillfully dodging your question. “I won’t date someone if I think we’re just going to breakup down the road.”

There’s a beat of silence as you stare at him with wonder. Your lips curl into a gentle smile, and you can’t hide the adoration in your expression. Renjun truly is all bark and no bite. Who would’ve guessed there’s such a lovely and pure person behind his sharp tongue?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks warily. You swear you can see a little pink dusting the shells of his ears and the tip of his nose.

“It’s just...you’re much more of a hopeless romantic than I initially thought, Huang Renjun,” you say teasingly. 

Now, you can definitely tell he’s embarrassed. He mumbles a “shut up” under his breath, but you can barely hear it.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you advise, “it’s totally natural to date and breakup. You can love someone with all of your heart, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be your life partner. Loosen up, my friend, and just have fun! Fall in love recklessly, and don’t think about anything else! That’s what youth is all about!”

You expect him to make fun of you for lecturing him like you’re centuries old, when the both of you can barely label yourselves as adults, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he’s gazing at you with a deep melancholy in his eyes. You’re sitting right across from him, but the way he looks at you makes it seem like you’re galaxies away. Your gut wrenches at how hurt and helpless he seems, like he’s yearning for something that is out of his reach. 

Time seems to slow down as the two of you stare into each other’s eyes, as if you’re both entranced. It’s hard to tell how long you stay like that, but it feels like you’ve woken up in the middle of a sweet dream when Renjun finally breaks eye contact. You’re slightly disoriented, even though it’s probably only been a few seconds.

Clearing his throat, Renjun mutters, “Anyways, don’t put anymore of your siblings on the list.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before sighing. “Fine. But now I’ve run out of names on my list.”

“Well, gosh darn it, what a shame,” he says in a terrible Southern accent while attempting to get up. “Look’s like that’s a wrap for today!” 

“Not so fast,” you cut in, snapping your fingers at him to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.” 

He groans but reluctantly obeys, dramatically throwing his head into his arms when he does.

“Behave while I go through this list again,” you order, putting stars next to names that you’re going to force Renjun to reconsider with. 

“Now, you’re making me want to hit my head against the table,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms.

You ignore his whining, focusing on your current task at hand. Just as you finish narrowing it down to a select few, someone brushes past you and it’s like you hear angels singing. Seo Soojin, daughter of Nemesis and actual hotness personified, walks by. 

Soojin is relatively new to Camp Half-Blood, having arrived for the first time last year. You don’t know much about her personality because she keeps to herself and her tight-knit circle of friends for the most part. You know for a fact that she’s a far cry from Renjun’s type, but you’re starting to think he doesn’t really know what he wants—seeing that he shot down every single person on your list already. She will be a nice change of pace for him.

“What about Soojin?” you ask in a hushed whisper, leaning forward. 

“Who?” Renjun looks around, not lowering his voice or trying to be subtle in the slightest.

“Shhh!” you hiss, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him forward. You pull a little too hard and end up knocking your foreheads together. 

“Ow! Why is your head made out of cast iron?” Renjun winces. He tries to lean back, but you don’t let him escape. 

“Shut up! You’re the blockhead, asshole,” you protest, getting offended for the second time. “Anyways, Seo Soojin. The girl over there. The one with the bangs, big lips, and is hot as fuck?” 

He squints, finally zeroing in on her. “What about her?”

“That’s what I’m asking you, dipshit!” 

Renjun shrugs noncommittally—an action that you’ve grown extremely accustomed to during these past two days, an action that makes you want to rip your own hair out. “She seems nice.” 

“Well, try and talk to her then,” you say, spelling it out for him. “You know, so you can see if the two of you will hit it off or not.”

He gives you a look. It’s the same look that a twelve-year-old kid gives his mother when she makes him take a picture in front of a national monument that he doesn’t know anything about, nor does he care to. However, she insists, so he reluctantly trudges over to it and takes the picture—hands firmly balled up by his sides and his lips pressed into a hard line, no matter how much his mom tells him to smile.

So, in other words, Renjun looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

“Are you sure that you’re human?” you ask incredulously. You’re not even being sarcastic at this point; you genuinely want to know how he is able to feel absolutely nothing for women that could rival the goddesses themselves.

“Technically—”

“If you say that you’re only half-human because we’re demigods, you’re going to get a pen through the jugular,” you warn, pointing your pen at him. 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“You know what I mean, you smartass. Are you or are you not capable of feeling romantic attraction towards another person?” you demand.

“I am,” he simply says.

“That’s it? That was the most robotic answer I’ve ever heard in my life!” you exclaim. 

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asks, throwing his arms up. 

“Have you experienced any blackouts recently, like woken up without memory of the past twenty-four hours? Have you checked your body for any chip implants under your skin?” You eye him suspiciously. “Been beamed up by any UFOs? Gone somewhere haunted?” 

Renjun gives you a pointed look, sighing. “While it is touching to know that you do, in fact, listen to me whenever I talk about topics I’m interested in, this is not how I wanted you to apply your knowledge.”

“You know, now that I think about it, you sure talked about alien abductions a lot,” you say, stroking a fake beard on your chin. “Could it be because you were actually abducted by aliens and got brainwashed into gathering information about us demigods, but they took away your ability to feel emotions so they wouldn’t get in the way of your mission?” 

You pause, waiting for his reaction. Renjun is very obviously trying not to smile, with his chin being propped up by his palm and his fingers covering his mouth. “Please, continue.” 

“But ultimately, that will be your fatal flaw and the downfall of your mission because you can’t empathize like humans can,” you finish dramatically. 

“Alright, let’s say I was brainwashed by aliens. Why would I then draw more attention to myself by talking about the very thing that happened to me? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Reverse psychology,” you explain, “you talk about them, so you won’t seem suspicious.” 

Renjun exhales sharply before looking down at his feet. You can see his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh, though you’re pretty sure that exhale from before was a small laugh. You’re grinning, despite the fact that you’re also trying to keep up your detective act.

“I’m kind of wish I had been abducted by aliens right about now. Maybe brainwashed me would be a little more courageous,” he mutters under his breath. You’re not sure if you were meant to hear that, but you do anyways. 

“That sounds exactly like something someone abducted by an alien would say!” you say in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at him. He rolls his eyes, but a tiny smile eventually makes its way to his lips. 

You gasp loudly, grabbing his face and pulling it towards your own. He makes a small noise of surprise, eyes as wide as UFO saucers. Your faces are so close that your noses are slightly brushing up against one another, but you’re not paying attention to that right now. 

“Or you could be a lizard person,” you whisper, “you know, the ones that people think take the place of government officials.”

“They’re called reptilian humanoids,” Renjun corrects. His breath (which smells like the blueberry muffin he had this morning) rustles your baby hairs. 

“Your eyes are glowing yellow, and your pupils are turning into slits,” you tease.

“Are they, now?” 

No, they aren’t. His eyes are a cool, icy gray, like most Athena children. It’s always been a trait you’ve been jealous of. They sparkle like stars, or freshly fallen snow. They change according to his mood too. For example, when he gets angry, there are no stars. Instead of twinkling, they flash like lightning. His eyes are truly the window to his soul; they’re one of your favorite things about him.

Renjun slightly leans into your touch, and it finally hits you how close he is. You’re cupping his face with both hands, tilting his chin up, and it looks like you’re about to...kiss him.

 It seems you’re not the only one who thinks so, because almost the entire library is gawking at you. Including Seo Soojin. She looks surprised, and slightly disgusted, by the two of you.

Oh.

You feel heat rise from your neck to your entire face.

Oh gods, they all think we’re a couple.

You recoil away from him, withdrawing your hands like your just burned yourself. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” As always, Renjun doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Just come on,” you say quickly, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the library. 

Your face burns for a long time after that, and you can no longer focus on anything else. In the end, you decide to call it a day after a few more half-hearted attempts to find more candidates for Renjun. When you come back to your cabin, you take another cold shower. 

You’re not sure what you’re so flustered by: the fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing or the fact that everyone in the library saw it.

Or the fact that you didn’t mind the notion of being mistaken for a couple with Renjun.

ও DAY THREE.

You don’t meet bright and early with Renjun today. He demanded to sleep in this time, since he’s not an early riser to begin with and the past two days have sucked all the energy out of him. 

Which means you’re free until noon. You check the time—10 AM. 

Two hours to kill. 

You don’t feel like getting all sweaty and hot, so any activity outside is out. You really don’t want to be judged by more Athena kids in the Arts and Crafts Center without Renjun. So, you decide to head back to the library, despite how yesterday went.

You check out a book that goes into depth about some of the most believable conspiracy theories; Renjun actually read it a while ago (and totally geeked out about it to you), but who would have thought that you would end up reading it too? Past you definitely would’ve laughed in your face if you told her that. 

Once you get back to your cabin, you curl up in your covers and begin to read. You get about two chapters in when you hear the door open and Jeong Jaehyun, one of your brothers, walks in. He’s wearing his orange t-shirt that’s soaked with sweat, and his hair is dripping from perspiration too. His pale skin glistens, and he looks like a sweaty and sparkly vampire. 

“Hey, kid,” Jaehyun says, nodding at you. He isn’t that much older than you, but he’s gotten into the habit of calling you kid for some reason.

“This is a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come back from training before 5 PM,” you tease.

He lets out a low whistle. “Way too hot out there. I needed to get some A/C before I had a heatstroke—is that a book in your hand?”

“What about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you near a book, much less read one.”

“Rude. I am expanding my horizons,” you retort. 

“It seems so. What was up with you and Renjun at the library yesterday?” Jaehyun plops down on the edge of your bed. 

“How do you even know about that?” you ask, wrinkling your nose. “And go take a shower first before you sit on my bed! You stink!” 

“Do I?” He waggles his eyebrows and throws his arms around you in a bear hug. You try your best to shove him off, but he has a hold on your like a python. 

“I hate you,” you say when he finally pulls back, sniffing your shirt to make sure you still smelled like your fabric softener. “Anyways, how’d you find out about the library thing?”

“Rumors spread fast around here, dear sister. But, seriously, what’s the deal?”

“There is no deal, Jaehyun,” you sigh, closing your book. “It’s all just a misunderstanding. We were joking around while I was trying to find a potential girlfriend for him there—which, by the way, is going horribly. I don’t think he feels romantic attraction properly like everybody else.”

“Oh right. I forgot you roped Renjun into your matchmaking thing,” Jaehyun says, disappointed. “Damn, and here I thought he finally made a move.”

Your head snaps up to give him a quizzical look. “What?”

“What?” He tilts his head.

“What did you mean by that, the part where you said you thought Renjun finally made a move?” you ask. 

Jaehyun stares at you for a couple of seconds, an astonished expression on his face. “Do you really not know?” 

“Would I be asking if I didn’t know?” you shoot back, annoyed that he still hasn’t answered you. 

“Gods, all this time, I thought you were just pretending like you didn’t know because you didn’t want to make things awkward,” he continues, shaking his head.

“Jaehyun, what are you talking about?” you demand.

“Renjun is in love with you, Y/N.”

You gape at him. It’s a good thing you’re already sitting down because you definitely would have fallen on your ass if you had been standing.

“Th-Th-That’s impossible,” you stammer, like an absolute idiot. “There’s n-n-no way.”

“Oh, come on, lil’ sis. He’s never even tried to hide it. He’s so obvious about it that I seriously don’t understand how you didn’t know,” Jaehyun snorts. “You don’t even need to have powers to see that he’s head over heels for you.”

“But—but how? I would’ve sensed it!” you exclaim.

“You’re so sharp when it comes to other people, but you’re dense as hell when it comes to yourself,” Jaehyun points out, shrugging. “You just never paid attention, Y/N.”

You don’t respond. Your mind is a mess, a jumbled mishmash of emotions. You’re feeling so many things right now, and you can’t pinpoint any of it.. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out.

“Do you like him back?” Jaehyun asks softly. 

“I—no! Of course not. Renjun’s my best friend. If I liked him, why would I be trying to find him a girlfriend right now? That’d be stupid of me. Yeah, that’d be so dumb. Why would I do that?” You’re rambling now, and it’s glaringly obvious that you’re trying to convince yourself rather than Jaehyun (and you know he can see it too).

“It doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard, though.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask defensively. 

“The Y/N I know spends all hours of the day gathering information on her potential matches and making sure even the tiniest detail goes according to her master plan that she’s already drafted inside her head. She wouldn’t be sitting here, leisurely reading a book, especially if it’s going horribly. She would be doing everything in her power to get things back on track,” Jaehyun notes. “Ask yourself. Do you really want Renjun to get a girlfriend?” 

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I?” You ask him, hoping he knows the answer, because you sure as hell don’t know. 

“Because he won’t always be there anymore. He won’t have time to let you constantly drag him into your antics anymore. You won’t be his number one anymore. His girlfriend will be his first priority, of course, as she should. Think long and hard about that, Y/N. Will you be okay with that?”

“I—” The words seem to die inside your throat as you come to realization that you might not be okay with that at all. You’ve always gone to Renjun for everything and knowing that he may not always be there makes you feel lost, like a compass without it’s True North. You’re being selfish again, but it seems like you’ve gotten into the habit of acting selfish whenever it comes to Renjun. You’ve let yourself grow too reliant on him. 

“Why do you care so much anyways?” Now, you’re deflecting. “Why did you tell me all of this?”

“Because you’re my little sister and I care about you. I want you to be one hundred percent sure of your own feelings, so your heart doesn’t get broken. The only reason I didn’t say anything sooner was because I thought you were already sure. Take some time and think about it, Y/N. It’ll be better for your friendship with Renjun if everything is crystal clear between the two of you,” Jaehyun advises, giving you a pat on the shoulder. He gets up, presumably to take a shower, and leaves.

You barely notice him go.

You sit in your bed, staring blankly at the wall, until Renjun finally arrives. He’s still a little groggy, probably having woken up ten minutes ago before coming. His clothes are a little rumpled and his hair isn’t styled, with his bangs flopping in his eyes. Normally, you would have made fun of him and mussed it up, but you have other things on your mind as of the moment. 

Like always, he can tell something is up. He gets that concerned look on his face—the one where he has a deep crease between his brows and his rosy lips are turned downwards. 

“What’s wrong?” He places a hand on your arm, lowering his head so he can’t get a better look at your face. 

Physical contact with Renjun has always been something normal for you, but suddenly, you’re now acutely aware of everything about him. You can feel the pad of every one of his fingertips on your bare skin, the warmth of his palm, and just how easily his touch makes your body relax. Even when your brain is a whirlwind of thoughts, your muscles, like clockwork, instantly loosen up with just a brush of his hand.

“We need to talk,” you say shakily, moving away from him. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes as his hand falls to his side. You feel bad, but the longer he’s touching you, the more confused you get. 

You lead him a secluded area behind the Dining Pavilion, and he follows wordlessly. He waits for you to speak as the two of you stand there. Now that you’re here, you don’t really know what to say anymore. 

“Are you in love with me?” you blurt before you can stop yourself. “Jaehyun said—”

“Yes,” Renjun answers. If he’s surprised or taken aback whatosever, he doesn’t show it. In fact, it seems like he knew this was coming. There’s no fear or hesitation in his eyes. He’s unwavering in his answer, and you wonder how he can always be so certain of his feelings. 

“How long?” you ask tentatively. 

“Probably when we first met,” he says. 

“Why?” 

“Are you asking me why I’m in love with you?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You’re not sure. You’re not sure of anything anymore.

When you don’t answer, Renjun looks at you for a very long time. “You make me happy, Y/N. No matter how shitty things get, no matter how much I want to ram my fist through a wall, I see you and it’s like I can finally take a breath again. When you smile at me, I forget about everything that was bothering me. You and your daily shenanigans are the best part of my day. You’re obnoxious and frustrating and exhausting, but I fucking love you for it. I’m at your beck and call; I’d do anything for you. Whenever you’re happy, I become happy too. Nothing else matters to me anymore. That’s why.”

“You should have told me,” you say, voice cracking. Your heart is singing with joy, and you want to cry with relief. He talks about you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you so desperately want to be exactly that for him. You’re not confused anymore. Everything has finally become clear for you now. You truly wonder how you managed not to notice anything at all—whether it be your own feelings or his. 

“I knew it would upset you,” he murmurs. 

But then it hits you. 

You can’t even fathom how much Renjun has had to endure throughout the years. He’s loved you all this time, yet he hasn’t said a word—out of consideration for you. In everything he’s ever done during the course of your friendship, he has always put you first. Even if it hurts him, he was willing to withstand it for your sake.

Yet all you’ve done for him is force him into letting you try to find a him a girlfriend, despite the fact that he was against it, and he had to pretend like he was okay as he watched you parade around like a fool telling him to love someone else. 

You don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Huang Renjun.

You don’t deserve to love someone like Huang Renjun.

Suddenly, you begin to feel nauseous—probably sickened by guilt. Black spots dot your vision, and your legs start wobbling. Your body collapses only moments after, but luckily, Renjun manages to catch you before you can hit the pavement. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Hey, talk to me,” you can hear him say very faintly. He’s cradling you against his chest, and you bury your face in it. Your head is spinning, but you feel surprisingly grounded in his arms.

Has he always smelled this nice? His scent is a mixture of books and sandalwood, and you’re basically crushing your nose against his chest like an absolute pervert. You don’t feel embarrassed because you know you can blame it on being sick later. 

Speaking of sick, even though Renjun smells so good, you proceed to lean forward and vomit all over him and yourself.

Once again, you don’t feel that embarrassed because you black out soon after.

ও DAY FOUR.

You wake up tucked nicely under your covers. Much to your relief, you’re also in clean clothes—your favorite set of heart pajamas. Unfortunately, that’s the only bright side to your current state.

It feels like you haven’t had a sip of water in ten years, and your lips feel like they’ve been glued together. Even the tiniest movement makes your head feel like someone is drilling into your skull. Your body feels twenty times heavier, and not to mention, you just generally feel like shit because of what happened with Renjun.

“Oh my gods, you look so creepy right now. Who just lays there with their eyes wide open? If you’re awake, you should say something,” a voice chides. Turning your head just a smidgen (and wincing because of the pain), you see your sister, Lee Mijoo. She has a glass of water in her hand, setting it on your nightstand.

“How long have I been asleep?” you ask hoarsely. 

“Let’s see. Renjun brought you back at like 2 PM yesterday, and it’s now 8 PM, so...thirty hours?” Mijoo counts on her fingers. 

“Fuck,” you groan.

“Heatstroke will do that to ya,” she says, making a clicking noise with her tongue.

“I had a heatstroke?”

“Yep. It was a pretty nasty one too. You really did a number all over Renjun’s shirt. It was like a vomit Picasso,” Mijoo says, sounding kind of impressed.

Your face burns from humiliation. 

“Here, sit up and drink this water,” she orders, helping you get up. Your head is screaming in pain, like a million little jabs to your brain. You down the water in one big gulp, not realizing just how dehydrated you were until your lips hit the water. 

“So, you and Renjun, huh?” Mijoo asks sheepishly.

If you still had water in your mouth, you would’ve spat it out. “What?”

“Jaehyun told me everything,” she explains.

Traitor, you think to yourself.

“Don’t be mad at him. Renjun looked like a kicked puppy when we saw him. There’s no way I wouldn’t have asked questions,” she says. “Did you break his heart, little sister?”

You sigh, putting the cup back on your nightstand. “I hope not. His heart shouldn’t be broken by someone like me.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that he shouldn’t concern himself with me,” you sigh.

“Well, he does. He came to check up on you like a billion times. I had to ban him from coming back until tomorrow,” Mijoo snorts. “He’s a really good guy, you know.”

“Trust me,” you say, rubbing your temples. “I know that better than anyone.”

“So, what’s stopping you? I would be all over that.”

You glare at her before letting out another sigh. “He’s too good for me, Mijoo.” 

“That’s for him to decide, no?” She raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying the truth,” you say. 

“So, you won’t mind if I date him?” she asks seriously.

Your face falls instantly, and Mijoo doubles over laughing. 

“Geez, Y/N, you looked like you were about to claw my eyes out!” She wipes away a tear.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

“But what if I had been serious? What would you have done then?”

You don’t answer.

“I think you really, really like Renjun, Y/N,” Mijoo whispers loudly.

“I think I love him,” you whisper back.

“Then, you should probably tell him.”

“Yeah, I should,” you echo.

Ignoring the major migraine you have and the fact that you’re still a little sluggish, you throw your covers off of you. You don’t change out of your pajamas, simply throwing a thin cardigan over it. 

“Uh, Y/N, maybe you should wait until you feel be—”

“No, I have do it now before I change my mind,” you cut her off, slipping on your tennis shoes.

You hear Mijoo call after you, but you’re already out of the door. The Athena Cabin isn’t too far from the Aphrodite Cabin, so the walk is short. Much to your surprise once you’re inside, he isn’t there.

Grabbing the nearest Athena kid you see, you ask, “Where’s Renjun?”

“Um, I think he went to the amphitheater?” 

The amphitheater is a bit further, so you promptly release and thank the kid, before taking off. You’re not sure if running is recommended right after a heatstroke, but you do it anyways. By the time you get there, your cardigan is slipping off and you’re dripping with sweat from the humid summer heat. 

The amphitheater is extremely crowded, since there was probably a performance tonight. It’s actually a little hard to see over all the people. However, you find Renjun pretty quickly.

You see him standing off to the side, away from everyone else. He’s staring emptily at the stage, hands tucked inside his pockets. He looks so tired and dejected. His entire body slumps as if it’s too exhausting to stand up straight anymore. 

All because of you.

You wait until you finally catch your breath, opening your mouth to call out to him. But you don’t ever get the chance to because a girl walks up to him. You can’t tell who she is because the back of her head is facing you, and you see Renjun give her a small smile before saying something.

The girl laughs and turns her head, giving you a view of her side profile.

Hwang Yeji.

All of the courage you had inside you withers away like a dying flower.

You take a step back, accidentally bumping into someone behind you. They say something to you, but you don’t hear it at all. Instead, you turn on your heel and run. You run wildly and blindly, nearly whizzing right past your cabin. You’re barely able get back inside, eyes so blurry with tears that you can’t even see where you’re going. 

When Mijoo sees you, she doesn’t ask any questions. She just turns on the shower for you, extra hot. You step in without a word, letting the water mix with the tears running down your face. 

It’s not that you think Renjun is in love with Yeji now. In fact, you know he’s not. It’s just that they would be much better together. 

Yeji is one of the sweetest girls you know. She would treat Renjun with the kindness he deserves. She would consider his feelings first before making him do anything. She would make him happier than you ever could. They would be so compatible, and if you weren’t in love with Renjun yourself, you would definitely be trying to set the two up. 

After your shower, you change into the clothes Mijoo set out for you—an oversized sweater with cotton shorts—and miserably crawl back in bed. You’re so drained that you don’t even have the energy to drink the fresh glass of water on your nightstand. 

Everything hurt—mentally and physically. 

Your heart aches most of all. You’ve dated here and there, gone through some breakups, but nothing has ever been as painful as this. 

It’s a pain that consumes you whole. A pain that makes you want to scream but no sound will come out. A pain that makes you want to tear your heart out. A pain that makes you wish a bunch of aliens abducted you and brainwashed you into not feeling any emotions anymore.

It’s the same pain that you thought you felt from Renjun on the first day of when this all began.

And then the last puzzle piece finally falls into place.

That pain was never his.

It has always been your own.

You love Renjun too, and you’ve loved him for a very long time.

ও DAY FIVE. 

“Come on, Y/N. At least get up to wash your face and brush your teeth,” Mijoo pleads.

You ignore her, pulling your covers over your head and turning away. It’s already well into the afternoon, but you’ve been feigning sick so you didn’t have to get up. The rest of the Aphrodite children have left and gone about their various activities throughout the camp, but Mijoo was tasked by Jaehyun to take care of you.

“If you just do that, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day,” she bargains. 

You think about it for a second before sighing, begrudgingly sitting up. You can see the pity dripping out of her eyes when you brush past her to head to the bathroom. When you see yourself in the mirror, you can understand why.

Puffy eyes, matted hair, tear-stained cheeks, and chapped lips. It’s too bad you hadn’t been wearing mascara last night because the only thing you’re missing in your hot mess look right now are those dark smudges right under your eyes.

You brush you teeth, which takes a lot more effort than you realize, and splash water on your face. Not even bothering to brush your hair, you head straight back to bed. True to her word, Mijoo doesn’t say anything else after that.

That is, until a couple hours later.

“Um, so I know I said I would leave you alone, but I think you might want to get up for this one, Y/N,” she whispers. You can’t see her because you back is turned to her, but you can tell by the tone of her voice that it’s important.

Irritated, you yank the covers off you and sit back up once again. “Mijoo, I—”

You almost choke on air when you realize Mijoo isn’t alone. Renjun is right beside her, looking not much better than you. He’s in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair looks like he just ran his fingers through it and called it a day, and he has purple bags under his eyes.

“Can we talk?” Renjun asks. 

You hesitantly nod. 

“I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy,” Mijoo says awkwardly before turning around and running out of the cabin. 

You don’t know what to do now, staring down at your clasped hands. You hear Renjun take a step forward, and you feel the edge of your bed dip under his weight. There’s a sizable gap between you and where he’s sitting, but he’s still close enough for his scent to waft over to you. He smells wonderful like usual, and you hope you don’t stink in return.

“How are you feeling?” Renjun asks quietly.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly.

He laughs under his breath. “I know what you mean.” 

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel giddy all of a sudden when you see him smile. How did you manage to turn into a lovesick little schoolgirl over night? 

“I talked to Yeji last night at the amphitheater,” Renjun says after a moment. 

“I know,” you mutter. 

He blinks. “You do? How?” 

You’re not sure how to answer that.

“Well, that doesn’t matter right now,” he dismisses, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that I ran into her after I checked up on you, and she invited me to watch her performance. I wasn’t going to say yes at first, but I thought it would make you happy if I did. I tried, Y/N, I really tried. Yeji’s a nice girl, but I can’t help how I feel. I love you, Y/N. It’s always been you, and it always will be. I’m not asking you to love me back. I just want to stay by your side, as your friend, if you’ll allow it. I—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, scooting closer to him and putting a hand over his mouth. “I have to tell you something.” 

Renjun gives you a bewildered expression but nods nonetheless. 

You remove your hand from his mouth, before taking in a deep breath of your own. “You’re my best friend, Renjun, and I’ve always confided in you for everything. I took you for granted, and I only thought about myself. Deep down, I think I’ve always known about your feelings and my own, but I was afraid to dig for it. I was comfortable, and I didn’t want to ruin that, even though you were hurting. I’m truly sorry for treating you that way, Renjun. From now on, I want you to tell me everything—the good, the bad, the ugly. Don’t bottle things up for my sake.”

He goes to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop him.

“The reason why I knew you were with Yeji at the amphitheater last night is because I was there too. I went to look for you,” you finally confess. “When I decided I was going to find a girlfriend for you, I thought I would be able to step aside when you did find someone. But once I saw you with Yeji, I realized that I couldn’t do it. What I want with you isn’t a friendship anymore. I’m in love with you, Renjun. I have been for a long time, and it took me four, almost five, years to see that because I never thought to listen to my own heart until now. I don’t think I will ever deserve you in his lifetime, but I love you. I’m selfish and I’m a mess and I always cause trouble for you, but I—”

Renjun wraps an arm around your waist and tugs your body flush against his. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek as his thumb lightly runs across your cheekbone. You’re clutching his shirt like a lifeline, holding your breath, as you stare into those gray eyes.

“You,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing against yours, “are more than I deserve.”

He leans in and closes the infinitesimal gap between your mouths. He kisses you desperately, like you’ll disappear any moment, and you can feel all of the emotions he’s been locking away. His arms are wound tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. You weave your hands through his hair, and he deepens the kiss. Your shirt rides up as you shift, and you feel his hand slip up your shirt and rest against your back. It ignites a fire within you and you want to tell him to take it off completely, but your lungs are screaming for air, so you have no choice but to pull away.

“Sorry,” Renjun says breathlessly, his chest heaving up and down, as he takes his hand out from under your shirt.

“No, I liked it,” you say, shaking your head and placing your forehead against his. “I just ran out of air.”

“No,” he disagrees, “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, but I lost control.” 

He tugs your shirt back down and gently sets you back down next to him. You can’t help but giggle at how flustered he is. It’s not often that Athena children, especially Huang Renjun, loses control of their emotions like that. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he says wryly, rolling his eyes. 

“You know,” you say in a sing-song voice, “I still technically never broke my streak. I found you a girlfriend within five days.”

“Does it really count if you ended up being my girlfriend?” He raises an eyebrow. “Seems a little unprofessional to me.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you taunt.

“You also said you were going to make me fall in love so hard that I’d forget my own name,” he points out. “And I didn’t, so that’s false advertising. Unprofessional and unethical? I could sue you.” 

“You are so petty,” you squint. “And come on! That kiss didn’t make your forget? It made me forget!”

“I don’t like you that much.” He deadpans.

“Huang Renjun, you are so not cute!” 

4 YEARS AGO.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” Renjun says, trying to act casual about it.

You look so happy that Renjun would have painted a thousand more if you asked him to. You have a smile that could make the goddesses envious, and he can barely hear what you’re saying over the thumping of his own heart. He hopes his expression looks somewhat elusive because he’s not sure how to handle himself right now. 

You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. 

Renjun feels like he’s been shot by Eros’ arrow. He used to never understand why everyone was so wary of Eros; he’s basically just a mascot for corny Valentine’s Day cards. Apollo and his children avoid Eros and his children like the plague. Though granted, Eros did force Apollo to fall in love with Daphne and then she ended up turning into a tree. So, there is a little bit of history there. Point being, Renjun just didn’t get it.

But he think he does now.

“Thank you so much!” you say excitedly, extending your hand. “I’m Y/N!”

Renjun just stupidly stares at you. He’s not even sure if he’s worthy to touch your hand, but he also doesn’t want to be rude. He carefully shakes your hand, unable to say a word.

“What’s your name?” you ask, tilting your head. 

Is it possible for a person to be this adorable? he thinks to himself.

“I’m...” 

You’re looking at him, waiting expectantly.

“I’m...”

You’re still smiling, but he can see the slight confusion in your eyes. He’s never felt like more of a moron in his life. 

“Ren...jun,” he finally says after an extreme amount of concentration. 

You beam at him, and he wonders if he’s the only one seeing the ring of light surrounding you. There’s no way you aren’t Aphrodite’s favorite child.

“Nice to meet you, Renjun! Let’s be friends.” 

Renjun isn’t sure he wants to be just friends, but he finds himself nodding along anyways. 

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in trouble.

[haechanitboy]

summary: Mark’s been holding onto this book for about 2 months now and keeps renewing it and you want it so bad you’re willing to do just about anything to get it.

word count: 10.1k

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, humor

notes: okay might have gone a teeny weeny bit far with the buildup but i had a lot of fun writing this sort of dysfunctional friend group so i’m actually not sorry w h o o p s

“I’m going to kill them. Johnny, you’re going to have to be in charge of all of my business while I’m locked away in prison.” You growl, looking up at him from your laptop.

“Um, bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be your accomplice.” He retorts, propping his feet up on the library table. You scowl and smack his legs off, snorting back a laugh as his legs thud on the floor loudly, subjecting the two of you to glares and a couple of shushes. “You’re all a bunch of nerds!” He yells loudly, sweeping around to glare at everyone, and you let out a muffled shriek of laughter, frantically shushing him as you hide your face in your Econ textbook, red rising to your cheeks.

“Shut up!” You giggle, kicking him under the table. He yelps in pain, and your laughter only grows, getting louder the more you try to stop it. Within seconds, the library assistant, a tall, balding man in his 40s, swoops down on you two, fixing you in place and silencing you with a glare.

“Am I going to have to ask you to leave?” He all but snarls, leaning down to put one hand on the table, blessing your and Johnny’s noses with the scent of stale coffee on his breath. You wince involuntarily, and as he turns his piercing gaze on you specifically, you’re saved by the actual library director, a sweet, elderly woman with white hair who’s come to be quite fond of you after she caught you organizing the books of your own free will (you were really just very bored, but she still thinks you’re a doll).

“It’s okay, they won’t be causing any more trouble—isn’t that right, dear?” She says, shooting you a teasing grin. You nod emphatically, putting on your best angelic expression and batting your lashes up at her. “Exactly what I thought. Carry on, you two.” They walk off, the male still eying you suspiciously as they leave.

“I still don’t get how you have that sweet old lady convinced you’re an angel. Clearly, she’s incapable of seeing the demon underneath your “adorable” persona.” Johnny shakes his head at you in disbelief, picking up a nearby book, opening it, and holding it up to his face, peering over the top at you. “Share your secret.”

“My secret,” You whisper conspiratorially and lean closer—he leans closer as well, playing along with feigned interest on his face, “Is that I’m just a delightful individual. Also, your book is upside down, genius.” You laugh, leaning back in your seat. “Can we get back to me and my dilemma now?”

“All ears, angel,” He agrees, leaving the book face down on the table and folding his hands behind his head, waiting patiently.

“I’ve been waiting for this book for two and a half months, Johnny—that’s ten weeks. The rule is two weeks, which means this incompetent dingbat has renewed this book five times. Five!” You whisper-shriek, fingers clenching on your laptop.

“Maybe they need it for a class,” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I already looked up the book in the college store—it’s not on any course reserve list.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little Nancy Drew?”

“Fuck off, Johnny. I just need to find this book. I’ve wanted to read Antigonick for ages now, and this dunce has been hogging it for over a month now.”

“Remind me what exactly the book is, again?”

You sigh, blowing a strand of hair out of your face and sit up, pushing your laptop to the side. “Antigonick is a series of hybrid poetry works—false translations, namely—by the absolutely brilliant Anne Carson, and I have been trying to get ahold of it for ages. The bookstore nearby doesn’t sell it, the college store doesn’t sell it, and this library is the only establishment within 50 miles where I can get it.”

“Maybe they’re having a hard time understanding it. It sounds kinda complicated, after all.” Johnny’s always been great at diffusing a situation, but right now, you kind of need someone who’ll get riled up with you—specifically, Doyoung.

“Anne Carson’s work deserves better than to be in the hands of some imbecile who can’t even understand it,” You mutter bitterly, and turn your head at approaching footsteps. You and Johnny crane your heads to the visitor and find Yuta and Doyoung, who walk up to your table and sit down, Yuta next to you, and Doyoung next to Johnny. “Thank God, I was just thinking about you.” You tell Doyoung, who raises a wary brow.

“Thanks, bud. Missed you too,” Yuta scoffs, and you smile, nudging him with your elbow.

“I needed emotional support in a very specific way only Doyoung could provide right now.” You explain, waving Yuta off dismissively. Johnny scoffs, and you glare at him. “You’re too positive, Johnny. No offense.”

“Does this have anything to do with the imbecile you were just talking about?” Doyoung asks with a budding smile on his face, already eager to indulge in your gossip.

“Yes!” You whisper excitedly, and the two of you lean forward in your seats, murmuring hurriedly about the book hogger. “…and he’s had it for two and a half months now, which—”

“Means he’s renewed it five times! Who takes two and a half months to read a book?” Doyoung finishes for you, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Your eyes light up, and you smack the table triumphantly.

“Exactly!”

“You’re right, that’s ridiculous.” Doyoung huffs, leaning back and frowning at you. “Your feelings are…”

“Don’t say it,” Yuta and Johnny groan in unison, rolling their eyes, but Doyoung persists, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards mischievously.

“More than valid, and you should do something about it.” He finishes, nodding.

“I know, so here’s my plan.” You say, bouncing in your seat excitedly.

“Okay, I love you both dearly, but can the two of you shut up? The library used to be a place where you could do work, you know.” Yuta groans, and you and Doyoung roll your eyes in unison.

“We’ll be quiet,” You say, patting Yuta on the shoulder. He shoots you a dazzling, albeit clearly tense smile as he pulls out a thick packet of what you assume to be worksheets. “Remind me why you’re a biochem major again?”

“I’m a dumbass who loves animals, and I have to do veterinarian studies through the pre-med track,” Yuta sighs, and you leave it at that, clearly seeing how stressed out he is. You reach instead for your phone, looking pointedly at Doyoung, who gets the hint and picks up his own phone, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. You reach over and push his legs off, glaring at him sternly before directing your attention back to your phone.

[You have added ‘johnny johnny bo bonny’ to the group chat.]

[You have added ‘pillsbury do-bunny’ to the group chat.]

[You have named the conversation “mission take down the book hogger.”]

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:32pm] ^ ur literally so dramatic i hate u

you [1:32pm] shut up i’m after /justice/

pillsbury do-bunny [1:33pm] i support you fully. what’s your plan?

you [1:35pm] so i’ve been thinking about how to find out who has the book…and i thought i should attack from the inside, you feel?

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:36pm] [attachment: 1 image] “aTtAcK fRoM tHe InSiDe” ur the absolute Worst™

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:36pm] what does that even mean

pillsbury do-bunny [1:38pm] don’t send that spongebob meme anymore. you know his face creeps me out.

you [1:39pm] nerd

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:39pm] nerd

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “nerd”]

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “nerd”]

you [1:41pm] coward

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “coward”]

[‘johnny johnny bo bonny’ laughed at “coward”]

you [1:44pm] anYway: so you know how the head librarian here is like obsessed w me or something?

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:46pm] still baffles me but yeah

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ emphasized “still baffles me but yeah”]

you [1:49pm] so i was thinking: i finesse my way onto a shift here at the library and go through the administrative records of the library catalogue, find the book, find out who has it and voila!! i’ve got myself a culprit

pillsbury do-bunny [1:52pm] i heard the library slots are all full though…how are you gonna get one?

you [1:56pm] um. i didn’t get that far yet.

pillsbury do-bunny [1:57pm] isn’t that like step one of the plan?

you [2:05pm] new phone who dis

Doyoung scowls up at you as you giggle at your own joke, eyes scanning the library until they meet a pair of brown eyes staring directly back at you. You do a quick double-take, and you see a—very cute—guy staring at you; however, he would be a lot cuter if he wasn’t staring at you with poorly masked annoyance on his face. He mouths something at you, but you can’t quite make it out. You cock your head in confusion, and he huffs, walking over to your table.

He’s even cuter up close, and he smells really good—like cinnamon and soap.

“Could you guys please keep it down? You’ve been kind of disruptive for the past hour or so, and a lot of people here are trying to do work.” He asks, and you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. You stare at him intently, taking in each of his features and mulling each one over in your head—he looks super familiar, but you can’t quite place where you know him from.

Doyoung and Johnny apologize, while Yuta only mutters an “Amen.” You hear a thud and a grunt from your side of the table and assume Doyoung’s kicked Yuta, but the noises are muted as you continue to stare at the new addition to your table.

“Sorry,” You reply slowly, still transfixed on placing his face. “Where do I know—” You start, but he’s already turned around and rushing back to his table.

“Who is he, and why do I know him from somewhere?” You mumble, still staring after him.

“You look like a stalker right now; you know that, right?” Johnny jokes, and you glare at him. “Stop kicking me!”

“I’m sorry dear, but we’re booked full right now,” The head librarian responds with a sympathetic look up at you. As if to prove her point, three library volunteers shuffle out of the back area, each carrying a stack of books.

“I told you,” Doyoung mumbles, and you smile sweetly, letting one hand drop from the counter to pinch his thigh. He winces, but recovers impressively quickly to smile at the librarian as well.

“That’s okay! I just figured I’d ask,” You smile, waving at her as she turns away and points the volunteers in their respective directions. In their haste to relieve their burdens, one of the workers drops her volunteer ID card as she hustles off. You go to call after her, but you end up stooping to pick it up, staring at it in fascination. You turn to look at Doyoung with a sinister, growing smile, and his eyes widen.

“No. No, no, absolutely not.” He says, as sternly as he can muster.

“Yes. Yes, yes, this is happening whether you like it or not, so you might as well be on board with it.”

“This feels illegal.” He hisses, and you shush him, swatting his arm.

“Shut up, because I’m going to need your help with this.”

“No. That is a firm, unyielding no. I’m not getting in trouble and accessing private school information just so you can read some poetry book.”

“Come on, Doyoung. Be the Tom to my Jerry, the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Frog to my Toad!”

“Tom and Jerry fought all the time.”

“Are we not fighting right now?”

“Bonnie and Clyde died tragically.” Doyoung points out.

“After leading lives of crime, not after peeking online at a certain book’s checkout history.”

“Frog and Toad were lovers, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re actually the worst. Forget it, I’m asking Yuta.” You grouch, tucking the ID in your back pocket and turning on your heel to leave the library. You pull out your phone instead, typing out a text message as quickly as you can.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking Johnny.” Doyoung says, jogging to keep up with you. You may be shorter than him, but you’re a girl on a mission and you’re virtually unstoppable at this point.

“What, and have him fuck up the diversion? I’m not going down with that beanstalk and you know it.”

“You act as if you’re going to assassinate a king, you absolute drama queen.”

“You love my theatrics, and you know it,” You cry loudly with a flourish, eyes still glued on your phone. Everything next happens very, very quickly. The last you remember, you were walking and chattering. The next, you’re flat on your back, unhurt but definitely startled. “Oh.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” A voice overhead gasps and you’re suddenly very aware of the warm hand holding yours as you’re tugged to your feet. It’s the same guy from the library from earlier, you note, dusting yourself off. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so! Don’t worry about it, also—now we’re kind of even for earlier in the library,” You say, patting him on the shoulder, making what you hope is a friendly, comforting expression.

“Oh—Don’t worry about that, I’ve just been really stressed out, and I just needed to focus.” He mumbles, cheeks dusted with a faint pink as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s okay, we’re pretty rambunctious. Hey, before I forget—am I crazy, or do I know you from somewhere?” You say, cocking your head, and his eyes widen almost unnoticeably before he opens his mouth to answer.

“We’re in Advanced Poetry together, right? Our teacher scares the crap out of me, honestly.”

You do your best to bite back a smirk. “She’s my advisor.”

Doe eyes wide and mouth open in the shape of a Cheerio—adorable, you think—replace his usual features, and you bite back a laugh as he shakes his head almost frantically, stumbling over his next words.

“I didn’t mean—she’s nice, she’s just scary, and—Jesus, this isn’t going well.”

“I thought you were doing pretty well,” You point out, a smile on your face, and he blushes furiously, looking at you bashfully.

“Thanks,” He chuckles, taking a step closer to you. “I don’t think I ever got your name, by the way.” You grin and introduce yourself, and he beams at you, opening his mouth to tell you his name, but—

“Dude, are you coming or what?” At the sound coming from behind you, you turn around and find two guys standing by the entrance to the library with semi-impatient expressions on their faces.

“Uh. Yeah, I-I’m coming.” He calls out to them before looking at you apologetically. “I’ll see you around, right?”

“Yes, you will,” You nod, waving goodbye to him. He smiles shyly and walks past you and Doyoung (who you’ve practically forgotten was there) to go back into the library. The door shuts behind him, and you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair as you keep walking. “Why is the universe determined not to tell me his name?”

“He’s kind of like your Cinderella. Gender-bent fairytales are cute and progressive, don’t you think?” Doyoung jokes, and you growl, knocking into him and ignoring his laughter. “Did Yuta text you back yet? While I don’t endorse crime, I am deeply intrigued to see how this works out.”

“Oh shit, I never actually sent the text.” You yelp, fishing your phone back out and sending the text.

you [3:57pm] yutaaa do you wanna do a top-secret search and rescue mission with me?

thousand-watt smile [3:58pm] no.

you [4:00pm] 1, stop changing your name in my phone. 2, please???? i’ll pay you in love and affection.

thousand-watt smile [4:03pm] 1, i don’t like that my name in your phone used to be ‘biochem nerd.’ 2, fine.

thousand-watt smile [4:03pm] you’re lucky you’re cute.

[you loved ‘you’re lucky you’re cute.’]

you [4:06pm] yay yay yay i love you! i’ll even keep your name as this in my phone. ^.^

thousand-watt smile [4:08pm] you were going to do that anyway…right?

you [4:10pm] yes darling can you come meet me and doyoung in the café? johnny said he’d come too

thousand-watt smile [4:15pm] yes yes after my class. i’m bringing taeyong he says he misses you

you [4:18pm] are you in class??? stop texting me i’ll see you when you get out

thousand-watt smile [4:22pm] lmaO okay i get out at 5

“Okay, can we hurry to the café? We need a big booth and you know those go quickly.” You pout, already picking up the pace as you walk as briskly to the café as you can.

“Can we go over the plan one more time?” Yuta asks through a mouthful of his cheeseburger. “I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

“Dedication—I appreciate that. Okay: phase one—” You start.

“Drama queen,” Johnny mutters, and you throw a fry at him.

“You’re just jealous I didn’t let you in on the plan.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Phase one: you and I show up at the library after the official staff leave, which, I’m pretty sure, is around 6:30pm. Yuta, you stand lookout near the front desk while I go to the main checkout computer and check the book’s history. If anyone asks, I’ll be wearing this,” You smile wickedly, brandishing the volunteer ID, “and I’ll just say I work there.”

“I think this is—” Taeyong starts, and you all shout out different answers.

“Brilliant?”

“Stupid?”

“Really dramatic?”

“Going to be hilarious if it fails?”

“—a really bad idea.” He finishes, a furrow between his brows. You pout and look up at him.

“Don’t worry,” You drag out, beaming up at him as you pop a gummy bear in your mouth. “Things almost always work out for me.”

“Almost,” Doyoung points out with a self-satisfied grin, and you sneer at him, kicking him under the table. “Ow,” He whines, bending down and grabbing his ankle. He seems to notice something behind him as he’s bent over and sits up abruptly. “Wait a minute, isn’t that your Cinderella over there?” He asks, pointing over his shoulder at the entrance.

You, Yuta, and Taeyong, on the same side, immediately look to the front door to see the same guy from the library standing by the utensils, looking adorably lost.

“Isn’t he just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You pout, smiling as you rest your chin in your palm.

“No,” They chorus in unison, and you glare at them.

“I hate you all. Plus, Doyoung, when I find out his name, then he won’t be my Cinderella anymore.” You grumble, taking a sip of your lemonade through the straw. You look towards him again, only to see that he’s already looking at you. At the sudden eye contact, his eyes widen and he looks away quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks even from where you’re sitting. “Okay, he’s actually too cute. Taeyong, can you scoot? I’m gonna go say hi.” You mutter, waiting for Taeyong to stand up before wiggling out the booth and grabbing your gummy bears, heading towards him.

“Hey!” He greets you, already smiling widely. You find yourself immediately matching his expression, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips until you’re sure you can’t smile any harder.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me,” You tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m going to say something weird.”

“I’m weird. Go for it.”

“I wasn’t following you, but I was hoping I’d see you again today. Now that I’m not stressed and I can actually try and carry on a conversation.” He admits, and your heart feels like it’s swollen at least two times its size.

“That wasn’t weird at all,” You say, smiling. “Very cute, but not weird.”

He smiles widely at you, seeming less nervous than before.

“Did you come alone?” You ask, and he pouts for the first time since you’ve met him.

“Technically, yes. I was supposed to meet my friend Lucas here, but he’s actually rushing a frat and I think he got called in on pledge duty, so I think I’m just gonna get something to go.”

“If you want company, I’m free,” You offer, and he raises a curious eyebrow at you, gesturing over your shoulder. You turn to look where he’s pointing and see all four of your friends watching you intently, turning around and “acting natural” immediately once they realize they’ve been spotted. You chuckle and turn back to face him, smiling widely. “Like I said, I’m free.”

“Cool. Awesome. Great. Um, do you wanna eat here? I’m not really super hungry, and you must have already eaten, so whatever makes you happy.” He stammers, and he reminds you, vaguely, of an overexcited puppy. You initially open your mouth to answer his question, but apparently, your brain had other plans.

“What’s your name? I just realized I don’t know it.” You blurt out, shooting him a sheepish grin. His face lights up, and he starts to laugh, the sound sounding like an adorable hiccup fit, and you can’t help but laugh as well. “Don’t laugh at me!” You giggle, swatting his arm, and his laugh only escalates until he’s managed to quiet his laugh to a series of giggles in the café, leaning against the wall for support.

“I’m not laughing at you, I just think it’s really funny and kind of cute that you never knew my name, but I’ve known yours for like, months now. My name is Mark, by the way. Mark Lee.” Mark finally manages to get out, and you try to frown at him, but your smile stays steady.

“Wait. You asked me for my name today,” You say, confused, and you can hear him softly curse under his breath, only heightening your confusion. “Mark?”

“Okay, so I asked you for your name earlier kind of as a cover, because I’ve always known we were in Advanced Poetry together, but you always hung out with Taeyong, so you never really noticed me. I sit, like, two desks away from you.” He stammers out, not even noticing the smile growing on your face.

“I honestly didn’t think you could get any cuter,” You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. His eyes widen and a sort of shocked laugh escapes him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you earlier; I’m just really into poetry. It’s my major concentration, so I just kind of zone in on the class.”

“That totally makes sense—I’ve always thought you were the best in the class. Your analysis papers always get read out loud—”

“Don’t start, she knows how embarrassing that is for me, but she does it anyway!” You groan, and Mark laughs again, that cute laugh that bubbles from his stomach out his mouth. You watch him laugh for a second, your gaze falling to his lips and studying them—their pink color, how soft they look, how warm they’d probably feel, and—

“Do you guys want to move up or what?” The guy behind you says pointedly, and you both jump slightly, your gazes flickering from the guy to the line ahead of you, which is now several feet away from you. As you look back at each other, you notice Mark’s gaze linger on your lips for just a second, enough to make your heart flutter.

“Sorry! You can go ahead of us,” You say, and he does with a heavy sigh, causing you two to wince and look at each other. “If you’re not hungry hungry, there’s a really good rolled ice cream shop nearby if you want to try it out?” You offer, and he smiles at you, nodding excitedly.

“YES—I mean, yes, yeah, that sounds cool.” He says, doing a pretty bad job of hiding his smile.

“Okay, cool, um, I’m gonna grab my stuff really quickly,” You say, pointing over your shoulder.

“Cool, I’ll meet you outside?” Mark replies, and you nod, smiling at him before turning and heading back to your table, where literally all of your friends are staring at you—Johnny and Yuta have matching smirks, Doyoung’s got a big expectant grin with an eyebrow raised, and Taeyong just looks proud.

“I’m getting ice cream.” You announce proudly.

“With?” Doyoung asks, and they all lean in. You put your hands down on the table and lean down.

“With…Mark.” They burst into cheers, and you shush them, trying to glare but giggling instead. “Yuta, I’ll be at the library at, like, 6:45?”

“Sounds good—have fun,” He sing-songs as he passes you your bag, and you stick your tongue out at him. “Save that for Mark,” He teases.

You gasp, and Yuta suddenly yelps in pain, a hand reaching under the table to rub what you think might be his foot. Taeyong smiles up at you, and you throw finger hearts at the group of them before turning and leaving the café.

“Lead the way,” Mark gestures ahead of him, and you do, the two of you walking off.

“Gummy bear?” You offer, holding the bag out, and he nods, taking one and popping it in his mouth. “So how’d you get into the Advanced Poetry class?” You ask, taking a gummy bear for yourself.

“I actually just begged and groveled in her office. I told her I’d work really hard to do well in the class, but she really just doesn’t seem to like what I write.” Mark says, and you could swear you heard a pout in his voice.

“Don’t take it personally; she’s really picky about what she likes and poetry is so subjective.” You reply, turning to look at him. You note with an especially hard beat of your heart that he is pouting and he looks so cute that you just want to lean over and kiss it off his face.

“I could really use help in the class but her office hours are always taken by—”

“Me.” You cut him off with a sheepish smile, and he laughs shyly, his ears turning a light shade of red. “I’ll be sure to hang out with her on my own time, don’t worry.” You offer, nudging him with your shoulder.

“No!” He blurts and, at your raised eyebrows, quickly backtracks. “I don’t mind.” He mumbles, and you could swear you’re turning red now. “Oh, look, we’re here!” He all but yelps, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the shop. The store is cute and small, crisp white walls and soft R&B playing from overhead speakers and you feel, instantly, quite cozy. You move to gesture at the counter with your free hand and realize that his fingers are still locked with yours. He looks down at your hands, up at you with wide eyes, and at the floor as he lets go of your hand quickly, shoving it in his pocket and clearing his throat. “Sorry,” He mumbles.

“I didn’t mind,” You answer with a smile, and dodge his look of incredulity as you saunter up to the counter. “Could I get, um, the Cookie Dough Catastrophe?” You order and turn to Mark, who’s walked up to you and is staring at the menu with his eyebrows furrowed. “You…okay?”

“There are so many options,” He exhales softly, eyes darting from item to item. You watch him observe each item on the list, barely even noticing the smile creeping onto your face. “Um, could I get the Matcha Monster?” He finally decides, looking over to you. He smiles brightly, relieved, and your heart clenches not uncomfortably.

“Congratulations,” You say, grinning, before turning back to watch the worker make your ice cream. “Isn’t that just the most mesmerizing thing you’ve ever seen?” You mumble in awe, eyes fixed on the man’s hands. Mark doesn’t answer, and you look at him from the corner of your eye to see his eyes studying your face and eventually resting on your lips. “Mark?”

His eyes snap up to yours suddenly, a blush rising to his cheeks as he opens and closes his mouth several times, trying and failing to speak. “Sorry. Um, yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

You can’t help but feel flustered in front of him, his eyes studying you like you’re leaving for a year-long trip and he wants to remember every detail of your face. “Maybe you should watch them, then.” You say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you turn back to the front, telling the man which toppings you’d like.

Shortly after, Mark’s ice cream is done, and you both walk to the register, your hand already in your pocket to grab your student ID. “Together or separate?” The cashier asks, and you both answer him.

“Separate,” You say.

“Together,” Mark answers, and you glance at him, confused. Mark’s faster than you, pulling his ID out and handing it to the cashier.

“You didn’t have to do that!” You say, unable to hide your smile.

“You just ate, so, you know, I didn’t want you to have to pay again for me,” Mark mumbles, and your smile widens even as you protest.

“I didn’t even pay for that meal! One of my friends, Jungwoo, works at the café, so he just rang it up for free. Let me pay you back,” You offer, pulling out your phone and opening Venmo.

“No, it’s okay! I have way too much Community Cash—my friends always eat in the cafeteria instead of the little shops around, so I have about as much as we started with the first semester.” He answers, stumbling slightly on his words.

“I have a shit ton, too!” You protest, but he’s shaking his head vehemently, even going so far as to put his hand over yours and covering your phone.

“This—I—You can just buy me ice cream next time.” He mumbles, ears reddening. It hits you approximately two beats later that Mark just attempted to pay for your ice cream as a date and you’ve been completely oblivious, as usual.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” You stammer, and find that the smile on your face seems to be stuck and also hurting your cheeks. “Okay. Next time,” You say, locking your phone and putting it back in your pocket before looking back up at him and glancing pointedly at his hand which is still on yours.

He pulls his hand back for the second time and laughs nervously, quickly directing his attention to his ice cream, which he takes a spoonful of and looks up at you shyly through his lashes.

“Okay. Um… Cool.” He blinks once, twice, before flashing his staggeringly cute smile and gesturing to an empty table in the seating area. “Do you wanna sit down and hang for a while, or walk around?”

“I have to be at the library at, like, 6:30, so do you wanna walk that way with me? It’s already,” You say, moving to check your phone, and noticing with a wince, “6:15.”

“Sure,” He agrees, already standing to head out. You see a slight pout on his face though and make a note not to call him on it.

“So, if you ever need help with poetry-related things, I’d be more than happy to help you out,” You tell him as you two exit the shop.

“I’d really like that. Our research paper is coming up, and my book is impossible.”

“I’m sure I can help you out,” You say, your heart sinking as the library comes into view. “What book did you choose?”

“Oh, I chose—” He starts, but your phone starts ringing, cutting him off.

“Sorry, one sec,” You mutter as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “It’s just Yuta. Hello?” You answer the phone, holding up one finger to Mark. He nods in understanding and waits with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey—the lady just left, so if you wanna do this, it should be now.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” You sigh. “See you in a few.” You hang up the phone, looking at Mark sadly. “I, uh. Gotta go. I need to do something in the library.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay, cool,” He says, and your heart falls at the disappointed look on his face.

“I’m sorry—I’ll make it up to you!”

“How?” He asks curiously, and you think.

“I’ll sit next to you in Advanced Poetry,” You say, and his resulting smile is so bright, it could almost blind you. “And, if you want, I’ll help you with the term paper.”

“Okay! We’ll meet in the library. Can I, um, have your number? So we can figure out a time?” He asks shyly, and you smile, handing him your phone. He plugs his number in and hands it back to you with a bashful smile. You quickly text him your name and a little heart emoji so he can save your contact, and he does. “Okay, great. This was fun.” He says sweetly, and your heart swells.

“See you in Advanced Poetry. Or in the library—which ever’s first.” You chirp, and he nods.

“It’s a date,” He says, before his eyes go wide and he immediately drops his gaze to his feet, blushing furiously. “I, uh, I meant—I didn’t mean—I mean, unless you want—you know what, never m—”

“It’s a date,” You confirm with an amused smile, and he looks up at you with a dazzling shy smile. “Bye, Mark.” You say, wiggling your fingers and dashing off to the library.

You’re sitting at the computer, typing in the name of the book while Yuta stands guard at the door.

“This is a bad idea,” Doyoung says over FaceTime, his face taking up the whole screen.

“Oh, you hush, coward.” You scoff, slipping your phone into your back pocket.

“Take me out! I can’t see anything,” Doyoung complains, and you snort, ignoring him as you scroll through the checkout history.

“What did you do to him?” Yuta asks curiously, and you look up from the screen.

“Put him in my back pocket,” You answer simply, and Yuta snorts.

“Probably the closest he’s gotten to a girl’s ass in ages.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Doyoung says bitterly, and you shush him as you find the most recent checkout information.

“It doesn’t say a name, it just has the student ID on it,” You say disappointedly.

“Well, write it down and we’ll figure something else out,” Yuta urges. “Someone’s heading this way.”

You pull out a pen from the cup on the desk and scrawl the digits onto your hand quickly before exiting the page and standing up. You take Doyoung out of your pocket, effectively ceasing his complaining.

“Welcome to the world,” You joke, and Doyoung scowls at you.

“It felt like I was back in the womb,” He shudders, and you have to stifle your laughter into your fist. Yuta isn’t so lucky, and outright snickers, alerting Doyoung’s attention. “It’s not funny!”

“Sure, it’s not. Okay, love you, bye.” You chirp, ending the call amidst Doyoung’s protests. You walk up to Yuta and show him the numbers on your wrist—08027823.

“Do those numbers look familiar to you?” You ask hopefully, and he frowns, shaking his head. “Damn.”

“Sorry, dude. We’ll ask the rest of the guys, see if they know.” He suggests, and you nod.

Your phone suddenly pings with a text notification, and you pull it out to check, smiling when you see Mark’s name on the screen.

mark :) [6:37pm] how’d your library thing go?

you [6:37pm] i didn’t get the results i wanted, but i got kinda close :)

mark :) [6:38pm] oh i’m sorry but that’s good, right? you’re one step closer!

you [6:39pm] yeah :) did you want to talk about something?

mark :) [6:40pm] just wanted to schedule our library thing haha

mark :) [6:40pm] and also talk to you more

mark :) [6:40pm] sorry was that weird

mark :) [6:40pm] sorry it was probably weird and i’m probably talking too much i’ll shut up

you [6:41pm] no you’re okay!!! you’re so cute omg

you [6:41pm] so when are you free? i was thinking thursday so i can read over what you have for your first draft and give you feedback so you can fix it over the weekend?

you [6:45pm] mark?

you [6:47pm] ?

mark :) [6:49pm] sorry you called me cute and i freaked out and dropped my phone on my face

mark :) [6:49pm] currently in the fetal position cradling my possibly broken nose

you [6:50pm] that’s actually adorable i’m very sorry i indirectly may have broken your nose

mark :) [6:50pm] haha no worries

you [6:51pm] want me to kiss it better?

you [6:57pm] ??

mark :) [7:00pm] i’m gonna need you to stop flirting with me

mark :) [7:00pm] if it wasn’t broken before, it’s definitely broken now

[you laughed at ‘if it wasn’t broken before, it’s definitely broken now’]

you [7:00pm] again, my apologies 🥺

mark :) [7:00pm] you’re lucky you’re cute or i’d sue for assault and battery

mark :) [7:00pm] oh my god

mark :) [7:00pm] please ignore that i can’t believe i said that

you [7:05pm] sorry had a giggle fit bc of that message

you [7:05pm] i’m definitely not ignoring that

mark :) [7:06pm] great. wonderful. i’m an idiot

you [7:06pm] you’re a d o r a b l e.

you [7:07pm] mark if you tell me you dropped your phone on your face again i think i might die laughing

mark :) [7:08pm] i DIDN’T i caught it in time :D

you [7:08pm] you know what that is? growth.

you [7:08pm] proud of you, mark

mark :) [7:08pm] :D why thank you i really tried

you [7:09pm] and it shows. now what about thursday?

mark :) [7:10pm] oh yeah! thursday works for me :)

you [7:10pm] awesome! see you then, cutie

mark :) [7:12pm] okay i absolutely did not catch it that time. i think i need a hospital

you [7:13pm] HAHAHA I’M SORRY I COULDN’T RESIST

mark :) [7:13pm] it is BRUISING

mark :) [7:15pm] okay i’m going to bed and i’m going to try not to think about my most likely shattered nose

you [7:15pm] hahah okay. good niiight sweet dreams, mark

mark :) [7:15pm] good night :) you too get home safe

You lock your phone and realize Yuta’s walked you all the way back to your dorm in silence, regarding you with an inquisitive raised brow.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly, slipping your phone in your pocket. “Thank you for walking me.”

“Anytime,” He replies easily, shrugging. “Don’t apologize to me, though—apologize to Mark and his broken nose.”

“You saw that?!” You yelp, and he nods, snickering.

“You’re not very discreet with your texting.” He explains, and you blush slightly.

“Shut up,” You grumble before pulling him in for a hug. “Good night, Yuta.”

“Good night! Sweet dreams,” He teases, and you make to take off your shoe and throw it at him, but he holds his hands up defensively as he backs away with a taunting grin.

Thursday rolls around, and by the time you’re in the library, you’re surprised to note that you’re slightly nervous. The offending hogger’s student ID is written cleanly on your wrist in blue ink, and as you wait for Mark to arrive, you stare at the numbers as if they’d suddenly morph into a name.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mark apologizes, sitting down next to you, clearly having been in a rush. “I got you a coffee! I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you something sweet.”

“Oh, thank you!” You say gratefully, reaching for his outstretched hand and plucking what you think is a caramel macchiato from his fist. “Okay, let’s get started. Show me what you have.”

“Okay,” He agrees, reaching in his backpack and pulling out his laptop, a packet of paper, and a book. Your eyes fall on the cover just as he sits up and looks at your hand quizzically.

“Why do you have my student ID number on your hand?” He asks curiously.

“Why do you have my book?” You confront him, and he blanches, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m using it for my term paper.” He says sheepishly, and you groan, dropping your head onto the table with a thud. “I’m sorry, I heard you talking about it with Taeyong one day and you loved it so much and I really wanted to get to know you better, so I figured, ‘Let’s check it out,’ but then I didn’t get it and I still don’t, and when our professor asked me in office hours what my term paper would be on, I panicked and said Antagonick. Please don’t be mad.”

“Oh, Mark,” You grouch, finding it hard to stay mad at the very cute boy sitting next to you, apologies written plainly on his face and regret in his doe eyes. After a long pause, you sigh and lift your head up, looking at him. “I’m not mad at you. I’m annoyed that I won’t get this book until after the term paper is finished, but I can’t be mad at you.”

“Oh, thank God.” He exhales in relief and slumps back into the chair. “Will you still help me with my paper?”

“Of course; I’m not mean.” You say incredulously, picking up the thin packet of paper. “You know this is supposed to be twelve pages, right?”

“I know,” He complains, now his turn to drop his head to the table. “I don’t get it, so I don’t know what to write about.” He looks up at you with doleful eyes and a pouting bottom lip, and you swear you could kiss him right there.

“Okay, we’ll go through the poems one by one, then we’ll decide a common theme. Then we’ll redraft your thesis, because, and I mean this sweetly, this one...is not very good.” You state, turning to look at him. He’s got his head in his hand, looking at you with doe eyes of wonder, and your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“You’re just...incredible.” He says in awe, his voice low and breathless.

The blush on your cheeks is downright embarrassing, so you hide your face in your hands and squeal softly.

“Thank you,” You say calmly when you’ve emerged from your makeshift cocoon, and Mark’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.

“You’re way more confident over the phone,” He notes with interest. “It’s really cute.”

“Stop, I’ll blush again, Mr. Broken Nose.” You groan, and he huffs petulantly, crossing his arms and staring at you.

“I’m wearing makeup to cover it, but it really is bruised.” He admits, and you tsk sympathetically.

“Poor baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” He defends, and you giggle.

“Poor in denial baby.”

“You know, it’s incredibly emasculating to have the girl you like call you a baby,” He snips, before he gasps, hands flying to cover his mouth.

“You—” You start incredulously, and he shakes his head vigorously.

“Okay! I did not say that. Well, I did, but—I mean, like—I didn’t mean it—that’s a lie, I totally meant it, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand and I’m sorry, and please still help me with my paper, but if you don’t want to anymore, I underst—” He rambles, and you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery by leaning over and kissing his cheek swiftly. He yelps in surprise and claps a hand to his cheek, wincing when surrounding library-goers shush him in annoyance. “Oh, my God,” He mumbles, a wide smile spreading on his face.

“Better?”

“Better,” He confirms, and you smile, nudging him.

“Now, let’s look at these poems.” You say, reaching your hand out for the book. He hands it to you and you open it to the first page. “Poetry is all about intent. You have to understand why she’s saying what she’s saying so you can understand what she’s saying.” You begin, and Mark leans closer to you, paying rapt attention to every word leaving your lips.

By the time the library’s closing, you and Mark have made it through more than half of the book, Mark taking diligent notes in his cute but messy handwriting. You’ve also redrafted his thesis, which now makes much more sense.

“You’re actually my angel,” He says gratefully as you two exit the library. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a D,” You answer honestly, and he snickers.

“I didn’t think my thesis was that bad,” He pouts, and you find yourself pouting back.

“It just didn’t encompass her intent and you didn’t state how you were going to prove yourself. It was lacking, Mark,” You reply, and he winces. “But—we fixed it and you’re on track to at least a B+. That’s an A-grade thesis, but your analysis has to match it.”

“Oh, God,” He whines, and you pat his shoulder.

“I’m here to help! Just text me if you have any questions.” You assure him, and he smiles, comforted.

“I already have a question,” He mumbles, and you look at him expectantly. “Would you want to go on a date with me?” He blurts out, and you break into a smile.

“I’d love to. After you get an A on your term paper.” You say, and he groans, smiling nonetheless.

“Okay, it’s a deal. Can we meet tomorrow to finish the rest of the poems? I wanna get my first draft to you by Monday.”

“Sure! You wanna meet earlier so we hopefully don’t get kicked out of the library when it closes?”

“Yeah—we can...get breakfast if you want?” He asks shyly, and you smile.

“I’d like that. Well, this is me,” You say, gesturing to your dorm building. “I had fun, Mark. You’re fun to be around.”

“Ah, thanks,” He replies with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. Everything happens at once. You notice his intense stare and turn to look at him curiously at the same time he leans in, presumably to kiss your cheek.

He misses your cheek. What he doesn’t miss, however, are your lips, kissing you full on the mouth for approximately three seconds. He pulls back, blushing bright red when you gasp softly, and shakes his head vigorously.

“Oh, my God, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry.” He stammers, and you start shaking your head to comfort him.

“Mark, it’s okay—”

“I didn’t mean to do that—”

“Mark, it’s fine, I promise—”

“You probably hate me—”

“Mark,” You say sternly, but nothing seems to get to him. So instead of talking, you cup his cheeks and kiss him right back, his stance finally relaxing as he squeaks softly in surprise. “I didn’t mind. I liked it. Relax.”

“Oh,” He mumbles, refusing to look at you. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” You say comfortingly, and he nods.

“Sorry—I mean—sorry—wait! Okay.” He bites his lip worriedly, still not looking at you. “You make me really nervous.”

“Why?” You ask softly, careful not to scare the poor, timid deer of a boy off.

“You’re so pretty and smart and cool, and, God, I like you so much it’s crazy.” He stumbles over his words, all of them seeming to come out at once, and you chuckle fondly.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“I like you, too.”

“Holy shit,” He breathes, and you burst into laughter.

“Why do you think I kissed you?”

“I don’t know,” He whines. “Out of pity?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” You assure him, and he smiles, still avoiding your gaze. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me? Please?” He obliged, dragging his eyes over to you and focusing on your intent gaze. “I changed my mind.”

“About liking me?” He says incredulously, and you shake your head immediately.

“God, no. About the date. We can go on one tomorrow. After the library. We can go see a movie or something, okay?”

“Oh,” He sighs in relief, nodding. “Okay. That sounds dope. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

“Okay. Bye, Mark. Get home safe.”

“Thanks. Bye,” He says with a smile, waving as he turns to walk away. You enter your dorm building, only to hear a loud “Whoop! Hell yeah!”

“Oh, Mark.” You chuckle to yourself before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Today was much more productive, with Mark starting to catch on to what exactly Anne Carson was trying to do. The two of you breeze through the rest of the book, decoding each poem, and he even writes some pretty stellar analyses of two poems, with help from you. When the library closes, you two head out before you stop him right outside the building.

“Do you want to watch the movie in my dorm? I don’t feel like paying for tickets or popcorn or anything, and I have snacks.” You offer, and he nods. “Cool. Let’s go.”

When you get to your dorm, unlocking the door and stepping inside, Mark looks around at all your decorations, eyes landing and fixating on the photos of you with your friends.

“You have a lot of friends,” He remarks quietly, seemingly intimidated by the sheer volume of photos.

“I do? I hadn’t really noticed.” You hum as you clear off your bed. He tears his eyes away from your wall and turns to look at you, who is sitting comfortably on your bed, laptop pulled out and open to Netflix.

“Yeah,” He replies slowly, shuffling from foot to foot.

“Pretty sure you can’t see the screen from over there, so do you want to come sit next to me?” You pat the spot next to you invitingly and you can see him gulp before nodding, kicking off his shoes and joining you on the bed at a laughable distance, his leg practically hanging off of the bed. “You can come closer, you know. I won’t bite.” He shuffles closer and you lean in to whisper, “I mean unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

The noise that erupts from his mouth has you dissolving into a fit of laughter, the sound something like a strangled yelp and what sounded dangerously like a moan.

“I’m sorry, I am—you’re just really cute.” You giggle, and he blushes, pouting at you.

“Let’s start the movie before I manage to mess things up.”

After a while of scrolling, you two decide on the classic Lilo & Stitch, both of you settling into your spots as the movie starts.

Halfway through the movie, you notice that Mark keeps looking over at you, a nervous expression on his face.

“I have a question.” He whispers, and you look around in mock furtiveness before leaning in.

“I don’t think you have to whisper. It’s just us here.” You tease, and he swallows hard. “What’s wrong?”

“I really want to kiss you,” He blurts out. “Can I?” His tone is almost pleading, and you find your heart aching for him.

“You don’t have to ask,” You say sweetly, and he leans in slowly, brushing his lips against yours. He pulls back, exhaling softly against your mouth and looking at you for confirmation. You nod, eyes heavy-lidded, and he smiles, leaning back in. He presses his lips to yours with more intent, slotting his upper lip between your two and sucking gently on your bottom lip. You reach up and cup his cheek, and he whines, gliding his tongue along your lips.

“Mark,” You sigh blissfully, and he squeaks, scooting back and blushing.

“Sorry! Sorry, I got carried away.” He apologizes, and you roll your eyes, shutting the laptop and moving it to your desk before looking him dead in the eyes. He averts his gaze, and you turn his chin so he’s looking at you.

“Mark.”

“Yes?” He asks worriedly.

“If you don’t kiss me again,” You say slowly, hoping he’ll understand, “I am going to kick you out of my room.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay,” He mutters mostly to himself before leaning in again, kissing you eagerly. He sucks softly on your lower lip, nipping at it lightly, and you sigh happily.

“Have you done this before?” You ask, and he nods, eyes still mostly closed. “Then why are you so nervous?”

“I told you,” He whines, burying his face in the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like you so much.” He whispers.

“And I like you, too,” You assure him. “You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“Okay,” He mumbles into your skin. He nuzzles his nose into you, tracing it up the column of your neck before placing a light kiss on your jaw. You crane your neck to give him better access and he starts tentatively kissing your neck, gradually building confidence with each hum of satisfaction from you. Eventually, he’s mouthing at your neck with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue swiping over the skin as his hand finds your knee. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” You breathe, and he slides his hand up your leg slightly, clutching at your thigh. He carefully traces his finger up your leg to the button of your jeans, pulling back and looking at you. With your rushed nod of approval, he slips his hand inside your pants and under your underwear, fingers quickly finding your slit and trailing up your folds.

“You’re wet,” He whimpers in surprise, “I—oh, God, that’s so hot. You’re so hot,” He groans, suddenly pulling you into his lap. You land on his thigh and whine at the sudden contact, pushing him back down when he sits up in alarm. “Do you think you could get off like this?” He asks carefully, flexing his thigh under you.

“Oh, yeah.” You moan, already starting to rock your hips against the tight muscle.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” He grunts. “You’re so perfect.”

You roll your hips against him, core grinding into his thigh sinfully as he grips your hips, guiding your motions gently. You shift your leg so it brushes against his concealed length, and he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening briefly before he relaxes.

“Do you think you can come like this?” You ask him, and he nods in a rush, pulling you down for a kiss. Your lips meet and it’s a bit sloppy, what with the repeated movements of your hips, but it’s very eager and very, very hot.

“You’re so good, Mark,” You praise him, and he whimpers.

“Say that again,” He rasps out, his voice dropping several tones.

“You’re so good, Mark,” You oblige, hips stuttering briefly when his leg flexes and your clit gets extra stimulation. “So good,” You echo as a familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build. “I’m close,” You gasp out, dragging your hips against him wantonly.

“What can I do?” He asks, his head lolling back as your knee presses against his cock insistently.

“Touch me,” You moan, and his hands fly to your chest, slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts, kneading the flesh and swiping his thumb over the nipples. “Just like that,” You breathe softly, and he lifts your shirt up, pushing your bra down and massaging the bare flesh.

“You’re perfect,” He repeats in awe, pulling you lower so he can wrap his lips around your nipple. “Absolutely perfect.” His voice is muffled from the flesh of your breasts, but his message is conveyed nonetheless.

“I’m gonna come,” He warns you, his teeth grazing your nipple. You shudder in ecstasy at the contact, and he does it again, eyes trained on your face for your reaction.

“Then come,” You reply sweetly, grinding against him again. He climaxes with a soft string of curses, mouth diligently wrapped around the stiffened bud of your nipple.

Not long after, with Mark’s mouth sucking greedily at your breasts and his thigh providing delicious release, you come apart, moaning his name and gasping in little stutters.

“You’re incredible,” He says breathlessly, hands finding your hips once more.

“Will you loosen up around me now?” You ask jokingly, and he nods.

“Yes,” He promises you, and you smile, leaning down to kiss him.

“Good. Wanna finish the movie?” You ask, and he nods.

“We didn’t get to the part that makes me cry.”

“Adorable.” You coo, and he groans, laughing as he shoves you lightly.

“Shut up.”

You’re talking to Johnny by the water fountain when you hear loud, hurried footsteps, and repeated cries of your name. You turn, recognizing the voice, to see an absolutely ecstatic Mark brandishing his phone at you.

“I got an A on my term paper!” He yells, and you and Johnny cheer for him as you wrap him in a tight hug. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, and you smell his familiar scent of cinnamon and soap.

“Congratulations, Mark!” You exclaim happily, and Johnny claps him on the back.

“Also—I went and got this for you.” He says excitedly, releasing you and rummaging through his backpack. When he pulls out a messily wrapped present, your eyebrows raise in intrigue.

“What is it?” You ask curiously, and he shrugs with a playful smile.

“Looks like you gotta unwrap it and see.” He says with a smile, and you narrow your eyes at him playfully before taking the package from him and unwrapping it.

“Aw, Mark!” You coo upon revealing the cover of Antagonick. “That’s so sweet.”

“I got it as a thank you and just because I felt bad for holding onto the copy for so long.” He says, now slightly bashful, and you squeal, wrapping him up in another hug. When you part, he taps his cheek expectantly with a smile, but you cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss. (Johnny whoops, but you ignore it.)

“I love it. Thank you,” You gush, and he nods, smiling from ear to ear.

“I also, uh, have a question for you.” He says, nervous all of a sudden as he shifts his weight between his feet.

“Shoot.” You reply, and he swallows hard before opening his mouth.

“Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, and you pretend to think about it, stopping immediately when his face falls in disappointment.

“I was teasing! I would love to be your girlfriend, Mark.” You say sincerely, and he beams at you, fiddling with his hands.

“Cool. Awesome. Amazing,” He stammers mostly to himself, unable to contain his smile. “Okay, so—I have to go to class, but I’ll see you in Advanced Poetry?”

“Of course you will,” You assure him, and he punches the air in celebration before seeming to collect himself and nodding calmly, turning on his heel to walk away.

“So, you have a boyfriend now,” Johnny teases, and you narrow your eyes, punching him in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t be a dick.” You warn him, and he winces, rubbing his arm.

“I was going to congratulate you, but now I have to go ice my arm.” He complains in faux bitterness, narrowing his eyes at you before leaving.

(When Mark gets to Advanced Poetry, you move your bag from the seat next to you and wait for him to notice you. When he does, his face lights up and he moves through the aisles of desks quickly to get to you, plopping down in his seat.

He doesn’t squeal when you lean over and kiss his cheek in greeting, but he does squeal when you reach under the table and hold his hand. He doesn’t let go for the entirety of the class, both of you politely ignoring the sweat coming from his palms.)

(“I-wha-huh?! Since when were they a real thing?” Doyoung asks incredulously as you two emerge from class hand in hand and walking up to your friend group.

“Since earlier this afternoon,” Johnny replies, and Doyoung whines.

“No one tells me anything.” He complains just in time for you two to approach them and for you to hear what was said.

“You’ll live, Doyoung.” You assure him sarcastically, and he glares at you.

“Will I?” He asks dramatically, and you scoff.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” You retort.

“She doesn’t have time to be nice to us anymore,” Johnny explains, side-eying you playfully. “She’s all tied up with lover boy Mark, here.”

“One second, Mark,” You say sweetly, slipping your hand from his.

“Ow!” Johnny complains as you punch him in the other arm.

“Lunch?” You ask nonchalantly, taking Mark’s hand in yours—it’s dry now, and you suspect he’s wiped it on his jeans. Everyone agrees amidst a complaining Johnny and you all walk off toward the food court.

“She gets a boyfriend and thinks she can just bully me—ouch!” Johnny complains to Taeyong, who promptly flicks him in the forehead. “I don’t deserve this!”

“Yes, you do.” Everyone calls, and Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”)

i hope you enjoyed this not-so-little fic! sorry to johnny for bullying him, he knows i love him. please leave feedback! i had so much fun writing this omg

[werejusttouchingeachother]

tqa – v.

genre: smut (m) words: 615

Jaehyun’s eyes immediately follow the dip of your back, raking over your sleeping form as he steps into the dark bedroom.

Practice had run later than usual today and you'd fallen asleep watching random videos on YouTube before feeling your eyes growing heavier and heavier as the hours ticked by, giving up on waiting for your boyfriend as you finally crawled under the covers. Although he'd usually be too tired once he got home, the way your bare thighs gleamed beneath the moonlight that filtered through the half-opened curtains had Jaehyun’s fingers reaching for you.

He hesitated when he got to the edge of the bed, staring down at your peaceful self as you laid on the bed. For a moment, he wonders if he should just go take a cold shower but all he can think of is how you'd drunkenly joked one night last week that you'd love to be awakened in a very unconventional way–a conversation that had started because Jaehyun had been reminiscing the morning when you'd woken him up with your mouth wrapped around his hardening length.

“I just think such morning favours should be returned,” you'd laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief as you had sipped the wine.

Your words echoing in his mind, he reaches slowly for the sheets that were tangled around your hardly covered body. Pulling the duvet away from your legs, Jaehyun sucks in a breath when he notices that you're not wearing any underwear.

Slowly, he crawls on top of you and trails his hand on the inside of your thighs. Being a deep sleeper, you don't stir even as he lightly traces his fingertips over the soft flesh. When he finally reaches in between your legs, Jaehyun can't help the startled sound he involuntarily lets out when he realises that you're slightly wet.

Slipping his finger in easily, your walls immediately clench around the digit and your boyfriend's eyes dart to your face, half-amused and half-surprised at how you're still sleeping soundly. Lowering his weight over your back, he settles more comfortably as he traces slow circles around the small bundle of nerves. He watches as your eyebrows furrow, a small noise sounding at the back of your throat as he kept teasing your clit.  

Once you seemed slick enough, Jaehyun retrieved his finger that was glistening in the dark with your arousal and pulled out his erection that was painfully straining against his sweatpants.  

There was something so incredibly sexy about this, about the way he was slowly pushing himself into your dripping pussy and Jaehyun wonders if you'd been as excited for him to wake up on that morning as he was waiting right now. He thrusts himself all the way in, groaning softly into your neck as he feels your warmth envelop him before slowly drawing back again. His hand slips beneath your shirt then, gripping your hips tighter as he began moving and your eyes flutter open, a loud moan escaping your lips.

Your fingers immediately clutch the sheets beneath you, his name a soft drowsy murmur on your tongue as you come to your senses, realising with a growing arousal what was happening as your boyfriend fucks the sleep out of you, quite literally. Breath growing shorter as he goes rougher, whines of his name fall from your mouth as your walls squeeze around his length.

Jaehyun hardly notices that you've fully waken up now, entirely too consumed by the delicious and addicting feeling of your pussy as he thrusts harder and you manage to push your own hips back into him, wanting to be filled up by him completely as he finally returned your sweet morning favour.

masterlist

[choerrypuffs]

the element of freedom.

pairing: airbender!donghyuck x avatar!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 8.2k (THIS WAS SO MUCH LONGER THAN I PLANNED IT TO BE)

author’s note: and last but definitely not least, hyuck’s chapter is finally here! this series was a bitch to write but i will definitely miss it now that’s it’s done 😔 thank you to everyone who read this mess and kept up with it even though it took me FOREVER to post sometimes - and for those of you just now seeing this, you can read all four fics here ;) 

You’ve never been more homesick than you are now. 

Travelling back and forth between the four nations has taken a toll on your body. The constant changes in weather make you feel like you always have a cold, you ache all over for no reason, and there is just so much walking. All you really want is to be home at the North Pole, coddled by your grandmother with a bowl of warm soup. 

You sigh as you hand a couple of coins to the fruit vendor you were buying from. He hands you the small bag of apples you purchased and you stuff it into your knapsack. Just how many months have you been living off solely bread and fruit? Hopefully, the Southern Air Temple will have some delicious food (but something tells you that monks are not keen on greasy, high-calorie cuisines). 

“Rough day?” The fruit vendor cocks an eyebrow. 

“Rough months,” you respond wryly. 

He winces. “Damn. Sorry to hear that.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Hey, who knows? Maybe something interesting’ll happen to you today,” he says, shrugging.

His words feel strangely prophetic, and you open your mouth to comment on it—but you’re interrupted by timing so surreal that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Someone collides into you at full force, knocking the both of you onto the ground. You hit the pavement so hard that you get the air knocked out of you, letting out a wheeze. Before you can even catch your breath, you feel yourself being hoisted up. 

“Oops.” A voice, male, says under his breath. “Are you alright?” 

When you finally stop seeing stars, you almost get the air knocked out of you for a second time once you see the stranger in front of you. Big brown doe eyes, pouty heart-shaped lips, and a full head of fluffy brown curls that you want to run your fingers through. He has a small smile on his face as he waits for your response. 

You brain stalls and you continue to just stare at him like a deer in headlights. The boy’s eyebrows furrow and he whips his head around, seemingly hearing something behind him. He turns back to you and grins, but it’s not a cute one like before—it’s a shit-eating one. 

“Actually, come with me.” 

He grabs your hand and the two of you are full-on sprinting before you even know it.

Note to self: tell the fruit vendor to consider changing his profession to psychic. 

You let him drag you along, still slightly dazed at everything that just happened, for a little longer before you realize he’s very obviously running away from someone. Yanking yourself free from his grip, you come to a skidding halt. He does as well, nearly tripping but catching himself. 

“Are you a criminal?” you ask in an accusatory tone.

He feigns hurt. “Criminal is a bit of a strong word.”

You give him a pointed look. “So yes?”

“I prefer to be called a thief; it sounds much cooler,” he says, almost proudly.

“What—” 

“Listen, I would love to discuss my trade with you but let’s do it when we’ve lost them.”

“Who’s them?” 

The thief points behind you. Before you even have time to look, you hear the thundering footsteps and the angry shouting. When you do, you see several unhappy Fire Nation soldiers in the distance, running towards the both of you. Sharply turning back around, you look at the thief with dread.

“Please do not tell me you stole from Fire Nation soldiers.”

He sheepishly holds up a couple of red leather pouches and waggles them. The clear sound of gold coins clinking against each other sounds like a death toll. 

“You’re crazier than I thought,��� you say, dumbfounded.

“And I probably should’ve mentioned this sooner, but they think you’re my accomplice now. That’s why I grabbed you and ran,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry?” 

He doesn’t even have time to fully get the apology out before you deliver a swift punch to his stomach. He lets out a wheeze very similar to your own when he had knocked you over before. You’re surprised steam doesn’t come out of your nostrils when you exhale.

“You piece of shit.”

“Believe it or not, you are not the first person who’s called me that. Crazy, right?” he says breezily. “Anyways, my glider is right over there by that tree. Once we get out of here, you don’t ever have to see my face again. Unless you want to, of course.”

The mention of his glider subsides your anger just a tad. “You’re an airbender?” 

Now that you’re paying attention, you see the tips of the blue arrow tattoos on the back of his hands peeking out from under his long sleeves.

“Mayhaps.” 

You cross your arms. “Are you a good one?” 

“Find out for yourself.” 

He grabs your hand again and runs to the big oak tree in which he hid his glider. At first glance, it’s just a wooden stick. However, upon its activation, it sprouts four orange fan-like wings. Two in the front, and two in the back. You’ve read about airbender gliders in textbooks, but you’ve never seen one in real life. At best, its reliability looks dubious. 

The thief, whose name you still don’t know, holds his arms open. “Jump.” 

“Like, on you?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking he’s kidding.

“Yep.” 

Or maybe he’s not. 

“Are you insane?” you demand, eyes nearly popping out of your head. 

“Depends on who you ask. Now come on! They’re about to catch up.” He gestures for your to jump again. 

“I—” 

You consider your options. You could fight off the soldiers on your own, but then that would catch the attention of the Fire Nation army and make you a wanted criminal. Or you could escape with this stranger, who is already a wanted criminal, and scope out his airbending skills to see if he’s good enough to teach you. 

Gritting your teeth, you take a step forward and jump into his arms. Your legs wrap around his torso and your arms wind around his neck, leaning in closer to him as you do. Despite seeming pretty scrawny, you can feel the muscles in his arms flex as he holds you. His face is only inches away from your own, and all you can do is stare into his eyes as if you’re in a trance. One of his hands makes its way to the small of your back, leaving a train of goosebumps. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

“Hang on,” he mumbles, lips slightly brushing against the shell of your ear.

Squeezing your eyes shut (half out of embarrassment and half out of fear), you let out a terrified yelp when you feel a strong gust of wind hit you like a freight train. You don’t need to see to know that you’re high up off the ground now. Tendrils of your hair slap against your face like a whip, and you can’t open your eyes even if you wanted to. 

Slowly chipping away at what little dignity you have left, you cling tighter onto the thief. You kind of feel like a sloth hanging off a tree branch, but there’s not much you can do now. He still has a hand on your back, but the other arm is now holding onto the glider. You’re not sure how he’s able to support your weight and also navigate at the same time, but you’re not going to question it as long as he knows what he’s doing.

“So, what’s your name?” he asks casually. 

“Tell me yours first,” you shoot back, trying to sound snappy but the quiver in your voice ruins it.

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows in an annoyingly endearing way. 

“You want to talk about fairness right now?” You can’t use your hands to gesture to the position the both of you are in right now, but you make sure he gets the message through your glare.

He doesn’t argue with you. “I’m Haechan.”

“Y/N,” you gruffly say. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Why’d you decide to get involved with a ruffian like me?” 

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” you say through gritted teeth. “You basically framed me.”

“Yes, but it’s not like you wouldn’t have been able to handle it on your own. You seem to be quite capable of kicking ass, judging by the earlier punch. Why go this far? Is it my dashing good looks? Mischievous charm? Adorable disposition?” Haechan flashes you a cheeky smile, but you’re not fooled. 

It’s not like you expected him to be completely oblivious, but you definitely didn’t think he’d catch on this quickly to your ulterior motives. He masks his cleverness well, playing it off as some sort of joke with an easygoing smile. 

“You did seem to take interest in the fact that I was an airbender. What, you’ve got a thing for them or something?” He winks. 

Damn, right on the money.

“And what if I do?” you snap. 

“Then today is your lucky day, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the term I would use,” you respond wryly. 

“Where are you headed, by the way? If it’s somewhere nearby, I can drop you off,” Haechan offers. 

You snort. “It’s definitely not.” 

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pry further. You wonder if you should tell him where you’re actually going. It’d be better to gain his trust if you want him to teach you airbending.

“I’m going to the Southern Air Temple.” 

You feel Haechan’s entire body stiffen. The glider dips slightly, and you cling onto him tighter. Your movement snaps him out of his daze and he steadies the glider again. His arm tightens against your waist, pulling you closer to him. You press your temple against his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart. 

Clearly, you hit a nerve. 

“Yeah, that is pretty far,” he says eventually, trying to act nonchalant. 

You decide to let it slide (for now). “I’m looking for a teacher.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “Are you an airbender?” 

“Yes,” you say. It’s not technically a lie. You want him to trust you, but you’re not sure you should tell him everything yet. 

Haechan is obviously unconvinced. “You don’t look like one.”

“Neither do you,” you shoot back. 

He doesn’t respond. You’re surprised at his lack of retort, but then you realize that he’s about to land. Biting down on your tongue to keep from screaming, you fight to maintain a neutral expression as the glider takes a dive at a rapid speed. 

Despite your expectations, Haechan lands gracefully on his feet. Your legs are still wrapped around him, and there’s a few awkward seconds as he waits for you to let go. Your face burns as you finally detach yourself from him. Unfortunately, the lower half of your body feels like jelly and you immediately crumble to the ground. 

Haechan catches you, and you grab his arms to steady yourself. It’s so easy to touch him, as if his warmth is a lifeline for you. He brushes a lock of hair out of your face, sighing.

“What kind of airbender is afraid of heights?” 

You open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, but then you notice the glowing tips of his ears. They’re so red that you’re surprised they’re not bleeding. Your lips quirk into a tiny lopsided smile, and you have a strong urge to ruffle his hair. 

Haechan raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you laugh, “you’re just...cuter than I thought.”

“Well, I’d prefer devilishly handsome, but I guess I’ll take it,” he huffs. 

You roll your eyes. He may be kind of cute, but he’s still insufferable. 

“I suppose this is goodbye then,” he says after a moment of silence.

You don’t say anything, chewing on your lip. Were you really going to enlist the help of a deviant like him? You’re just so drawn to him for some reason, and the Southern Air Temple is such a long trip...

“Wait,” you blurt out. 

He’s already turning to leave but stops immediately when he hears you call out for him, quirking an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

You didn’t think this far ahead, and now you’re not sure what to say anymore.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to confess your love,” Haechan teases. 

You give him an unamused look. 

“Hey, you wouldn’t be the first. No need to get embarrassed or anything.” He pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder.

“Well, I was going to ask you to be my airbending teacher, but you’re making me reconsider,” you huff. This isn’t the way you wanted to ask him, but he’s just so annoying. 

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he makes a noise as if he’s choking. “You want me to teach you?”

“For now anyways,” you grumble. 

“You don’t even know if I’m any good!”

“You’re the one who told me to find out for myself, so I am now!” you shoot back. You stare at him for a beat, before sheepishly tacking on, “Well, are you any good?”

“Of course I am,” he replies immediately. 

“Okay, then why the hell did you even ask?”

“I’m a criminal.” 

“No, you’re a thief,” you grin, using his own words against him. “It’s cooler.” 

Haechan crosses his arms and squints his eyes at you. “You know, you may call me crazy but I think you’re much more dangerous than I could ever be.”

You snort. “There’s no need to think; I am more dangerous than you.” 

He smirks, eyes gleaming. “Then, it would be my honor to be your teacher.” 

“Do you have a place to stay?” Haechan asks as you two stroll through the town you landed in.

“Nope,” you respond, “I’ll probably just set up camp somewhere in the woods.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why not just get a hotel room?”

“Money doesn’t grow on trees, Haechan. I thought a thief would know that,” you tease.

“That’s not very safe,” he chides, sounding uncharacteristically serious. 

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m used to it already. It’s really not that bad,” you shrug.

He sighs. “I suppose it can’t be helped then. You can stay with me.”

You eye him suspiciously.  He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Come on, Y/N. I may be a thief, but I have some morals. I’d prefer the girl to be actually interested in me before I make a move.”

To be honest, you didn’t really think he would do anything. Even though you only met Haechan a couple hours ago, you can tell he has a good heart, despite having a questionable occupation.

“Fine, but if you try it, I’ll make you wish for death,” you warn.

He beams at you, as if you just said something pleasant. “I would expect nothing less.” 

The two of you continue to walk, making small conversation. Haechan seems to know his way around this place, even though you thought he just landed somewhere randomly. Eventually, the two of you reach the outskirts of the town and he leads you into the forest. 

“Aren’t we going to your place?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yep,” he responds breezily. 

“And how is this any different from me just staying in the woods?”��

Haechan wags his finger at you. “Oh, silly Y/N.”

Instead of clarifying what he meant by that, he simply keeps walking. Finally, after a couple more minutes, he stops in front of a giant, sky-high oak tree. Patting the trunk, Haechan says proudly, “Welcome to my humble abode.” 

You’re not impressed. “You live in a tree?”

Rolling his eyes, he gently grasps your chin between his fingers and tilts your head up. 

You have to swallow a gasp when you see his home, covering your mouth with your hand. Calling it a “treehouse” wouldn’t be doing it justice. It’s more like a mansion made out of wooden planks, canopied by the lush leaves of the oak tree. There are rope bridges connecting it to other trees with smaller, but not any less impressive, houses. Now that you’re looking, you realize the forest is covered with them. It feels as if it’s alive, and it has its own venous system.

“You live...here?” you ask in awe. 

“Well, not just me. I have a couple of roommates. Actually, I’m surprised they haven’t made an noise yet. You can usually hear them from a mile away,” Haechan snorts. 

You’re still staring at the house, too shocked to even respond. 

“Come on,” he says, giving you an outstretched hand. 

You slip your hand into his with ease, and it slightly terrifies you because of how natural it feels. His hand is warm and calloused, and he holds yours as if it’s a precious gemstone. You’re not sure if he’s doing it intentionally, but his thumb is absent-mindedly rubbing circles on the back of your hand. When you look up at him, he has that shit-eating grin on his face and you realize he is doing it on purpose because he’s trying to soothe you for something awful that’s about to happen.

“Hold on,” is all he says. 

You don’t even have time to protest when you feel a large gust of wind lift you off the ground and propel you into the air like a projectile. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you grab Haechan and throw your arms around him. However, it’s over in an instant. By the time you fully wrap your arms around him, there’s already a solid platform at your feet. You can feel Haechan shaking with laughter as he gently pats your back. 

You instantly get pissed, punching him in the gut. He keels over, but he’s still laughing. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“I’m sorry,” he says between fits of wheezing, “you’re just cute, that’s all.” 

You crack your knuckles. “Oh, I’ll show you cute.” 

When you step forward to give him the beating of his life, it finally registers that you’re on the treetop. You sigh. “Why didn’t you just use a ladder or something?” 

“The only way you can get up here is if you’re an airbender. If we had a ladder just lying around, it would basically just be an invitation for intruders,” Haechan explains while he continues to brace for another punch. 

You suppose he has a point, but you’re still not letting him off the hook. “Teach me how to do that first. I don’t want to be at your mercy anymore, you sadistic bastard.”

He laughs, not fazed by your insult at all. “Alright. First, you should meet the guys.”

As if on cue, the door of the house opens and three boys peek out. Two of them have black hair while the other has a lighter brown, similar to Haechan’s. They’re all extremely good-looking, and you wonder if all thieves are this handsome.

“Oh God, is Haechan bringing in strays too? Taeyong is already enough,” the taller black-haired boy groans.

“Shut up, Jisung. Where is Taeyong anyway? He’s usually the first one out here so he can chew me out,” Haechan asks, looking around.

“You just missed him. He and all the other guys left to loot another Fire Nation town. It’s pretty far, so they’ll be gone for a couple of weeks,” Jisung says. 

“Oh, well, it’s their loss. Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, that’s Mark, Jisung, and Chenle.” Haechan points to the shorter black-haired boy, the taller black-haired boy, and the brown-haired boy. 

You smile and give an awkward wave. “Hi.” 

“I’m going to be teaching her airbending for the time being.” 

Haechan’s words are met with laughter. 

“You’re gonna teach somebody?” Chenle giggles like a dolphin and you can’t help but smile too. “Good luck learning anything, Y/N.” 

Mark and Jisung also join in on teasing him, and you watch the tip of Haechan’s ears grow red again. He’s responding with his own witty remarks, but it’s clear that he’s a little embarrassed. It’s so strange how he can transform from the Devil himself to an adorable boy whom you just want to protect in an instant.

“Anyways,” Haechan finally cuts them off. “It’s getting late, so I’ll show you to your room, Y/N.”

That also gets a round of jeers, but he’s already leading you away from them. When you’re inside of the house, you’re absolutely floored again. The outside was already big, but the inside is huge. You wonder how long it took them to construct this place. 

“We don’t really have a spare room, so you can stay in mine. I’ll just take one of the other guys’ rooms since they’re not here,” Haechan explains.

“You should be able to stay in your own room,” you protest, “I can just take the floor.”

“How could I let my dearest protégé sleep on the hard floor? What kind of master does that make me?” he asks dramatically. 

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but you still appreciate his gesture nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“Voilà!” he announces proudly as he opens the door to his room. 

For someone so over-the-top, his room is surprisingly bare. The only things in it are his bed, nightstand, and a small chest. The chest is open and you can see his neatly folded clothes at the bottom. 

“You’re quite...minimal,” you note, walking in and sitting on the edge of his bed. You slightly bounce, gauging the firmness of his mattress. 

He doesn’t follow you, instead lingering at the doorway. “Well, it’s difficult to decorate appropriately when you live on a tree.” 

“Yeah, but you could at least get some flowers or something,” you suggest. 

Haechan smiles at you, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You clear your throat loudly. “Well, uh, I think I’m gonna go to sleep soon. What time are we training tomorrow?”

“The crack of dawn. So you definitely should get some rest.”

You groan, falling back onto the bed.

“Good night, Y/N.” You hear him chuckle before the door clicks shut.

You lay there in the darkness and breathe until the butterflies finally go away.

The next morning, Haechan kindly sends one of the younger boys to make sure you’re awake. You can’t really remember if it was Jisung or Chenle because you were still in a groggy daze, but you make a mental note to thank whoever it was. Haechan is already below the oak tree, and he lowers you to the ground softly for once. 

“Good morning!” he says happily. 

“Do we really have to be doing this so early?” you grumble, stifling a yawn. 

“Unfortunately, yes because I’m going to be quite busy today,” he replies.

“What, pickpocketing more soldiers?” 

“That is on the itinerary, yes,” he says nonchalantly.

You can’t hold back a laugh. Haechan’s eyebrows raise slightly when he hears you laugh, as if he wasn’t expecting it. His surprise only lasts a moment though, before he grins so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

“Let’s get started then, shall we? First, let’s see how big of a gust you can form.” 

You hesitate, knowing that you’re about to totally humiliate yourself. Holding your palms out in front of you, you try your best to imagine pushing a powerful air blast toward him. 

Instead, all he gets is a light breeze barely strong enough to tousle his hair.

“Wow, you’re worse than I thought,” Haechan says, sounding impressed. “Have you had any sort of formal training?” 

“No,” you snap, “and thanks for the boost of confidence.”

“Which temple are you from?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not from any temple. I only, um, recently discovered that I was an airbender. It’s complicated,” you fumble. 

Well, there goes my cover. 

Haechan, rightfully so, seems skeptical of your horrible explanation. However, he shockingly doesn’t press any further. “Right. Anyways, you’re being way too intense. Airbending isn’t something that requires critical thinking; it’s natural. Feel it, not think it.” 

You close your eyes, trying to clear your mind of the whirlwind of thoughts in it. Feeling the chi flow through your body, you lift your hands and try again. The gust is stronger this time, but it’s still pretty weak. 

“Good,” he says, nodding. 

“That was horrible,” you point out.

“Not as bad as your first attempt,” he replies. “Now then, here’s your first assignment. I have some business to take care of today, so I want you to be able to reach the treetop on your own by the time I come back.” 

You gawk at him. “But you haven’t taught me anything yet!”

“I can’t teach you anything until you can form an air blast strong enough to be taught,” Haechan says, shaking his head.

“You’re a shitty teacher.” 

“I’ll have you know that desperation is the fastest way to learn,” he responds, pretending to be offended. “Because you won’t be able to get back up there until you figure it out.”

“Even when you come back?” you ask, eyes widening. 

“Yep,” he smiles evilly, tapping on his wrist. “Better get to it before it gets dark, and all the critters come out.”

“I hate you,” you say through grit teeth. 

“Good luck,” he winks. 

With a sweep of his arm, Haechan is gone in a gust of wind. 

It takes you a long, long time to do it, but you eventually manage to launch yourself onto the treetop. It’s an extremely narrow success though because you land on the very edge of the platform, nearly tipping backwards and falling to your death. Mark is kind enough to come out and congratulate you with some water. You down it like you’ve been stranded on a desert for a week, which is not inaccurate to how you feel. 

“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive that you did it in a day,” Mark notes. “I know Haechan doesn’t look it, but he’s actually a really tough teacher. Jisung and Chenle had a hard time keeping up.”

“I only did it because my rage was fueling me,” you reply, wiping sweat from your chin. “He’s such a little shit.”

Mark laughs. “You know he has a crush on you, right?”

“He’s just playing around.” You roll your eyes. “He wants to get a rise out of me.”

“Haechan’s actually an extremely shy person. Not with us, obviously, but he’s not very talkative around strangers—especially girls. I was really surprised when he introduced us to you and how hard he was trying to impress you,” Mark muses. 

“Whatever you say, Mark,” you say, obviously doubtful. You know it’s not true, but a tiny part of you is hopeful. The rational side of you tries to quell the feeling immediately. It doesn’t work.

“Come on, Y/N. Didn’t you see how embarrassed he was when we were teasing him in front of you? Haechan never gets embarrassed; he’s got skin thicker than a walrus!” Mark exclaims.

You snort. 

“Listen, I know he comes off as frivolous, but he’s a really thoughtful and sensitive person. Not only that, he’s whip-smart. He can pick up on things in an instant. He’s good at reading us, but we can’t ever read him. He worries me because, at times, he seems like a completely different person. Like I don’t even know who he is. But it’s not like that with you. He’s different around you. He’s...happier. More vulnerable and open,” Mark says, “I know you haven’t known him—us—for long, but please...just be kind to him.”

You’re not sure how to respond. You know that Haechan is much more clever than he’s letting on and that he likes to put on a show but definitely not to this extent and depth. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overload you with information like that. Of course, it’s your choice how you want to treat him and if you reciprocate his feelings or not,” Mark says hurriedly. “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything; I just want the best for him.”

You smile, patting him on the arm. “I know. He’s lucky to have a friend like you. Even without me, I think he’ll be okay since you’re here.” 

Mark shakes his head sadly but otherwise doesn’t respond to your words. “You should get some rest. Haechan will be back soon.” 

You’re sure it’s because Mark had just told you all that, but your heartbeat grows erratic when you think about seeing him again.

Haechan knocks on the door when you’re in the middle of drying your hair. You had just washed up, dressed in nothing but a long nightshirt. He doesn’t even wait for you to answer, simply opening the door and walking right in. His eyes gloss over your bare legs for just a moment before quickly meeting your gaze. 

“I’m baaack!” His voice slightly cracks, and he clears his throat. “Mark told me that you got up here all on your own. I’m so proud of you!”

“No thanks to you,” you grumble. 

He clutches at his chest, making fake sobbing noises. “And here I was, trying to give you a gift because I’m proud of my student, and this is how you treat me?!”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “What gift?” 

He grins, pulling a small box out of the knapsack slung across his shoulders. “I originally got this for you as a cheer-up present because I didn’t think you’d be able to get back up, but I was pleasantly proven wrong, so it’s now a reward.” 

Taking it, you examine it carefully. You’re not really sure what it is, but you know that it’s some sort of dessert. “What is it?”

“Strawberry mochi. Have you not had it before?” 

They definitely did not have strawberry mochi in the North Pole. 

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never had it before,” you lie.

“Well, it’s absolutely delicious and I’m so sorry that you haven’t had the pleasure of eating it until now,” Haechan says solemnly. 

Opening the box, you fish one out and pop it into your mouth. You’re not sure what your actual expression is, but you imagine that there are sparkles in your eyes. You can’t speak, but you hum happily. You’re definitely going to bring some back to the North Pole. 

Haechan smiles proudly. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“Wait, you didn’t steal this, did you?” you ask, frowning. 

“Please, you insult me. Of course I bought it.” 

“With your own money?”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Hm?” 

You grab a pillow and pelt it at him. He catches it with ease and tosses it back to you, chuckling. “Don’t eat too many or you’ll get sick. I’m grabbing a change of clothes, and then I’ll leave you alone so you can sleep.”

You watch Haechan walk over to the chest in the corner of the room and start rummaging through it. You feel guilty for taking over his room. He shouldn’t have to go back and forth like this. 

“Stay.” 

The chest slams shut loudly, and the clothes in his hand fall to the floor. Haechan looks up at you, eyes wide. “Wh-What?”

“We can just share the bed as long as you stay on your side,” you suggest, feeling like your face is on fire. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says slowly. 

You sigh. “You may be insufferable, Haechan, but I trust you. At least when it comes to this.”

“No, I know but—it’s just that I think I’ll be too nervous to fall asleep...” he trails off. You’ve never seen him flush so much, and you’re sure you look similar. 

“D-Don’t be ridiculous. What’s there to be nervous about?” you stutter. 

He stares at you incredulously. “You need to be more self-aware.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

He sighs. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to take a shower, so go to sleep already.”

Haechan all but runs out of the room, leaving you alone to ponder what he meant by that.

You fell asleep basically the moment you laid down, so you never found out if Haechan decided to come back or not. 

Which is why you nearly shriek and slap a hand over your mouth when you see him curled up on the floor. You’re relieved that you noticed him because you definitely would’ve accidentally stepped on him. 

Haechan looks so peaceful and innocent when he’s asleep. Rays of light peek through the window and make his skin seem like it’s glowing. His hair is mussed, giving you a clear view of the arrow tattoo on his forehead. You’d never really seen it until now because his bangs covered it. You can’t help but be entranced by him, unabashedly staring at him until he finally opens one eye. 

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re staring like that, y’know,” he mumbles. His voice is a mix of whiny and hoarse from sleep. 

It snaps you out of your haze, and you feel heat rising to your face. You let out a mortified gasp, not believing what you were just doing. “I-I’m going to wash my face!” 

Not even waiting for his reaction, you dash out of the room and close the door behind you. You can feel your heart hammering against your chest, placing a hand over it in an attempt to calm it down. 

Fuck.

“We’re not having a lesson today.” 

You find yourself gawking at him again. “First, you make me teach myself. Now, you’re not even gonna have a lesson?” 

“I’m going to spend the day with the kids at the orphanage, and I’m taking you with me because I need some help carrying all the gifts,” Haechan explains. 

“Is that why you were gone yesterday? Buying gifts?” You think back to the strawberry mochi.

“Yes, which means you can’t be angry with me because that means you hate orphans,” he says smugly.

You roll your eyes. “Fine, but I better be learning something tomorrow.”

“Awesome, now let’s load everything up.” 

The two of you manage to stuff all the gifts in a couple large sacks, and Haechan flies everything (including you) to the town on an air spout. It’s a strange experience because it feels like you’re on a cloud, but luckily, Haechan didn’t pull any tricks on you. 

When you land in front of the orphanage, the civilians nearby don’t really seem surprised by the entrance you and Haechan make. You suppose they’ve gotten used to Haechan arriving via air spout. 

“Wait here until I come get you. I gotta sneak the gifts in the back with the caretakers so I can surprise the kids,” he says. 

You nod. Haechan grabs the gifts and heads to the backyard of the orphanage, leaving you to twiddle your thumbs. A couple minutes pass by, eventually ten, and then you start to get impatient. Bored out of your mind and tired of just standing there like an oaf, you decide to walk around. 

You pass a vendor selling flowers and decide to get some daisies for Haechan’s room, remembering how you had told him to get some flowers. There’’s a bulletin board at the very end of the street, and you go to take a look since you don’t have anything better to do. There’s flyers for fundraisers for the orphanage, announcements of town halls, advertisements for stores, and a hell of a lot of wanted posters. 

Most of them are posters of Haechan’s posse, with Haechan having the most. You can’t help but grin because you aren’t surprised at all. What you are surprised at is the camaraderie between the boys and this town. No one has turned them in. Maybe it’s because of Haechan’s contributions to the orphanage, but you’re not really sure.

There’s so many posters that they nearly over up all of the other flyers. You see a wanted poster of Haechan in the very upper right corner of the board slightly coming off, and you decide to take it so you can tease him about it later. As you peel it off, you realize there’s another one underneath it, but it’s different than the rest. 

This one is weathered, like it’s been there for a while. The corners are curling and torn, and it’s a beige color instead of a crisp white. The sketch is different too, though it’s definitely Haechan. He looks younger, chubby-cheeked and close-cropped hair. More importantly, there’s one thing that stands out above everything else. 

MISSING: LEE DONGHYUCK

It’s hard to focus on anything that’s happening right now. The children are excited because of the gifts, whooping and hollering, but you can’t hear anything right now. Haechan, or Donghyuck, is playing with them and not really paying attention to you (which you are grateful for). The missing poster is tucked in your back pocket, and it feels more like a grenade than a piece of paper. 

You don’t know whether to confront him on it or not because he hasn’t been asking you questions either. To get upset about being lied to by him would make you a total hypocrite since you are hiding things from him too. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Haechan cuts through your thoughts like a knife and you jolt. 

You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t even get a word out because the doors are blasted open with a fireball. It’s so close that you can feel a heat wave hit your back. Haechan quickly pulls you into his chest, covering you from the debris of the splintered doors. When you turn, you see Fire Nation soldiers. 

The ones that were chasing you and Haechan before. 

“We’ve been looking all over for you, ya little rat,” one of the soldiers sneer, holding another fireball in his palm. “Come with us or we’ll burn this place to a crisp.” 

The kids begin to howl with fear, and the caretakers hurriedly try to shush them. You whirl your head back, trying to tell Haechan with your eyes to not go. He looks down at you and shakes his head, taking a step away from you, and glaring at the soldiers. “Leave everyone out of this. I’ll go.”

You clench your fists as you watch them shackle Haechan. It looks like you have no choice. 

“Goddamn, these brats are annoying,” the soldier complains. “Their yappin’ is giving me a headache.” 

The other soldier smirks and launches a fireball directly into a group of kids. Lunging forward, you manage to catch the fireball and redirect it back at them. The soldier cries out in pain when it sears his arm. Everyone is staring at you in shock, Haechan most of all.

“Bitch!” The soldier kicks up in the air and sends a crescent-shaped wave of fire at you. 

You pull water from a flower vase nearby and easily neutralize the fire. “Let him go right now.” 

“You can bend two—the Avatar?!” There’s fear in both of the soldiers’ eyes now.

You stomp once on the ground, and it begins to shift underneath their feet. They lose their balance and fall to their knees. Walking forward, you fish the keys to the shackles from one of their belts and free Haechan. His hands drop limply to his sides as he stares at you in a daze.

The soldiers are still on their knees, shaking as they look up at you. You give them the nastiest scowl you can muster. “This town and all its people are under the Avatar’s protection. Leave this place and never come back.” 

They bow their heads before scrambling to their feet and running away as fast as possible. You sigh as you watch their retreating figures, carding a hand through your hair. You can feel everyone’s ogling on your back, and you’re hesitant to even turn back around. 

Well, there definitely goes my cover.

Needless to say, after signing autographs for all the kids, you and Haechan have an awkward and extremely silent trip home. When you land on the treetop, you finally can’t stand it anymore.

“We should talk.”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, “we should.”

The two of you go to Haechan’s room, and you sit yourself on the bed. You expect him to take a seat next to you, but he lingers near the door. He’s looking at you as if he’s not really sure if you’re even there. 

“I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I just didn’t want my identity to be so open.” 

“I’m not upset,” he shakes his head, “I’m just...trying to process.” 

“I-I’m a waterbender from the Northern Water Tribe.” You can’t seem to stop yourself from rambling. “I’m on a journey to master all of the elements. I was going to go to the Southern Air Temple to learn airbending, but I ran into you so I thought it’d be easier to just learn from you.”

Haechan stares at you for a beat before saying, “Have I ever told you I’ve got a thing for waterbenders?”

His words take a second to register for you, but you feel a wave of relief once they do. You laugh, so glad that he’s not angry with you. However, that relief immediately evaporates when you remember what’s in your pocket. You want to pretend like it never happened, but you can’t. He’s smiling at you fondly as he watches you take out the poster, and his smile eventually becomes puzzled.

“This was on the bulletin board,” you start off, unfolding the poster and showing it to him. 

Haechan’s entire body stiffens when he sees it. It’s like he’s going into a mental and physical lockdown, looking at the poster as if it were evil incarnate. He marches toward you and snatches it out of your hand. “Forget you ever saw it.”

His voice is deathly serene, yet his hand is trembling violently as he looks at his old self on the poster. 

“Donghyuck, I—”

You don’t mean to call him that, but it just slips out. His head shoots up and he looks like he’s about to cry. Whatever words you were going to say die in your throat instantly. You take an experimental step towards him, and when he doesn’t protest, you step closer. Eventually, you’re right in front of him. Tears are falling from his eyes, and you carefully brush them away with your thumbs. You can see the pain in his expression, and you gently wrap your arms around him. He clings onto you tightly, desperately.

Donghyuck weeps, and all you can do is hold him.

You’re not sure how you both ended up on his bed asleep, but you wake up with your head tucked under Haechan’s chin and his arms around you. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your temple before moving back slightly to see him. His face is streaked with dry tears and his eyes are puffy; only he can make it look ethereal. 

“You really do enjoy staring at me.” Without opening his eyes, Haechan pulls you close again. “I’d rather it not be with pity though.” 

He’s cracking jokes, but that only makes you worry more. “It’s not with pity.” 

“Yeah, right. How long are you going to pretend like you don’t know how I feel?”

“You’re changing the subject.” 

“Because I don’t want to tell you about my past. It’s humiliating,” he sighs. 

You wriggle out of his hold and sit up. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He eventually sits up too, staring down at his hands. You cup his face and lift his head so he’s looking at you. “I won’t push you to tell me if you really don’t want to because I understand that you may not be comfortable enough and the fact that I hid my own identity from you. But you should tell someone because trying to bury it like this isn’t healthy.” 

His hands grip your wrists gently. “It’s not that, Y/N. I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“I put up with you all this time already, didn’t I?” You smile. “I won’t hate you.” 

Haechan—no, Donghyuck shakily exhales. “I was an airbender at the Southern Air Temple. I guess you could say I was a prodigy of some sorts because the Council of the Elders had their eye on me since the day I could walk. They said I was going to be the greatest airbender that ever lived as long as I got the proper training. It was hell for me. No matter what I did, I was never good enough. I kept reaching for something higher and higher, but then I realized that there was nothing to reach inside of me. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be this amazing airbender. I just wanted to live and make my own decisions. But I couldn’t just say that because everyone was depending on me. Gods, my little sister idolized me. She went around telling everyone who I was. My family was always so proud of me. But I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away on my fifteenth birthday. They searched for me, scoured every inch of the Four Nations for me. They couldn’t find me though, because I’ve always been good at hiding. That’s what cowards do best.” 

“You’re not a coward,” you say firmly.

“I am. I’ve been on the run for four years. I’ve never once contacted my family. Do you know why? Because I like being a thief. I like the thrill of it all. I like being apart of this troupe of other airbending thieves. I threw my family away and joined a bunch of strangers to commit crimes and I don’t regret it! How sick is that? How can I face my family when I’m like this? And you know what the worst part is? To clear my conscience, I steal a bunch of money from soldiers and buy a shit ton of toys and donate them to the orphanage. Not out of the kindness of my heart, but because they’re the only people that think I’m a good person. That won’t last forever, so I’m just desperately trying to cling onto what little time I have left before they grow up and realize what I truly am.” Donghyuck is crying again—hot, furious, and shameful tears.

“Look at me,” you order, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a coward, and you’re not sick. It’s not wrong to finally discover something that makes you happy after being miserable for so long. The children at the orphanage like you because you’re genuinely a good person, Donghyuck. You’ve made mistakes, but so has everyone else. But you can’t keep running like this. Tell your family that you’re okay and that you’re happy. They’ll understand. More importantly, they just want to know that you’re alive.”

“How can I tell them that I’ve found happiness by becoming a thief?” He laughs bitterly. 

“You don’t steal for yourself, you steal from the corrupt and give to the less fortunate. There’s nothing dishonorable about that,” you reassure him. “Besides, you can also add on that you’re the Avatar’s airbending master.” 

Donghyuck gives you a small smile, a genuine one. You grin back, drying his eyes with your sleeves. “Dummy, you wouldn’t have cried like a baby if you didn’t care.”

He catches your wrist and places a soft kiss to your fingertips. You feel yourself blush. After a couple moments, he realizes what he did and goes red as well. “Sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that. I know you don’t—”

Your hand reaches for the back of his neck and you pull him down so you can press your lips against his. Donghyuck freezes, hands hesitantly resting themselves on your waist. His lips are plush and soft and lovely. Kissing him is so easy when he has lips like these. He eventually grows more confident and pulls you into his lap. When you two finally break apart to catch your breath, he looks up at you with a dreamy glaze in his eyes like you hung every star in the night sky. You brush his bangs to the side and kiss him on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo.

“When I go see my family, will you come with me?” he asks against your lips. 

“Of course,” you promise. 

“Say my name again, please.” 

“Donghyuck,” you whisper, ducking your head so you can kiss him again.

[solarune]

flowers in your hair

part of @neo-cult-ure​‘s colours collab! | masterlist + prologue

pairing: lee taeyong x fem!reader (feat. a nosy lee donghyuck, childhood best friend quian kun, and college best friend/co-worker johnny seo)

genre: fluff, soulmate au, florist au, coffee shop au, idiots (literally) to lovers

warnings: taeyong being too cute to be real, florist!taeyong, coffee shop owner!reader, donghyuck is annoying, reader has a nightmare, switches to taeyong’s pov for one part

word count: 10,577

summary: what you know about your soulmate taeyong in the 6 years that you’ve known him: he has 6 tattoos but is already planning on getting 4 more, he loves his dog ruby very much, he has only ever shared his banana bread recipe with one person (you), his mom makes the best kimchi jjigae in the entire world, his favorite color is pink, and he is the man of your dreams. literally.

what you don’t know about taeyong: what he looks like.

what you know about the owner of the new flower shop across the street: he has light brown hair, he’s a caffeine addict (if his cousin donghyuck picking up coffee 5 days a week says anything about it), and he is your enemy by association (according to kun). 

what you don’t know about the florist: his name.

a/n: i’ve wanted to write a florist!taeyong fic for the longest time and i finally got to!! thank you so much to @neo-cult-ure​ for reaching out to me to be part of this collab and please please please check out the rest of the fics because they were all written by some really talented writers!! thank you to @jungwoohoos​ for checking this fic over as she’s done with my others ily. hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated :-)

When you open your eyes, you can’t help but feel like something is off. You can’t quite put a finger on it but something feels strange. But perhaps it was that strange dream that you had last night. Something about picking a color and finding your soulmate? The details of the dream were already escaping you but it doesn’t matter because you have to start getting ready for school-

Wait. School?

You sit up in bed and realize that you’re back in your childhood bedroom. You can even hear your dad singing in the shower judging by the terrible vocals that you can hear through your closed door. But why are you at your parents’ house? You look at your bedside table and see your phone and a letter with your name on it beside it. Picking up your phone, you check the time and realize that it’s 7am but it’s the date that throws you off; it’s 8 years behind. You pick up the envelope and slide your finger under the flap, hoping that whatever was inside would help you figure out just what exactly was going on.

Dear Y/N,

You’re probably wondering what’s going on. Your memories from our reality are mixing with your memories from the reality that you’re in so life is going to be a bit confusing. Good thing I wrote this letter to explain, huh? My name is Cyan. I’m the woman you ran into and told you to pick a color to find your soulmate. Yes, that was real, it wasn’t a dream. You’re currently in an alternate universe and your goal is to find your soulmate. Once you do that, you will return back to our reality and you and your soulmate will have the memories from the alternate reality. It’s your job to not only find them in the alternate reality but in our reality as well. This sounds difficult but don’t worry. Fortunately, you and your soulmate are able to meet in your dreams. However, I don’t know the exact details about that so you’ll have to figure them out yourself. Good luck and hopefully we’ll see each other soon!

All the best,

Cyan xoxo

You sit in bed for the next 5 minutes, trying to process everything in the short letter. You have a soulmate? You’re in an alternate reality? And not only that but you’re a teenager again so now you have to go back to high school? And what about your reality? How does time work here? Is this like a Narnia thing where you’re gone for years but return at the exact moment that you left? Or are you there for a week but 10 years have passed when you go back? And what the hell did “Cyan” mean about meeting your soulmate in your-

“Y/N! Are you awake? You’re supposed to leave in 20 minutes!”

Everywhere you turned, people were always talking about soulmates. Was there ever a time that we didn’t ever know who our soulmate is? How are we able to communicate with each other in our dreams? What about the people who don’t actually end up with their soulmate in the end? But you didn’t care about that. Especially in this very moment. Soulmates, in fact, aren’t real at all.

At least, you wish they weren’t real right now.

Because then Doyoung wouldn’t have broken up with you just because he finally dreamt about his soulmate last night. You’d probably be with him right now, watching whatever cult classic movie he thinks you just have to see because you made a comment once about never watching Fight Club during 8th grade. If he hadn’t had that dumb dream, your 2 year relationship wouldn’t be a flaming pile of garbage right now and you wouldn’t have the new drugstore eyeliner that Yejin had recommended to you running down your face.

“Wanna see this video that Xiaojun sent me of his dog?” Kun asks you, effectively breaking the hour of silence that the two of you have been sitting in, the only noise coming from your spontaneous bouts of crying and the videos on Kun’s phone as he scrolls through TikTok. After seeing that state that you were in at school when Doyoung broke up with you that morning, Kun knew that he wasn’t going to leave you alone today. You turn over to face him with a sigh, your head propped up on your hand as you watch Kun’s cousin’s dog run around their living room. But even an overexcited puppy isn’t enough to lift your spirits, something that Kun notices immediately and he frowns. “Listen, Doyoung didn’t deserve you and you know that and if given permission, I wouldn’t hesitate to dropkick him for you. You’ll find your soulmate eventually, and I’m sure they’ll be everything you actually need in a partner.”

You wrinkle your nose at his words; you and Kun have been best friends since you were 5 so it’s weird to hear him saying this cheesy stuff to you sometimes. “That was really nice and I really appreciate that, Kun, but please don’t tell me that you’re about to confess your feelings to me.” You laugh loudly when your best friend shoves you, returning his glare with a smirk as you attempt to smother him in a hug. “I’ll always love you but-”

“Y/N, I’m just trying to be a good best friend,” Kun rolls his eyes as he goes back to looking at his phone. “Your life isn’t one of those fanfictions you used to read when you were 15.”

“Yeah because if it were, the universe wouldn’t have made my boyfriend of 2 years dump me the day before my birthday!”

That night, you roll over in your bed for what feels like the millionth time. You check the time on your phone again and groan at the late hour, mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion that you’re bound to feel tomorrow. You wonder if turning 18 will feel any different. Will you dream about your soulmate tonight? Not like you’re too eager to talk to any guy in a non-platonic way but it would still be cool. You wonder what they’re like; what’s their favorite color, what’s their favorite place to go to clear their head, do they like to look at the stars just as much as you do? You feel yourself grow tired as you think about your soulmate and force yourself to not think about Doyoung, your eyes finally closing as you wonder if your soulmate likes flowers.

“Thanks for coming tonight. Want some cake?”

Someone places a slice of cake into your hands and when you look up to thank the person, all you can see are deep brown eyes. Both literally and figuratively; their eyes are very nice but they’re also blurry. You blink a couple of times and squint to get a better look at them but even when they’re standing so close to you, you can’t seem to make out any distinct features at all. You look around at all of the other partygoers and find that you can see them all just fine, so why can’t you see this person?

“My name’s Taeyong. And judging by the fact that you’re the only person in here that I can’t see, I’m going to guess that you’re my soulmate and you also can’t see me. Am I right?” they say to you, and even though you can’t see him, you can tell that there’s a smile on his face. 

You stick your hand out and, even though he can’t see you, you smile at Taeyong. “My name is Y/N.”

Taeyong shakes your hand but rather than letting go, his grip tightens ever so slightly and his hand slides across yours to grip it as he leads you away from the spot you were standing in. He takes you outside, the cool night air refreshing on your skin and the moonlight making everything glow ethereally. He sits on the grass in the middle of the yard and gestures for you to do the same, laughing quietly to himself when he sees you looking up at the night sky in awe. You take a seat next time, your eyes never leaving in the sky as you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars before.”

“Do you like looking at the stars?” Taeyong asks.

You nod, your gaze finally leaving the sky above you to look at the boy next to you. “They’re pretty. And they make me feel… seen. The light from those stars, which are most definitely dead by now, travelled millions of light years just for us to see them, and they see us too. I don’t really know how to explain it but looking at the stars just makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

“Whenever I visited my grandparents, my grandpa would take me outside and show me all of these constellations using his telescope. Everything I know about the stars and the planets are because of him.” Taeyong goes quiet and you wait. From the way he’s looking down and pulling up blades of grass, you can tell that what he’s going to say next is important. “He died when I was 16. Some drunk driver who couldn’t tell the difference between the road and the sidewalk. I was so sad after he died.” You place your hand on his knee as a sign of comfort, not wanting to push him since you two just met. He lets out a mirthless laugh and you can’t help but smile sympathetically. “I stayed with my grandma for that entire summer after it happened. One night I was using his telescope and I couldn’t get it to focus properly and I just got so mad that I broke it. I cried after that and my grandma found me the next morning, sleeping out in the yard next to the broken telescope. She yelled at me, not because I broke his telescope, but because I could’ve gotten sick.”

“He sounds like a great man,” you murmur. “I’m sure he’s proud of you and that he misses you just as much as you miss him.”

Taeyong hums beside you, the two of you continuing to look up at the stars in silence. “So,” he says loudly to break the silence. “Any sad childhood stories you want to tell me? Since apparently I’ve decided that that’s what we’re going to do the first time that we meet.”

You burst out laughing at that, and even though you just got your heartbroken, you think that having a soulmate won’t be that bad after all. “I think we’re going to have to at least be friends before I tell you all about my traumas.”

The boy beside you gets up and offers a hand down to you, helping you stand up. “Friends?” he asks incredulously. “We’re soulmates!”

“All I know about you is that your name is Taeyong and that you broke your dead grandpa’s telescope while stargazing,” you point out. 

You turn to look at him and your breath hitches, finally noticing that Taeyong is completely facing you and is standing very close to you. He takes both his hands in yours and you look up at him, and even though you couldn’t make out his facial features, you could feel his hands in yours and the warmth radiating off of him and that was enough. There’s this inexplicable pull in your stomach that makes you want to move even closer to him and just as you can feel yourself lift your foot up to take that first step, you panic and take a giant step back instead, letting Taeyong’s hands fall to his side.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?” your soulmate asks, taking a step towards you but stopping when you put your hands up.

“You didn’t do anything, Taeyong, don’t worry,” you reassure him. “It’s just that…” You bite your lower lip in worry, wondering if talking about your personal life was appropriate in this situation. But he did just tell you something personal about him- “My boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me today so I’m not looking to rush into anything any time soon. I know that we’re soulmates but I need time to heal and be my own person.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything for a bit and you wonder if you’ve told him too much. Just as you begin to think of ways to stop yourself from sleeping ever again so you don’t have to see him, he surprises you. “Out of all the people the universe could have put me together with, it just had to be you. I think we’re going to be great friends in no time!”

He holds his hand out for you and you take it, allowing him to lead you back to the party.

When you wake up, the first thing you see are the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Even though they’re nothing like the ones you saw in your dream, you can’t help but think of your soulmate’s grandfather. After a few minutes, you realize that you don’t remember your soulmate’s name or the story he told you about his grandfather.

“Great, so all I know about him is that he likes to stargaze with his grandpa-”

“Y/N, who are you talking to? Are you getting ready for school?”

Your meetings with Taeyong usually consist of you trying to remember at least one thing about the other, hoping that the repetition will be enough to get something to stick when you wake up that morning. The two of you are in Taeyong’s dream tonight (as you usually are since you rarely dream and if you do, usually it’s about someone trying to kill you), walking through a park full of cherry blossom trees with your arms linked together. He leads you over to a bench where you both sit in silence for a bit, the two of you lost in your own separate thoughts.

“So,” Taeyong says to break the silence. “We both leave for university tomorrow.”

You look over at him to find him already looking at you, and even though you can’t see him, you know that you share the same feelings he’s experiencing right now. “I know, it’ll be weird, right? One step closer to being in the adult world and all that. What higher power decided that I’m capable of being an adult?”

Taeyong’s hand brushes over yours and hovers hesitantly before taking it in his own. You let it happen because you know that he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just as scared as you are, so why not find comfort in the person that’s supposed to be in your life forever? You squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder, inhaling the sweet scent of the cherry blossoms before sighing deeply. Everything is about to change.

Your soulmate hums in consideration, shifting his body closer to you to make you more comfortable. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to college so I can be an adult,” he confesses. “I’m going because I want to get drunk off my ass with my friends.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, sitting up straight so you could playfully shove him. “Oh shut up, Taeyong, you know you’re gonna be the best astronomer out there.”

He shrugs in response, fiddling with your hand in his lap as he looks out at the trees in front of you. “We’ll see. Life is crazy; we might end up somewhere we weren’t even expecting.”

And Taeyong was right. Life is crazy. Yours and Taeyong’s first year at university was hard. You were pursuing a major in economics while Taeyong was pursuing a major in physics with a concentration in astronomy. The two of you were so stressed your first year that you barely got to meet in your dreams because neither of you had any; you just slept. Your lives were: wake up, go to class, do work for the rest of the day, find some time to eat in between all of that, and then sleep just enough to keep you alive. 

But you knew that you couldn’t do this for another 3 years. You ended up switching to a major in food science and nutrition with a minor in business while Taeyong switched to a major in plant science. During your time at university, the two of you tried as best as you could to remember where the other went to school so you could try to meet somewhere in the middle but the most you could remember by the end of your third year was that you both go to school in Seoul.

(“You remember that we’re both in Seoul, so that’s good!” Taeyong reassures you one night as you whine about still not being able to meet each other. “We’re one step closer!”

“Yong, Seoul is huge and there’s so many universities here. How are we supposed to narrow it down?” you pout as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his chest.

Taeyong sighs and pats your head, not knowing what else to say because he knows you’re right. But he won’t give up hope; he knows he’ll see you soon. Just as he’s about to answer, the room around you goes dark and you hear the creaking of floorboards above you. He can see the fear in your eyes when he meets your gaze and his heart begins to pound. There’s a loud bang from upstairs and you immediately run out of the building you were in. 

“You know, I’m really starting to hate your dreams. Maybe this is why we can’t remember anything, because we’re too busy running for our lives like we’re in a horror movie!”

When you woke up that morning, all you could remember was that he hates being in your dreams.)

By the beginning of your last year, the two of you agreed to stop trying so hard to meet each other. You assume that the universe just isn’t ready for the two of you to meet yet so you might as well enjoy just spending time with each other. Taeyong agrees and surprisingly, it works. You start to remember more and more about him—small things like his dog’s name and that the scar next to his eye resembles a rose—so you start to write them down. You even make a list of things that happen every day that you would want to tell him just in case you see each other that night.

Last night, you finally remembered the recipe for his banana bread, something that took you nearly an entire year to learn. You grab your journal from your desk and write down the recipe, humming in satisfaction when you write down the last ingredient. You read over the other things you’ve learned about Taeyong over the years—his favorite color is pink, he has a dog named Ruby and she is one of the 4 most important women in his life (“Who are the others?” “You, my mom, and my sister obviously!”), he has 4 tattoos—and hear his voice in the back of your head from your first year reassuring you.

We’re one step closer.

You place the finished drink on the counter just as the bell above the door jingles, alerting you to your first customer of the day. “One medium iced caramel macchiato with almond milk,” you announce, holding out a straw and napkin for Kun to take as he walks up to you with half-closed eyes. “Busy night last night?” you tease him as he takes his first sip, laughing when you see his body relax at the first taste of caffeine. “That one’s on me since you look like you need it.”

“Xiaojun had his friends over last night,” Kun complains as he takes a seat at the counter to be near you, tracing the letters of the coffee shop's name that’s on the cup sleeve as he talks. “It’s nice living with him since we’re cousins and all but him and his friends are such enablers. But I beat all of them at Mario Kart last night, so it was worth it I guess.”

You hum in understanding and pick up a towel to clean off the counters, knowing that the usual morning rush would come in soon and you wouldn’t get a chance to clean when it did. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s actually your fault, is that right?”

“They’re enablers, Y/N, I’m telling you!” your best friend protests, his words a bit muffled due to the straw in his mouth as he takes another sip. “They know that I can’t resist playing Mario Kart when I’m drunk!”

“They got you drunk?” you repeat. “I’m starting to think that I don’t even know who you are anymore, Kun. Getting drunk on a Sunday night knowing you have work the next morning? Doesn’t sound like my best friend if you ask me.”

Kun rolls his eyes at you but just as he’s about to respond, the bell above the door jingles (quite violently) and another customer walks in with a “Good morning, Busy Bean!” You look up to find Donghyuck walking towards you, a wide smile on his face and his right hand hidden behind his back.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Kun grumbles, gathering up his stuff as soon as he hears the younger boy’s voice. 

You laugh at that, knowing that the only reason Kun dislikes Donghyuck is because he works for the new florist across the street. But Kun’s just funny like that sometimes. He had been the only florist in town and everybody knew about his shop, A Thousand Petals. The place was beautiful and Kun was good at what he did. But then a couple of months ago, the competition rolled in. At least, that’s what it was for him. To you, the new flower shop across the street from you meant nothing other than the fact that they had replaced the burger joint that nobody went to. And let’s just say that Kun didn’t appreciate being surprised with competition on a Monday morning while being handed his daily macchiato. You gave him free coffee for a week to make up for it.

“Bye Kun!” Donghyuck shouts happily, waving to him energetically even though your best friend only grunts in response. He walks up to the counter and reveals what he was hiding behind his back: a bundle of daisies. “Some pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” he says as he hands them over to you.

You accept them with a smile, thanking him as you put them in a mason jar in front of the register. “What’ll it be today, sunshine? The usual?” you ask, even though you’re already punching in the order for 2 iced Americanos.

Donghyuck blushes at your nickname for him and his lovestruck eyes staring at you doesn’t escape your notice. You’ve grown used to the boy’s antics and know that his flirting is meaningless. “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ as he leans against the counter. “Just a muffin please. And can I get it warm?”

You nod and put in his order, taking his cash and then smiling when you see him put the change in the tip jar. “So why no coffee today?” you ask as you put his muffin in the oven. “You guys find a place better than mine?”

The boy’s jaw drops at this, his posture straightening as he looks at you in shock. “Y/N, how dare you even suggest that. You know that there’s no coffee place better than yours!” He takes one of the flowers from the jar and starts fiddling with it, his smile widening when Johnny, one of your employees, comes out from the back. “Johnny!”

Johnny’s eyes widen at the sight of him and he freezes, his cup of coffee only midway to his mouth. “Damn, I thought you’d be gone already,” he mumbles, the two of you laughing as the boy starts fake crying. Johnny takes out the muffin from the oven and hands it to Hyuck after putting it in a bag. “Thanks for coming to The Busy Bean, we hope to never see you again.”

You push Johnny on to the floor, throwing a towel at his face as you chuckle. “Johnny, stop being mean to Hyuck and go clean the tables before Mrs. Choi complains again about them being dirty.” You ignore his noise of complaint in favor of turning back to the boy still in front of you who’s already started eating.

“His Majesty doesn’t want coffee yet,” he shrugs, crumbs falling from his mouth as he answers your question. “But you know he’s a caffeine addict so he’ll probably send me over during my lunch break.” He throws out the bag and puts the flower that he left lying on the counter back into the jar. “Speaking of which, I should probably head back. See you in a few hours!”

You wave goodbye to him and watch as he crosses the street to the flower shop. Donghyuck is an interesting kid. When you first look at him, you wouldn’t think that he works at a flower shop but you found out he’s only working there for the summer because he starts university in the fall. And his cousin’s the one that owns the place so it was a guaranteed job (“My mom and his mom actually had to convince him to let me work there but you know, I basically already had it.”). Ever since he first walked into your store, he’s been trying to set you up with his cousin, swearing up and down that the two of you would be great together. You’ve always laughed it off though since you weren’t particularly looking for anything and you weren’t about to take advice from an 18 year old.

“Here they come,” Johnny announces, running back to stand behind the counter with you as the morning rush comes in. You notice that the crowd seems to be bigger than usual and you feel nervous; The Busy Bean had just recently gone through some construction and had expanded but your new employees haven’t finished training so they can’t start working until next week. Johnny can tell that you’re nervous and places a hand on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see him smiling down at you. “Don’t be nervous, we’ll be fine! We always are.”

When you were in college, Johnny was the first friend that you made. Being without Kun was weird and scary even though he was only a 30 minute subway ride away from you but luckily, the boy living across the hall from you was there to provide you with company. The two of you did everything together—when you weren’t busy with labs and presentations and he wasn’t busy with his research and papers, that is. You even applied for jobs at the Starbucks on campus at the beginning of your junior year, and you were pretty sure the manager would have fired the both of you for always goofing off if you weren’t his best employees.

But the day that you knew he was going to be in your life for a long time was when you finally told him your dream of opening your own coffee shop. It was something that only Kun knew, too embarrassed to tell anyone else after your parents had told you that it would never happen. Johnny had surprised you that day, promising to be your first employee once it happened. You watch him from your place behind the coffee machine, watching him talk to Mr. Park from the restaurant that the two of you always go to with a smile on his face. Aside from Kun and your store, Johnny is all you have and when he notices you staring at him and makes a face at you, you thank the universe for putting him in your life.

“I have returned!” Donghyuck announces when he walks into the cafe, true to his word about returning during his lunch break. Behind him is a man who looks to be only a few years older than him with hair the exact same color as coffee foam. You’ve never seen him before but Hyuck apparently knows him as you watch him drag the older boy up to the counter. “2 medium iced Americanos please,” he says to Johnny in a cute voice, pouting when the man behind the register denies him his order with no emotion in his voice.

“Where’s your manager? I need to tell her you’re being mean to me,” Hyuck says as he sticks his tongue out at Johnny. You walk over with their coffee and place it down on the counter with a laugh, bumping Johnny with your hip to get him away from the register.

“Maybe Johnny wouldn’t be mean to you if you didn’t try to annoy him every time you’re here, sunshine,” you tease him as you take his money. Johnny hands them straws and napkins, making sure to stick his tongue out at the teenager in retaliation. You shake your head at him when he sees that you notice. You’re surrounded by children.

“Oh, this is the owner of The Busy Bean by the way,” Hyuck says to his cousin, smirking when he notices a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. “You know, the girl that you said you think is cute when you first saw h-”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” the older boy greets you very loudly as he cuts off Donghyuck, reaching out to shake your hand with blazing cheeks. “I’m- Uh- I-I’m TY.”

You shake his hand as you stifle a giggle, finding the blush on his face cute. Donghyuck on the other hand does nothing to hide his laugh, just narrowly avoiding an elbow in his side from his cousin. “Nice to meet you, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware that I would be in the presence of royalty today otherwise I would have rolled out the red carpet.”

“I wasn’t aware that, uh, you have such a nice smile,” the florist compliments you, making you smile as you thank him. “Your teeth are pretty,” he blurts out and you feel your smile falter as you process the compliment. Your teeth are… pretty? Johnny and Hyuck attempt to stifle their laughter at the man’s outburst, the man in question turning red as a tomato when he realizes what he said to you. He slowly starts to back away, pulling Donghyuck by the back his shirt towards the exit as he stutters out, “U-Uh I mean- S-Sorry that was weird- You uh-”

“Watch out!” you warn him, noticing a customer looking down at their phone pushing open the door right into his back. 

TY lets out an ‘oof!’ as the door hits him, stumbling forward and tripping over his own feet to regain his balance. The coffee in his hand wasn’t so lucky however, spilling all over the floor and some of it even getting on Hyuck’s white shoes. The two of them quickly rush over to get napkins, TY sputtering out apology after apology as he cleans up the mess on the floor while his cousin whines about the coffee on his new shoes. You quickly get to work on making him a new coffee while Johnny deals with the new customer. 

The pair quickly exit after you give TY his coffee, and you’re able to hear Hyuck saying, “I’m telling your mom that you spilled coffee on my new shoes. Also who the fuck calls you ‘TY’, why didn’t you just tell your name like a normal person? I can’t believe I’m related to-” before the door closes.

“Do you think that guy’s ever gonna come back?” Johnny asks you after the customer had left, gesturing towards the flower shop. 

You can see Hyuck dancing in the middle of the store while the owner laughs and you can’t help but smile. You wonder what his laugh sounds like. “I hope so.”

As you’re getting ready for bed that night, you open up the notes app on your phone to read over what you wanted to tell Taeyong about in case you saw him tonight. Even on slow days, you usually have at least one or two things to tell him, but tonight you find it empty. You hadn’t thought about him all day.

Taeyong surprises both himself and Hyuck when he decides to go back to The Busy Bean only a week after what his cousin likes to call The Incident™ (he even says “trademark” out loud, what a weirdo). The man usually isn’t one to be this brave but he can’t deny the pull that he feels towards you. You’re cute, you have a nice laugh, and he wants to make you smile again. And your iced Americanos are unmatched. Starbucks who?

Walking into the cafe, he immediately feels his hands start to sweat at the sight of you. Your hair looks extra shiny today and you’re dancing along to the song that’s playing with Johnny (kind of badly, but it’s pretty cute). Taking a deep breath, he repeats the simple order in his head one more time. One medium iced Americano, one medium iced caramel coffee, and 2 cake pops. (“If I don’t get to go, then you have to make it up to me somehow!” Hyuck protested when Taeyong told him to watch the store while he went to get coffee. So cake pops it is.) When you see Taeyong walking towards the counter, you give him the biggest smile and he swears his heart skips a beat. He knows he’s going to end up with Y/N eventually but wow, this girl sure knows how to take his breath away. 

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” you greet him, your cheeks still slightly pink from your laughing and dancing. Taeyong notices a daisy tucked behind your ear and he realizes that it’s one of the daisies that he had shoved into Hyuck’s hands and told him to bring when he went to the store just last week. The man feels his heart skip a beat at that; you look like a goddess. “Didn’t think we would see you back here so soon. Our red carpet is at the dry cleaner’s unfortunately.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Taeyong shrugs, playing along with your teasing. “I get treated better here than I do at my own shop anyways. Hyuck won’t stop bringing up last week to literally everyone we know.” He blushes when he brings up the events of last week but he feels immensely better when you laugh. “Thank you for replacing my coffee by the way. I can pay for it now since I left so quickly last time.”

“That one was on the house,” you say, waving your hand in the air. “Anyways, what can I get for you today?”

Taeyong makes sure to come back at least twice a week after that, much to Donghyuck’s dismay. Each time he comes, he has to force himself to go back to his own store rather than staying and talking with you and Johnny. He finds himself growing more and more comfortable with your presence, his words coming more easily to him the more he’s around you. The conversation even turns flirty at some point, something that he didn’t even think he was capable of since graduating college. Sure he’s had a few lay it on pretty thick with him when they come into the store but middle aged women aren’t exactly his type. You are more his type, if he’s being honest. You and his soulmate, Y-

“Your name is Y/N?!” Taeyong all but squeaks out, his voice cracking as he drags his eyes from Johnny to you. Could you be…?

Both you and Johnny blink at him, not understanding where this sudden outburst came from. “Uh yeah, why? Is there something wrong with that?” you joke as you continue to make his drink. 

Taeyong mentally shakes it off, subtly rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the unnecessary excitement he just felt. It’s probably just a coincidence. The universe seems to like mocking him, apparently. There’s no way he would just randomly find his soulmate like this. He couldn’t even remember where she ended up living after graduating college. “It’s nothing,” he says while shaking his head, giving Johnny a small smile as he hands over his cash. He notices the withering daisies in front of the register and makes a mental note to bring some fresh ones next time. “I’ve just always liked that name. I think it’s pretty.”

When you first created The Busy Bean, you hadn’t thought of incorporating flowers until Kun brought up that you had said you wanted to make it stand out from other cafes. That and the fact that the store’s name is based off of “a busy bee” and that, in the words of Kun, “your best friend just so happens to be the owner of the best flower shop in the city.” Unfortunately for you, your best friend and the owner of the best flower shop in the city won’t be around for an entire week because of a family emergency. And because of the store’s recent expansion and being so busy with training all of your new hires, it had completely slipped your mind to order new flowers for next month’s theme. When you had said all of this to Johnny during a lull in the morning rush, all he said in response was, “That’s rough, buddy.” (The two of you have been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender together recently.) What a great best friend.

After making sure that Johnny and the new hires knew exactly what they would be doing during the closing shift, you take a deep breath and do the one thing that you know Kun will never forgive you for once he finds out. “He’ll forgive you, you have no other choice,” you whisper to yourself as you cross the street towards Bloomin’ Love. You open the door and are greeted by the fresh smell of flowers, a Yiruma song softly playing in the background and fitting the atmosphere perfectly as the setting sun shines golden light into the store. It felt like you had entered a magical world.

“Welcome to Bloomin’ Love,” Hyuck greets you, not even looking up from his phone as he leans against the front counter. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I don’t think your boss would be very happy if he found out that you were using your phone while there’s a customer in the store,” you tease him as you walk up to the counter, laughing when Hyuck scrambles to hide his phone and looks up with wide eyes.

The boy’s shoulders immediately deflate when he sees that it’s just you, placing his phone in front of him as he smiles at you. “Y/N, I didn’t think I would ever see you in here. Did you and Kun get into a fight or something? Did he finally get mad that you’re ‘fraternizing with the enemy’s cousin because I’m trying to get you to fraternize with the enemy’?”

You shake your head, explaining, “Kun’s out of town, he has no idea that I’m here right now. I actually need to talk to TY, is he here? I have a big order because I need new flowers for The Busy Bean next month.”

Donghyuck nods as he points towards the back, an area that you assume is restricted to customers since it’s behind the counter. “He’s in his office right now. Let me just tell him you’re here really quickly.”

He walks away quickly before you even have a chance to nod, so you take a look at the flowers around the shop. Directly behind you are bouquets of roses but what really strikes your interest are the magnolia flowers and plum blossoms along your left. You lean down to smell them, their floral scent overwhelming your senses and making you feel even calmer than you already did.

“Plum blossoms are one of my favorite flowers,” a voice says from behind you, making you jump and bump into whoever it was. You feel hands on your waist that help steady you as you sway on your feet, your eyes coming up to meet those of the man you were looking for. “Sorry about that,” TY chuckles, the tips of his ears pink as he withdraws his hands from you. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Donghyuck said you’re looking for me?”

You nod frantically, before explaining your situation to him, his eyes never leaving you as you talk. “I usually give Kun complete creative control because I don’t know much about flowers and which ones bloom during which season.”

TY nods understandingly, humming as he thinks and scans over the various plants in the store. “Flowers that only bloom during spring…” He begins to walk around, with you following a few steps behind him, his hands hovering over the flowers and his fingers occasionally brushing over their petals as he looks at each one carefully. TY suddenly stops in his tracks, one hand resting on a peony before he suddenly turns to you with a wide grin on his face. “I think I have some ideas.”

The florist brings you back to his office, and you think you see Hyuck wink at the both of you as you follow his cousin to the back but when you get a closer look, the boy’s already assumed his previous position of scrolling on his phone. As of recently, the teenager has been teasing you more and more for what he assumes are the beginnings of feelings for his cousin. And even though you swear up and down that the two of you are just friends, you can’t help but think about the possibilities some nights. Which makes you feel guilty because what about Taeyong? Your dreams with him have felt different lately, both of you distracted at one point or another, the conversation becoming awkward at some points because the both of you know that something has changed. Is this the universe testing you? Putting a man that you feel yourself growing more and more fond of with every passing day just to see if you’ll reject him in favor of the partner that it has chosen for you?

“Y/N?” the florist calls out, his hand waving in front of your face to get your attention. You jump slightly in your seat, eyes meeting his after you’re pulled out of your thoughts. “You still with me? I asked if you could give me a floor plan or something of where you put all of your flowers.”

“Oh sorry,” you apologize, heart pounding in your chest at getting caught zoning out. You pull the floor plan that you and Kun had first made 2 years ago and hand it over to TY, your eyes tracing the veins in his hands as he smooths out the paper on his desk. His hands look like they would be really nice to hold. Wait what? No, stop, think about Taeyong.

TY shares his general thought process with you, lightly drawing circles and arrows on the paper to show you where he pictures bunches of hyacinth and jasmine would be. Names like Barberton daisy, dogwood, azalea, and peony are mentioned while you nod along enthusiastically, not really knowing what any of them look like but trusting the vision in the man’s head completely. As he’s talking, you can’t help but get lost in the sound of his voice, the passion and flow of his words making your heart swell. As guilty as it makes you feel, you couldn’t help the feelings that you could feel blooming in your heart for the florist. 

The two of you stand once TY is done sharing his ideas and you’ve run out of questions to ask. You force yourself to leave rather than think up an excuse to spend more time with him, his laughter paired with the way he looks at you dangerous for your pounding heart and overly imaginative brain. He says goodbye to you with a wave but not before handing you a business card with the store’s number should you have any more questions. As you’re walking out, you can hear Hyuck teasing his cousin, and when you turn around to spare TY one last glance, you can see a blush on his cheeks as he quickly looks away, as if he was caught staring.

Just before you get into bed that night, you take one last look at the business card that you had been given just hours ago. When you read the name on the card, you feel as if time itself has come to a stop. Your breathing turns shallow as you bring the card closer to you, squeezing your eyes shut and then opening them just in case it was some weird trick of the light. But it wasn’t. Right there on the card is the one name that you weren’t expecting at all.

Lee Taeyong.

It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a-

You feel yourself being pulled down into the water, a hand wrapped around your ankle dragging you down to the bottom of the pool. You kick with all of your strength at the invisible attacker, your lungs screaming for air as you thrash in the water. A pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you out of the water, the person screaming at you to stand as they tug on your arm. Coughing your lungs out, you can just barely make out Taeyong’s blurry form as he runs out onto the empty street with your hand in his.

Suddenly, an SUV with its lights on appears behind you, the driver revving the engine and accelerating very quickly towards the two of you. You just barely dodge it, the vehicle only inches away from Taeyong’s body as you pull him towards a dark house. You climb over fences and run through yards, neither of you daring to say a word in fear of whoever is after you being near. Your hand stays in his the entire time, too scared of getting separated to let go. 

You see a light approaching you and duck behind some garbage cans, willing your breathing and heart rate to slow so that you could listen for any footsteps. Taeyong quivers beside you in fear, his hand squeezing yours and when you look over at him, you can only imagine how scared he must look right now. Looking at him, you realize that there was something you wanted to talk about tonight but with every single nerve being on edge since you’re, you know, running for your life, you can’t remember what it is for the life of you. Lights from the SUV pass by, gravel crunching underneath the tires as the car goes by you very slowly. You pray to every higher power out there that they don’t catch you and you release a quiet sigh of relief when you see the car turn and drive farther away from you.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate being in your dreams?” Taeyong murmurs, his grip on your hand loosening but still not letting go. “Because I really hate being here right now.”

You huff out a laugh before slowly standing up to brush the dirt off of you. Just as you’re about to respond, you feel a hand clap over your mouth, Taeyong’s eyes widening as he screams and reaches out for you. Something sharp presses against your back just as you hear a gunshot, blood quickly soaking into Taeyong’s pants from getting shot in the thigh, before everything goes black.

You have to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder every 5 minutes because of the intense nightmare that you had yesterday. The feeling of being watched lingered with you all morning, something that Johnny noticed and was concerned about at first until you told him the reason you were acting so paranoid and jumpy. Then he just ended up teasing you and even scared you in front of a customer, falling on the floor laughing when it happened. But you couldn’t help it, the dream just felt so real and it didn’t help that Taeyong, an actual person, was there with you to make it seem all the more real. You wonder how he must be handling it, you know he’s not the biggest fan of horror movies or scary things in general.

You decide to visit Bloomin’ Love during your lunch break, the questions that you wanted to ask Taeyong still unanswered. But if you’re right and Taeyong actually is TY, then you would get your answer in a few minutes. Except it turns out that you won’t be getting your answers today.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” you ask Hyuck in disbelief, even looking towards the back to check if the office light is on in case he’s just playing a joke. “He’s your boss and one of the two people that work here, why are you here and he isn’t?”

The boy shrugs before hopping up to sit on the counter, long legs swinging as he bops along to the music that’s playing from what you assume is his own playlist. “He was here when I got here this morning but then he left after an hour and told me he’s taking the rest of the day off because he’s been feeling anxious all morning. Something about having a nightmare last night? It must have been really bad for him to take a day off because you and I both know that this store is basically his baby.”

He had a nightmare?

The bell above the door jingles as a customer comes in and immediately approaches the two of you to ask for help. You back away to let Hyuck do his job, bidding him goodbye before heading back to The Busy Bean. Hyuck’s words swirl around your head, the conversation replaying over and over as you take out the business card that you put in your pocket this morning to look at the name printed on it. 

Taeyong. Lee Taeyong, the owner of Bloomin’ Love. Lee Taeyong, who introduced himself to you as TY. Lee Taeyong, your soulmate.

After that, you become distracted during work, your eyes constantly looking at the clock to see how much longer until your shift is over. Of course the one day that you find out who your soulmate is, the one day that it would be super convenient to be able to leave work early, is the day one of your new workers can’t come in because they got food poisoning the night before. You don’t even know what you’re going to do once your shift is over though. The number on the card is the store number and you already know that Taeyong isn’t there. Maybe you could just ask Hyuck to give you his number? But then what? What would you even say? “Hey TY, it’s Y/N. Hyuck told me that you had a nightmare last night so I think you might be my soulmate”?

The universe, however, seems to have your back. At the end of your shift, just as you’re saying goodbye to Johnny and Jaemin, one of your new hires, you hear a very familiar voice call out your name. And when you turn around, there stands the exact man that you’ve been hoping but not expecting to see all day. You can’t help but smile widely when you see him and nod when he asks if you want to sit.

“These are for you, by the way,” he says as he gives you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. “Pink is my favorite color but they reminded me of you when I saw them in the store just now.”

You thank them as you take the flowers from his hands, inhaling deeply before placing them down on the table. “You were in the store? Hyuck told me you took the day off.”

“I stopped by just to make sure he didn’t burn the place down,” TY chuckles and he sounds… nervous? Looking at him, you notice that he’s barely making eye contact with you, taking more interest in tracing the tattoo of a lavender plant that’s on his inner forearm. You wonder if he knows what you know, or at least what you think you know. You wonder if maybe he’s even known this entire time. 

“Do you have a soulmate, TY?” you blurt out, too impatient to indulge him with more small talk. 

He looks up at you with wide eyes at your question and you watch as the tips of his ears turn red. “I-I do,” he responds while nodding simultaneously.

“What are they like?” you ask him, telling yourself to calm down and to make sure that you’re right. It would be really embarrassing if you aren’t.

“She’s the girl of my dreams,” he jokes, laughing loudly when you groan and roll your eyes at his dumb joke. “She really is though. She’s really smart and knows exactly what she wants from life. She’s extremely hard-working but she also knows when she needs to stop and relax. She really likes strawberry cake and also likes stargazing. I actually tried making a move on her when we first met because I was young and dumb but then she told me that her boyfriend of 2 years had just broken up with her, so I felt extremely stupid that night.”

You feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest at his words and you know that you must have a funny look on your face because TY- no, Taeyong is looking at you strangely. “What about you?” he asks, his wide eyes and head that’s tilted slightly to the side reminding you of a puppy. “What’s your soulmate like?”

You laugh and take a deep breath, mustering all of the courage to pour all of the love you’ve been wanting to show Taeyong all these years into your words. “He’s the best, honestly, I’m really lucky that he’s my soulmate,” you say softly, your eyes not once leaving Taeyong’s as you speak. “He’s really goofy and not at all afraid to be who he is. He’s very supportive too; Johnny and Kun were always there for me when college got hard, especially when I switched my major, but it was his words that always kept me going. His favorite color is pink and he absolutely adores his mom, he swears up and down that her kimchi jjigae is the best in the entire world. When we first met, he-”

You stop to look at Taeyong and you see tears in his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he listens to you talk. You take a shuddering breath and lift your hand to gently take his hand in yours; he knows. “When we first met, he told me about his grandpa and how his love for the stars came from him.” You see a single tear cascade down Taeyong’s cheek and you reach out to wipe it away. With a watery laugh, you say, “He also told me that he ended up breaking his grandpa’s telescope after he died.”

Taeyong rests his forehead against your joined hands as he laughs, his eyelashes wet with tears and his eyes shining when he looks back up at you. “I finally found you,” he whispers in awe. “After all of these years, the universe finally put you right in front of me and I didn’t even know.”

“That day, when you said that you think my name is pretty,” you say, his words playing in your mind as you remember the day you’re talking about, “did you know?”

“I was suspicious but I thought it was too good to be true,” Taeyong says as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought that there was no way that the girl I’ve been dreaming about for 6 years just so happens to own the coffee shop across the street.” He raises your hands to his lip to kiss the back of yours and you feel so happy that it feels like you’re practically vibrating in your seat. 

You’re about to respond when you hear Johnny call out, “Hey lovebirds, keep it PG! There are kids in here!” The two of you turn your heads towards the direction of his voice to find not only Johnny behind the counter but also Kun and Hyuck standing there. 

“Did you forget about our plans, Y/N?” Kun calls out teasingly, a smirk on his face as his eyes flicker from your hand in Taeyong’s to your face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, head turning to look at Taeyong with wide eyes.

He smiles at you reassuringly, kissing the back of your hand once more before letting go. “I’ll call you later?”

You nod enthusiastically, the two of you exchanging numbers before you stand up. You look up at Taeyong, not yet wanting to leave his presence. You can feel the warmth radiating off of his body and there’s a familiar pull in your stomach and this time, you allow yourself to indulge in it. He leans down just as you lean up, and as cliche as it is, it really does feel like you’re the only two there when you kiss. Taeyong tugs one of the flowers from your grasp and breaks off part of the stem, tucking the forget-me-not behind your ear and rubbing your cheek with his thumb before pressing one more kiss to your forehead and murmuring a “see you tomorrow” against your skin.

Waking up the next morning, you let yourself indulge in thoughts of yesterday, the events leading up to the kiss replaying in your head and making butterflies erupt in your stomach all over again. You and Taeyong had agreed to go on your first date today after work and you wish that someone could invent a time machine so you could just skip the work day and go on your date already. 

You sit up in bed and feel every ounce of happiness drain out of you, your surroundings unfamiliar to you. The walls are still the same color but the books on your shelf are different, your floor is carpeted, and who the heck are those people you’re with in the pictures on your wall? You even look out the window to find a completely different view. Where the hell are you?

It suddenly hits you that you’re back in the real world—or your reality at least. The past 8 years have basically just been one long dream. You jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom to check to see if there were any visible signs of aging. You let out a sigh of relief when you realize that you still look the exact same and go back to your room to check the date on your phone just to confirm. There’s an envelope with your name on it beside your phone and you feel a sense of déjà vu as you rip it open.

Dear Y/N,

Welcome back! Hopefully you’re not too disoriented after returning to our reality but I wrote this letter just in case. It’s only been a day since we first met so don’t worry, everything in your old life is still the same as it was. It’ll take a few days for memories from your life here to resurface so just take it easy for now. You should still have your memories from your alternate universe and your soulmate should have them too, so all you have to do is find them! I know this sounds hard but don’t worry; as I’m sure you already know, the universe works in mysterious ways~

See you soon, Cyan xoxo

You let yourself plop back down onto your bed, giving yourself a few minutes to process everything before taking a deep breath. Taeyong. You have to find Taeyong. Getting out of bed, you decide you get dressed and get ready for the day, a memory of your friend Yuna telling you about the new cafe across town resurfacing, so you decide to go there. You feel too cooped up in your apartment, you need to do something. 

Passing by the window of the cafe, you can’t believe your eyes when you see Cyan sitting at one of the tables. She smiles at you through the window while lifting a mug in greeting and you rush to enter the coffee shop, your hands shaking at your side as you approach her. “Good to see you, Y/N,” she greets you, standing up just as you sit opposite her. You’re about to stand as well before she gently pushes you back down with a hand on your shoulder. “These are for you,” she says as she hands you a small bouquet of pink forget-me-nots. You look down at the flowers, memories of the past 8 years (yesterday?) overwhelming you but you shake it off and look up, only to find Cyan gone. You look around frantically but it’s like she disappeared, completely vanished in thin air as you look around the coffee shop and even out the window. With a huff, you put the flowers on the table and settle your chin on your hand as you wonder what to do next.

“Are you finished with this?” an employee asks you as they point at Cyan’s empty coffee mug.

You look up, about to answer, when your breath catches in your throat, your eyes meeting very familiar brown ones that widen at the same exact time as yours. Before you stands Taeyong, a brown apron with the words “Wake Up Cafe” embroidered on it in gold tied around his waist. Standing up, you reach out to grab one of the flowers and break off part of the stem before slowly reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. His hair is different, a little longer and a dark grey color with bits of silver rather than the light brown that you’re used to, but you see the rose-shaped scar beside his shining eyes and you feel like you could cry. Taeyong’s hands cup your face and his thumbs come up to brush away tears that you didn’t even notice, the distance between your lips and his slowly decreasing.

His lips brush over yours and his eyes flicker back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Found you.”

You chuckle at his words and close the distance, and you wonder if springtime feels just as good for the blooming flowers as the love that you can feel blooming in your chest when you kiss Taeyong.

[choerrypuffs]

not another love song.

pairing: musician!jeno x waitress!reader

genre: fluff, just full of clichés and cheesiness 

word count: 3.7k

synopsis: jeno has always just been the quiet (and cute) guy that sits next to you in your creative writing class, but a single open mic night changes everything.

author’s note: thank you so so so so much to the sweet @ncttrinities​ for this idea! everyone check out her works because she’s so talented and deserves the world 💕 the song jeno is singing is maybe by james arthur, but we’re just gonna pretend like jeno wrote it for the sake of the fic :)))))

Letting out a loud yawn, you drop your backpack on the floor and plop into your seat. The classroom is nearly empty, only a handful of people having shown up. Not that you blame the ones who decided to skip; everyone is coming back after spring break and if you had the luxury to party through its entirety, you wouldn’t have come either.

You take a long gulp of your iced coffee before reaching down and pulling out your notebook and black pen. Checking the time, you see that there’s still a couple of minutes before class starts. Sipping at your coffee, you slowly turn your chair to face the boy sitting next to you. 

Lee Jeno is furiously typing away on his laptop, fingers clicking against the keyboard so swiftly that his hands are basically a blur. You watch him for a moment, amused by his ability to block out the things around him. His brows are furrowed, and you can see the tip of his tongue peeking out from the side of his lips.

“Good morning,” you say in a sing-song voice.

He jumps as if you shouted at him, hands freezing mid-type. Pushing his glasses up to his face, he turns to look at you and smiles shyly. “Morning, Y/N.”

When you first met Jeno at the beginning of the semester, you thought he hated you. He would never look you in the eye and seemed scared whenever you even slightly acknowledged him. However, he continued sitting next to you, and you finally realized after about two weeks that Jeno was just extremely timid. The two of you managed to strike up a friendship of sorts, though you don’t interact much outside of class. He’s still a little jumpy around you, and you normally have to initiate the conversation. However, Jeno is genuinely a sweet guy. It also doesn’t hurt that he is the dreamiest and most adorable person you’ve ever met.

He’s got raven black hair that frames his face perfectly and effortlessly, with sharp features that give him a chiseled look. His rough exterior is softened by his porcelain skin and angelic eye smile that can melt the coldest of hearts. He has the most endearing habit of scrunching up his nose as he pushes his glasses up, which he does often since his glasses constantly slide down. He’s always wearing a cozy sweater or a soft t-shirt, and he smells like fabric softener. There have been times where you’ve seriously debated on asking him if you could borrow a hoodie.

Lee Jeno is the walking dictionary definition of boyfriend material.

“How was your spring break?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Uneventful. I just slept, occasionally hung out with friends, and worked on the final for this class. You?” 

“What else?” you groan. “Work, work, and more work. I also totally forgot about the final.”

“Well, you still have a couple of weeks.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “what are you doing for it?” 

Jeno fidgets, looking down at his hands. “Er, I’m, uh, writing a song.”

“That’s awesome, Jeno!” you exclaim, giving him a slap on the back. 

“Thanks,” he says, blushing to high heaven. You’re grinning like a proud mother. 

“Hey, the café I work at is having an open mic Friday night. You should totally perform!” you suggest.

“You’ve never even heard me sing. How do you know if I’m any good?” Jeno points out, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on. I don’t need to. I know you’re good,” you say confidently. 

That gets him all embarrassed again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he mumbles, “Will you be there?” 

“Hm?” You lean in closer, so you can hear him properly. He sharply inhales as you do, throwing himself back so hard that he nearly falls out of his seat. You give him a confused look as he coughs loudly.

“I said,” he says after clearing his throat, “um, will you be there? At the open mic?”

“Of course! Where else would I be?” you snort. “If I’m not on campus, then I’m at work.”

Jeno hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, before finally saying, “Well, I guess I’ll see you there.” 

“Really?” you say excitedly. “I can’t wait! You’re gonna be amazing!”

He goes to say something else, but is interrupted by the professor walking in. The class starts to stir as people begin pulling out their materials. You also focus your attention to the front as the professor takes attendance. He turns his gaze back to his laptop as well, but he can’t fight the giddy smile tugging at his lips.

Luckily, you don’t notice.

“It’s really not that funny, Renjun,” Jeno says wryly.

Huang Renjun, Jeno’s best friend (unfortunately at times, especially now) is nearly choking on his lunch, laughing so hard that tears are forming in his eyes. “No, it really is that funny. You are so pathetic, Jeno.”

Jeno half-heartedly tosses a potato chip at him, wishing it isn’t true. “I don’t want to hear that from you, asshole.” 

“So, let me get this straight. For your final, you’re writing a song about the girl you like, who just so happens to sit next to you in that very class. And then, that said girl unknowingly invited you to perform it at her place of work. And then, you agreed. To perform the song you wrote about her...to her,” Renjun enunciates. 

“Thank you for spelling it out. Say it louder so the whole cafeteria can hear you,” Jeno replies sarcastically. 

“And you’re still not going to ask her out? The universe is giving your lame existence this golden opportunity, and you’re going to throw it away?” Renjun exclaims.

“Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy getting rejected,” Jeno responds, rolling his eyes.

“How do you know she’ll reject you? You may be an absolute idiot, but she won’t be getting a terrible deal,” Renjun says seriously.

“Wow, that makes me feel a lot better. I appreciate it, Renjun.”

“Oh my God, just grow a pair and ask her on one damn date,” Renjun yells, exasperated. 

Jeno doesn’t respond, opting to take a long gulp of his soda. He knows that everything Renjun said is true; Jeno is just too much of a coward to do anything about it. 

He has had a crush on you ever since you sat next to him on the very first day of class. You were so breathtakingly beautiful (and still are) when you smiled at him and introduced yourself. It’s cheesy to say, but he really did feel like he was in a rom-com film for a moment—the part where everything goes in slow-motion while generated wind blows through the female lead’s hair as a halo of light surrounds her, which thus makes the male lead fall in love immediately. 

Jeno never believed in love at first sight; he only pretended like he did for the sake of writing songs. But when he found himself writing songs about you, he realized that he had become the very thing he used to think was total bullshit. Every time he’s around you, he just melts and becomes putty in your hands. All it takes is one bright smile, like sunshine after a long storm, and his brain is mush for you. He adores how you’re unabashedly yourself, yet you don’t know how lovely you are. 

When you asked him to perform at the open mic, he wanted to say no. But for some reason, he didn’t. It wasn’t like you pressured him or anything. You had simply asked, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no to you. In fact, he was even happy that he was going to be able to see you outside of class.

The song that he wrote for the final was supposed to be his confession to you—a confession that he never wanted you to hear. The irony is too cruel; it’s like the universe is playing a sick joke on him rather than giving him an opportunity. 

But it’s so obvious that you don’t even have the slightest clue about his feelings, much less reciprocate them (but that’s one of the reasons why he fell for you). Jeno is okay with that, or at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s more so that he’s afraid of ruining what semblance of a friendship he as with you. He’d rather be your friend than nothing at all. 

You really are pathetic, Lee Jeno, he thinks.

Friday nights are always hell at the café.

If all of the wild frat boys and sorority girls are at the bars, all of the pretentious humanities majors who think they’re too good for partying show up here. Instead of throwing back shots of tequila, they’re throwing back shots of espresso.

To be honest, there are times where you wish you were dealing with the frat boys and sorority girls instead. 

Checking your watch, you see that it’s 7:45 PM, and Jeno still hasn’t arrived yet. The open mic starts at 8, so it’s not like he’s late. You’re not sure why you’re so restless. It doesn’t really affect you one way or another if he does or doesn’t show up, even though he did say he was going to come when you asked him about it in class this morning. You wonder if Jeno would find it strange that you seem to care this much for absolutely no reason. 

You don’t have time to dwell on it any further because your manager screams at you to stop daydreaming and start clearing tables. His sharp words snap you out of your thoughts, like being doused with ice water. Apologizing, you quickly get back to work. 

As it gets closer to the start of the open mic, more and more customers flood in. The café is at its busiest, and all thoughts of Jeno are abruptly kicked out of your mind. You’re in the middle of balancing two full trays of empty cups on your arms when you hear someone tapping the microphone at the front, clearing their throat. 

“Alright, everyone. Welcome to our monthly open mic night,” your manager drawls monotonously. “Thank you for coming, we are very excited to have you.”

His words are met with scattered applause and a single whoop. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you place all of the dirty cups into the sink. Your manager introduces the first act, and with that, the open mic is officially underway. You don’t really pay attention to any of the performances, too occupied with washing the dishes and wiping tables to care. You do your best to take advantage of everyone being distracted and try get as many chores done as possible, so it won’t take as long when it’s time for closing.

All of the performers come and go seemingly within seconds of each other, and before you know it, it’s already time for the final act.

“And last, but definitely not least, please give a warm round of applause to Lee Jeno.”

You nearly drop the plate that you’re scrubbing, doing a double-take. You had been so focused on work that you completely forgot about him. Quickly yanking off your soapy rubber gloves, you clap along with the audience as you tip-toe to an empty seat in the very back.

Jeno slowly rises from a table, glancing back at his friends who are with him. He gets a couple of slaps on the ass from them, making you giggle under your breath. Taking his acoustic guitar and strapping it around him, he climbs up on stage and situates himself on the wooden stool. There’s a couple seconds of silence as he awkwardly adjusts the microphone stand to his height. 

“Um, hi. So, I’m going to be singing a song that I wrote today,” Jeno pauses, glaring at his friends who are doing an extremely poor job of containing their laughter. “I hope you guys enjoy.”

Clearing his throat, he strums his guitar before leaning forward and beginning to sing. His voice is a little shaky, probably because he’s nervous, but it’s a warm sound—comforting and gentle, just like him. It feels like being enveloped by fluffy clouds, or an extremely soft hug. 

“—and I love how you're so forward. Is it too soon to say I'm falling?” Jeno’s eyes wander as he looks into the crowd, slightly squinting at the stage lights in his face. It’s actually quite cute, you think to yourself.

But then he finally finds you, his gaze locking onto you like a magnet meeting its other half. 

Jeno continues to sing, but all of a sudden, everything feels different. He’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. Like he’s serenading you and you alone. Like this song is meant for you.

Your surroundings seemingly fade away, and it’s as if you’re right in front of him now. The stage lights are no longer a hindrance to him anymore. In fact, they cast a glow on him that makes him look like he descended down from the heavens itself. Perhaps it’s a little dramatic to say, but it feels like time has stopped for the both of you. Like you and him are in a different world together.

And why did he look so ethereal? 

Jeno has always been handsome, but today feels strange. Your stomach has tied itself into a big knot, and your heart is stuck in your throat. You feel heat on your face and a buzzing in your ears. What the hell is happening to you? This is Jeno, sweet and adorable Jeno, you’re ogling. Sure, Jeno is perfect boyfriend material but the kind that only exists in movies. Not something tangible, especially for you. 

This is bad, you think, this is very bad.

“So maybe, maybe we were always meant to meet. Like this was somehow destiny...”  

Your mind is telling you one thing, but your heart is feeling another thing. It’s never like this in the movies. Falling for someone is supposed to be a dazzling experience, with rose petals everywhere and church bells ringing—not a confused, jumbled mess that’s tearing you apart from the inside.

Oh God, did you just admit to have fallen for Jeno? 

“All I know is that I feel it, like it's the realest thing, I mean it.”

With one last strum of his guitar, the song ends. Everyone else around you claps with vigor, Jeno having easily garnered the loudest applause during the entire night (and well deserved, of course). You sit there numbly, the loud clapping and shouts of praise being merely white noise for you. How are you going to face him now, having managed to develop a massive crush on him within the span of a three-minute song? How shallow is that? Jeno deserves so much better. 

Subconsciously, your hand finds the area right over your heart as you feel it racing against your chest. No matter how hard you try to even out your breathing, it doesn’t slow. In fact, it quickens as you keep your gaze on Jeno. 

He’s rejoined his friends at their table, a nervous smile on his face. They’re all congratulating him and giving him more slaps on the ass, but he’s not really paying attention. He turns, meeting your eyes for just a second, before he gets bombarded by a horde of people. They’re speaking excitedly to him, most likely impressed (and wooed in some cases) by his song. Both males and females in the crowd are eyeing Jeno suggestively, and it makes you feel strangely possessive of him.

The feeling is short-lived, however, since you quickly pull yourself together and slip into the back to finish washing the dishes.  

Tonight has just been weird, and everything will be normal again tomorrow, you tell yourself.

Or at least you hope.

You don’t really remember anything else you did after you finished washing the dishes, having been in a daze the entire time, but you somehow find yourself outside and locking up the café. You’d like to think your muscle memory didn’t fail you and that you did everything you needed to do, since your brain has been on the fritz. 

Looking up at the night sky, you wonder if there’s a full moon tonight and that’s why you’ve been acting so strange. You’re surprised to see that there’s almost no moon, or rather, a new moon. 

“Y/N?”

“Fuck!” you yelp so loudly that it makes the other person cry out in surprise as well. 

Jeno stumbles backwards, nearly falling onto his ass. His eyes are wide as he stares at you in half fear and half surprise. He’s wearing a cute colorblock hoodie with ripped black jeans and his guitar case strapped to his back. His black hair is slightly tousled from the wind, which makes him look ten times more attractive for some reason. 

“You scared the hell out of me,” you gasp, giving him a light shove. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I just wanted to walk you to the bus station since it’s dark and stuff. Unless you don’t want me to, of course! Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“That’s very nice of you, Jeno,” you reply, your annoyance immediately dissolving. “You didn’t have to wait though. I do this every night.” 

“I know. I just...wanted to.” 

You smile and nod at him, beginning to walk. He matches your pace but maintains a safe distance between your bodies. “Sorry, I didn’t get to talk to you before you went on.” 

“No worries. You looked pretty busy,” he says. “Did you even notice me?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly, “not until they said your name.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I figured.”

“You did really great though,” you grin, bridging the gap between the two of you and nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t tell anyone else I said this, but you were by far the best one out of all of the performances.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he says softly, smiling wistfully at you. 

“You know, you have quite the stage presence,” you blurt out, suddenly feeling flustered. “When you were singing and looking at me, I felt like I was the only person in the room. Like you were singing the song just for me. Not everyone can do that. I think you’re going to land a record deal in no time and become a total heartthrob. Just remember me when you’re famous though! I’m technically the one who got you your first ever gig.”

You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, but you can’t seem to stop. Jeno has fallen quiet, listening to you blab while maintaining a neutral expression on his face as he politely waits for you to shut up. You eventually do, wishing you could sew your mouth shut. There’s a stretch of silence that feels much longer than it actually is before he clears his throat. 

“Y/N.”

“Mhm?” You decide to respond only with a sound, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I—I wasn’t going to tell you this, like ever. But I think the universe is truly giving my lame existence an opportunity,” Jeno starts, taking a small step closer. There’s still a couple of inches between you and him, but it’s the closest you’ve ever been to each other.  

You really hope that your bewildered face is pretty because you have no idea what he’s trying to say right now. 

“I like you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the beginning of the semester, when you first introduced yourself to me. The song that I sang tonight is written about you, and I am completely aware of how creepy that probably sounds, but I feel like you should know. And I know that you don’t like me back or anything; I’m not trying to pressure you or burden you, just keep treating me like you always have. I just wanted to be brave for once,” Jeno confesses, exhaling in both relief and disbelief when he finishes. 

Your heart swells at his words, and you realize that you’ve liked him all this time too. You had just never allowed yourself to acknowledge it, tucking it away in the deepest corner of your heart in fear of him being out of your league. Unbeknownst to you, the song was his first confession and your heart had already responded. 

“And what if I do?” you whisper.

“Do—do what?”

“Like you back?” 

Jeno doesn’t say anything. You can see the gears turning in his head as he registers what you just said. It makes you wish you had realized your feelings sooner when you see how his eyes light up with happiness. He smiles that divine eye smile before wetting his lips, taking another step closer to you and placing a hand on your waist as he pulls you closer. 

“Then, could I kiss you?” he asks, his other hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair as he cradles your cheek. 

You don’t answer, instead smiling and rising on your tip-toes to meet his lips. The kiss is sweet, and he tastes like a vanilla latte. Your senses are being overwhelmed by his taste, his scent, and the way his arms are wound tightly around you. It’s a dizzying and intoxicating mix, but you don’t ever want it to stop. 

When Jeno finally pulls away, your disappointment is slightly curved when you suddenly remember something you’ve always wanted to ask him.

“Weird question, but could I borrow one of your hoodies sometime?”

[yojeongin]

for I have sinned | m.l

→church boy! mark x reader, slight yukhei x reader

summary: whilst his parents are gone on a cruise ship vacation, Mark takes your parent’s kindness allowing them to take him to church with you all, believing he is nothing but a good church boy in the community and not the filthy sinner he actually is.

songs: gods and monsters— lana del rey, générique— dominique ney, little death— the neighbourhood

word count: 14.4k | ao3

contains: 1998! au, smut, some humor, ending fluff, mentions of religion, fingering, spit kink, light degradation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, minor auralism, light masturbation, rough sex, cream pie, mentions of blood (non descriptive), virginity loss.

© 2023 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please do not translate, take, nor repost my works on other social media’s. this is my ONLY writing platform.

disclaimer: this writing is purely fictional, in no way should the idol be viewed this way as it is only a character. please know my intention is not to offend anyone and please keep an open mind. In no way are the main characters (mark, yukhei, and the reader) underage, they just live with their parents whilst attending university.

a/n: this got flagged yesterday so let’s hope it doesn’t flop this time because I’ll be extremely disappointed and sad :) | EDITED 021023

“Stop!” High pitched screams coming from your younger sister. Throwing your legs some kicks whilst you stuck your tongue out at her. Raiding her purse for gum and lip gloss whilst the other hand kept pushing her back by the forehead.

It was one thing that this stupid summer heat was directly hitting you, allowing the sun to burn you with all its power. Letting its anger out on you. It was another thing that your parents didn’t give you time to grab a bottle of cherry cola due to the rushed schedule you were all in, only to be sat in front of this comfortable suburban home for a good amount of time. The time you could’ve taken to drink the cherry coke and ate a gansito.

Either way they’d say it was too early for sweets and carbonated drinks, at least in the presence of Mark. Stupid good boy Mark that voluntarily went to church and served at the community events, stupid good boy Mark that you all were waiting for in front of his cute suburban home just so he could accompany your family to church given his were not going to be home for a month, granting themselves a well deserved 25th anniversary vacation. It was the typical cruise ship vacation all high middle class parents gave themselves when they came to something like that. Stupid Mark, even his front lawn was well cut, green, and organized.

His own sibling could easily give him a ride to Church but they dared not be near one. They, like you, loathed being dragged to Church when younger and that frustration clouded both your judgment of such installments. Unfortunately for you, you were still being dragged to it.

Them— they stopped being dragged when they began to leave home early before anyone would wake up to drag them to Church, thus why— Mark’s sibling is useless in this scenario.

Nonetheless your anger and annoyance didn’t die down seeing how this boy was taking his sweet time to get out of his damn house. You didn’t wake up two hours early for this kid to not come out when he said he was ready. You figured his sibling was being a brat like yours (or you to be more accurate), but still— you weren’t going to let that justify why everyone was patiently waiting for him whilst you burned under the sun’s rays without your father’s sympathy and his decision to not turn on the car’s AC. Nor give you something to cover up your bare arms. In their view it was punishment for such revealing attire when you were going to God’s home: inappropriate.

“Can’t we just leave? He’s taking forever, you said he was ready!” You’d whine snatching another piece of gum your sister held while she continued to count her green rhinestones (her least favorite, or so she says). “Give it back!” Seeing you shove it in your mouth caused her to push you, pinching your arm at the action. Your parents didn’t care for the physical harm the younger one caused. Your disrespectful actions made their judgment clear to where their only response was a sigh of frustration with you.

The bickering began again, resulting in your father shaking his head with a packet of cigarettes at hand, lighter in the other. Your mother turned to both of you ready to eat you both alive if possible. Her eyes popped out with harsh glares that in that instance could’ve ended you both. Through gritted teeth the words: “Settle the fuck down.” Slipped through the cracks of her perfectly lined teeth. Both of you groaning in frustration, turning to your own sides. Your sister to her right and you to your left in defeat with only your grape gum to look forward to, at this point letting the sun abuse you all it wanted.

To be honest your mother would’ve allowed the bickering to continue were it not for the lean figure that finally came out of the house, through the red door his own sibling kicked him out of. His hand had shot in the air waving out of politeness when seeing your family car, causing your mother to smile while reciprocating the action. Your father gained a slap to the thigh forcing him to put off his barely lit cigarette. Startled, he groaned, pulling out his ashtray with three cigarette butts all deformed by the harsh way of putting them off. Prepared enough, your mother pulled out an odor spray to try and hide the stench of cigarettes but by the look both you and your sister gave each other— your mother was wasting her time.

As Mark looked at the grass making sure his dog hadn’t defecated and nowhere near stepping on it in case it did; your mother spoke facing the front, making sure Mark wouldn’t be able to read her lips if he was able nor hear her. Menacing were her threats of punishment if you missbehaved in the presence of this cordial boy who was causing you more anger than peace by how slow he was walking and how shy he was upon arriving at the car.

Your father had gone out of his way, getting out of the car to greet the son of his good friend who as well was also his boss. Honestly if you didn’t know better, your parents were just sucking up to this jag off and it was your father who instantly offered to give Mark a ride to Church knowing well the situation with their other child and how much sweet baby boy Mark wouldn’t dare miss a day of Mass. It’s not like Mark himself didn’t notice the performance your parents were giving by simply the way they smiled at him once he waved to them.

“You’re both going to shut up, get out the car, and be nice to the boy. And I swear to God, if you bicker again in the car when he’s in here, I will take away that stupid console. ” You were about to protest but as your mother threw a glance at you making it clear that especially you were to behave and how serious she was about her threat, your feet had no other choice but to drag themselves out the fruit punch stained vehicle to give Mark a forced smile whilst he tried to even say hello. Stuttering at his o’s and shaking your hand mediocrely with his own clammy one. For an outgoing boy who treated everyone with confidence at church events, he was surely a wimp with you.

God, were you ready to choke.

Being outside barely made any difference to being inside the car. The sun kept beating you down and the only good thing was the fresh air that made the stuffy car feel like hell soon when you would all go back in.

In the meantime your parents tried to chat up Mark who shyly spoke to both, even timidly handing them a Tupperware full of those sugar cookies his mother made best and sadly the only treat you couldn’t resist upon taking a whiff of them. With no shame you recollect on all those Christmas events where members would sell their own dishes. She would always sell these cookies and to retract, the lack of shame you felt when spending your allowance money on buying a tray of them after you had stolen your sister’s not long before making your way to Mrs. Lee’s booth to do so wasn’t there even when you had a stomach ache for finishing them all in one sitting. Fifteen was such an age.

Oh? They were fresh. The lid was fogged up and when he opened the container, the cookies slightly molded with each other. Allowing for one to see he had just gotten them out of the oven and they were extremely delicate in shape. This explained well why you had to wait for at least twenty minutes in the car, making his delay all the way worth it. Even now, your burnt arm didn’t matter if it meant you could have a bite of those cookies on the spot, savoring their soft sugar pieces and the velvety cookie itself. Later you would find out that his sibling angrily kicked him out that morning for taking all the cookies and not daring to leave even a crumb behind.

“I hope you didn’t mind the wait. I didn’t want to leave without a gratitude gift for taking me this Sunday and those to continue. So I baked some cookies today for that fresh taste.”

Oh fuck this kid. Even his speech is eloquent and smooth making even your sister believe he could be a prince in those dumb books the church would give her. You tried hard not to gag at his words, eyeing the beautifully golden brown cookies in front of you with the sugar topping staying perfectly put without moving the slightest.

In great motherly fashion, she spilled a few ‘thank you’s’ as she placed the lid on once again whilst praising his baking skills. Giving the same old ‘For a boy you’re great with baking’ bullshit he often heard from his own family (it didn’t help that a random mom had to say it to him too).

You wanted to groan at how fast she closed that lid. How well she knew she was neglecting you of a treat once again that morning and she couldn’t care less. Mark could see it in your body language. The way you stood in defeat watching her hold the flower print container. Though he felt bad for you, he couldn’t help finding your pout endearing, his eyes sparkled at the scene.

So as your father made small talk with the boy who was clearly not interested in his baseball talk, you stared at him, seeing how at times he tried to avoid your gaze knowing you were looking at him. As if he was scared of breaking character by just looking at your eyes, tempting as he would like to describe— nefarious to be exact. That was only your take and to be honest it was both frustrating and enjoyable. For a person who claimed to be annoyed by him, you really wanted his attention.

“Y/n sit in the middle.” Your father interrupted his rambling on how dumb the game last night was. Annoyed and caught off guard by his statement you crossed your arms turning to him in distaste. “I don’t want to sit in the middle, she fits there better.” Pointing to your sister who had immediately buckled up at your statement; turned to see if Mark was looking at her, sticking her tongue out at you when she was confident he wasn’t. Contrary to her, he was looking at you, making you hold back on your own reaction.

That was strike one in your parents own game. Not five minutes had passed by since this boy had arrived and you went back to your daily activities of frustrating them. Maybe if your mother hadn’t taken away the possibility of eating a cookie, your mood would’ve been uplifted. But now the wait that was worth it earlier, was a waste of time once again.

Mark saw the pout and furrowed eyebrows on your face. Though his expression was blank, he wanted nothing more than to smirk at the happenings. What a brat. “I can sit in the middle, it’s fine.” Mark would reassure your parents and you. Despite their protests telling him it was fine and that you often sat there, he shook them off with a smile, sliding inside to the middle seat that was highly uncomfortable due to how high it was compared to the two on both of his sides.

He immediately regretted his decision but seeing your grin as you slid beside him caused all of it to disappear. He cursed himself for being taller but your grin was enough. To figure, you grinned only because he was going to hit his head multiple times against the roof and your parents knew so. So seeing their defeat and your grin only caused them to get angrier at you.

It wasn’t any better for you to be honest. Even if Mark tried his best to seem as small as he could; on his right your sister kept hogging all the space. Laying down the contents of her purse and counting that nothing was missing. Not even her 25 cents in pennies. This caused him to be pressed against you, his thigh often rubbing against yours by accident and even though he apologized in silence, you ignored his words by blowing gum bubbles and popping them when looking at him. It wasn’t long until your mother figured out what you were doing and threw glares at you through the rearview mirror, granting her a bubblegum pop herself.

Your sister herself was ready to take the gum out of your mouth if you kept popping it once again. Quite honestly if it wasn’t for the sole reason that they were taking you to church another Sunday morning, you doubt this would be your character (that’s a lie, it would only be less bratty).

Your mother’s glare hadn’t left you, she opened her mouth to say something to Mark given that he began to notice they weren’t taking the usual road to the Church, so to avoid confusion her lips parted, turning her short-haired head to look at you before him.

“We have to get some things for the after Mass breakfast, it’ll be quick.” It was never quick. They always ended up doing their grocery shopping.

Mark nodded dumbfounded at her words, received with a kind smile from your mother who glared at you once again before turning to face forward. What else was he supposed to say? ‘No? I don’t want to go?’ It was their damn car at the end of the day.

Rolling your eyes at the interaction you shifted to get some more space, resulting in your thigh pressing against his even more. Such action causes your dress to ride up a few centimeters, making the warmth of your flesh present against his clothed one.

The silence became overwhelming after a while, the only noise was the one of the tires against the road. Speaking of such, your father had gone through a horrid road that was being reconstructed causing the car to jump in a way. With such movements Mark feared he was going to hit his head soon and when he turned to look at the action his thigh was doing against yours, he peered at your exposed thighs, seeing how his own made your dress keep riding up with every bumpy move the car made.

Distracted by such, your father had found a worse part, making distracted boy Mark bounce in his seat and hit his head on the roof. “Ahh, f—ouch.” He whined, holding his head and rubbing at where he had hit himself. Stifling your laugh, you turned to the window trying not to laugh at his little cry. Your mother immediately turned to look at him, apologizing for the happenings whilst your dad, like you, tried to not laugh at this delicate boy. “It’s fine, the road isn’t the best. Don’t worry Mrs. y/l/n.” Your father tried speaking up to try and apologize but it would be a mistake given that he still tried to control himself.

Naturally to try and hide your expression from your mother, you slouched down, turning to the window where your body slightly shook with your silent laughter. It wasn’t that funny, it never was but you just needed some entertainment and he gave it to you. This shift didn’t help Mark either, he felt when you moved your legs and he felt when your dress rode up. His prying eyes tried not to gaze at your sun lit thighs. He imagined how soft they were, he wanted to touch them, feel for himself. Staring would have to do at the moment.

The closed window did no justice to Mark, his reflection on it allowed for you to see the way he stared at your thighs. How concentrated he was and though he tried to not seem obvious, it wasn’t helping.

Deciding to tease him a little bit, you crossed your right leg over the other, making your bare thigh highly visible to him. You two weren’t touching anymore, but he got to enjoy the view through a silent car ride whilst you playfully stretched the flesh of your thigh with your middle finger and thumb whilst your index fingernail of the other hand scratched hearts on the flesh.

Fairly small hearts that weren’t visible enough. It wasn’t until he saw your fingernail scratching at the flesh vigorously what looked to be an M. You didn’t stray away from irritating your skin making sure that beautifully red M showed even if it burned after a while. It didn’t matter to you since not long after you began scratching an A all the way until his name was perfectly visibly red against your skin. The finishing touch being a cute heart.

Upon seeing your little action, Mark’s eyes widened, turning his head to look at what your little sister was doing, not questioning her even when she placed a rock in his hand without asking if he wanted to hold it.

Was it not for your sister’s voice that began explaining where she got that pet rock, your mother wouldn’t have turned around to see you slouched down grinning as you traced over the red marks on your thigh. Appalled by the way you were sitting, her motherly instincts turned to see if Mark was looking at you; glad he was petting your sister’s rock and immersed in her story. Nonetheless it didn’t mean she wouldn’t act upon her rage. Her arm stretches to you, slapping quite loudly just a little above your knee, making the entire backseat become startled— even you.

“Sit like a lady.” It was harsh and deeper than when she spoke to Mark. Glaring at her, placing your hand on his thigh, Mark became tense seeing you sit up and pull down at your dress, saluting goodbye to his view. Realizing he was staring at you again, your fingers worked on to squeeze his thigh when you were well situated. Grinning his way when he became even more tense.

It wasn’t long after your family arrived at the grocery store, your sister joyfully got out of the car when your mother opened the door. Everyone was ready to leave but upon seeing you lock your door, Mark felt compelled to keep you company. “Mark, do you want to go?” Your mother asked, he would spare you a glance but he feared that would spur suspicion as to why he was going to decline such an offer. Shaking his head, his silent uhh’s spewed.

“I prefer not to, if that’s fine.” She trusted him too much. With a smile she nodded his way whilst your father handed him the car keys, if he felt hot to just turn on the AC. You wanted to turn to them and ask why they didn’t turn it on earlier when you were dying of heat and the sun’s abuse, but given you were already on thin ice, you kept shut.

Neither of you spoke momentarily. As Mark watched you, you watched your family calmly walk through the automatic doors of the store. Knowing they were quite far away, you turned to him. It was rather a rushed occurrence; seeing the keys in his hands, you took them from him, moving to where your upper half was in the front, hands placing the key in to turn the car on.

If he wasn’t such a hormonal boy and kept staring at your exposed ass, admiring the cute white panties, he would see that you turned the AC full blast along the radio turning the knob until you found the classical music station smiling at the piece that would later be announced.

With a cheeky giggle, you kept moving forward the second your view fell upon the flowery container the boy behind you had given your mother earlier. Reaching for the container of cookies your mother had placed on the feet of her seat. At such an action of trying to reach it, you almost fell, making a prying Mark take a hold of your waist out of reflex whilst you took the container.

He didn’t move his hands from you until your face was visible to him, your smirk making him pull away ashamed as he sat closer to the door he was going to exit from earlier.

You weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily. Especially not when you could act upon your entertainment now that your family wasn’t there to censor your openness. Throwing a smirk at him as you opened the lid of the container, you felt at glory realizing they were still warm. And knowing they were all yours, made your decisions more bizarre.

Whilst Mark tried to avoid looking at you, you didn’t shy away from staring at him all you wanted, adoring his features with every bite you took of the cookies he gave you (even if they were for your family, you would prefer to think he made them for you).

“They’re exactly like your mom’s, just sweeter. Do you have a sweet tooth Mark? I do.” You’d finally spoken up, making him turn to look at you. Even if he was looking at you, you couldn’t see his eyes. You only imagined how cute and round his soft eyes were, how innocently shy and scared he might be as of now. How erotic.

He nodded your way making you giggle at his actions. Out of impulse you finished your cookie and placed the container on the ground, making sure the lid was securely on. If he was already cornered, you made it a mission to corner him more.

Earlier you were a good seat away from him, but now you found yourself wrapping your arm around his shoulders whilst your other hand teased the gauntlet buttons of his shirt. Your legs rose to the entire seat, displaying your thighs for him once again. The position itself was causing Mark to feel some type of way, his dick was making his decisions now and he knew that wasn’t a good thing. Upon seeing how his gaze immediately turned to your thighs you giggled seeing his reaction, but still… you were dissatisfied not seeing his eyes.

“You’re a little perv for a church boy, but I guess it is true that they’re the raunchiest.” Tense in his position, he began fumbling with his fingers, not daring to speak but nonetheless wanted to continue this conversation.

“Why do you think so?” How adorable! His voice was so soft and high in shyness, how would you love to eat him up.

“I’m not stupid, Markie. I just saw you jizz your panties when your thigh kept making my dress go up. If you wanted to see my panties you could’ve just asked.” Your hand left his clothing, traveling to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up rather slowly. Mark had already seen your panties when you were reaching for the cookies and turning everything on, but to know you would just to show him, made him get slightly harder. Anticipating your actions, he felt disappointed when you laughed in his face, shaking your head. “Sorry…” He apologized, making you scowl at how he just ate that up.

Annoyed, you stopped laughing, taking a hold of his jaw, making his head turn to you. You couldn’t await seeing his eyes anymore. It was glorious, the expected soft shy innocent eyes were never there, instead Mark granted you with sharp glares. His eyes dark in lust ready to pounce on you any second. It was beautiful, better than expected. You didn’t lose eye contact with him and you swore they only got darker the longer he stared at you, causing a loud moan to leave your lips at such a beautiful sight. Throwing yourself back to where your back leaned against the left side door, your feet inching closer to lay on his thighs and soon on top of his cock.

Grabbing the container again, you watched Mark’s reactions to the friction of your feet against him. Glad you wore those stupid pink flats, you had easily taken off leaving you with the below ankle socks you often hated. Taking a cookie to your mouth, your grin grew seeing Mark’s leg twitch slightly, your foot applying more pressure at the action of moving itself back and forth on his crotch.

Quite honestly Mark seemed to be enjoying himself, if you kept going he would actually jizz his panties in a matter of minutes. Had he not turned to see your sadistic grin, enjoying his sweet cookies, his rage would have not formed. Mark knew you had no problem embarrassing him to where he would cum in his trousers and have a stain on the spot. So in action, he pushed away your feet sitting up menacingly, causing your own grin to drop in fear that he maybe didn’t want this and wouldn’t hesitate to scream at you.

Oh he wanted to moan, he wanted to moan so badly seeing your tempting eyes turn soft and scared. They grew in fear making you seem rather innocent, the innocent girl you actually were but only influenced when things hadn’t gone your way earlier. Beautiful— you became small, overpowered by him now.

Just as you were about to spew your apologies, his hand reached under your dress, his warm hands caressing the thighs that not so long ago were tempting him and causing ill thoughts to grow in his mind. “Do you really think I’ll let you act this way? You can be a brat with your parents all you want but not with me, little girl.” His fingers found your panties, hooking themselves on the band beginning to pull them down.

Ecstatic by how completely wrong you were in your judgment, you took his tie between your own fingers pulling him closer to you, letting your lips and his connect. Mark didn’t take long in making sure his tongue was down your throat given how after the initiating kiss, his tongue ran across your lower lip, allowing you to open your mouth more for him to begin so. Whilst he slightly hovered over you, with one hand pulling down your white panties, you took his other hand, shoving it over the dress part that covered your breast, allowing him to fondle them whilst the both of you kissed.

If anything you were very happy things didn’t have to take much longer. You actually believed if things went as slow as they did minutes ago, then it would take you a while to get in his pants— but if anything he was the one to take charge in when he would get in your panties and he planned on that to happen today.

“If I wanted to see your panties, I should ask… Baby, you were showing them to me regardless.” His lips found themselves on your neck, nipping at the skin not caring if he was to leave it irritated, irritated like your thigh when you scratched his name on it. “Little whore, damaging yourself for me, trying to get my attention… tease me. If anyone is in charge here, it’s me.” His teeth took a thin amount of skin between them, your moans of both pain and pleasure making him grin at how you didn’t mind his treatment.

In a sense, he seemed mocking. Rephrasing your earlier thoughts whilst he kept degrading you for being a bratty girl who easily followed what he instructed. If anything at this point, you couldn’t make any complaints. His hand snaked between your thighs, pushing them apart to immediately feel the warmth within them. His middle finger dipped between your legs first, feeling the over lubrication of your arousal.

With the slightest grace of his finger tip, the euphoric tingle of being touched there made you moan. Head lowering, kissing down to your chest; Mark pulled on the sleeve of your summer dress— the elastic making no effort to keep it down. So in a fit of desperation he made you pull out your arms from them so he could properly ravish your breasts, wrapping his lips around your perked nipples.

The hand you had first placed on your chest, was now making its way to your neck, delicately holding it whilst his fingers worked on there now, taking small strands of your hair between them. Paying more attention to his mouth, Mark’s tongue flicked at your sensitive nub, later to have it circle around it. Leaving the wetness of his saliva there to rest for a while until he blew cold air against it. To his advantage, the cold AC made goosebumps pop on your skin with the aid of his tempting touches.

You dared not speak nor make a noise fearing he’d stop his actions. Eyes closed, you allowed your touch sense to enjoy itself in the presence of Mark. Himself sensing your quiet state after you laughed in his face multiple times just minutes ago.

Mark looked upwards, seeing your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to not moan at his actions. Lips wrapping around your nipple again, the boy began to suck at it in an attempt to make you break. He wanted to hear you moan, hear that he is starting to break you little by little.

Sure whimpers of satisfaction abandoned your throat, but both of you knew this type of titty job wasn’t going to cut it if he wanted to hear you cry for him. His right hand hadn’t done much in the minutes he attempted to make you moan with his mouth; feeling your growing arousal touching his finger tips, moving slightly upwards to where your lips comfortably could touch again, Mark parted his lips to where his tongue poked out slightly.

Following his actions, his velvety tongue fell upon yours. Mixes of each other’s saliva allow the kiss to smoothly keep going. Wonderful how this sweet shy boy now had you under his spell, having your lips against his to where your lip gloss kept staining his mouth. Though they were soft kisses, they were heated and the cause of longing when he would pull apart to appreciate your swollen lips.

With such distraction, Mark moved your leg over his so he had easy access in between them. Feeling the cool air of the AC was no match to the warmth you exuded; his middle finger delicately moved back and forth between your region lips, stopping at the clit where he began rubbing soft circles.

“Mark…” you moan, feeling his actions. It was alway you who’d do this to yourself. You who would pleasure yourself when home alone to video cassettes you’d find hidden under the broken floor tile in the living room, covered by a furniture cabinet where all your home vhs were. In such films the toughness of some men caused your lubrication, if totally honestly two men always came into your mind when you found yourself masturbating to such things.

In one instance, a tall slender, Wong Yukhei clouded your mind for his strong personality. The overconfidence that always drew the girls to him, but that was it when it came to Yukhei. His role was always the one where strangers came into the woman’s home who only craved one thing and left when they got it— don’t get it wrong, invited strangers like the milkman (a typical tale) or a salesman that caught their attention, yet once again that was it.

The second role was an important one. The one that you often thought about and cherished more than the one timer salesman. This was a role for men that’d shy away from a girl they’d find attractive, only to prove that it was only build up. The guys that despite their good boy appearance, were nothing but brutally sinful. The ones to wreck you for weeks and you’d only crave more when you felt empty… that was Mark to you.

Sweet shy boy Mark who always did volunteer work from the kindness of his heart and would always be seen as kind good boy Mark, despite you knowing well he was nothing but a sinner, the embodiment of lust and sin of men. The hypocrisy in the kindness of people, people who’d smile at the word but deep inside wished for you to perish and never bother him ever again, deeming you incompetent, if you truly were. Cruel sin is what Mark Lee was— and for such reasons you wished to be ruined by him, adoring the way things are happening as of now.

Sick are your parents for having such films, aren’t they?

“Like that? Of course you do, that’s what whores like.” his words were filthy, grotesque at that but the way he said them made things feel as if he was only praising you. His middle finger kept rubbing at your clit, causing your legs to twitch a bit when he only used his ring finger to tease your opening. If anything your wetness grew, making his smirk and chuckle against your lips, taking your lower lip between his teeth to taunt you furthermore.

Eyes both dark and big, demonstrating his full potential in being submerged by his true deep thoughts; they stared at you with no remorse of your silent whimpers whilst he kept applying pressure to your clit, fingers moving clockwise, setting a rapid pace to slow one just to push you further. At such tactics your body moved down, much to his distaste.

“Want them inside you, baby? Do you think you deserve them?” His evident teasing was pushed away given your focus was on his pout. He spoke so childishly, almost mocking your earlier tantrums and bratty attitude when you told your parents you didn’t want to sit between Mark and your younger sister.

Nonetheless you kept playing his game, nodding as a response and meekly speaking. “Please, please touch me more…” Even though he could barely hear you, it was clear what you meant and he gladly granted you a little gift for your patience. “Okay.” Simply spoken.

In no need for more lubricant as the one you produced was enough, Mark slid in his middle slowly inside you. The stretch wasn’t anything impressive but it was something and it allowed you to understand that there was something inside of you.

“Another one.” Speaking to himself, Mark had slowly slid in his ring finger at the realization that he hadn’t hurt you. With every single movement he made, the feeling of being filled caused you to moan, awaiting for the moment Mark would grant you the action of moving his fingers inside of you.

It was clear how desperate you were to have him finger you. With a smile on his face, Mark kissed you once again, allowing his fingers to begin moving rather slowly, continuing to test the waters and make sure he didn’t hurt you but due to how wet and well lubricated you were, the smoothness of his fingers inside of you, caused no preoccupation within him anymore.

Upon trying to drown out the noises his fingers inside of you made, your attention went to the classical music the radio played, finding out the same song that was playing minutes ago was playing again. It was easy to identify that the song was playing in its last few seconds so as you kept feeling the pleasure of Mark’s fingers inside of you, thrusting rather rapidly now to where an achingly pleasurable pit was felt in between your legs— the song began playing again, creating the same old loop.

“Such a little slut, getting wet by the mere idea of what I could’ve done to you.” His lips kissed your neck again, fingers moving rapidly now that his thumb took the role of rubbing your clit like his middle finger had done earlier. “There’s two reasons I could think of for you to be this wet, but out of decency I’ll let myself believe you were fantasizing of how to be taken. Is that so? Am I right?” Slightly.

You moaned, feeling his thumb applying pressure at your clit. Your legs twitching again at how fast he was rubbing your clit. “Fucking answer me.” He demanded looking dead at your eyes, his dark ones seemed to get darker and despite earlier believing he was at his limit— he only kept proving you wrong.

“No.” You spoke up shamelessly. You were slightly intimidated but that would only fuel his ego and you wanted nothing more than cum already— you were already at the brink of it, so why not now?

“No? No. Is that so?” The hand that found itself earlier on your neck, took a hold of your hair quite harshly, pushing your face closer to his. His breath fanned against your lips, making you crave his kiss once more. Smirking to himself as he kept his fingers moving inside of you. Mark softly chuckled, the tip of his tongue licked the middle of your upper lip before properly kissing you once again. “You’re such a pretty girl. My pretty girl. Right, y/n? Pretty girls deserve to cum right?” His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, he shifted it multiple times upwards for you to not see clearly, causing frustration within you. Especially when you were so close to cumming all over his fingers.

“Yes, please let me cum.” You whined taking his face between your hands to kiss him for longer this time. It was horrendous how intoxicated you became by him so quickly. With sweet playground kisses and pecks, Mark giggles pulling away from your last kiss leaving you to chew on your bottom lip just to collect the taste of him again. “You’re a pretty girl but you’re also a dirty whore and dirty whores don’t get to cum… at least not now.” His words were nothing but sharp, but such degradation made the ache between yours legs grow even more when he pulled his fingers out of you.

Taunting you, he held your chin. Making you watch as he sucked on his fingers to rid them of you, adoring your taste. “Fuck, you taste so good.” His eyes were closed, opening when he turned to look at you with mischief. “Do you want to taste yourself?” He questioned, removing his gaze from you, turning the radio and AC off, removing the keys and pocketing them in his suit jacket after making sure all doors were locked. His gaze turned to the rear view mirror, shifting to you only seconds after.

You had waited for him to look at you as you nodded softly saying: “please.” How erotic for him to see he had you falling to his feet. You who not long ago was mocking him and if given the chance maybe even emasculated him (but that’s only speculation). y/n y/l/n, barely liked by the community at church; was it not for your respectful mannerism to everyone else, your constant judgment and scowls would’ve gotten you to be the most hated at church. To know he has tamed you, Mark grins holding your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to push them up.

“Open up.” He commands, knowing well his intentions you stick your tongue out to him, immediately received by the spit he accumulated. It was warm against your tongue, allowing his spit to slide down your tongue until you swallowed like he would’ve liked. Pleased by you, Mark kissed you once more— this time rapidly whilst he helped you put your dress on properly, moving your hair to cover the marks he made on your neck.

Worried as to why he was rushing, you looked through the rear view mirror he had kept looking through these whole minutes. Upon seeing your jumpy sister not so far away with a plush pet rabbit, you pulled down your dress making sure you looked decent enough, fixing your hair after the tug he gave you. The container of cookies was pushed further under your dad’s seat, hiding the evidence of your tampering. You did have to thank the freezing AC for not displaying your smell, letting it die off and only Mark to know. Either way you took the bottle of odor spray and sprayed around the car.

With a sigh, Mark looked at his lap, giving you one last glance. Your eyes had met in the process and his once dark dominant eyes were gone, demonstrating the eyes you first longed to see. His sweet shy innocent round eyes, the ones to lure you further into him.

Your family wasn’t far anymore. Your sister rushing to tap at his window made their presence noticeable (even if she scared the shit out of you both at first). Your father had motioned for Mark to open the trunk so they could put the groceries away, given such an opportunity, you spoke up.

“You’re such a little pussy, Mark. If you couldn’t make me cum with your fingers, there’s no way you could make me cum with your cock.” Your meek voice didn’t stop him from continuing his actions of opening the doors for you mother and sister so they could get inside, when he turned to look at you, his glaring was nothing but danger. Danger you gladly would partake in.

At his attempt to sit comfortably in his seat, Mark placed his hand on your thigh— mocking your squeezing from earlier. This was him warning you to not try your little games again. It was more pleasurable than painful given he had put much more force than you did. Sure your leg jerked up at the touch, but it was you still aroused by his fingers inside of you not so long ago.

His hand was off your thigh the moment you both heard your mother take the handle into her hand, opening the door and letting the smell of outside inside the car. Upon not seeing the cookie container placed at the floor of her seat, your mother turned to you both. Mark raised his head up meeting your mother with his big round eyes, smiling when she smiled at him, automatically believing he was innocent and had nothing to do with you having the cookie container under your father’s seat.

“Give me the cookies.” She spoke through gritted teeth, making you roll your eyes at her words. Stretching your hand to get the container, you took a hold of Mark’s thigh in an attempt to say it was for support. The action hadn’t gone unnoticed and when Mark tensed up and turned to smile at your sister who was getting inside the car showing him the bunny— your mother went to push your hand away from his thigh, making you go abruptly forward but not to where you’d fall.

You glared at her for doing so, handing her the container with only a few sugar cookies as of now. Annoyed with you by just this small incident, she turned to Mark again, smiling at him. “Did we take long? Not many registers were open.” Once again he went back to his meek shy self, only nodding and shaking his head when asked simple questions. God you hated him so much. He was acting all this time and there was no way to prove that good boy Mark was nothing but a filthy sinner.

Your father himself was annoyed upon entering the vehicle, feeling the lingering coolness from the AC earlier. “y/n I hope you have gas money since you want to go turn the AC on when we said only if it got very hot.” Looking at you through the rear view mirror, you shrugged at your father’s comment, it wasn’t him who scared you but rather your mother. You couldn’t care less if the man got angry at you in this instance to be honest.

Seeing how unbothered you were with that, Mark spoke up slightly stuttering. His soft eyes easing your father’s anger seeing his faux guilt. “I turned it on, sorry. I couldn’t really work the knobs so I think I just had it at full blast. I’m really sorry, Mr. y/l/n— I can give you the money right now if you want.” Mark was about to take his wallet out when your mother shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She didn’t speak further nor allowed him to keep insisting.

A bubbling rage had begun to stir inside of you when he took the blame for your actions. Though your parents knew well, he was lying to get your ass out of trouble, they still went with his story, making you grow angry. It was only fueled even more when Mark threw a sly grin your way after seeing how they just ate up his story.

That— that is what caused anger in you. Not your mother’s scolding, not your father’s pointless statement, but Mark’s mocking smile knowing that his hypocrisy is what makes your blood boil. He knew your ticks well and he was going to abuse them until he got bored.

The car ride to Church was fairly short and quiet, in an attempt to have noise other than tire against road, your father went to turn the radio on, greeted with the classical music you both were listening to in your lustful state. It kept going on a loop, repeating itself even when finished. Though it wasn’t noticed by your parents, it did allow them to clarify that Mark’s statement was bullshit and he had lied to cover your ass— something very clear to them now.

Parking spaces were all taken, making your father drive in circles hoping someone had to abruptly leave or to at least find a decent spot. The ones in the pavement were taken at this point. Giving up he went to the grass where more cars were parked. It was kind of gross how full the church was when the majority were in the cafeteria eating and about to leave when Mass began. You didn’t blame them— it was an hour and a half of readings they repeated every other year and even so, none of it stuck to you.

Getting out of the car in a rush, you felt the cool wind air between your legs, gracing your still wet area. In surprise you turned to your seat, seeing the wet stain and Mark tauntingly showing you your panties, perfectly tucked in his pocket. He was so nonchalant about it, the way he pulled them out smoothly before shoving them in perfectly to not make an imprint show in his pocket. He didn’t smile or smirk but instead blew a kiss your way just as the cherry on top.

You stared at him, watching him not spare a glance at you whilst he helped your parents with grocery bags. Insisting he should help since he was going to speak with Father Carlo before Mass began, something about the weekend retreat for the children who were about to do their confirmation. Your parents thanked him, smiling as he took the majority of the bags. Your sister was just as pleased with him as your parents, skipping besides him whilst she spoke of a boy she just started having a crush on, clearly it was him.

Mark though slightly uncomfortable only giggled allowing her to continue her story. It was completely innocent, nothing more than childish puppy love that would leave the moment Mark was to be dropped off back at his home or out of her sight.

Once inside, on the side before the open door frame, your parents turned to both your sister and you. Mark leaves you all to go deliver the groceries at the cafeteria then off to Father Carlo’s office. It wasn’t much that he wanted to speak about the retreats he always dreaded going to those, especially when the kids interrupted his speaking sessions. Nonetheless they looked beautiful in his resume. Going back to the original statement, Mark only needed such boring talk to distract him from his raging boner. He was in pain quite honestly, he only offered to help so the plastic grocery bags could cover his hard on.

“Go look for a pew to sit on. Take good care of your sister and don’t let her leave your sight.” Your mother was more calm but quite honestly it seemed like she was talking to the younger girl beside you, rather than to you. When she was talking to you, her gaze turned cold making you sigh in exhaustion of her repeated words every Sunday. “Watch your face.”

Shooed away from them, both your sister and you awkwardly made your way into the extremely dim lit room. The ceiling lights were a dark yellow which imitated the candle lights on the walls, those far from people in case they'd burn themselves.

Some eyes pried on you both, judging your attire already. If they weren’t judging you by your facial expressions, then your attire would do. Quite honestly they just hated how you passive aggressively called them out on their hypocrisy. It just started when you said the fruit punch one of the party committee leaders made was utter rubbish. In your defense, you were hungover that Sunday morning after a party you had gone with Alina and Hyunjin the night prior. Funny thing is baby boy Mark was there too, but he seemed perfectly fine the next morning.

Weaving through the aisles to find somewhere you could all sit, your sister pointed to a pew by the corner in the back of the church, next to the crying room where children were often thrown in.

There was a family sitting down already, but given how large the pew was, the space wasn’t a problem. Upon realization that it was the Wong family, you bite the inside of your lip, hoping a bored Yukhei would look up at you. He did matter of fact, your sister’s bag was being loud against the varnished wooden pew, causing the family to turn to see who was to sit beside them.

Given them all a small smile, the family returns them with silent greetings. Greetings you had to return as well. Though his parent’s attention and his brother’s was off from both you and your sister, Yukhei’s remained on you, patting the empty space beside him. It was coy and silent, but the boy knew well what he was doing.

“You’re late.” He whispered, turning to look at you. “Yeah, well… my parents decided to go grocery shopping on the way. You look good by the way.” Complimenting him, you turned to your sister asking for the lipgloss you had on earlier. “Of course I do. You look great yourself.” His long fingers graced the showing skin of your thigh, fast enough to not have lingering eyes on you both. “Thanks…” Sparing him a glance, you smiled to yourself, taking in his attractive features. Much to Mark’s distaste.

In the minutes he had walked around the church trying to find the damn Priest, he gave up going to the Mass room, looking for you and your sister. That was only after he saw your parents sipping on cups full of water in the cafeteria. They had told him to go look for you both and to sit patiently until they got to the room themselves. Nodding with a smile on his face, Mark scowled at how they were treating him just after taking a few more steps. He was anything but a little boy and by their patronizing tone, he wasn’t happy about it.

Figuring it’d be sketchy if he sat between you and Yukhei, Mark walked towards the pew, asking your sister to scoot over so he could sit between you and her. With a sheepish small smile, she nodded, granting him a seat between you both. Yukhei found it odd that he’d sit in the back when he usually sat at the first pew in the middle, the one visible to the Priest.

Turning to the boy and his family, Mark greeted them all with handshakes, blessing them with a good morning before turning his attention to you. He wanted to glare at you badly but knew that would give away his anger and he didn’t want anyone to see him in such a state. So turning to stare at you, you turned to face him. Allowing a smirk to grow on your lips when looking at how frustrated he still was for your earlier remark.

Interrupted by your parent’s greetings to Yukhei and his family; Mark turned to them, smiling up to greet them whilst they sat down. It wasn’t long after Mass began and you all were forced to stand up. For once Mark wasn’t paying mind to Mass, his head was clouded by your words and how good you were to feel around him. In a way he felt bad for not listening to the word of the Lord — the only one he tried not to wrong — yet here he was fantasizing of how tight your cunt was, how loud you could moan his name.

It didn’t help that every time you all stood, both Yukhei and you would grin at each other acting as if there was something no one else other than you two knew. Feeling his gaze on you both, Yukhei and you looked at each other, turning to look at Mark, and then again at each other with prominent grins and held back chuckles. In his point of view, it was mockery. Mockery he wasn’t in the mood for right now, even if you two just smiled at each other out of custom.

Nonetheless, Mass went by fairly dreadfully as always. Mark’s thoughts are full of images of you. It didn’t help that whenever you had to kneel in prayer, your hand went to squeeze his thigh if no one was paying attention and their focus was prayer.

He remembers vividly how minutes ago in the last set of prayer, everyone closed their eyes asking for the blessings they’d want. In the meantime as he kept asking for forgiveness so he could shake off the thoughts of having you for him, Mark felt you cling onto his trousers, inching closer to his crotch.

His prayers became silently audible, eyes shut tightly whilst you ported a grin when your hand took hold of his crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze. As much as Mark wanted to hold off his groan, it came out muffled, almost as if he was choking. Startled by the sudden sound he made, your mother opened her eyes to aid him, patting his back softly so he could calm down.

“Alright, now?” She whispered to him, Mark nodded and smiled as a thank you. Some heads had turned to see if he was alright, after all golden boy Mark had to be okay. Turning to your side, Yukhei stared at you. Almost analyzing you, something he hadn’t done upon arrival but seeing how Mark’s presence made your mood shift, some speculations rose seeing how Mark glared at you when you tore your gaze from him.

With a final song of goodbyes, Yukhei took you in for a hug. “See you next Sunday.” He whispered against your ear. Such movement shifted your hair showing off your neck. There his speculations were starting to become answered and as you nodded his way and shook his family’s hand, he shook Mark’s staring at him without saying any words. “Peace be with you.” Mark gracefully spoke, Yukhei nodded before continuing with your family.

Whilst everyone shook hands and Mark deemed himself done with the farewell handshaking, he turned to your parents. “I’ll be going to the confessionary.” Both bland and monotone, you watched Mark leave the pew, walking from the aisle to the first exit closer to the door. Before closing the door behind him, Mark looked at you with the same dark eyes he had shown you back in the car, letting you know it was better if you followed him.

You wanted to wait longer until you began to follow him. You wanted to make him get even more angry with you so he could go at his full potential, but you couldn’t bare not having him inside of you anymore. Contrary to him you didn’t feel guilty for the thoughts you had during Mass. You only kept thinking of how he would take you and hopefully if this is what it seems, then maybe he was going to finally wreck your guts right now.

Unconsciously your fingernails began to claw the inside of your thigh, irritating the flesh like earlier when you wrote his name on your thigh. Full of lust and want, you allowed it to happen. Even if your lip biting and puffed out chest was clear for Yukhei to notice something was up.

Closing your eyes momentarily, head hung low, you nodded to yourself. “Give me money.” You’d whisper to your sister that held your belongings in her purse. Taking a few bills in hand, you stood up to walk past your parents sitting on the pew waiting patiently for Mark.

“Where are you going?” Your dad questioned seeing the money at hand. “Look for a vending machine.” You so nonchalantly answered ready to walk off again until your mother interrupted you.

“There isn’t a vending machine here—“ taking in your appearance, she herself wasn’t dense. Like Yukhei she looked at you, the slight redness on your neck and it quite honestly looked more of a bite mark. Evident disappointment laid on her face, turning her head back to you, she spoke. “You should go confess too.” You didn’t care for her words and instead walked off with a little skip in your step excited with what would soon follow.

Yukhei had been listening all throughout as your sister explained why the green rhinestones were her least favorite only to rephrase it and say they were her favorite. Much to your sister’s help, his parents began a conversation with yours letting the boy stay longer than expected. Sighing in defeat, Yukhei turned to the door, not seeing you anymore.

Mark had been standing by the end of the corridor talking with other guys who would accompany him in the retreat as leaders. Though they were complaining, he kept insisting it wasn’t that bad even though he hated going too. Of course he would try to keep his good boy persona up.

Sighing to yourself, you walked towards his direction. Ignoring his presence when you passed by and dared not to look behind. You could feel his lingering eyes on you, you could feel the way he watched you walk and quite honestly that only made you get more aroused. Fuck, you just wanted him inside of you.

You supposed he wasn’t that far since you could still hear him bid goodbye to the guys that were being taken home by their parents already. You were right around the corner waiting for him to show up and as you wished for, Mark passed by looking at you. His eyes were still the same even if he had found himself talking with his church friends. Shaking it off, he grabbed your wrist, making your fingers intertwine with his. The only noise was coming from the cafeteria but even so it was kind of far away from you both. It was reassuring, the way he held your hand in silence with your shoes taping at the laminated tile.

That of course died down the second he opened a door to a classroom and shoved you inside, locking it behind him. The sweet boy he seemed seconds prior was gone, being replaced with this angry lustful boy that looked at you whilst removing his tie and suit jacket.

Paralyzed awaiting for him to do something, Mark approached you, hand taking a hold of the back of your neck like he did in the car. He gave you a light kiss on the corner of your mouth, continuing to kiss your cheek and the tip of your nose until he pulled away to smile at you, locking his lips with yours.

He tasted the grape flavor in the gum, licking your bottom lip to get a better taste but either way it didn’t beat the taste of you. “Dirty little girl. I saw the way you looked at Yukhei. Do you want him, baby? Do you think his cock will make you cum harder than mine?” There it was again, his voice turned deep and his hot breath fanned over your lips. You craved him, you craved Mark so much and his words were doing nothing but make you feel the beads of lubrication slide down your legs.

You moaned at how cold your skin became after it dried out and in arousal, Mark smirked looking at you in awe. Wrapping his arm around your waist, the hand holding your neck moved to toy with your hair. Your own arms wrapped around his shoulders pulling him closer to you. Though his hand didn’t stay put around your waist, his lips didn't leave yours. Molding against yours when he kept pushing you towards the wall.

His tongue teased at your lower lip making you part your lips slightly. Allowing him to have his tongue inside your mouth, you moved your hand between your bodies, patting his crotch like you had done earlier at the pew. Moaning against your mouth, Mark held your hand. “It’s not right. Your filthy little hands couldn’t help themselves, right?” Nodding at him, you freed your hand, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. Mark allowed you to keep touching him, the feeling of your hand against him causing a euphoric state to grow.

Kissing you one more time, he pushed down his boxers with his trousers. Taking your lower lip between his teeth in a soft lip pull, he placed his hands on your shoulders. Pushing you down on your knees, Mark looked down at you. You hadn’t looked up to glance at him, in fact your focus was on his erect cock right in front of you. Whilst his hands caressed your hair, you moved forward, parting your lips to wrap them around his tip.

Mark felt wonderful with the warmth of your lips around the head of his cock. You hadn’t done much but he had waited long enough and this would do right now. Your left hand took a hold of his thigh, pushing him forward and closer to you. Given the proximity, you open your mouth wider enough to take him deeper in. Finally looking up at him, Mark’s head had been thrown back and his mouth was barely closed by his teeth biting down on his lower lip to contain his moans.

“You’re doing great, baby.” He whispered looking down at you now. His eyes though dark were shining, such shine caused you to go in awe. In order to keep that shine in his eyes, you took a hold of the back of his thighs, hands clinging to his warm flesh just to push him slightly forward. You wanted to please him, to let him know your body was his and even if this whole situation was abrupt, it was him the one you’d crave.

Mark’s dirty words from earlier turned into soft coos of adoration, having him silently praise you whilst you swirl your tongue around his cock to create some lubrication, only stopped by your tongue’s limits. Fluttering your eyelashes, you focused on him inside your mouth. Beginning to bob your head at a safe space, Mark allowed silent moans to leave his lips.

Whilst you continued to give him head, Mark’s fingers tangled themselves in your hair, running them through your messy locks after all the handling he has been doing in these few minutes.

“Pretty girl...” He moaned out, his left hand caressing your cheek and wiping away the drool that escaped your lips whenever you pulled back momentarily.

Your nails clawed at his thighs, your head kept moving back and forth with as much as you could handle. Whenever you felt like Mark was near, you’d stop abruptly making his grip on your hair grow tighter.

Looking up at him, you relaxed your throat, taking his shaft deeper centimeter by centimeter in precaution not trying to gag (that’s the last thing you wanted, honestly). Mark could feel the tightness of your throat making his groans louder. In a fit of pleasure he gently pushed your head forward. There was something about it that made you moan against his cock, the vibration making him jolt his hips forward. You felt something drip down your legs. It felt odd and at such, you removed a hand from his thigh, traveling down to between your legs, pushing away the fabric of your dress.

You were lubricating, just like earlier when he pinned you to the wall, your arousal was intense to where you kept lubricating. Mark couldn’t hold off much longer, his hips would slowly buck forward, making his cock go in deeper down your throat.

“Should I fuck your mouth?” Out of breath, Mark looked down at you waiting for an answer. Seeing your hand between your legs and his dick buried inside your mouth, he bit his lower lip whilst throwing his head back just to look at you again. There’s no other way you could have answered him, so instead the hand that was still holding his thigh moved up to squeeze his ass, pushing forward to give him a clue.

Mark was aroused by that, feeling that your hand had not yet left his ass, he groaned before thrusting forward against your mouth. The head of his cock would hit the back of your throat, it caused great pleasure in you, the kind that made you moan uncontrollably against him. Instead of rubbing your clit, you couldn’t bear the feeling of not being filled by him. Your fingers had traveled to your opening not caring about being careful, you began fingering yourself in an attempt to feel a type of euphoria, to feel as if he was inside of you.

Mark wasn’t so far away from coming, with one final thrust he pulled out of your mouth in order to control himself. He was panting heavily and it didn’t help how fucked out of your mind you looked. The sight of drool still connecting your mouth with his cock caused him to pull away trying to control himself.

Trying to gain some air, it didn’t help how fast you kept fingering yourself. You could taste the precum he had spilled inside of you, making you crave more and the idea of having him buried deep inside of you, spilling himself in made your body fall to the floor with your back feeling the cold tile whilst your fingers were still pumping, in hopes of making yourself cum (even if you knew it wouldn’t suit Mark well).

He watched you whilst he tried to gain his composure. He watched how the sleeves of your dress kept being pulled down when you moved your body, how the skirt of the dress pools around your hips when you propped them up so he could see your dripping cunt. As much as he didnt want to touch himself in fear of cumming without having fucked you first, he took himself in his warm hands, slowly jerking off to the view of you.

“You’re so good, Mark…” Your praise began there. With the hand that wasn't inside of you, you took your left breast onto it, massaging it and imagining it was his hand even if he was right in front of you. “So big, I know you can fill me completely. Please, Mark. Fill me up, I'll be your good girl…” He didn’t speak but his loud grunts spoke for him.

Reaching for the hand that was touching your breast, Mark did his best to help you stand up. Removing your fingers from inside of you, he took that hand to his lips. His tongue wrapped around the two fingers you used, taking them inside his mouth when he felt your panting grow. Like your tongue around his cock, his own swirled around your fingers, softly pushing them out with it. “You are my good girl.” He whispered against your lips, granting you a heated kiss. It was sloppy but at this point it didn't matter, after all you both liked it.

Pulling away from each other, Mark turned you around, walking you to a desk and bending you over. Aroused by the roughness, you moaned taking a hold of the wooden sides. “Ready, baby?” He questioned, cock in hand and taking some of your own lubrication to rub against himself. Seeing you back up trying to grind against him, Mark chuckled before letting his spit fall against your cunt (extra precaution).

It had already passed a large amount of time since you had left to look for a vending machine that didn’t exist. To add, Mark himself was taking longer than usual and for the good boy he was, Yukhei doubted Mark had much to confess for, yet given the way you two kept interacting, there’s a possibility he does. Frustrated by how long his parents kept talking with yours and his brother had gone to talk with a friend of his five pews away, Yukhei softly sighed standing up to go look for you.

“Where are you going?” His mother had abandoned her talk with yours, Yukhei whipping his head to look at them, kept quiet for a second until he finally took in what they were asking. “I’m going to the restroom.” Despite how deep his voice was, he sounded rather soft. With a nod from his own mom, Yukhei went around to leave the pew. Just before he could leave your mother stopped him. “Can you please look for y/n?” Nodding as an answer, the boy left through the heavy wooden doors.

Yukhei knew open doors weren't the source of your location, even if he didn't want to admit it himself, he knew you'd be somewhere behind locked doors with Mark. He couldn't really figure out if it was curiosity or jealousy that filled him when imagining the things you could be doing with him, but nonetheless he was going to go look for you.

As for both you and Mark, the boy found himself toying with your wetness, running the tip of his cock up and down your sleek lips. When you’d whine in frustration he teased your entrance with putting in the tip. “Mark, please!” You loudly spoke up, making him chuckle as he pushed inside of you. This is what you wanted, you felt fluttering in your stomach when he kept pushing in deeper, causing your moans to get louder.

You wouldn't lie saying it didn't hurt despite the amount of lubrication you had, but that ache soon left when he kept stuffing you with himself. It’s not like he minded that you squirmed around momentarily when you were adjusting to his size. He caught you off guard when he thrusted harshly at the beginning.

“Impatient, whore… you couldn't wait anymore, could you?” His hands had taken a hold to your hips, pushing your ankles further apart so you could be lowered down a bit more. Shaking your head, you answered his question: “No! No, I just wanted to feel you deep in me, Mark. Feel you fill me whole with your cum…”

Your words got to him, his thrusts became faster and rougher. From the things you both had been doing not so long ago, it wasn't hard to understand that neither Mark or you could hold off longer. Especially not when time was ticking and it was only minutes until your parents or Yukhei were to find you.

That was an understatement actually. With your loud moans, Yukhei had found you right as he walked past the closed off communion classrooms. It was smart that you’d be there. Given to the lights at the end of the hall that never turned on and the hall itself seemed terrifying; no one went that direction in fear of the supernatural. Oh God.

It startled him at first hearing the gruntled moans, the only times he heard that was whilst watching porn and to know this one didn’t sound fake, he walked closer toward the source, finding himself at earshot in front of the door. He didn’t want to stay long to be honest, he feared that he’d be caught listening but when he heard your voice, something made him stay.

“Who’s?” Mark asked again, his hip bone slapping against your ass. “Yours, Mark! Only your cock!” Hearing your pretty little mouth speak so ill and disgustingly made Mark chuckle at how lewd you became because of him. “And your pretty little cunt is the only one for me.” His voice was deep at the moment; to hear it made the pool between your legs grow even when he was buried deep inside of you on the brink of coming.

Mark’s thrusts sped up, becoming rougher to the point where his hip was aching your ass. Feeling himself being so close to finishing inside of you, one of his hands snaked under you to slowly rub at your clit. It took you by surprise, causing you to yelp and soon moan in arousal. Your moans were going to be the end of him and Yukhei as the tall boy who promised himself to not overstay his visit, had his ear against the door now. Eyes closed whilst he tried so hard not to get a boner.

It was becoming rather difficult, he wished to be Mark for once in his life knowing Mark had gotten you to fall to his feet. Yes, he finally envied Mark for something. Yukhei wanted to be the one to pound deep inside of you. Many restless nights were about doing that to you and to hear you moan for Mark claiming his cock is the only one you wanted and your cunt was only Mark’s— it completely enraged him.

Just as Mark pounded deep in you, rough thrusts that made your insides feel at bliss, you felt the euphoric tears of arousal slip from your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to cum already and Mark himself was on the brink of cumming already. “Please, Mark…” You pleaded, head turning slightly to see him looking with worn out eyes.

Feeling the same euphoria as you, Mark nodded, caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. “Okay, y/n…cum for me.” His pace against your clit rushed, making your body shake nearing your arousal. His thrusts were sloppily faster as he himself tried to get you off.

A certain heat began to build up at your clit, slowly riding up to your stomach, and next to your chest making your body warm, with his fingers still working at your clit and the tip of his cock hitting a certain spot that was making your body go limp.

The heat that you felt rise up came crashing rapidly down your body making your legs shake, you finally felt the sensation of your orgasm. You moaned uncontrollably, clawing at the wooden desk you were bent over. It didn't help that Mark didn’t stop rubbing your clit, giving more pressure to it. It felt great at first, the sensation of finally coming around his cock whilst he was still deep inside of you, but soon after it became very overwhelming making you whine for him to stop and pushing his hand away.

Panting, Mark got closer to your body to feel the warmth you radiated. He himself wasn't that far off in finishing off and with your meek praising, Mark felt his world soon to crash. “It’s okay, Mark… you can do it, baby. Just cum, I want you to feel good too.” That set him off; Mark kissed your shoulder and as much as your cheek as he could, cuming inside of you.

It was an odd feeling, honestly. Feeling him shoot his cum inside of you to coat your walls was rather strange, but when it accumulated, allowing you to feel how warm it is, a satisfied smile placed itself on your face, shutting your eyes. Mark’s own arms had wrapped themselves around your waist pulling you closer to him. It was loving and calm, his chest was very warm and the feeling of his lips close to your neck was comforting. If it wasn’t for the situation and time, you’d be glad to remain in such a position with him. Your new fantasy was to just cuddle with him.

“Come on, let's go before we get caught.” You whispered, making him grunt whilst he stood up getting off of you. He hadn't pulled out earlier and now the feeling of fulfillment had left you. Allowing the cold air to pass by the warmth between your legs and the one that coated his cock. It made you moan, quite honestly. You weren't connected to Mark anymore and it felt odd, but nonetheless you stood up, sitting on the wooden desk, watching him take your white panties out of his pocket.

His movement was slow but he was looking at you too whilst cleaning you off of him, his eyes held some sort of worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark spoke up getting closer to you, crouching down to where he was in front of your cunt. His touch was delicate when wiping at your thighs. Sighing, you looked around the classroom. “You knew already.” Making sure he didn’t hurt you furthermore. The small amount of blood on you was now gone.

Mark stood from his position, stuffing the panties back in his pocket knowing it wasn't a good idea to throw them out in a trash bin at church. His eyes had the same softness you had kept thinking off. They weren’t innocent but they displayed the delicate person he was. Perhaps the good boy Mark is wasn’t an act. Your judgment was out of annoyance with him, but he was only human and to feel frustration with people and have lewd thoughts was nothing but normal.

“Call me if you hear anything back or feel anything.” His lips ghosting over yours, he leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't rough nor sloppy like the lust induced ones from earlier. This one displayed his kindness and care and you really hoped this isn't the end to your story with Mark, even if you were going to see him again next Sunday. You were the first one to pull away wanting to gain air. His lips turned into a smile before giving your cheek a kiss.

“Go out first, you have to go get cleaned up even more.” Nodding at his statement, you stood up walking rather slowly. It was so noticeable that you just got your guts rearranged, Mark knew he was going to get eaten alive by your parents.

You two had been speaking rather quietly, so when the door knob to the classroom began to twist, Yukhei felt panic rush through his body. Was it not for the left turn to the end of the corridor that led you to the outside chapel, he could have easily been spotted by you in eavesdropping. Sighing to himself, Yukhei had finally given up hopes in anything else with you, understanding your teasing will always be friendly.

He had waited for Mark to leave, hearing his footsteps across the tile floor until he couldn’t hear them anymore. It felt nice for Yukhei to not be thinking much in his seconds of making his way outside the restroom where he’d wait for you just so your mother wouldn’t say anything upon getting back to the Mass room.

Unlike him you felt ecstatic despite your struggle to walk well. Remembering the happenings with Mark, you smiled and giggled to yourself entering through the doorway of the restroom. To the graces of God your sister was inside washing her hands. When she saw you she smiled as a greeting, though it seemed more mischievous. “You took so long!” She childishly spoke up, closing the tap to get a paper towel. “Don’t go anywhere.” You had told her, ignoring her statement. You knew well she had perfume in that purse and given by the stench of sex, you needed it so badly.

Naturally she listened to you, taking a seat on a couch that was oddly inside even though no one used it nor did it have a purpose. Letting things happen, when entering a stall and locking the door, you bunched up your dress to sit around your waist. Crouching down to the couch but not enough to where you sat on the toilet just so you could pee, even feeling some of the cum that had dripped out of you when walking. Despite how out of control the ordeal was, you felt wonderful.

Flushing the toilet after cleaning yourself off, you unlocked the door to see your sister still sitting on the couch looking off to the sinks as she hadn’t done anything in the meantime. Getting closer to her, you spoke up looking at your dress to make sure it wasn’t stained. “Do you have perfume?” You questioned looking through the mirror, turning the tap to get some water and wash away the traces of tears, drool, and cum on your face. You still felt some stickiness between your legs, rubbing some of the water on them to wipe it off with the paper towels on top of a small shelf.

Your sister in the meantime had taken out the perfume bottle from her purse, walking your way in order to give it to you. “Why do you smell like that?” She asked, scrunching up her nose. Though she didn’t think it was a gross stench, it was rather funky. Naturally you ignored her question, spraying yourself with it, wanting little to no signs of what you just did.

“Do I still stink?” You asked her once again with a small nervous laugh trailing behind, placing the cap on the bottle, and handing it to her who got closer to you. Only to be greeted with the stench of cotton candy. Holding her nose she nodded laughing along. “Yeah, of cotton candy.” Laughing along with her you asked for gum, taking the majority of them whilst walking out the restroom, greeted with Yukhei’s blank stare.

Your sister upon seeing him smiled running to grab his hand and yours. “You found her first!” Childishly she spoke, Yukhei nodded, turning to look at you. “Yeah, in the cafeteria.” He lied, his eyes not leaving yours that pleaded with him to make up a lie. Things seemed slightly tense between both you and Yukhei, he didn’t say much after lying to your sister, but it was evident he’s thinking of something. Overall the only noise that was heard was her small running steps and screams telling Yukhei to see how fast she could run, being the first one to arrive at the doors to the Mass room.

Before either you or Yukhei got near the doors, you stopped him, hand on his shoulder so he could look at you. “Am I walking weird?” You asked, taking some steps, of course you were. Slightly limping after being fucked for the first time was bound to leave you sore. “Yeah, duckling.” He answered, making you turn around to see him smiling at you.

There was no point in holding feelings.

“How about now?” You asked, trying to walk normally only for your sister to say you were walking worse than before. In order to scare her off you ran towards her, followed by Yukhei who got there in time to open the door for you both. You easily spotted your mother which made paranoia rise in you. “Okay, how about now?” You whispered to both Yukhei and your sister who agreed, seeing you walk slowly. Keeping you company to make it seem like it was all good.

The bell rang the moment you stood in front of your parents —Yukhei and your sister beside you— signaling the second Mass was soon to start. “Where were you?” The tone of mistrust and speculation in your mother’s tone was harsh. It was a calm scolding despite her not saying anything else. “In the cafeteria.” You meekly spoke trying to avoid her glares, she turned to Yukhei who nodded in approval. “Did you see Mark on the way?” She asked calmly to which you shook your head. “He might still be confessing…” ‘…who knew he’d be a dirty sinner.’

With caution, Mark raised his head after prayer. He had been patiently waiting for whichever priest to finish with someone inside the confessionary. Despite feeling great through the lustful acts of fornication, there was still a part of him that felt guilty.

He had never found himself being this rough before. It wasn’t the first time he had sex but it was yours— that could be the reason for his guilt. Guilty for taking your virginity in a brutal way and not the delicate way he imagined taking someone’s virginity whenever he did.

His thoughts were interrupted the moment, the door to the confessionary opened, showing a crying woman. She didn’t spare him a glance whilst he looked at her. Her face was red and she prayed rapidly in a language he didn’t quite understand. He had learned to not stare, so in addition to that guilt, Mark stood up shyly weaving through the kneelers and up the steps to the confessionary where he sat, closing the door to his box.

“Tell me your sin’s my son.” It was Father Carlo. Seeing his face, Mark’s guilt grew knowing he’d have to talk to him another day even when he would soon know of his sins. “Bless me father…” sighing to himself, he faced the Priest.

“For I have sinned.”

[d-nghy-ck]

Silk

Pairing: Haechan/Lee Donghyuck x Reader

Genre: smut, praising, swearing, wet humping, unprotected sex, aggressively desperate grunty Hyuck, physically Dom!Haechan but mentally Switch!Hyuck

Summary: Tight jeans and silk adorn a masterpiece; on-stage a collected performer, off-stage a responsive and eager lover. As soon as the stage lights dim, he's desperate for your affirmations. 

Word Count: 2k

The front door slams shut and clothes are fisted as Haechan has you backed against the wall in your dim apartment, the sight of his dance performance at tonight's show blazed into your eyelids and your ears ringing with the last echoes of the venue. The stroll home through the streets illuminated in city lights proved to be more than frustrating, the heels of his shoes clicking across pavement in time with your rapid heartbeat as you watched his determined profile, wishing more than anything that his hand firmly clasping yours ran elsewhere along your body. 

Frantically toying with the buttons on his black silk shirt in the dark, light switch forgotten, your lips are stolen as he pulls your jaw upward. Fingers pressing into the nape of your neck, he leads you into a deep kiss, wet with tongue and firm with urgency. Finally, you release the last button and your hands roam the expanse of damp skin along his front, from his plush chest down to his fuzzy warm tummy. He breaks his lips away from yours to pull down your tight skirt until you shimmy it off, his warm mouth sucking at your inner thigh, his tongue drawing designs across your skin as he fumbles with your boots. You grab him by the collar of his shirt in order to urge him upwards again, only to be met with a devilish little grin from below before he kisses the tiny bow on your lingerie and moves his way upward. Frantically fingering the waistline of his tight black jeans, your hands are tantalizingly close to the hardness beneath the fabric straining at the seams. 

"You looked so, so good on stage tonight." Roaming hands, rough shoves, and hot skin leave sensations in the darkness. "Couldn't take my eyes off you." 

"You think I looked good? Really?" He's breathless, his hands at your waist running up your body to find solace in the roots of your hair, twisting and tangling. "Me?"

A passing car shines headlights through the window of your apartment, briefly revealing the glimmer of his hooded eyes gazing down on you. Your hand at his tummy rubs in circles, his happy trail and smooth skin creating textures beneath your knuckles as other restless fingertips dip into the valleys of his collarbones. When you palm his hardness through the rough fabric, his lips slide off yours, uncentered, dragging saliva across your cheek, a groan rumbling within his bare chest beneath your hand. The tranquility of the still, quiet late night hours allow his gasps and bitten whines to permeate the silence. He's a masterpiece, on-stage a collected performer, off-stage a responsive and eager lover. 

You speak in rushed gasps as his grip on your waist threatens suffocation. "All I've been thinking about all night is wanting you all over me." 

Thoughts of you craving him sends a fog over his vision and a rush in his blood. The percussive tap of your nail against the teeth of his zipper sends electric shocks coursing through him, jolting him into action to unzip himself and peel back his jeans and boxers just enough to release his cock from its confines. He strokes himself, his eyes swimming, distributing precum along his length before sinking his fingertips into your sides and lifting you up the wall, your shocked yelp cut short by his lips on yours. His hand slides along your thigh as your legs wrap around his waist, his hips pressing firmly into yours to pin you to the wall. You gasp aloud around his mouth as he adjusts you higher, angling so that his hardness presses right against the wetness of your lingerie, the friction setting your nerves alight. 

As he ruts roughly against you, he fills the space between you with heated grunts. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you grip him for stability, fighting against gravity. Your arms slip on the silk of his shirt, grasping the fabric, and he heaves you up the wall again. His forehead presses to yours, his voice hesitant. "Do you... do you want me?" He gulps and thrusts. "Tell me you want me."

"Yes, yes, I want you, only you." In response his hips falter and his cock twitches against the lace of your lingerie. Again you slip against his silk shirt and hurriedly slide your fingers beneath his collar to run your hands down his back, seeking better traction, the sensation of his damp muscles compounding on the brush of silk across your arms. Between the elusive texture of the fabric around you and his sweat-slicked, tense muscles, you can barely keep a hold of this man who is fluidity personified. The clutching of your fingertips and digging of your nails into the broadness of his shoulders urges him to heave you upward again until finally you are perched atop his hips against the wall, stable and safe, welcoming his warm embrace. 

The improved angle allows for him to reach his hand around your thigh to move your lingerie to the side, sliding his length along your folds, the glide coursing waves of bliss through both of you. The head of his cock repeatedly presses into your clit at an even, steady pace that has you floating and whining. "Hyuck, please, more." He removes himself from the crook of your neck to look you straight in the eyes, sincerity and devotion adorning his features as another car passes, shrouding his glistening features and patchy stage makeup in dim dancing shadows. The intent of his gaze is an inquiry, verifying that you are truly his and that the sight before his eyes of your flushed cheeks, cascading hair, and begging mouth is truly real. 

"Hyuck," at the needy tone of your voice, his cock grinds against your folds again, "Hyuck, I want you," and again, "Please, I've been waiting so long," and again, "Hyu-" and your plea turns into a choked whimper as he pushes his head into your heat, agonizingly slowly. His breathing is labored, his arms flexed, his eyes fierce with determination. Your warmth and wetness surrounding him has him tense and quivering before he relinquishes his own self-control and begins to pump into you with strong, sure strokes. For every movement, he shoves you up and down the wall, your hair mussing and clumping against the surface.

Only he can fuck you this way, the ability of a dancer to hold you steady and upright with his broad shoulders, but also snap his hips into you with isolated precision, his fluid torso flexing rhythmically with unmatched stamina. For every thrust, every slight movement, the silky fabric of his shirt slides down his shoulders in languid fragments, slowly revealing his lean back muscles into which you dig your fingertips. The silky fabric collects at his elbows and around your feet hooked behind his back, swaying through the air with the rhythm he sets. 

Tossing his head back, he lets out a high-pitched whine, his hair bouncing with movement, and you're inspired to grasp the strands of his bangs and pull them back. With furrowed eyebrows and spit-stained lips, he soundlessly mouths out, "Feels so good," and opens his eyes enough to take in your appearance before him, the visual of you open and desperate for him sending him higher. "I- I need you to look all f-fucked-out and pretty for me," He stumbles over his words as he tries to maintain control of the situation, but he's slowly coming undone and his nerves start to sing. "Can you do that for me?" With each motive thrust, your grip in his hair clenches and he releases short open-mouthed gasps. 

Your hand sifts through his locks until you have a firm purchase on the meat of his jaw, turning his head to the side to murmur in his ear, "You already had me wet two hours ago at the venue." Eyes opening in surprise, he attempts to turn back with an inquisitive look, hips stuttering, but you continue to hold his jaw in place. "You looked so fucking good up there." His vulnerable eyes glimmer as he soaks in every word. "So confident, so handsome. God, you're so perfect." You continue to whisper loving encouragement and praise in his ear until he's weak at the knees. The sinful noises he releases are in reaction to your words more than the feel of you surrounding him, the warm moist air between you cut by his high whimpers and whines. Every syllable you speak lifts his ego higher. 

His adrenaline spikes with the motivation of your breathless praise and encouragements, decorated with satisfied moans. If only you knew, he thought, exactly how much you drive him crazy. The lustful, aggressive body language of the motion of his hips is a stark contrast to his heartfelt eyes and adoration; his hips release pent-up kinetic energy while his eyes search for greater relief in your blissful expressions. So very eager for your affection, he is astonished and elated by your desire for him. An oncoming surge of overwhelming emotion overtakes him, plummeting him into a realm of mindlessly seeking his own high, getting off at the sheer thought of being loved. 

Testosterone courses through his system, dissolving him into a grunting and groaning feisty mess. Sweat beads at his hairline as his fingertips grasp at your thighs, but in all of his damp fervor, your legs begin to slide down his skin and give out from their grasp around him. He swiftly clutches the underside of your thigh in order to open you wider against the wall, sourcing unknown strength for a dancer used and spent by the stage. Your shirt snags behind you, revealing a breast into the darkness of the open air, and Hyuck wastes no time in attaching his plump lips to the soft flesh, sucking a trail through the valley of your chest up to your neck. He nips and sucks at your skin with unbridled fervor, and you can't find it within you to hold back your cracked moans. The new angle of your leg pinned up by his strong hands has you climbing toward your peak, but the final blow comes in the form of his gaze meeting yours, his eyes searing with unmatched confidence and power to behold. You come in a flurry of lust, releasing around him as he continues to drive into you with steady strength. 

He's so attractive like this, aggressively desperate, eagerly seeking his peak, instinctively grasping at your skin anywhere and everywhere he can. Your fucked-out expression and gasps for air have him craving release, inspired by the notion of being your pride. As he approaches his climax, his whines and cries become sharper, hoarser, louder. The bridge of his nose crinkles as he breathes through bared teeth, eyebrows furrowing in concentration and eyes shut tight. His body snaps as he drives out the ride of his orgasm, arms shaking with exertion and nose pressing into your cheek. As his cock throbs with each shot of his cum, his whimpers and gasps are muffled into your temple, lips sliding along your ear. 

Taking a moment to float back down to reality, he slowly pulls out and lowers you down one leg at a time. Regarding your disheveled appearance and trembling hands, he holds you as you adjust your wobbly balance. He finds you endearing like this, he thinks, as he watches you study the placement of your feet alongside his boots, your fingers twisting into the moist silk covering his arms in an attempt to gain stability. Returning to your temple, he sinks his nose into your hair and breathes in with deep shaking breaths, running his fingers through the messy locks and holding you closely. Your sweet scent calms him into a state of serenity and his breathing evens. Lifting your eyes, you study his expression in the dark: messy hair, smeared makeup, and bitten red lips. Despite it, he is pure gentility, vulnerable tenderness, and as another car shines their passing lights across your apartment, his expression softens into warm adoration, a smile forming on his lips. 

[solarune]

baby

pairing: mark lee x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: alcohol consumption, a drunk and affectionate mark lee

word count: 1,126

a/n: i just really wanted to write about a clingy mark so here we are. let me know what you think!

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your boyfriend like this. With bright pink cheeks, even brighter eyes, and a wide smile on his face as he laughs at whatever Johnny said, Mark has never looked more beautiful. With encouragement from Jaehyun, you watch him take another soju shot and you bite back a smirk as you remember the elder’s apology to you earlier, saying that he and Johnny wanted to get your boyfriend drunk. After watching them all work so hard during their most recent comeback, you have to admit that you agree with them and want nothing more than for Mark to finally let loose.

“Baby, take this one with us!” Mark exclaims, interrupting your thought process as he places his hand on your thigh and squeezes. The lighting in the restaurant that you’re at is relatively dim but somehow, his eyes are still sparkling with all of the stars in the night sky as he looks at you. You’re so caught up in his eyes that you almost don’t even see the shot glass that he’s holding out to you; almost because he slightly moves it to bring it to your attention, which results in some of it sloshing out and spilling on to his hand.

“Careful, Mark,” you murmur with a soft smile as your hand comes up to steady his own before taking the shot glass out of his grip. “You’ll spill it all before I even get the chance to drink.”

He giggles at that, scooting closer to you to include you more into the group festivities. “Sorry, baby.” You place the shot glass on to the table and take the hand that’s currently on your thigh into your own, twining your fingers together and squeezing tightly. Mark glances over at you at that, then raises your joined hands to press a soft kiss to the backs of your fingers before placing them on the table.

Hyuck lets out a noise of disgust across the table, his eyes glancing down at yours and Mark’s joined hands before he looks at the older boy with disgust. “Can you guys not be gross when we’re drinking? I don’t want this to come back up.” You laugh at his complaining, your cheeks burning when Mark scoots even closer to you so that his thigh is pressed up against yours as he rolls his eyes at the youngest, choosing to not say anything as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Come on, are we taking this shot or not?” Mark challenges, urging everyone to raise their own glasses. He counts down as everyone prepares, looking at you out of the corner of his eye and winking before you all throw your shots back.

You grimace at the taste, your throat and chest burning from the alcohol. Beside you, Mark demands another one and you sigh as Johnny pours another one for you with a smirk. It was going to be a long night.

Mark isn’t exactly sure what happened tonight. One minute he was denying a third soju shot from Jaehyun and the next he was demanding that everyone take another shot immediately after just taking one. He blames Johnny and Jaehyun. But not that much because he feels good. He’s at home and wearing comfy clothes, he’s warm, he’s sitting on his bed, and you’re getting him a glass of water.

A goofy smile appears on Mark’s face at the thought of you, his heart doing a little flip as he thinks about you with your half-lidded eyes and how giggly you were at dinner. You’re so cute. And you let him hold your hand all throughout dinner, even though he’s pretty sure they were a bit sweaty but he just really wanted to hold your hand. He’s so lucky to have you.

His head shoots up at the sound of his door opening, the goofy smile on his face becoming wider when you present the water to him. He eagerly gulps it down and hands it back to you when he’s done. You place it on the table beside his bed before walking back over to where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed to stand in front of him. He takes both of your hands in his and looks up at you, eyes wide behind his glasses. The way you’re standing in front of the light makes it look like there’s an angelic glow around you and Mark can’t help but stare at you. Wearing his shirt and smiling down at him, you really do look like an angel.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you tease him, drawing one of your hands out of his to brush the hair away from his forehead. 

Mark frowns at that, gently wrapping his empty hand around your wrist to stop your movement and place his hand back into yours. “No reason,” he shrugs as he fights back a yawn. The soju is making him sleepy, he thinks. “You just look really pretty right now, baby.”

You huff out a laugh at that, squeezing his hands as you smile down at him. “I think it’s time for bed, Mark. What do you think?” You urge him to slide up the bed when he nods silently and then turn off the lights before you slip under the covers beside him.

“Baby, I feel really happy right now,” Mark says in the darkness, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s searching for your hand before it’s in his once more. “Like. I feel really good. Really, really good.”

“I can tell,” you chuckle. “You haven’t stopped calling me ‘baby’ or holding my hand the entire night.”

Mark rolls over to face you at that, and even in dim moonlight, he can’t help but admire how pretty you are. “It’s because you’re my baby, duh,” he says matter-of-factly. He can feel sleep creeping up on him but he tries to fight it. He wants to keep talking to you. And looking at you. “And I like holding your hand. A lot.”

You respond by rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, drawing your entwined hands out from under the covers so that you could raise it up to your lips and kiss the back of his hand. He’s asleep only a few minutes after that but just before he falls unconscious, he swears he hears you say, “I love you, Mark.”

And when he wakes you up at 5am just minutes before he runs to the bathroom to throw up, and you follow him while half awake just to keep him company and rub his back, he knows. He’s 100% sure.

So he tells you. “I love you too, by the way.”

[d-nghy-ck]

Peach Tea

Pairing: Haechan/Lee Donghyuck x Reader

Genre: Fluff, best friends to lovers, romance

Summary: Thoughts of the flavor of his lip balm do little else besides cloud your mind. 

Word Count: 2k

Getting a crush on your best friend wasn't something you'd signed up for when you met a certain sun-kissed boy last summer. And yet, as you sprawl with him on the steps of your front porch on this warm, breezy day, you can't help but reconcile with the fact that you've fallen deeply for him. Starting out as teasing jokes and snide snickers, your admiration for him grew with the changing of the seasons, and suddenly as the year revolved around you, your mind spinning, you are met face to face with the reminder of a summer love and how much he means to you. 

Donghyuck twists an uprooted clover blossom between his busy fingertips as he leans across your front porch steps, a smile on his lips. His mind is as idle as the hazy scene around him as he breathes in the sweet scent of flowers on the wind. Alongside him, you set your sights on the clouds above the canopy of trees before you. On a sultry day like today, with its warm glow of light and its air blanketing you in a warm, languid embrace, you hope to calm your nervous energy around the boy of your affections. 

The mesmerizing kaleidoscope of swaying tree branches above allows a filter of speckled golden sunlight to shine down upon his wavy brown hair. He ponders for a moment with pouted lips before asking, "Do you like the flavor of matcha?" 

You pull yourself out of your dreamy reprieve to consider his thoughtful side profile as he looks out across the field. "I do!" you reply simply, and he turns to study you with curiosity as you continue, "In fact, it's the flavor of my lip balm." 

His eyes automatically drift down to glance at your lips before he nods and hastily looks away, the pace of his fidgeting with the flower between his fingertips increasingly hastened. "Oh, I never noticed. That's nice." He speaks low and wavering as the flower disintegrates in his hands. 

"What's yours?" 

"Mine is peach. I like it." He smiles softly, expression pensive as he tosses the remainder of the clover. 

You hum in response as the space between you is filled with the sound of bees buzzing amongst the clovers beneath you and wind gusting between tree branches above you. Nervously, you continue to admire his form. He's so attractive like this, lost in his own world, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks when he blinks. He straightens up and leans back on his palms, stretching out his long legs across the stone path before him and his fingers tap on the wooden planks of the porch as he casts his gaze towards the sky. You wonder what it would be like to have him as yours. Oh, the amount of times you've considered how his steady, strong arms would wrap securely around you, how his playful giggle would sound at your ear, and now you know how his lips would taste -

Your train of thought is interrupted by a leaf floating slowly down upon him, catching in his hair. Your fingers jump hesitantly before reaching forward to pull it out of his wind-blown strands. Stirring beside you to meet your concentrated gaze, his quizzical expression implores you to wave the leaf in front of his eyes with a grin as he comes to an understanding of your sudden nurturing touches. With a giggle, you comb his golden brown hair back into place, paying attention to curling it around his ears just right, admiring how the tips grow red at your touch. When you pull back to see his eyes watching you attentively, you suddenly notice how close he's leaned in, even if only to assist your reach.  

"Is there another leaf, or what?" he asks expectantly. 

"Oh, no - I'm just fixing your hair. It looks silly." You continue to comb your fingers through the wayward strands that catch the currents of the passing breeze. 

"Ah, you're so sweet," he coos. His moist lips catch a glimmer of light, and a thought occurs to you. Suddenly your heart is fit to burst as you're thrown into a whirlwind of intrusive ideas.  

"Uh- " you open your mouth to speak, but you don't dare utter your immediate thoughts. Before you say anything brash, you mash your lips together and break eye contact in favor of looking back up at the trees, but he clues in to your obvious flustered avoidance like a bait. 

"What were you going to say?" He leans toward you, teasing and frisky, and you already know you're doomed. 

Heaving a deep sigh, your face feels on fire, and you're sure your embarrassment is written all over you. "I can't. It's too much." 

"Oh, come on. You can tell me anything." His hand lifts to reach for yours where it rests on the porch, placing his warm palm over the back of your hand. 

Rapidly, your heart rate thumps and you close your eyes in an attempt to concentrate on breathing, but his thumb slowly tracing the veins on the back of your hand doesn't help to calm you. You gulp before throwing out an excuse. "No, now that I've made it a big deal, I especially can't say it." 

"Why's that?" The taunt in his voice sings through the air. 

"Because you'll wonder why I care so much about it." Shaking your head, you pull your hand from beneath his and burry your face in your hands in an effort to hide how absolutely mortified you feel. "I'm so transparent, oh god."

You're met with the view of his inquiring gaze as he pulls your hands from your face to hold them in your lap, rubbing his hands back and forth over yours reassuringly, creating a warm friction. He puts on his best persuasive pout and whines out, "Pleeease." Tugging at your hands, he jostles you gently from side to side, and as much as you try to fight it, a grin creeps onto your lips at his silly, lighthearted gestures, eyes squeezing into crescents to match his. Even when he is unknowingly the source of the problem at hand, you can't deny that sometimes he's also the ideal solution. Nerves calming, you breathe deeply and relax your shoulders, attention downcast at your joined hands. 

The silky slide of his fingers gently interlacing with yours feels so delicate and comforting, but you can't refuse the thrill as your stomach flips. You notice how perfect it looks - his hands slightly bigger than yours as they cradle you before giving an encouraging squeeze, and you look up to find him leaning in towards you, studying your features. "You're cute when you're like this, you know." His voice is inviting and accepting, and your heart soars. 

Entranced by his gaze, you nod faintly. The way his eyes melt and his hair floats in the oncoming breeze only serves to throw you further into despair.  

"So please," he continues. "I have to know what's got you so worked up."

You consider for a second, taking the opportunity to study his handsome features this closely for the first time. Hypnotized by the power of his radiating smile and deeply trusting gaze, you feel within you the growing courage to speak up. Without warning and beyond your will, your lips part to speak. 

"You said I'm sweet... well, you're sweeter," you clearly state, attention focused on him unwaveringly as you continue. "After all, you taste like peaches and I taste like tea." 

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Donghyuck's movements on your hand halt and his lips part, slightly agape in surprise. Eyes wide and quivering, a flush blooms across his cheeks as realization hits. His close presence feels stifling as his eyes drop down to trace your lips. Peach-flavored breath tickles your skin as he closes the distance, leaning forward to catch your lips in his. The soft, moist glide of his satin lips clouds your thoughts as you're surrounded by the sweet aroma of floral stone fruit on top of your own herby balm. Relief overcomes you as you sink into the kiss, mind numb to all thoughts except those that revolve around him. 

He pulls back just enough to lick his lips, his bright, exuberant eyes glinting. Hovering to only barely drag his lips against yours, he murmurs against you, "Tastes like peach tea," before pressing forward with added fervor, releasing an elated giggle muffled by your lips on his. 

His hand squeezes yours so tightly, fingers intertwined, before softly floating up your arm to your cheek to brush his thumb lovingly in velvet-soft touches against your skin. The care with which he moves to cradle your face against his conveys just how much he covets you. His hand twists your hair at the nape of your neck and you press yourself into this summery boy, savoring his refreshing taste. Pulling back, you're rendered breathless as he matches the scene around him; the light filtering through the trees casts his deserving halo, his eyes glow with joy matched only by the sun, and his lips and cheeks are peachy like his taste. 

[choerrypuffs]

enchanted.

pairing: prince!jungwoo x witch!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 9.4k

synopsis: the prince has always been a little unconventional, but no one ever expected him to fall in love with a witch.

author’s note: no one asked for this but it came to me in a fever dream and you can really tell bc my writing abilities match that  (p.s. i am not knowledgeable on actual witches and witchcraft, and this is not meant to offend anyone! i just winged it and created my own version of a witch for this fic)

It’s way too early for this kind of tomfoolery.

You have your head buried under your pillow, trying to block out the extremely loud and quite irritating rapping on your door. Whoever’s knocking is using so much force that your humble little cottage is trembling with every strike. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and praying that they’ll go away soon. Or at least come back at a more decent time.

It’s so early that the sun has barely peeked over the horizon, and the birds haven’t even begun chirping yet. You were up all night making potions to sell to the apothecary, so you’ve only gotten about three hours of sleep. 

After letting them knock for a couple minutes longer, you realize that they’re not going to leave any time soon. You feel your temper boil over as you throw the covers off your body. Draping your shawl over your shoulders, you tie your unruly hair back and smooth out your nightgown before stomping over to the door and flinging it open.

“What do you want?” you snap loudly, crossing your arms across your chest.

The man in front of you blinks in surprise, fist still raised to knock again. He’s dashingly handsome, even in his state of shock. His hair looks like spun gold, managing to reflect beautifully even with the lack of sunlight. He has a snow white complexion with full, cherry-red lips. 

You can tell by his attire that he’s royalty, or rather, a prince. The Prince. He’s wearing a black blazer embellished with golden brass buttons and detailed embroidery. There are two epaulettes on his shoulders, signifying his high status. He’s wearing a white cloak over it all, and you know from a simple glance that it’s made out of the finest linens in the kingdom. 

“Are you the Witch of the Forest?” he finally asks, smiling jovially. 

“You need not ask. Unless you’re aware of someone else who lives in the forest,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He isn’t fazed by your sarcastic remark. “My apologies, my lady. I just wanted to make sure.”

“You should know best of all, Your Highness. Your father was the one who banished me here,” you smirk, tilting your head.

One of the guards standing behind him grips the hilt of his sword. “Why, you insolent—”

“Stand down,” The Prince orders, holding out an arm. The guard does as he’s told, albeit reluctantly.

“So, what brings you here at this godforsaken hour, Your Highness?” you ask, unbothered.

“Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“I’d rather not have my tongue cut off by your mutts,” you snort, nodding toward the guards.

“I insist,” Jungwoo says, shaking his head. “And what is your name?”

“You may call me Y/N,” you begin, eyeing the guards and grinning when you see the pure rage in their eyes. “Jungwoo.”

He’s oblivious to the contention, instead beaming happily. You can’t help but smile at his naiveté. Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. “What can I help you with, Jungwoo?”

His expression turns solemn, and he reaches down to grip your hands between his. “Please help me, Y/N. My mother, the Queen, is severely ill.”

You’re taken aback by his casual touch. You’re so used to people treating you like you’re evil incarnate. Doing your best to control your expression, you clear your throat and try to continue looking elusive.

“You have my condolences, but I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you say, shrugging.

“How dare you!” The annoying guard pipes up again. “She is your queen!”

“No, she is your queen. I am not a subject of your kingdom,” you correct. “Therefore, I have no obligation to help you.”

Jungwoo releases your hands and steps back before lowering himself to his knees in front of you. Both you and the guards stare in stunned silence.

“Please. I am begging you,” he whispers with his head bowed, voice cracking. “I understand that you hate my father. I would too. But please, my mother is innocent in all of this.”

“Your Highness! Please get up immediately!” The guards say in a frenzy, all talking over each other. 

He ignores the chaos and continues to stare determinedly at you. There’s something about his unrelenting gaze that makes you feel vulnerable. When was the last time someone looked you directly in the eyes like this? It scares you because it’s been so long, and you feel like he can see right through you.

You break eye contact first, turning away sharply. You grab him by the shoulders and pull him to his feet. Jungwoo also looks surprised when you touch him, but he doesn’t seem repulsed like you expect him to be. In fact, he looks a little crestfallen when your hands fall back to your sides.

“Have some dignity,” you chide, “how can a prince kneel before a witch?” 

“I am willing to go to any length to save my mother,” he says without hesitation.

You sigh. After all these years and everything you’ve been through, you still can’t seem to harden your heart to situations like these. You can already hear your fellow witches taunting you in your head. They would never let you hear the end of it if they found out you were going to save the life of the wife of the man who exiled you.

Jungwoo picks up on your hesitancy, grasping your hand again. “Please.”

The desperation and panic in his voice shatters the remainder of fight you have left in you.

“Alright,” you finally relent, “I will help you.”

Now it’s his turn to be shocked. “R-Really?”

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for handsome men,” you say, patting his cheek. “Stop looking so surprised. Aren’t you the one who be—”

You can barely contain your surprised yelp when Jungwoo wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around in a hug. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims as he sets you back down.

You’re so frazzled that all you can do is nod. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. You thought you were going to fluster him by calling him handsome and touching his face, but he somehow managed to fluster you instead.

“We’ll give you some time to get changed and prepare what you need,” Jungwoo continues, completely unaware. “My carriage is right over there, so you will know where to go when you’re done.”

You stupidly nod again, stiffly shutting your door. Your face feels like it’ll set on fire at any moment. Just how deprived of touch are you for your body to react like this over a simple hug? 

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself, don’t forget who he is.

The carriage ride is horrendously suffocating. The Annoying Guard, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, insists on riding with the two of you to ensure Jungwoo’s safety—in case you decide to hex him or something. The guard keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword the entire time, glaring daggers at you. Every time you even slightly shift, he jumps.

You’re starting to think that these palace guards are severely overestimating your powers—actually, they aren’t. They’re severely overestimating your ability to care enough to even go through the trouble of hexing Jungwoo.

Jungwoo keeps shooting you apologetic glances, attempting in vain to try and make conversation. The long stretches of silence are deafening, and all you can do is stare out of the window. Your mind keeps wandering to things you don’t want to think about, so you begin to map out all the chores you have to do when you return to your cottage.

You can feel Jungwoo’s stare on you the entire time. He clearly wants to talk to you, but he can’t because of the hawk-like watch of the Annoying Guard. You suppose you’re grateful for that. You’re not really sure if you want to converse with Jungwoo. He’s far too unpredictable for your comfort. You can’t read him like the others, and that intimidates you. He isn’t afraid of you, and it makes you feel...exposed.

Fortunately, you can see the palace from the window, which means this hell of a ride is finally over.

Unfortunately, when you step out of the carriage, the memories that you’ve spent your entire life trying to bury flood through your mind.

The last time you were at the palace was when the decree of your banishment was announced. You remember the palace guards dragging you and your mother out as she pleaded for mercy. She had asked the king to spare you. Of course, he merely scoffed at her and turned away without a second glance. To him, you two were just some of the many witches that he would go on to banish or simply just execute. He was lucky that the witches were a peaceful kind.

You watched as your mother pretended like everything was alright, like she was alright, as the two of you lived in that tiny cottage she managed to build with what little powers she had left. In return, you pretended that you didn’t hear her weep every night. Eventually, she simply just wilted away—a shell of the beautiful flower she once was. 

“Oh, my poor child,” she had said with her final breath.

You dig your nails into your palm, hoping the pain will pull you out of the spiral you’re starting to go down. In an attempt to distract yourself, you try to focus on what’s in front of you. However, it’s not something you want to see.

The palace is, without a doubt, the most beautiful piece of architecture you’ve ever seen. Made out of pure ivory marble and adorned with ornate detailing that’s crafted from the most opulent of gold, it’s stunning in every way.

But it makes you sick to your stomach.

This was a mistake. You can’t even look at the palace. What makes you think that you can go in there and face the King? You’re still a weak little girl, and you always will be. Mother would be so ashamed of what a coward you’ve become.

Your inner voice continues to berate you, and you feel like you’ll vomit at any moment. 

“Hey,” Jungwoo says gently. His naturally soft-spoken voice can’t be any louder than a whisper, yet it’s powerful enough to pierce through the myriad of unwanted thoughts going through your head.

He pries your hand open, running his thumb across the red, crescent-shaped indents in your palm. You don’t realize how hard you’ve been pressing your nails into your skin until you feel the stinging. Jungwoo’s hand is warm, and it manages to quell your uneasiness significantly. 

“You’re alright,” he tells you, lacing his fingers through yours. 

It unnerves you how easily he calms you down. It terrifies you to your very core how much power he seemingly has over your emotions. Jungwoo is an enigma, and you must stay far, far away. Everything about him screams trouble.

Pulling your hand away, you grip your skirt instead and take a small step back. He looks, dare you say, hurt by the way you recoil. Nonetheless, he doesn’t acknowledge it and simply clears his throat.

“My father is waiting for us,” Jungwoo says warily. 

You tense, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“He isn’t thrilled about your presence, but I swear on my life that he will not harm you,” Jungwoo promises. “I will protect you, no matter what.”

“No,” you interject, “there’s no need. Your father will not lay a finger on me. He has always feared my mother and I, which is why he banished us.”

“You’re trembling, Y/N,” he whispers. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you snap, “I have a duty to fulfill, and so I will. My personal feelings will be put aside, just as your father should be doing as well.”

You hate how he looks at you like he understands. Like he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Like he can see into the deepest, most hidden parts of you.

“Very well,” he sighs. 

Jungwoo holds out his arm for you to hold. Inhaling deeply, you square your shoulders and straighten your back before taking it. You wore the fanciest dress you owned and made sure your hair was styled to the best of your ability for today. You want to show the King that you are doing just fine, that you still stand strong despite everything he did to you.

The doors to the throne room open, and the two of you are welcomed with a trumpet call that announces the arrival of the Prince. The King is waiting for you, sitting tall on his throne. Despite his commendable posture, his body is weak and feeble. He’s been worn down by age, and his robes hang off of him like they would a skeleton.

“Your Majesty,” Jungwoo greets, bowing.

You don’t follow suit, crossing your arms instead. The King doesn’t even glance at his son, focusing his beady stare at you. You glare back defiantly. 

“You’ve gotten old,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. 

“It seems even vermin like you can survive after all this time,” the King responds gruffly.

“I could say the same for you,” you shoot back.

“You will heal my wife,” he orders, ignoring your insult. “Or else I will make sure you join your mother in Hell.”

The mention of your mother flares up your temper immediately. Clenching your fists, you begin to consider hexing him (maybe Jungwoo’s guards were onto something). You have never really used your powers out of malice, but you’re starting to think it may not be such a bad idea.

“Father,” Jungwoo warns.

“Your words are merely making me want to do the exact opposite, Your Majesty. You should thank every star in the sky that I have already given your son my word,” you say calmly, even though you’re anything but.

“Foolish boy,” the King spits. He says it with so much anger and hatred in his voice that it’s hard to tell that he’s speaking to his own son. “Why do you insist on defying me? Now, you’ve gone and made a deal with a witch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sigh, “there was no deal.”

“You expect me to believe your lies? You could have easily tricked him into signing away his soul,” the King accuses. 

You can’t help but laugh at his absurd claims, shaking your head. “Enough of this. We are simply wasting time.”

You turn to Jungwoo so you can tell him to lead you to his mother, but you’re surprised by the look on his face. His expression is stormy—a mix of anger, guilt, and shame. He’s biting down on his lip so hard that you’re sure that he will draw blood. His fists are tightly balled up by his sides as he stares down at his feet. 

It’s clear how much Jungwoo is despises his father, but it’s also obvious how terrified he is of his own bloodline. The same blood that courses through the King also runs through Jungwoo’s veins. 

Without thinking, you reach forward and slip your hand into his. He looks up at you with wide eyes, but he no longer seems as upset as he did before. You smile at him, giving his hand a small, comforting squeeze.

“Come on,” you say quietly, “let’s go see your mother.”

Jungwoo nods and grips your hand tightly before the two of you leave the throne room, not sparing the King another glance. You can feel his beady stare follow you as you exit, but you pay him no mind. Jungwoo continues to hold your hand as he leads you down the palace halls, and for some strange reason, you don’t feel the need to pull away. 

When you arrive at the Queen’s chamber, only then does Jungwoo let go of your hand. He’s by his mother’s side in an instant, taking a knee by her bedside. You trail behind him, gingerly taking a step closer. 

The Queen is a beautiful woman, even when she’s asleep. Her arms are folded across her stomach, and her hair is spilled across her silk pillow. She looks like she just came out of a storybook. However, her beauty is marred by the gray pallor of her skin. Beads of sweat dot her hairline, and her face is fixed in a grimace. 

You frown. The grayness of her skin is not natural for a human, and you can sense a strange, familiar, energy flowing from within her.

“It seems your mother has been afflicted by a witch,” you say, examining her state carefully. 

“What? How is that possible?” Jungwoo whirls around to face you. 

“Either someone in her entourage is a witch or they are simply practicing witchcraft,” you explain, placing the back of your hand on the Queen’s forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch, despite sweating, which concerns you ever further. 

Jungwoo still looks like he doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t linger on the topic. “Will she be alright?”

“Yes,” you reassure him, “it’s a simple spell. I just need to make an antidote.” 

“What do you need? I’ll have the maids gather them immediately,” he says, hurriedly standing to his feet. 

“That will not be necessary. All the ingredients I need are at my cottage,” you say, already halfway out of the Queen’s chambers, “However, I will ask that you lend me a horse so I can go back and fetch them quickly.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offers, following behind you.

“Afraid that I’ll run off, Your Highness?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the hall and raising an eyebrow. He skids to a halt when you turn to look at him, nearly running into you.

“Jungwoo,” he corrects, “and no. I’m afraid you might run into trouble along the way.”

“You have my gratitude for your concern. However, I am certain that I will be able to handle it,” you respond curtly.

Jungwoo sighs, looking down and smiling to himself. You watch him deadpan before glancing back up at you. “Can’t you leave me just a shred of my dignity?” 

“Pardon?”

He takes a step closer to you, leaning his head down so he can meet your eyes. You suck in a breath through your nose sharply, only able to match his gaze for a second before having to avert your eyes. His stare is stronger than any magic or spell, and you are no match for it.

“How many times are you going to make me beg?” Jungwoo asks softly, tilting his head.

“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer, focusing your gaze on the tip of his nose.

“I am quite aware you can handle it. I want to go with you because I would like to spend time with you,” he says, the corners of his mouth quirking up. 

“O-Oh,” you say, dumbfounded. 

From the short amount of time you’ve known him, Jungwoo has always been extremely forward in everything he approaches. But, surely, this is too forward.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asks, smirking.

“Doing what?”

“Acting oblivious so I will embarrass myself.”

“No, I—”

“I am only joking, Y/N,” Jungwoo says, laughing. 

You blink, staring at him in a daze, before you finally realize that he’s just been teasing you this entire time. Huffing loudly, you whirl around on your heel and begin walking again. Jungwoo easily keeps up with you because of his long strides, no matter how much you quicken your pace.

“Don’t be angry,” he tells you, barely able to hide his grin. 

“I have been meaning to say this, but you are much cleverer than you make yourself out to be,” you say in an accusatory tone, glaring at him. “And judging by your behavior now, it seems to be intentional.”

“Is that a bad thing, my lady?”

“Of course it is. It means you’re dangerous,” you snap. 

“Then, that would mean you would have to pay more attention to me,” Jungwoo replies smoothly.

You give him a look of disbelief, wondering where the endearing man who had knocked on your door this morning went. 

“Come. I’ll show you to the stables,” he says cheerfully. 

“I don’t recall saying that I wanted you to go with me,” you remind him.

“Hmm?” he hums, pretending not to hear you.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh a little yourself. It’s difficult not to get swept up in the phenomenon that is Prince Jungwoo. If you were smart, you would put an end to whatever was forming between the two of you. He is simply intrigued by you and wants to joke around, nothing more. Even if it is something romantic, the two of you could never be together. It’s better to draw a line before personal feelings become involved, especially on your end.

It would be so easy to let yourself fall in love with Jungwoo. So easy to let him tear down the walls surrounding your heart. So easy to let yourself need his presence, to crave his touch. So easy to let yourself be happy, even if it’s brief.

But it would be so easy for Jungwoo to destroy you, to trample all over you—and you’re not sure if you could withstand it.

For now, you try not to think about it.

“Have you ridden a horse before?”

You shake your head. “I don’t travel distances in which I will need a horse.”

“And you were planning on going alone, despite having no experience on horseback?” Jungwoo asks, raising an eyebrow.

“How difficult can it be?” you shrug.

He laughs; a bright, clear laugh that sounds like a bell. You’re so mesmerized by it that you almost don’t notice him step closer and place his hands on your waist. You look at him with bewilderment, and he simply smiles at you.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungwoo chirps. Without warning, he lifts you up and sets you onto the saddle of his horse as if you’re some sort of child. His hands linger on your waist just for a moment before he pulls them back.

You let out an embarrassing squeak, automatically gripping his shoulders for support. Once you stabilize yourself, you reflexively hit him in the chest before realizing that you just punched the Prince. Luckily, he doesn’t seem that hurt or angry. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. 

Jungwoo is grinning so hard that the corners of his eyes have crinkled. He’s looks at you as if you’re the warm breeze during spring, sunshine on a beautiful day, a flower in full bloom—like you’re something wonderful.

“Do not ever do that again,” you warn. You mean to sound authoritative, but your voice teeters between octaves and it comes out as more of a question than a command. You feel like your heart is doing somersaults. 

Jungwoo just smiles again and climbs up, situating himself behind you. His arms encase you as he reaches around to grip the reins of the horse. Your back is pressed up against him, and you’re glad you’re turned away from him so he can’t see the bright flush on your cheeks.

“Must we ride together?” you grumble.

“While I admire your confidence, I do not think it would be safe for you to ride on your own,” he explains. He flicks the reins, and the horse begins to trot at an extremely brisk pace. 

“You are underestimating me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.” 

“Now you’re being patronizing.” 

Jungwoo laughs, and you feel it rustle your hair. Is he really that close to you? What if your hair smells bad? You had washed it with your favorite lavender soap yesterday, but what if—

“I apologize, Y/N. That was not my intention. Once my mother recovers, you are more than welcome to return to the palace, so you can ride a horse by yourself under much safer parameters,” he suggests.

You pause. That sounds like an invitation, and you know that can’t be right. Surely, Jungwoo is not crazy enough to ask you to come back. Right? 

You have a sinking feeling that he is genuinely is that crazy, but you won’t allow yourself to even entertain the idea.

Unable to think of a response, you simply keep your mouth shut. The two of you ride in silence for a long stretch of time, but it’s not as awkward as you expect it to be. There’s something about being with Jungwoo that feels natural, comfortable.

“So,” you finally say, “how are you going to find the person who hurt your mother?”

Jungwoo’s face darkens and his expression turns solemn. You suddenly feel guilty. “Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about that yet. I want to make sure that my mother is going to be alright before I worry about anything else.”

“Replace everyone that is close to her, unless you know they are truly trustworthy,” you advise. “Whoever it is has managed to hide their tracks all this time, so you cannot risk it.”

He nods. “Thank you again for helping me once again. I know it was difficult because of my father—”

A loud clap of thunder makes you and Jungwoo jolt, and it’s like a dam in the sky has been opened. Instead of its normal blue, the sky has become a dark, ominous gray in a matter of seconds. The wind howls and the rain comes down with the force of an angry god. Within seconds, the two of you are soaked to the bone. The raindrops feel like you’re being pelted by small, freezing shards of glass. 

Jungwoo shifts behind you before you feel the thick material of his cloak drape around your shoulders. He pulls the hood over your head and shields you from the rain with his body.

“Take your cloak back,” you holler over the wind, twisting your body so you can see him. “you’ll get sick!”

You don’t realize how close his face is to your own until he’s right there. Mere inches separate the two of you. You can see the raindrops in his eyelashes and the beads of water on his lips. How could someone look this beautiful in the middle of a thunderstorm? 

He smiles softly at you, tugging the hood over your eyes before turning you back around so you can face forward. “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

Jungwoo only slightly raises his voice, yet his words cut through the chaos. His calm demeanor and the way he’s cradling you against him makes you feel warm and safe. Like you have always belonged in his arms.

“We’re here,” he announces after a few minutes, breathing a sigh of relief. You see your cottage just up a little bit further. “Luckily, we were already close.”

After you arrive, he swings his leg over the horse and climbs down with grace. He holds his arms out to help you, and for once, you let him without any resistance. After finding shelter for his horse, the two of you dash into your cottage. Once you’re inside, you immediately begin to toss wood into your fireplace. With a snap of your fingers, you get a fire started instantly.

You both stand there in silence for a moment, watching the flames crackle as you shiver. However, you’re quickly snapped out of your haze when Jungwoo sneezes. You grab the quilt from your bed and swaddle him in it.

“Sit in front of the fire until you’re warmed up,” you order before going to your bathroom to retrieve some towels.

When you come back, you take a seat beside Jungwoo. Your soaked, ten-pounds-heavier dress, makes a gross squelch as you do. Cringing at the sound, you rise to your knees and begin to dry his hair. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he protests, “dry yourself off first.”

“If something happens to you, your father will lop my head off,” you reply. “So, I will most certainly be worrying—”

One his hands reaches up to gently grasp your wrist, and all of your words die inside your throat. His fingertips are cold, yet your entire body feels so hot. He cranes his neck so that he can look up at you. You can see the reflection of the fire in his eyes, literally drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

“Really, Y/N. I’m alright,” he whispers, gaze transfixed on your lips.

You swallow. “I—”

Jungwoo slightly tugs you forward, tilting his head up even further and parting his lips as if he’s going to kiss you. You let out a small gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.

But nothing happens. 

You crack open one eye. He releases your wrist and turns away, clearing his throat. His ears are red, and you can see that his cheeks are flushed too. You’re surprised, having never seen him lose his composure like this before.

“Here,” Jungwoo says hoarsely, removing the quilt from around him and handing it to you. “I am plenty warm.”

He takes the towel and begins drying his hair on his own. You stare dumbfoundedly at him with the quilt in your hand. You are certain that he was going to kiss you, so why didn’t he? The confident and headstrong Jungwoo losing his nerve? Impossible. 

What’s even worse is that you closed your eyes. You expected it. You wanted it.

The two of you fall quiet, both staring at the fire once again. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is coming from the fire or from within yourself.

“So, you’ve spent almost your entire life in this cottage?” Jungwoo finally asks, turning to look at you.

“Yes,” you simply say as you take another towel and begin drying yourself off. You don’t meet his eye. Frankly speaking, you’re not sure if you can look at him right now without feeling like your heart will burst.

“Do you ever leave? Say, travel for the holidays?” 

You laugh. “And where would I go?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I sometimes go to the neighboring town to buy supplies,” you continue. “Though I have to hide my face so the villagers don’t know who I am. Why do you ask?”

“You mentioned before that you don’t go distances in which you’ll need a horse, and that led me to believe that you must not stray far from your cottage,” he answers.

Jungwoo has the same expression on his face that he had when the two of you were in the throne room with the King. There’s a deep crease between his brows, and he’s biting his quivering lip. He looks down at his hands, the towel on his head slipping off and landing on the floor with a pitiful thump. His broad shoulders are drooped, which makes him look smaller.

“Why do you seem so forlorn, Jungwoo?” you ask, carding a hand through his wet hair so you can see him more clearly. 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” he says, voice cracking. “My father was the one who drove your mother to death and ruined your life. You’ve been trapped here for the past decade, and it’s all because of us.”

“Jungwoo—”

“I swear to you that your banishment will be lifted,” he promises, placing his hand over your hand that is still in his hair. “I will ascend the throne in a month, and I won’t let you rot away in this cottage. You should be able to see the world. To be free. I—I will not be like my father.”

His words sound more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you, and you finally understand.

“Going against your father, seeking my help, bringing me to the palace—all of it. Was it because you wanted to differentiate yourself from the King? To prove to yourself that you aren’t following in your father’s footsteps?” you ask quietly.

Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes. You can see tears glistening in them, and you know you’re right. Sighing, your other hand comes up to rest on his cheek. You lean in, unabashedly staring him in the eyes for the first time since you’ve met him.

“You are not your father. I, of all people, should know best. There is no need to take such drastic measures to convince yourself of it. Just be yourself, Jungwoo. You will be a kind and benevolent king,” you assure him.

“How are you so sure?” he whispers. His voice trembles. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re selfless and compassionate, even to someone like me,” you answer immediately. “You chose to throw away personal bias and even your own dignity to beg for my help. You are willing to do whatever it takes to help the people you care about. You have more kindness in the tip of your pinky finger than your father has had in his entire lifetime. Your subjects will revere you when you become king.”

Jungwoo is quiet, but you can tell that you’ve hit a chord with him. There’s no longer fear and pain in his expression, but rather, hope. He is still firmly holding your hand to his hair, as if it’s his lifeline. You gently slip your hand out of his grip so you can cup his face with both your hands, lightly pinching his cheeks.

“However, refrain from knocking on witches’ doors willy-nilly from now on. Not many witches are as generous and willing to help like I am. Like your father said, you could very well be tricked into signing your soul away with some,” you warn. 

“Signing my soul away to you doesn’t seem so terrible,” Jungwoo muses.

“You must be feeling better if you’re able to make your ridiculous jokes,” you sigh, beginning to pull your hands away. 

He catches one of your hands, placing it on his chest and over his heart. You can feel its steady rhythm, versus your own erratic one. You wonder if he’s aware of how effortlessly he’s able to fluster you. 

“I’m glad it was you who answered the door, Y/N,” Jungwoo says sincerely. “Truly.”

There he goes again—smiling at you sweetly, as if honey is dripping from his eyes. He gazes at you like you’re his dream, the only thing he wants. It’s almost as if he’s fallen in love with you. 

And then the reality of it all crashes down on you. 

You yank your hand away from him, scrambling up to your feet. Jungwoo looks up at you with a mix of surprise and concern on his face.

“You’re smitten with me!” you exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him. You may have lived most of your life in isolation, but even you can see it now.

“Are you only just now noticing that? I thought I was being quite obvious.” He raises an eyebrow, standing up as well.

“Stop being smitten with me this instant!” you order vehemently.

“If it were only that simple. Besides, I don’t want to,” he replies breezily.

“No, no, no. This cannot happen,” you mutter, beginning to pace.

“Why not?” he asks as he watches you go back and forth.

“We can’t,” you insist.

“Says who?” he shoots back.

“Everyone! Can’t you see? You are the soon-to-be-King, and I am a witch. The witch your father banished. Think about the debacle that would take place if we became lov—er, involved with each other. Your reputation will be ruined,” you explain, frustrated that he doesn’t understand. 

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, except for you.” Jungwoo states. 

“Don’t you wish to have any respect from your subjects and allies?” you hiss.

“None of that matters. What do you feel, Y/N?”

“It—it doesn’t matter what I feel,” you say, turning away. “We can never be together anyway.”

He stares at you, long and hard. “You’re afraid.”

“No, I’m realistic.” 

“You’re using the fact that you’re a witch as a shield. You don’t allow yourself to feel anything simply because others see you as lesser, and you believe them. You’ve become comfortable like this, blockading off any sort of emotion and using the fear that others have of you as a buffer so you won’t get hurt. Your heart is trapped, just like you are inside this cottage. You’re afraid that if you leave, you might genuinely feel something,” Jungwoo continues, “—No, you’re afraid because you’re already starting to.”

He’s right, of course. Somehow, he’s always right when it comes to you. It’s so easy for him to unravel the feelings you’ve been suppressing. From the moment he laid eyes on you, Jungwoo has always been looking at you. Not the Witch of the Forest, not the fearsome creature that his father banished, not a tool that solely exists to achieve what he needs, but you. He’s found the real you, no matter how hard you try to hide.

But it doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“You talk as if you know everything about me,” you snap, “In reality, we’re nothing but strangers. The heart is a fickle thing, Jungwoo. You may think you’re in love with me today, but what about three days from now? A month? A year? You will be able throw me away without a second thought, but what will be left of me? I don’t have the luxury to act impulsively on my feelings like you. I only have myself, and I can’t afford to be hurt.”

“Do you truly think so lowly of me, Y/N? I would never hurt you,” he promises. 

“You cannot predict the future,” you say quietly.

“Exactly! Are you going to live based off sheer possibilities alone?”

You don’t respond.

“What will you do then? Force yourself to never feel anything for anyone and stay in this cottage for the rest of your life?” Jungwoo asks. 

“And what if I do?” you retort.

“You may have magic, but no enchantment can overpower your heart,” he says, shaking his head. “It is indeed be fickle at times, but you’ll be surprised to see how resolute and painful it can be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say again.

Jungwoo takes a minuscule step closer, gently putting his hands on your arms. He touches you as if you’re made of glass, a pained expression his face. “It does matter. Why do you keep dismissing your feelings like this? Why must you insist on hurting yourself?”

“Because it hurts one hundred times less if I do it, rather than someone else,” you whisper.

A tear falls from your left eye, and Jungwoo’s thumb swipes it away. His hands dwarf your face as they come up to cradle it. He holds your face like your eyes are made up of diamonds and your lips rubies. Pulling you close, his arms envelop your shoulders and your face is buried in his chest. Both of your clothes are still wet, yet it feels like you’ve been embraced by a ray of sunshine. 

Your hands remain by your side as Jungwoo hugs you tightly. You’re to afraid to move, fearing that you’ll shatter the moment. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember this moment in perfect detail. You tell yourself that this, too, is fleeting. 

“You are strong, Y/N. Stronger than any person I’ve ever known,” he mutters against the crown of your head, “but it’s okay now. You are no longer alone. Let yourself cry, get angry, be happy. There’s no need to bottle it up any longer.”

You feel yourself let out a sob, a sob that racks through your entire body. Trembling violently, your hands slowly reach up to place themselves on his back, curling your fists tightly into the fabric of his shirt. Hot tears flow freely from your eyes as you press your face farther into his chest.

You hate yourself for succumbing to your emotions, and you hate yourself even more for doing it in front of Jungwoo. However, it also makes you feel liberated. Jungwoo’s arms are a safe haven, and it makes you want to forget everything and run away with him. It makes you want to be reckless and impulsive, just like him.

“—Your Highness!”

The door to your cottage is suddenly kicked down, and a swarm of palace guards barge in, with the Annoying Guard leading the pack. You try to pull away from Jungwoo, but he holds onto you tighter before moving you behind him. His arm is protectively in front of you, as he shields you with his body once again.

“What have you done to him, witch?” the Annoying Guard demands, pointing his sword at you.

“Nothing,” Jungwoo responds, glaring at him. “What on Earth are you doing? Stand down.”

“You’ve cast a dark spell on the Prince!”

“She has not! I will say it one more time, stand down,” Jungwoo orders.

Seeing Jungwoo’s expression, the Annoying Guard slowly sheathes his sword. “Y-Your Highness? Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be?” Jungwoo huffs with annoyance.

“Why are you protecting the witch?”

“Because you’re trespassing and also threatening her. Why did you come anyway?” Jungwoo asks, gritting his teeth. 

“His Majesty told us to make sure you were alright, since it’s storming,” the Annoying Guard ducks his head meekly. “We have a carriage for you.”

Jungwoo tells them all to get out before turning to check on you. By this point, you’ve already collected yourself. You’ve wiped away your tears and regained your composure. You look back at him coolly, refusing to let yourself break down like that again.

“Y/N—”

“Wait for me outside. I just need a second to collect all of the ingredients for the antidote, and then I will be out shortly,” you say curtly.

He looks like he wants to argue at first but obediently retreats a moment later. When he’s out of an earshot, you harshly slap your cheeks. The stinging rings through your entire body, like a wake up call from the gods themselves. You had let yourself pretend for a moment when Jungwoo hugged you, but the cold, sobering truth of it all is more apparent than ever.

If Jungwoo were to truly stay with you, his sanity would be questioned by his peers at every moment. Eventually, he too would begin to wonder if his feelings were conjured by your magic. The happiness the two of you would have will only last for a moment, and you can’t allow yourself to have a taste of it. 

Because you know you won’t be able to walk away from him.

The carriage ride back is just as awful as the first time, perhaps even more so. The cloak that Jungwoo lent you has been snatched away by the Annoying Guard, so you’re left to shiver in your half-wet dress. Jungwoo is being swathed in towels and even provided a thick jacket, but all you get is a rag that looks like it’s been used to wipe the floor. Jungwoo tries to give you his jacket, but you ignore him and keep your gaze trained on the window.

When you arrive at the palace, the two of you are immediately ushered up to the Queen’s chambers by a frantic maid. Her condition worsened during the storm, and you can feel her life force fading. The King is there too, but he doesn’t say a word. His lips are in a thin line and his face is somber. You can see in his eyes that he’s pleading with you to save his wife. 

You manage to whip up the antidote in record time, carefully pouring it into the Queen’s mouth with a spoon. Within minutes, the color returns to her face and her breathing becomes normal. You place a hand on her forehead, breathing a sigh of relief when you feel warmth return to her skin.

The Queen’s eyes begin to flutter, and you quickly withdraw your hand. You turn to Jungwoo. “She should be alright now. Let her recuperate for a couple of days just to make sure.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, Y/N. I—”

“Jungwoo?” The Queen’s feeble voice whispers. She’s slowly coming to, blindly reaching out for her son. The King perks up too, but he doesn’t move towards her.

“Mother,” he responds immediately, “I’m here.”

You watch him kneel by her bedside, taking her hand. They speak to each other in hushed tones, and you realize that Jungwoo must get his soft-spoken voice from his mother. The tenderness between them warms your heart, but it also wrenches it because it’s even more proof that you don’t belong here. 

Taking advantage of the fact that Jungwoo is distracted, you easily manage to slip out of the room. It doesn’t occur to you until you walk out of the palace and pass by the stables that you don’t have any means of transportation. There’s no way any palace guard will agree to take you back by carriage, and you can’t just borrow a horse because you will have to return it. 

You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice a maid walking toward you and crash right into her. She’s carrying a bale of hay and it goes flying, straws of hay exploding into the air. You stagger backwards, trying to avoid it. The maid lets out a squeal and falls onto her rear pretty hard.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hurriedly, stretching out your hand to help her up. “I was distracted and did not see you.”

“It’s alright, I did not see you either,” the maid winces, grabbing your hand and letting you pull her to her feet. “I will sweep this up in a moment. I apologize for the mess, my lady.”

Her words are lost to you. Instead, you’re focused on the immense amount of magic you felt flowing through her when she touched your hand. It’s the strongest magic you’ve felt in a very long time.

“So it was you,” you realize, narrowing your eyes. “Hiding in plain sight.”

The maid blinks before her lips curl into an evil smirk. “Well, well, you’ve finally caught me. Honestly, I’m disappointed. I thought you’d find me much sooner. Surely, finding a measly witch like me should have been child’s play for the Witch of the Forest.”

“I’ve been preoccupied,” you answer, gritting your teeth. “What is your name?”

“Joohyun,” she says. Joohyun flicks her wrist, and the hay is suddenly rearranged into the perfect block it was before. “Are you going to tell Prince Jungwoo, my lady?”

“I will not betray one of my kind so easily. However, I want to know why you chose to harm the Queen.”

“That old geezer, the King, really loves her. Even though he doesn’t act like it. I figured the only way to truly make him suffer the way he made us is to target his family,” Joohyun says breezily, shrugging.

“The Queen and Prince Jungwoo are innocent in all of this. Do not drag them into our affairs,” you chastise, though you understand where she is coming from.

Joohyun raises an eyebrow before she smiles knowingly. “I had been curious as to why you agreed to help the Queen, but I see now. You’re fond of Prince Jungwoo.”

Were you that easy to read?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snap.

“Whatever you say,” Joohyun replies nonchalantly, a glint in her eye. “Then, I suppose you won’t mind if Prince Jungwoo is my next target?”

You scowl, your eyes flashing dangerously at her. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, my lady,” she backs down. She still has a smirk on her face, but you can tell she’s nervous now. “It was a joke.”

“It would do you well to watch your tongue. I am warning you now to not lay a finger on the King’s family. Incurring my anger will make you wish that I had turned you over to the Prince,” you say calmly.

“I apologize, my lady.” Joohyun bows her head. 

“Go,” you order.

She obediently picks up the bale of hay before scurrying off. You watch her disappear behind the palace doors, releasing the breath you had been holding. You know Joohyun will tread more carefully now, which is a solace to you only slightly. A part of you wants to run back inside and immediately tell Jungwoo, but you force yourself to turn on your heel and begin walking away. 

The two of us have nothing to do with each other now, you tell yourself.

As if on cue, you hear a distant voice calling out to you. 

“Y/N!”

You know who it is, and you know you should keep walking. But your feet drag to an eventual stop, refusing to listen to your brain. Stiffly, you turn.

Jungwoo is running up to you, bridging the gap between you and the palace easily. When he’s in front of you, he reaches down and grabs the sleeve of your dress with two fingers, as if he’s afraid you’ll run away. For now, you allow him to.

“If you’re leaving, I’ll escort you,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No,” you respond, “I will walk.”

“Y/N—”

“This is not up for negotiation, Your Highness,” you cut him off, harshly tugging your sleeve away. “I did what you requested, so our business is finished. Therefore, there is no need to involve ourselves with each other anymore.”

You can tell you’re hurting him. Jungwoo takes a step closer, and you take one back. His outstretched hand falls limply at his sides. His eyes have lost their usual mischievous sparkle, flickering like a dying ember. You feel like there’s a knife being twisted into your side. How did you manage to connect so deeply to him that you can’t stand to see him upset, despite only meeting him today? 

“In two weeks time,” he starts quietly, “my coronation ball will be held. Would you accompany me?” 

You let out a small laugh. Even though you’re trying your hardest to hurt him, Jungwoo remains persistent like he always is. 

“You know that I will not,” you say, shaking your head. “Ask someone else.”

“I want to go with you.”

You sigh, and against your better judgement, you place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, clutching your wrist. “You will forget about me soon enough, Your Highness.” 

“I won’t.”

“Once you’re king, I’ll be nothing more than a bad dream,” you continue. “Don’t let a temporary feeling ruin your future.” 

“Why do you keep discounting the way I feel?” he asks furiously. “You keep saying that I’ll throw you away, hurt you, forget about you—it’s cruel, Y/N.” 

“It’s the truth, Your Highness. You’ll see.”

“Jungwoo,” he finally corrects again, frustrated. “Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“Joohyun,” you suddenly blurt out, ignoring him. You couldn’t help yourself. If you are truly never going to see him again, you had to tell him.

“What?”

“The maid,” you clarify. “She’s the one who cursed your mother.”

“I—thank you,” he says dumbfoundedly, confused at the sudden change in topic.

“Don’t punish her too harshly,” you request.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were in her position,” you answer honestly.

He doesn’t respond, looking at you with a wistful expression. The two of you fall into a brief moment of silence, staring into each other’s eyes. You don’t have as much trouble holding his gaze anymore, but it still makes your mind go blank. Your eyes travel over every inch of his face, committing it to your memory. You wish you could remember the sensation of his skin against your fingertips.

“Stay,” he pleads.

The hand on his face travels to the back of his neck, so you can bring him down to your level. You step on your tip-toes, placing a feather-light kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“Goodbye, Jungwoo.”

And so, the two weeks pass in what seems like a matter of seconds. 

You’ve managed to somewhat return to your routine, but all of your efforts are shattered when the night of Jungwoo’s coronation ball arrives. During the day, you had been aimlessly pacing around in your cottage and doing the same chores over and over again. It was like you were in a trance. 

Now, you’re laying in bed—wide awake. You kick the covers off, suddenly feeling extremely hot, before tossing and turning in an attempt to tire yourself out. It is useless; your mind always seems to come back to him. 

You wonder if he’ll meet a beautiful princess from a neighboring country at the ball and instantly fall in love with her. The two of them would be perfect for each other. They would be the subject of envy throughout the kingdom. Their reign would be a prosperous one, and they would bear such lovely children. Jungwoo would be so happy, and that hurts you so more than you would like to admit. You know you’re being selfish now, but you—

You nearly scream when you hear a frantic knocking on your door. Instantly sitting up, you listen to the knocking for a little longer. Your heart is racing, and you can’t fight the hope building up in your chest. Getting out of your bed, you slowly approach your door and crack it open.

Jungwoo is standing there, in full royal regalia. He’s panting, shoulders heaving up and down with effort. His collar is popped, and you can see a bead of sweat roll down his neck. His hair is mussed and stuck to his forehead. He’s clutching a piece of paper in one hand.

 At first, you think he’s a hallucination but then he speaks.

“By my royal decree, your banishment has officially been lifted,” he declares, still out of breath. He smooths out the crumpled piece of paper and shows it to you. It looks like it was written by a child. There are ink splatters everywhere, the writing is barely legible, and the signature looks like chicken scratch. Most people would not believe it was an official document if it were not for the royal seal stamped at the bottom.

“Wha—”

“You were wrong,” Jungwoo interrupts, “I didn’t forget about you. And trust me, I tried. I tried so damn hard because you were so cruel. You’ve only ever diminished my feelings for you, and you were the one that threw me away when I begged for you to stay. You walked all over my heart like it was your personal doormat, yet I missed you. I wanted to see you again, even if it would hurt. So, I wrote a decree on a piece of parchment paper without consulting or informing any of my advisors and then came to find you during the middle of my coronation ball. And here I am again, pouring my heart out in front of you like a fool—”

You throw yourself at him, and he just barely manages to catch you. His arms are tightly wrapped around you as you grab his collar and crush your lips against his. Jungwoo makes a small noise of surprise before he eventually reciprocates. He kisses you like you’ll disappear at any moment, and he holds you like it too. Even when you pull away, he presses you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” you mumble against his lips. “You are much too good for me, Jungwoo. But I selfishly missed you too. So much.”

“If it means you’ll be by my side, hurt me as much you’d like,” Jungwoo says, his fingers entangling themselves in your hair.

The two of you share another kiss under the glow of the moonlight, whispering promises to each other that you know you shouldn’t keep.

Yet, you aren’t afraid anymore.

[werejusttouchingeachother]

tqa – iv.

genre: smut (m) words: 544

Doyoung never was easy in the bedroom, enjoying the way you squirmed and whimpered beneath him. Always one to make you beg and cry for him, he loved fucking you until you were a babbling mess of broken words.

It had been more than an hour since you'd stopped him from reaching for the condom, cheeks flushed and voice a husky desperate whisper as you asked him to go raw. You didn't know if it was the quarantine or if the horniness had gotten to your head but all you knew was that you were on the pill and that you wanted to feel him completely, wanted him to fuck you until you couldn't walk.

Not like either of you had anywhere to be going, anyway.

“Oh god,” you moaned, tears streaking down your cheeks as he rammed into you for the nth time. Your body was flushed all over, legs shaking on the bed while Doyoung hovered over you and held himself up with his hands on either side of your head. The sheets beneath you were absolutely ruined, a drenched and stained witness to all the previous orgasms that he had given you. He'd been more merciless than usual, wanting you completely wet and slick for his bare length as he fucked you with his fingers first, then the vibrator and even spanking you until you'd cum multiple times.

“How are you still so tight and wet?” Doyoung groaned aloud, thrusting slowly into you as you whined, fingernails digging into his back almost painfully hard in an attempt to go faster. It wasn't even midnight yet but your body was already exhausted, thighs sore as he drew out every time that he was fucking into you—slamming into you a few times before slowing to gentle strokes and pulling out almost completely until your body loosened with the slow teasing, bottoming out completely before almost breaking you in half as he fucked you hard.

“Look at that,” you heard him grunt and your eyes immediately lowered to where he was pushing into you, a broken whimper leaving your swollen lips as you saw how his cock was glistening with both your fluids. Thick white cum coated the base, more of it spilling from your abused hole down to the sheets and you knew that your pitiful mewls weren't even audible over the noisy squelching of your wet walls, the loud smacking of slick skin as his balls slapped against you each time.

“Look how fucking filthy you are,” Doyoung growled, making your stomach tighten and arousal grow at his words. “Taking all of me, letting me fill you up with all my cum. You're just a slut for my cock, aren't you?”

Toes curling, you arch off the bed as a scream broke out of you when yet another orgasm rips through your body until your vision was just blinding white. You clutched the sheets tightly in your fists in an attempt to hold on as Doyoung didn’t slow down even through your climax, slamming into you repeatedly and making you cry from oversensitivity. Forcing your walls to clench around his length then, you clamped down on him like a vice and felt him burst again, spilling his hot seed into you.

masterlist

[haechanitboy]

Get to Know You

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut

contents: fingering, handjob, exhibitionist kink

pairing: jung jaehyun x fem!reader (feat. johnny seo)

notes: some people would think i write exclusively for johnjae. those people would be wrong. happy birthday jaehyun or whatever 

The hum of the private bus brings peace to you, your head drooping to rest on the window. Johnny, your seat partner, notices your drowsy state and laughs softly to himself. Your Media and Society class is taking a trip to an acclaimed theatre three hours away, and you found yourself in the cozy predicament of sitting near the two heartthrobs of the class, Johnny and Jaehyun. Johnny’s a good seat partner, even letting you have the arm rest and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

Jaehyun is...a bit of a nuisance. He keeps turning around to talk to Johnny, eyeing you every time he does with this...look in his eyes like he wants to say something to you that he can’t with Johnny around. Not to say his presence isn’t welcome, but he just has this way about him that has you fidgeting in your seat. He seems to know too, a knowing smirk on his lips when he stares at you.

When Jaehyun turns around for the umpteenth time under the transparent guise of talking to Johnny, he notices your sleepiness and frowns deeply when Johnny locks eyes with him and smugly nudges your head onto his shoulder.

Aware of Jaehyun’s eyes canvassing your body, you open your eyes, a surge of energy rushing through you as he locks eyes with you and shoots you a wink.

“Tired?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I guess,” You hum nonchalantly, sitting up, and he nods, pursing his lips.

“Jaehyun, turn back around, I’m trying to spend quality time with my friend, here.” Johnny scolds him, and you laugh as Jaehyun scowls, giving you a lingering once over before turning back around.

“Look at my texts,” Johnny whispers in your ear, showing you his phone screen discreetly.

[from: jae] come on bro

[from: jae] switch with me

[from: jae] I’ll do anything :(

[from: jae] BRO I KNOW YOU’RE READING THESE C O M E /ON/

You stifle a laugh and tilt your head towards Johnny, who leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Should I let him?” His tone is conspiratorial, and you smile to yourself.

“I don’t know...I don’t know what he wants,” You whisper back, and Johnny lets out a low chuckle.

“Oh, I know what he wants,” Johnny coos, and you try to control the shudder that shoots down your spine when he leans in closer.

“What?” You ask, and Johnny pauses.

He waits until Jaehyun’s turned back to face you both, staring you dead in the eyes, to lean in just enough so his lips brush the shell of your ear and whisper, “You.”

You try to conceal the look of shock on your face, but Johnny snickers at the way your eyes go wide.

“Switch with me,” Jaehyun says, and you look between him and Johnny, intrigued by the exchange.

“I don’t know,” Johnny drags it out, grinning at Jaehyun teasingly. “She’s a pretty good seat buddy.”

“Dude, please?” Jaehyun insists, and Johnny looks from you to Jaehyun to back at you before nodding.

“Okay.” Ignoring your bewildered yelp, Johnny shoots you what you’re sure was supposed to be a reassuring wink, but it only fills you with dread and a flutter of excitement as Jaehyun plops into the seat next to you, his arm and thigh brushing against yours and his scent—of sandalwood and cinnamon—rushing to your nose.

“Hi,” Jaehyun says too sweetly, smiling innocently at you.

“Hi,” You reply warily, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why’d you want to sit next to me so badly?”

At that, his smile turns just a bit wicked, an unreadable glint in his eye as his smile widens and he shrugs, busying his hand with the arm rest between you two and not saying anything.

Your puzzled expression morphs into one of surprise as Jaehyun trails his fingers up your arm until they’re playing with your hair. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “I just want to get to know you better.”

You don’t know Jaehyun that well, but you know him well enough to know three things.

One, he is devastatingly handsome.

Two, he is alarmingly charming.

Three, he is most definitely lying right now.

“Oh, yeah? What do you want to know?” You ask innocently, playing into his game.

He shrugs again, that same stupid smile on his face before he leans in further and grazes his lips along your ear and hums, “I don’t know....I wanna know how you react when I do this,” pressing his lips to the spot just behind your ear, his lips lingering against your skin.

You shift in your seat, inhaling sharply, and you can feel how he starts grinning. He starts pressing kisses along your neck lightly but insistently, soft stuttered exhales leaving your lips when he switches to open-mouthed kisses, his tongue swiping along the patches of skin he takes between his lips.

You rub your thighs together as subtly as possible, trying to relieve some tension, only for him to slip his hand between your knees and pull your legs apart.

Upon hearing you gasp, he chuckles and murmurs, “What, are you shy?”

“Mm, no. Shut up.”

Trailing the tip of his nose up from your neck to your ear, he sighs, “It’s cute.”

He moves his hand from the inside of your knee up to your thigh, teeth gently nipping at your neck as he slips his fingers into your underwear. You inhale sharply and move to shut your legs again, but he hooks his leg over your leg closest to his, effectively spreading your legs.

“Shh,” He murmurs with a laugh, sucking on the spot just above your collarbone.

“Mhm,” You whimper, and he starts teasing you, trailing his fingers around your clit but not applying enough pressure to relieve any of the discomfort caused by your arousal.

“Stop teasing,” You whine, dropping your head to his shoulder. He nudges your head up so he can resume kissing your neck, licking a line up from your collarbone to your jaw.

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies easily, voice thick with arousal, “You love it.”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll get Johnny to finish the job.” You lilt, knowing full well the mentioned male could hear you, and Jaehyun growls under his breath.

He slips two fingers into you amidst your low moan, “Don’t ever say that to me again.” He starts pumping them in and out of you slowly, twisting and twirling his fingers inside of you.

Deciding to poke the bear, you goad him on, murmuring, “Why? Are you worried he’d be better?”

Jaehyun huffs and moves back from your neck to look you dead in the eyes.

“Better? Baby, I’m the best.”

With that said, he speeds up slightly, curling his fingers in you. Your back arches off the chair, and you clutch the armrest until your knuckles pale.

“You look so pretty right now, princess.” He purrs, smiling when you clap a hand over your mouth to conceal the moan that leaves you. “So tight around my fingers, fuck, I bet you’d take my cock so well.”

“I’ve thought about how perfect you’d look falling apart for me, but you’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”

“Do you say that to all the girls?”

“Mm, only the ones I like to finger on our way to a field trip.”

You’re doing your absolute best not to fall apart in public but moans keep falling from your lips, slipping through your fingers, so he turns your head, fingers on your chin, and presses his lips to yours in a blissful sigh.

He swirls his tongue around yours sinfully, sucking lightly on your tongue before he pulls back, looking at you with dark eyes before leaning back in, nipping at your bottom lip and swiping his tongue over your lips.

“What—mm—what about you?” You pant into his mouth, pulling back to look at him. Jaehyun could swear that if you batted your pretty lashes at him like that one more time with those innocent eyes and reddened lips, he’d take you right there in the backseat, audience be damned.

“I mean,” He says, smiling suggestively, “If you wanna...”

“Okay,” You mumble in a daze, trying to shake the fuzz from your senses. His fingers are so good, you just can’t seem to focus on anything. “O...kay.”

“You want to?” He murmurs, pressing little kisses to your lower lip. You nod, and he shakes his head with a teasing grin. “No, princess. I wanna hear you say it.”

You whine in protest, heat rising to your cheeks, and he chuckles fondly, watching you in wonder.

“Come on, cutie. Tell me what you want in that pretty voice of yours.” He coaxes, his free hand playing with the hem of your shirt. “You’re just so cute,” He groans, slipping a hand up your shirt slowly and swiping a thumb over your clothed nipple, humming when you arch your back, pushing your chest into his hand.

“I wanna get you off,” You mumble shyly, and he moans sinfully into your ear, nipping at the lobe.

He undoes his pants and you slip your hand inside, the heat of his cock startling you as you wrap your hand around it. The base of his cock is thick, and you can feel a vein running up the length of it, the sheer size making your mouth water.

“Move,” He grunts, thrusting into your hand, and you stop moving entirely, looking up at him with a mischievous smile of your own.

“Oh, now you don’t like teasing?” You muse, swiping your thumb over his tip and rubbing along the slit slowly, savoring the look of pleasure on his face.

“Move,” He whines, and you oblige, diligently stroking him from base to tip as best as you can. “Just like that,” He groans, kissing you as his fingers pick up speed, curling and twisting inside of you.

“I can’t really...get to you,” You mumble, and Jaehyun’s hand leaves your breast to maneuver his cock into the open, your jaw dropping from the size and just how pretty it is. The tip a blushy pink, you can just barely manage to wrap your fingers around the base, and the clear beads of pre-cum leaking from his slit mesmerize you.

“Better?” He asks, looking at you with an intense gaze.

“Oh, god,” You whine, speeding up the pace of your hand, gliding up and down his length. You swipe your thumb over the tip every time you reach it, his resulting moans intoxicating.

His fingers are so close to sending you into bliss, you can almost taste your impending release. Your hips buck into his hand, rolling under his touch. He rubs slow circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb, and you bite down on your lip to muffle the moan that threatens to leave you.

You’re so close it almost hurts, and Jaehyun looks down at you reverently, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

“Psst! Johnny!” He whispers, and you gasp, struggling to close your legs. He keeps his leg hooked around yours, so you only succeed in closing your legs around his calf as Johnny turns back.

“What the fuck?!” You hiss in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks as Johnny seems to devour the image of you on the brink of an orgasm.

“Look at me,” Johnny murmurs, tone ever so demanding. You oblige slowly, eyes dragging along the patterned seats before resting on his stare. He looks like he’s one second away from climbing back to your seat and joining in, and the way he’s staring at Jaehyun’s hand moving in your pants has you preening under his gaze.

“Jaehyun,” You moan, pumping his length and twisting your wrist as you approach the head of his cock. “I’m close,” You gasp, hips swiveling under his hand, yearning for more.

“Come for me, baby,” Jaehyun wheedles, nudging your head up so he can mouth at your neck. “Show Johnny how pretty you look coming apart for me.”

You lock eyes with Johnny just as your orgasm hits, a shaky moan leaving your lips, followed by a whispered curse and Jaehyun’s name. Jaehyun slowly stops fingering you, the digits still lingering inside of you as he watches you in awe.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Jaehyun grunts, hips thrusting into your hand. “Johnny, unless you wanna watch me come, I’d turn around.”

Johnny lingers for a second, watching your focused expression as you bring Jaehyun to climax, before turning back around and proceeding to mind his business.

“I can’t come on my clothes,” Jaehyun whispers in your ear, and you look around before bending over, the armrest digging uncomfortably into your stomach, and opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him for approval.

He swears loudly, so loudly that you smack his thigh in surprise, and starts to climax, hot spurts of white cum landing on your tongue and some on your lower lip. You kitten-lick the remnants of his release off of the head of his cock, swallowing his cum, and he muffles a whimper into his fist, his fingers curling inside of you again.

You squirm immediately, pushing at his wrist and he pulls his fingers out, evoking a shudder from you. He studies his wet fingers before locking eyes with you and licking his fingers clean. The blush that rises to your cheeks does not go unnoticed by Jaehyun who, after tucking his cock back into his pants and closing them, drapes an arm around your shoulders.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know,” He says nonchalantly as he looks down at you. You look up at him curiously and he leans down for a kiss, tugging on your bottom lip as you part. “You’re really cute.”

“Shut up,” You mumble shyly.

“You know,” Johnny says casually as he turns around in his seat to face you two. “You said you’d do anything if I switched seats with you.”

“I did...” Jaehyun replies warily.

“I know what I want,” Johnny announces, and from the way he’s eying you, you’re pretty sure you know too.

“What is it?” Jaehyun asks, clearly not catching on.

Johnny doesn’t say anything else, just stares you down and shoots you a wink before turning around.

“Let your new seat buddy tell you.” He teases, and your insides feel like they’re in knots with both anxiety and excitement.

“Oh, boy.” You mumble to yourself.

[werejusttouchingeachother]

The Quarantine Anthology (tqa)

smutty drabbles/scenarios of nct + wayv members during quarantine

taeil | johnny | taeyong | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | yuta | mark | haechan | jeno | jaemin | renjun | kun | winwin | ten | lucas | xiaojun | hendery | yangyang 

- this is tqa masterlist - this post will be regularly updated - daily updates - some may be more suggestive than smutty - started: 13.08.2020

o n  h o l d 

[werejusttouchingeachother]

tqa – vii.

genre: smut (m) words: 571

You bit down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, knees pressing into the bedspread and wrists bound together at your back as you looked up at Yuta. Being on lockdown meant that he could be at home for a stretch of days and he'd made it clear from day one that he would be taking complete advantage of all the time in his hands, finally doing everything to you that he's always fantasised and dreamt of when away on tour or when he missed you too much.

Tonight, however, was mostly a result of your words: you'd let it slip that your nipples weren't very sensitive and never did much for you when stimulated. Not realising that Yuta, who worshipped your boobs, would take a personal offense to this as he immediately carried you from the hall to your room.

And after tying your wrists together and having you blink up at him with flushed cheeks and an even redder chest, he'd teased you for hours by slowly licking your breasts all over until your nipples were stiff peaks. As if to prove you wrong, he kissed, sucked, licked, bit, nipped around the perky mounds until you were a writhing mess beneath him, each ministration of that filthy mouth sending hot surges of arousal straight to your dripping pussy. You'd closed your eyes only for a second when you felt a cool metal on your breasts, a sting of pain sending sparks all over your skin as it bit into your flesh and make you almost scream.

Eyes snapping open, you'd glanced down and felt the most intense wave of arousal wash over you as you saw the nipple clamps that Yuta had placed on your breasts.

Two hours later, you had tears streaking down your face as you desperately grinded over the bed, yearning for any kind of friction to help ease the almost painful desire as your walls clenched around nothing. You were certain you'd never been this wet in your life—every tug of the metal clamp had your body jerking, sparks of pleasure shooting from your chest right down to your core as you whined helplessly, at the mercy of your boyfriend who only watched you with a sadistic smirk.

You couldn't feel your breasts anymore when he finally took the clamps off after almost an hour of teasing, your entire body wound up with so much tension and frustration, aching for any kind of release as your nipples had gone numb. Yuta still doesn't untie your wrists, stuffing your throat with his cock and choking you with it until you couldn't whine anymore. As he shoots his hot seed all over your tongue, he pulls out and slaps his leaking shaft on your face until the creamy white is dripping down your chin, falling onto your reddened breasts.

Using his skilled thumbs then, he circles the cum around your numb, sore nipples to bring feeling back into them and you can't help the incoherent noises that escape your swollen cum-stained lips now as you weakly thrash beneath him at the mercy of his hands.

“Aw, what is it, my baby?” Yuta coos mockingly at you as hot tears run down your face, each swipe of his fingers against your breasts making your pussy clench desperately.

Your eyes are blurry but you can still see his smirk as he asks, “Still think they aren't sensitive?”

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