#next step: hang everything else up

[door]

okay!!!!

Before & After:

i ordered new sheets to complete the transformation but they’re backordered. the yellow shams and small red pillow case are from schoolhouse electric, the duvet cover and shams are from ikea, the circular embroidered pillow my mom inherited from my great-aunt and i stole it from her. the yellow quilt is also from schoolhouse but is a few years old. don’t look closely at it, the dogs’ claws have done some damage. the little reading lamp is also from ikea

also hung this fellow on the wall:

[agoldengalaxy]

baldurs gate 3 companion headcanons:

- gale talks in his sleep

- astarion once made karlach laugh so hard that she sprayed fire out of her nose

- shadowheart can and will hurt anyone on purpose, but if she accidentally hits someone/steps on their foot she secretly feels REALLY bad about it

- when karlach told gale she hadn’t read a book since primary school he nearly passed out

- wyll is an emotional drunk. he has cried about the stars being beautiful and about how proud he is of his companions

- lae’zel learned her favorite trick from some of the tiefling children: sticking her tongue out at people she hates

- when she thinks everyone is asleep, jaheira sings old lullabies. minsc and wyll are the only ones who have heard, but they don’t say anything because they don’t want her to stop

- the children love to put flowers in halsin’s hair. he loves it too, and will return the favor if they ask. he once did it to an unenthusiastic astarion, who ended up secretly liking it

- minsc takes the BEST care of his nails. boo’s too, obviously. he has let yenna paint them once or twice

- everyone has a lowkey crush on wyll

- when no one is looking, astarion likes to feed and pet scratch and the owlbear, making comments about how they’re the cutest ones there (besides him) and no one gets him like they do

- karlach asked wyll for dance lessons. she never quite gets the hang of it, but she has fun, and wyll is proud of her

- astarion and shadowheart pretend to hate each other, but gossip about everyone else when they’re not looking

- everyone actually really enjoys gale’s cooking but they’d rather die than admit that

- girls night: shadowheart and lae’zel are at each other’s throats with daggers. karlach is passed out on the floor. jaheira is drinking all the ale she can find. everything’s on fire. the next day they look back on this fondly

- boys night: halsin and gale are laying on the ground to look at the stars, stoned out of their minds. wyll and astarion are pouring their hearts out to each other. minsc and boo are making dirt castles. the next day they pretend none of it happened

[bi-writes]

hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?

mail-order bride

you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.

you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.

when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.

Riley.

you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.

the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.

he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.

"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."

your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.

"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."

he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.

"said no pets."

your lip trembles.

"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.

when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.

it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.

you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.

he points at the thing and shakes his head.

"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."

you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.

"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.

"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"

you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.

"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."

you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."

"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."

when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.

"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."

you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.

you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.

mine.

when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.

simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.

[jaysng]

post arguement — park sunghoon

pairing: bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst (resolved), fluff

synopsis: waking up the next day after an argument, sunghoon is a little shy to ask you to follow up your daily routine together.

• help palestine, click me

sunghoon had always been the quiet type, never one to express too much, but last night’s argument was different.

it left an uncomfortable tension lingering between you two, something neither of you were used to. you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find peace, the memory of harsh words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. you had barely slept, your mind restless with unresolved thoughts.

you felt a soft nudge on your arm, and as you blinked your eyes open, there was sunghoon, standing beside the bed, his expression unreadable, a mix of uncertainty and something else you couldn’t quite place.

he hesitated for a moment, as if he was trying to find the right words. “can you… do that thing?” he finally mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze flickering away from yours.

it was unlike him to ask for anything, especially after a fight, but you knew what he meant. every morning, without fail, you’d apply his skincare for him, a small act that had somehow become your routine.

you let out a sleepy groan, turning away from him and pulling the covers over your head. “not today, hoon,” you murmured, your voice muffled, teasing him just a little, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t actually refuse him.

he stood there for a moment, the silence stretching out between you two.

“please?” he added, a little softer this time, a rare vulnerability in his voice that made your heart soften. it wasn’t like him to ask twice.

you sighed softly, sitting up and pushing the covers off. “fine,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully as you climbed out of bed.

“but only because you said please.” despite the remnants of last night’s argument hanging in the air, you didn’t have it in you to say no to him. maybe this was his way of making peace, in the only way he knew how.

“thanks,” he mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, but you caught the sincerity in his voice.

you slipped out of bed, your feet padding softly on the cold floor as you headed to the small vanity where you kept the skincare products.

sunghoon followed you, his steps equally soft, almost as if he was afraid to break the fragile silence that had settled between you two.

“you know, you could’ve just done it yourself today,” you teased lightly, grabbing the moisturizer and turning to face him.

he shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“it’s not the same,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor. it was rare for him to be this open, and it made you pause for a second.

you motioned for him to sit properly, and he complied, scooting back a bit so he was closer to you.

you took a deep breath, your hands working automatically as you unscrewed the cap of his moisturizer. the familiar scent filled the space between you, and for a moment, it felt like everything was back to normal.

“you’re such a baby, you know that?” you said, your tone playful as you smoothed the cream onto your fingers.

“only for you,” he replied, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

you gently applied the moisturizer to his face, your touch soft and careful, as if you were trying to erase the harshness of the previous night with every gentle swipe.

sunghoon’s eyes closed, his face relaxing under your touch, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away.

neither of you spoke, the silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind that said everything you both were too afraid to put into words.

you finished with the moisturizer, your fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer before you pulled away.

but instead of standing back up, you suddenly decided to straddle his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you faced him. his eyes flew open, a hint of surprise in them as you smiled down at him, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“what are you doing?” he asked, his voice a little shaky, clearly flustered by your sudden proximity.

“just making sure you’re not going anywhere,” you teased, leaning in to smooth out the moisturizer on his forehead.

you could feel the warmth of his body beneath you, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers grazed his skin.

sunghoon was trying hard to keep his composure, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck, spreading to his cheeks.

“you’re really… close,” he mumbled, his hands hesitantly finding their way to your waist, unsure of where to put them.

“is that a problem?” you asked, your tone teasing as you finished up with his skincare, your hands lingering on his cheeks for a moment longer.

he shook his head, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for just a second before they darted away again. “no… it’s just… different,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, but you caught the shy smile playing on his lips.

you leaned in closer, your face just inches from his, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “different can be good, you know.”

he didn’t respond, but you could see the way his eyes softened, the way his hands tightened slightly around your waist, holding you just a little closer.

“about last night…” he started, his voice hesitant, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding yours. “i’m… i didn’t mean to make you upset.”

you felt a small smile tug at your lips, his awkwardness endearing. “i know,” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

“i’m sorry too, i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

he finally looked back at you, a hint of relief in his eyes.

“we’re okay, right?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost as if he was afraid of your answer.

“yeah, we’re okay,” you reassured him, giving his hand another squeeze. “just… try not to be such a grump next time, okay?”

he huffed out a small laugh, the tension finally breaking.

“i’ll try,” he promised, a shy smile playing on his lips.

for a moment, you just sat there, side by side, the morning light wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

and though the argument wasn’t entirely forgotten, the weight of it had lessened, replaced by the quiet understanding that you’d work through it together, just like you always did.

• REBLOG if you enjoyed, do not copy or repost.

[joszns]

first time for everything ✭

virgin!ellie x virgin!reader

cw: scissoring, some fingering, cuteness! ellie and fem!reader just being silly and sexy

today was the day.

you had showered, styled your hair, shaved, lotioned, the works.

a lacy set of lingerie was laid out by you, the thought of ellie seeing you in it making your heart flutter.

after putting it on, you stood in the mirror.

you admired your choice, the sheer floral pattern on the bra adorning your breasts and covering up just the right places, leaving a perfect amount to the imagination. a delicate silver heart bedazzled from the center of the bra, sparkling in the light of your bathroom. the bottoms were cheeky, completely see through fabric save for the gusset and a black heart in the same floral pattern at the center of the crotch. the straps on the thong were bedazzled, matching the sparkly bra.

satisfied with how you looked, you put your outfit on and texted ellie you were on the way.

when you arrived, you were nervous. sure, it was just a movie night, but you were secretly planning so much more.

“you look cute,” ellie greets, kissing you softly and bringing you inside. “what’s the occasion?”

you flush red. “what, can I not dress up nice to hang out with my girlfriend?” you say with a laugh, taking off your shoes and settling into her bed.

she rolls her eyes in response and sits next to you, arm over your shoulder as she picks up your legs and drapes them over her own.

“let’s watch a haunting in venice! heard it’s good.” ellie says excitedly. she eagerly puts the movie on and pulls you even closer, making your heart beat faster.

the movie starts, but you aren’t interested. you turn to ellie, admiring her face. you felt different this time, the warm feeling of love that typically stayed in your heart beginning to bloom somewhere else.

“what is it? do you wanna watch something else?” ellie asks, noticing how you haven’t once looked at the screen. you meet her gaze before flicking your eyes down to her lips, then back up again. she does the same, leaning in for a kiss.

eagerly, you reciprocate, your hand rising to cup her face as the kiss begins to intensify quickly. tongues sliding against the others own, sloppy smacking, a desperate whine from you as you began to be needy for her. you position your legs and sit up, straddling ellie as you two make out. her hands rose to your body and gently squeezed your upper thighs.

you felt bold, beginning to grind down on ellie. she broke the kiss, pupils blown wide and breathing heavily as a string of saliva connected your swollen lips to eachother.

“what…fffuuuckk….what are you doing…” ellie said, watching as your hips rutted down into her own, her clit throbbing.

“i…im ready. im ready to go all the way, if you are..” you said nervously. she looked up at you, lips parted slightly.

“are you sure? i…” she starts, searching your face for any signs of doubt.

anxiously, you take hold of her hand and tenderly place it on your clothed breast. ellie flushes red and squeezes softly, causing you to let out a breathy whine. you lean down to her neck, kissing gently at first.

“‘s this okay?” you mumble against her skin.

“yes.” ellie responds, leaning to the opposite side to expose more of her hot skin. you began to pepper open mouthed kisses on her skin, suckling and leaving soft purpley marks behind. ellie moans quietly, your cunt absolutely dripping at her sweet sweet sounds.

her hands began to grope at your body, hesitant but needy, traveling from your plush, gyrating hips to your tits, squeezing at them. you moaned against her neck, the grinding not providing the friction you desperately craved.

you pulled away from ellie’s neck, which made her whine quietly at the loss of contact.

“should…can we start undressing?” you asked nervously.

“please…” ellie responds.

you grab the end of your shirt, stepping off the bed and staring into her lush green eyes, batting your eyelashes as you slowly took it off. she watched intensely, almost like if she turned away for just a moment you would disappear. you unbuttoned your jeans as well, sliding off the denim. her greedy eyes traveled down your torso, face turning red at the sight of your lingerie set.

“were you planning this?” ellie asked, kissing your collarbone.

“maybe.”

she draws in a breath, heart beating faster as the tension in the room grows.

“your turn.” you say, looking into ellie’s eyes once more.

ellie takes off her tank top, her chest bare underneath. her small but perky breasts, now exposed to you, pale, freckled, and perfect.

“sorry…typically i don’t wear a bra.” ellie said nervously, raising an arm to cover her bare skin.

you stopped her.

“don’t cover up, you’re perfect.” you said softly, kissing her after. ellie melted into the kiss, kissing you back desperately as she pulled you impossibly closer. your tongues slid against eachother sloppily, lewd smacking sounds echoing in the dim room.

ellie’s hand tenderly slid from your hips to your inner thigh, her thumb rubbing the softest circles on your clit through your panties.

“can i do this?” she asked softly against your reddened lips.

you bit your lip, a soft whine trying to break from your lips. “yes.”

ellie kisses you roughly, slightly increasing the pressure on your swollen bud through the sheer lace. you whimpered against her lips, pushing into her thumbs pushing.

“more..” you mumbled into the kiss.

ellie pushed you into the bed, slotting her knee between your legs and pressing it against your damp panties.

you moaned on her lips, rutting your hips on her knee. her hand groped your breast, lips kissing from your cheek to your neck, then your chest.

“can I take this off…?” she asked.

you nodded in response.

she fumbled with the clasp, brows furrowing in frustration as it wouldn’t unhook.

“ah fuck…sorry, this is so bad..” she apologized, finally unhooking the damn thing.

you giggled in response.

“you’re so cute…”

she blushed.

you discarded the bra, breasts now exposed like her own. ellie stared at them for a moment before connecting her lips on your hot skin, sucking dark marks into your flesh as her tongue swirled around your perky nipple.

her hot tongue pressed against your skin drove you insane. you moaned softly, arching into her mouth. her hand slowly trailed down your body and once again began to apply slight pressure to your swollen clit through your lingerie.

you bucked your hips against her hand, a sharp whine breaking past your lips at the quick burst of pleasure that gave you. you started grinding on her hand, desperate for her touch.

“fuck…” ellie said quietly, her own clit throbbing beneath her jeans and boxers. she watched you getting off on her hand, lips slightly parted.

“need you…” you mumbled. you dropped down to ellie’s hand and shoved it beneath your panties, shivering at the touch of her cold fingers on your warm slick. she froze.

“are…are you sure?” ellie asked awkwardly, heart beating fast.

“i need you ellie. please….” you said, kissing her.

she quickly fumbled her jeans and boxers off, removing your own underwear as well. she pressed her chest against your own, hand making its way back to your sloppy cunt and-ohmygod she’s inside-curling her long, cool fingers upwards.

you nervously reach for ellies cunt, fingers awkwardly rubbing her puffy clit. she bucks her hips forward, whimpering softly at the sudden contact.

“baby…i need to feel you…” she said, catching your eyes. your heart beats faster, clenching down on her fingers.

“fuck…,” ellie whispers under her breath. “so…tight..can I?”

you nod in response, parting your legs as she slips between them and settles on top of you.

“are you sure?” she asked quietly, staring into your eyes.

you drew in a breath, blushing. admiring the beautiful girl infront of-well more like on top of- you, freckles decorating her toned body.

“im sure ellie.”

she looks downwards and begins to grind into you slowly, exhaling softly as your slick mixes with her own. you buck your hips, awkwardly trying your best to match her rhythm. her hands grip your legs as she speeds up, grunting occasionally. she didn’t care how out of sync it was, you felt so fucking good pressed against her clit and fuck she’s close-

“baby fuck…” she moaned, picking up the pace again. lucky for both of you, you were able to catch on. your body trembled as your clits aggressively rubbed together, sloppy wet sounds echoing between the two of you.

your chest lifted and sunk rapidly, careless whines and gasps escaping your lips as you stared at the girl on top of you.

“i…i love you, i lo-fuck-love you so much, ellie.” you moaned, eyes closing in pleasure as you neared your peak. “im so close, don’t stop.”

ellie grunted in response, hips shuddering as she continued her pace.

you both managed to find the perfect rhythm, the pressure and synchronization driving you both over the edge. you moaned her name, and she whimpered yours, both of you coming down from your highs pressed against the other.

she unhooked her leg from your torso, eyeing you up and down with a soft smile and loving look. you pulled her close, her sweat and scent mixing with your own.

“that was so…oh my god! haha..” you said with a giggle. ellie blushed.

“i uh…i learned a thing or two from porn. you’re also my first.” she confessed. you kissed her sweetly, the feeling of her lips on your own being one of the best things you’d ever known.

well, second best now.

[gghostwriter]

Level-One Intruder

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 1.8k a/n: I'm a liar. I said I was going to post once I get over this flu but I couldn't help myself, not at all. I just really really wanted to share this cute cute fic I wrote with you all. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The brown tweed coat on Spencer’s shoulders threaten to droop down his arms as he wrangled his keys to unlock his apartment door.

There was little light on the hallway, something that could be attributed to the late hour of twelve midnight. Muffled noises could be heard from next door—a new tenant must have moved in while he was away. 

The FBI agent could feel himself coming apart at the seams from the lack of proper sleep. The latest case took eight long grueling days to solve and the team had to make do with what the small town could offer as arrangements.

His back felt stiff from curling on the squeaky sofa bed, trying his best to make himself comfortable and now, all he wanted to do was decompress with a totem of a book and sleep like the dead until his alarm clock rang for the next day. 

Dropping his satchel on the ground, silently assuring himself to get the laundry going the next day, a tiny scuffle echoed through his heavily darkened apartment.

Spencer tensed, unsure if his overtly exhausted mind conjured up the noise or if someone else found their way into his haven while it was otherwise unoccupied.

Another sound confirmed the reality causing him to draw his gun from his holster, ends pointing down, as he slowly made his way around the sofa to the first bedroom, minding his steps to avoid the sections with creaking floorboards.

He rounded the corner, eyes straining to adjust to the minimal light the outposts provide him—and nothing. 

The room was stale from lack of use and everything looked to be in the right place. The stripped spare bed looked untouched and all the windows were sealed shut. Exactly how he left it.

Another noise caught his attention.

Spencer tightened his hold on the gun and tiptoe’d to the next room—the bathroom and in there, the first real evidence was uncovered. 

His eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle as he took in the unspooled tissue roll hanging from its holder. The unused sheets of paper now sat on the green titled floor, no doubt flooded with organisms and bacteria that the naked eye couldn’t see. 

He shuddered from the thought.

Quickly moving on, he shuffled his way to the open kitchen. Right away he spotted something amiss—rather a few items amiss.

First, the lower cabinet was ajar. It was where Spencer stored his cleaning supplies and it was rarely opened as it was.

Second, his favorite Star Trek mug that he left out to dry near the sink was now precariously near the edge, threatening to break into a thousand pieces.

And lastly, the empty plastic bag of bread on the counter that he was sure had two more slices before he went away for the case.

There was an intruder and it seemed like he was hungry.

Weapon still in his hands, he slowly he crept his towards the slightly opened mahogany door of the main bedroom. He took a deep breath before rounding up to the room, pistol pointing forward to the unsuspecting guest. 

Except there was no one.

“That’s strange,” he muttered to himself, holstering back the revolver to his belt and to his surprise, someone answered or rather, meow-ed back. A fluffy orange cat with a collar on his neck.

The agent smiled. “You must be my intruder—”

Meow.

“—Now, who are you and how did you get in here?”

The cat was silent, content with rubbing his body on his black pant legs, leaving behind stray hairs that Spencer would have to lint away before laundry.

He bent down to see if there was any information hanging from the cat’s green collar. 

“Mr. Chewie. Is that your name?”

Feline eyes stared into his and blinked once. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe you could understand me but actually according to studies, cats lack the cognitive skills to interpret human language so I still don’t know why I’m explaining that to you.”

Meow.

“Nope, I’m sure you’re just responding to the fact that I am talking to you and my rambling is clearly brought by my lack of proper sleep—” a knock on his front door interrupted his musings. “—one second,” he called out, swiftly unbuckling his holster belt and placing it on top of the dresser. There was no need to frighten the knocking neighbor with a gun. 

Spencer turned back to the cat inquisitively sitting next to his feet. “Don’t move.”

As he made his way back to the entrance, opening lights as he went, he could hear the click clack of the feline’s claws against the wooden floorboards. It clearly didn’t take his order to consideration.

Spencer swung the door open as the stranger was poised for a mid-knock.

“Uh—hi,” the woman breathed out. 

“Hi,” Spencer drawled out in reply. “Can I help you?”

You rocked on your heels, fingers pulling down the ends of your oversized sweater as if it could lessen your state of undress. Spencer didn’t judge, it was early into the morning after all, nor did he stare long at your navy blue shorts and pink fluffy socks adorning your feet. 

“I’m your new neighbor and it’s not really the time to introduce myself but by any chance is there—”

“An adorable intruder in my apartment?” 

You nod, sweetly smiling. The glint in your eyes filled with apologies.

“Yes actually, I was trying to ask him where he came from but I don’t actually speak cat and neither does he understand human.” 

You laugh sheepishly, fingers gently rubbing at the side of your neck. “I’m so sorry. I hope he didn’t make a mess or bother you at all. I left my fire escape window open for a little bit to let the breeze in and he must have explored out while I wasn’t looking. So sorry again, let me just get him out of the way—”

A rustle from behind made him turn, not before he caught your eyes widening to the scene inside his apartment. Your cat kneading on his brown throw blanket before settling on the sofa.

“Mr. Chewie, what are you doing?” You squeaked out.

Spencer laughed at the outrageous tone coating your voice. It reminded him of Garcia swatting the other agents away from her tech equipments.

The cat answered back with a meow.

“No, mister. You cannot sleep here, this isn’t our home! It belongs to this lovely gentleman over here—” you flashed Spencer a smile. “Now, please get your butt off the sofa and back to our apartment.”

The feline seemingly rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

“Huh,” Spencer observed. “The studies might be wrong after all. I think he understands you.”

You laughed, shoulders shaking from the absurdity of his comment. “Mr. Chewie might be special or at least that’s what every pet owner believe to be. I never introduced myself have I? I’m Y/N. I moved next door a couple of nights ago.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he replied back. 

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh, is that why I haven’t seen you around, Doctor? Busy saving lives?”

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. In a way, you weren’t wrong per se. His title did let people assume his career to be in the medical industry instead of having three PhD’s under his belt. The former was more plausible given how young he looked.

The sound of a door opening and closing at the end of the hall caught both your attention. Your eyes flashed back to his, twinkling. “So, Doctor. Will it be alright if I step inside and grabbed my cat?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh—yeah, yeah. Sure, come right in.”

You sheepishly smiled before entering his sanctuary. Eyes soaking in any piece of information that represented who he was.

Spencer felt your warmth as you passed his body. The smell of warm cookies wafting to his nose, dissipating the anxiety that threatened to creep up his spine from letting a stranger into his home. 

“Nice apartment,” you complimented. “There seems to be a lot of books.”

He tucks his hands inside his pant pockets. “I like to read.”

“Me too. It’s a great hobby to pass the time.”

You sweetly smiled before swiftly scooping up the lounging cat in your arms with little protest. “Again, I’m so sorry if he disturbed you in any way and please, let me know if he made a mess. I’d like to make it up to you—as a thank you and apology, I mean.”

“It’s no problem,” Spencer watched your cheeks match the color of your socks under the fluorescent light. It suited you, he thought. “Actually, can I just ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why is he—” his calloused hands reaching to pet the orange feline nestled on your chest. “—named Mr. Chewie?” 

You giggled, the sound similar to wind chimes being rustled by a gentle breeze. It settled the ache caused by his lack of proper rest. It was fascinating, intriguing, and a little bit frightening if he had to be honest.

“Well, I actually named him after Star Wars, Chewbacca, because of how fluffy he is and the name just shortened itself once I found out how perpetually famished he is.”

“He’s named well,” Spencer surmised, the empty plastic of bread flashing in his mind.

“Well, I shouldn’t be bothering you any longer,” you slowly backed away from his space. “Thank you, Doctor, and have a good night.”

With a sleepy smile on his face, Spencer watched you push open your apartment door. “Good night.”

You flashed your saccharine smile one last time before closing it behind you, leaving him feeling light and bemused for the first time in a long while.

And as he woke up to the gentle streams of the sun on his face, feeling well rested and ready to tackle the paperwork on his desk, the emotion still lingered causing the corners of his mouth to rise up into a soft smile. An after effect of your encounter that he didn’t mind experiencing. 

It was a certain type of high. 

It was something bright and puzzling.

A note and a batch of cookies taped to his door caught his eye as he exited the apartment. The  treats were in this clear, non-labelled package. Handmade then, Spencer noted.

His smile stretched his warming cheeks wide as he took in the scripted letters written on the pink post it that reminded him of your blush and your fluffy socks.

See you around, Doctor! 

Have a great day saving lives! 

- Your Nurse neighbor & Mr. Chewie xx 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I’VE EVER KNOWN

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you gain news that your ex boyfriend and pro-hero dynamight has returned from a work trip out of the country. coincidentally, he’s calling your phone right now.

part 1/2

inspired by ‘tis the damn season

everything you learned about katsuki while he was away was against your will.

following in all might’s footsteps, and right after one messy, icy breakup, katsuki left to do hero work in the united states. if you wanted to know who he was hanging with, what girls he was supposedly kissing, or who he was replacing you with, you could have asked. seeing his life in footnotes, on instagram stories and through headlines was the kind of cold that fogged up windshield glass.

theres a lingering ache in your heart, put there by the ache in katsuki’s.

your breakup felt inevitable, more than anything. circumstances, timing, stress… one second, he’s loving you. the next, he’s telling you he needs to think things through. and right after that, he’s on a plane to los angeles with kirishima.

it was almost nice, not having to see him at the agency or anywhere else. you wouldn’t be tempted to call his phone, since the international bill would only break your heart more. you couldn’t go to his apartment because it’d be empty- if you’re not counting the phantoms of lost love.

the 2 weeks he was gone felt like an eternity on your end. you blamed the time zones, though you knew they weren’t capable of freezing time and making your heart ache more each minute.

and with the first snowfall of the season, katsuki bakugou lands back in his home country.

he thanks the attendants in his private jet, shoving his already warm hand into his pockets as he steps out into the brisk air. its colder than he remembered, as if the world felt the same loneliness he was experiencing.

its 10pm, and the snow is glistening against the moonlight like a mirrorball. the sky is blanketed by clouds, a pink hue washing over katsuki as he steps out of the airport and into the night.

he stares at his contacts for a second. he intends on calling an uber.

but either his thumb slipped, or he missed you too much to care about the cold pricking his fingertips. each could be true.

you’re in the process of turning up your heater when your phone lights up through the dark. fingers peeking out the sleeve of your sweater grasp the device, nearly dropping it to the floor when you see who’s trying to reach you.

as if on instinct, your thumb hovers over the green button, before ultimately letting it go to voice mail.

after a hot shower to drown out the chill, you find him calling again. this time, you sit on the edge of your bed, finally resigning to pick up.

you don’t say anything first, wanting to hear him first. maybe you had to make sure this wasn’t some twisted dream.

“…hey babe.” katsuki says, his gruff voice lingering with a soreness in his throat that can only come from prolonged exposure to the cold. that, paired witb the familiar nickname despite the circumstances, makes you clutch your phone.

“hey, kats.” you say, shifting on your bed to get comfortable. after all, any emotional night with katsuki bakugo was destined to be long.

“when did you land?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. you hope he doesn’t hear the trepidation in your voice.

“an hour ago.” he says, stifling a sniffle like a child would. you almost laugh, knowing him too well. he wasn’t the kind of guy you could forget easily.

“i just needed to hear your voice.” he admits, more to himself than to you. crimson eyes watch the way the snowflakes fall to the ground, dancing around in the wind. he remembers how much you love snowflakes. how you’d always try to catch them on your tongue, and how stupid he thought it was. the things he’d give to go back to that.

the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice makes your eyes water. it was something about the cold that brought out the aches in people. like holidays that linger like bad perfume, you both could run from the hurt before getting lost in the snow. you escaped into your warm apartment, away from the world, while katsuki escaped into crowds of adoring fans away from home.

whats funny is that both of you remember how the other left.

the cold air pricks at katsuki’s fingers while he waits for a response. he almost thinks the connections gone out, when in truth, your holding back tears.

with a shaky sigh, you speak. “lets… call it even, then.” you whisper, but he’s captivated by your words like a firework show. “i wanted to hear you, too.”

the breath of relief katsuki lets out can be seen in the cold, night air.

there was about 100 thrown out letters you wished you could send him. you could vomit words onto paper, send them out into the winter air and let the wind deliver your confessions to him.

and honestly, he wants you to. more than anything, he wants to sleep in with you, pull the blankets over that shield you from the cold just for old time sake. and if you don’t want him to stay this time, then he won’t ask you to wait.

if this doesn’t work out, he’ll go back to LA. he’ll let his so called fans write books and stories about him, about his heroism and his nobility without knowing how much his heart hurts on the inside. they’ll wonder about the only soul who knows what that hurt feels like. the only soul who knows all the smiles he’s faking: you.

he hopes that he only breaks his own heart, wanting to spare you from it. if he could, he’d leave you the warmest bed you’ve ever known. he’d call you babe for the weekend, and love you warm against the winter chill.

if somewhere, in his heart, katsuki’s love for you despite the breakup remained the same, then it was the same for you, too. if its okay with you, its okay with him. you could call it even. you’re missing his smile, and you want him to hear you out.

you might have to, with what he’s about to say next.

“…i’m outside, babe.”

part 2 soon 🫧

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

masterlist

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[straylightdream]

meet me in the hallway

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

They been best friends their whole life. They’ve shared everything but they have never shared a girl. What happens when no one can keep their emotions out of this?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: neighbor / friends with benefits au, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 24.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, body image issues explicit language, drinking, smut warning below

an: I’ve decided to rewrite and rework an older story I have posted.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: intercourse, multiple sex scenes, talks of sleeping with someone else, wonwoo is kinda rough once, sex while intoxicated (both parties are fully consenting, oral (f, receiving), shower sex, threesome, some fluffy smut as well, Mingyu accidentally listening to the mc and wonwoo have sex

ONE - THE BEGINNING

You had all lived in the same apartment building. Wonwoo and Mingyu were childhood friends who moved in together right after college.

You were a teacher who lived next door to them. You had never been the type of girl who dated around or anything like that. Monogamy was alway the way for you. You had only ever been in long term relationships.

Your last boyfriend was an asshole who would break up with you to sleep around. He gave you this long winded speech about how he was still young and really wanted to see other people. He did that for about two months before he came crawling back to you.

You had been single for the last two years, and it was probably the happiest you had been. It was nice to not have to worry about being in a relationship. You just got to do what made you happy.

You had lived next to the boys for the last year and a half and over that time you had grown to have a pretty good friendship with them. At least once a week, which normally was every Friday night. You would all hang out, drink lots of wine and play board games or something like that. According to Wonwoo you all hung out on Friday just so you could get wine drunk.

It was Thursday and Wonwoo and Mingyu had invited you over to eat Chinese take-out and watch a movie. You came over and you were all sitting on the living room couch with plates filled with Chinese food. Mingyu was flipping through Netflix trying to find something for them to watch. Wonwoo and you were too busy chatting about something random that happened at his work.

“So, what should we watch?” Mingyu asked.

“I’m cool with anything,” Wonwoo said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Let’s just watch that anime Wonwoo was talking about,” you said sitting in the middle of the two boys.

“Sounds good,” Mingyu said, clicking on an episode.

You sat on the couch joking around and eating Chinese food until about ten when you said it was time to head home. You had to get up at six to go to work. If you stay any later you’ll be too tired at work tomorrow.

“Hey (YN), just so you know I’m going out of town tomorrow,” Mingyu said standing with you at the door to his apartment.

“Does that mean we can’t have wine Friday?” You can’t help but sound disappointed. You always look forward to Fridays with the boys.

Wonwoo yelled and walked over, “hey, we’re still friends we can have wine Friday without Mingyu.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Fine, have wine Friday without me,” Mingyu stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you to give you a hug goodbye. He always gives you the best hugs.

“Wonwoo, did you want to come over to my place tomorrow?” You asked.

“Yeah that sounds good,” he said before giving you a hug goodbye.

“Alright Mingyu, have fun on your trip, and I’ll see you tomorrow around five Wonwoo,” you smiled before walking out the door.

TWO: A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO WINE FRIDAYS

Mingyu let out a sigh as he turned to look at Wonwoo who was smiling, and Mingyu just shook his head. Wonwoo was a huge flirt and he knew while he was gone Wonwoo was probably going to hit on you the whole time he was gone. Wonwoo could tell by Mingyu’s face that something was going on. “Mingyu what’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Mingyu lied.

Wonwoo had known him basically all his life. He knew he had something on his mind, “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay I have a little crush on her.” He sighs.

Wonwoo smiled, “I can’t say I blame you, she's really pretty.” He patted him on the shoulder.

“We’re all really close and I don’t want to ruin it, but she’s such a sweet and funny girl,” he let out a light sigh.

“Yeah she’s one hell of a girl,” Wonwoo smiled.

-

Wonwoo knocked on your apartment door with a bottle of wine in his hand. He couldn’t lie for some reason he felt slightly nervous about the fact you were going to be hanging out alone. Opening the door, you had a smile on your face, and your hair was pulled back showing off the pretty skin on your neck. You wore a sundress and a blazer. You didn’t have a chance to change after work. “You look pretty,” he said as he stepped inside and slipped off his shoes.

“Thank you, Wonwoo. So I was thinking we could order some pizza. Because nothing screams classy quite like pizza and wine,” you said with a breathy laugh.

You walked into the kitchen area and handed Wonwoo the wine opener and reached into the cupboard and pulled out two large wine glasses. Sitting the glasses down in front of Wonwoo, he poured you both large glasses of wine. Grabbing your phone off the counter you ordered some pizza. Wonwoo sat at the kitchen table working on drinking his glass of wine. He couldn’t help but love how easy everything seemed between you. Walking back into the kitchen you went and removed your blazer and were now only wearing your pretty floral sundress. You sat down a game of scrabble you had under the coffee table, that you had literally only bought for wine Fridays.

“So, we’re playing scrabble tonight?” he asked arching his eyebrow so it showed over his circular glasses.

“Yes, we're playing scrabble. It’s the only two-person game I own,” you said sitting down.

You played scrabble and ate pizza together and finished off the bottle of wine Wonwoo had brought. You were now sitting still at the kitchen table but you had switched to taking shots of tequila and playing never have I ever. You told Wonwoo that you were boring so this wasn’t going to get you super drunk.

You tossed back your first shot and suddenly regretted even agreeing to play this stupid game. As the golden liquor slid down your throat. Tequila has never been your friend. Especially when it came to drinking games.

“Never have I ever gone streaking,” you said with a pointed look hoping that Wonwoo was going to have to drink. You’ve heard college stories from both Wonwoo and Mingyu and you knew the both got a little wild back in the day.

He gave her smirk and took a shot. Shaking his head, he said, “never have I ever had sex with a teacher.”

With a heavy sigh you grabbed the shot glass and quickly took the hard liquor. “First of all, I need to explain, he wasn’t my teacher. It was the stupid hot history teacher at the school I work with, we dated for a little while.”

“Damn that’s scandalous,” he smirked, causing your cheeks to burn.

“Never have I ever had sex in public,” you stare at a little shocked he took a drink.

“Never have I ever had sex in my room-mate’s room,” he said, hoping in college you had sex in your roommate's room.

You shook your head letting him know you were going to be drinking to that. With a raised eyebrow you said, “never have I ever had a body shot taken off me.”

He tossed back another shot and then looked at you extremely confused, “why has no man ever been smart enough to lick alcohol off you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “probably has something to do with the fact I’m not a small girl.”

“Fuck that you’re beautiful and I say we change that right now,” he stood up quickly and became extremely aware of the fact that he was pretty drunk. He’s never gotten this drunk hanging out with you.

“Are you being serious?” You asked, confused.

He nodded his head and handed you a shot glass, “drink up doll, because I’m about to lick your skin.” Your cheeks burned even more as you clinked the shot glass with the one Wonwoo was holding. You stood by the table staring at each other for a moment before Wonwoo walked away and walked over to the fridge to pull out a lime. He quickly cut it up into a few pieces and grabbed the salt bottle off the counter. You stood in front of the kitchen table like actually in shock this was happening.

“Wonwoo, showing off my body makes me uncomfortable,” you said, reaching out and resting your hand on his chest and you swayed a little bit at the feeling of the mixture of wine and tequila flowing through your system.

Leaning forward he put his lips to your ear and whispered, “you’re beautiful and let me show you that.”

A shiver went down your spine as you nodded your head silently. She moved back and bumped the kitchen table. Wonwoo reached down and pushed your dress up over your hips. Helping you jump onto the kitchen table. You were suddenly extremely happy that you wore a cute pair of cheek underwear to work today. Laying back on the table, you sat back on your elbows as Wonwoo pushed your dress up further.

“May I,” he asked, holding the lime close to your breast.

Silently you nod as he dragged the lime up your chest towards your neck, wetting the skin. He then reached over and coated it lightly with salt. Holding the lime up to your lips you slowly opened your mouth holding the lime for him. He gave you one last smile before he poured the golden tequila into your belly button. You held her breath as his lips kissed your skin drinking the liquid. You felt yourself becoming turned on as he dragged his tongue across your chest removing the salt. Without a word his lips brushed your as he took the lime from your mouth. You stared at him completely breathlessly, you weren’t sure if anything in your life had ever aroused you more than what Wonwoo had just done to you. Pushing your thighs together you attempted to remove some of the tension.

He pulled the lime from his own and sat it down on the table as stared at you biting his bottom lip. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, because you were pretty sure the only thing that was going to come out of your mouth would be a moan.

“Did you like that YN?” he asked, smirking.

With wide eyes you silently nodded.

“Did you want to take one off me?” he asked, knowing it was only fair.

You nodded your head again and slowly sat up. Wonwoo helped you off the table and removed his shirt before jumping onto the kitchen table. Turning to the counter you grabbed a wedge of lime and dragged it across his extremely toned stomach. You poured salt across the trail of lime, and then brought the lime to Wonwoo’s lips and he bit down with his eyes locked on yours. Silently you poured the liquor into his belly button. You glanced at him for approval and he gave you a nod. Licking the liquid from his skin you took a breath before you dragged your tongue across his abs, before your lips moved up to his mouth to take the lime. Stepping away slowly you bit the lime for a moment before sitting it on the table. Wonwoo sat on the edge of the table staring at you with lust filled eyes. Suddenly it became very clear that he might have made a mistake when he said you should take body shots. Because his brain was fogged with lust as he stared at you.

“Was that fun?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly, standing in front of him.

Without a word he jumped off the table and crashed his lips into yours. You were caught off guard for a moment but it didn’t take long before your lips moved against his. His hands gripped your soft hips pulling you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck holding on to.

His lips moved from your mouth and started kissing his way down your neck. You couldn’t help but moan as he nipped at your neck. Pulling away he looked at you with lust blown eyes, your bottom lip was captured between your teeth. You stared at each other knowing that what was about to happen could change everything.

“What do you want to happen right now?” he asked with his hands still gripping your hips.

“I don’t ever do this, but I just want you,” you sighed, feeling drunk on lust. There has been a part of you that has had a lingering crush on Wonwoo since you met him. There was something about a kind of nerdy guy who wears glasses with a black cat personality.

“Okay baby girl, I will give you anything you want,” he whispered into your ears. Him calling you baby was enough to make you wet right there on the spot.

He turned you around so you were leaning against the table. Looking over your shoulder you watched as he dropped down to his knees and hooked his fingers into the elastic on your undies, slowly he slid them down your thighs. He quickly unbuckled his pants and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed the single condom. He sat it down on the kitchen table and then quickly undid his pants the rest of the way and pushed them down his thighs. As his pants hit the floor, he reached for the foil pack and tore it open with his teeth. He rolled the rubbed down his length. Your hands braced the table anticipating what was about to happen.

“Can we remove the dress?” he asked with his lips pressed to the back of your neck.

You nod your head quickly. If there wasn’t quite a bit of alcohol going through your system, you probably would have said no because of how self-conscious you are. He reached for the zipper that ran down your spine, he reached up and gently pushed the strapped of your dress down your shoulders and the fabric fell to the ground.

“What about this?” he asked with his fingers running under the straps of your bra. Silently you nodded your head once again. He unclasped your bra and you helped push it off. You stood there completely naked as he kissed down your spine. He reached around the front of you and dipped his fingers into your wet folds as he kissed the back of your neck. You couldn’t help the light moan that passed your lips as he gently stroked your sensitive nub. “Are you ready?” he asked with his lips brushing your ear.

Silently you nod anticipating what’s to come. He slowly pushed inside you. A low gasp passed her lips at the stretching feeling. You hadn’t had sex in about two years and you were going to have to get used to the feeling all over again. The slight pain you felt probably had to do with the fact that Wonwoo was quite a bit bigger than any other guys you had slept with. As he bottomed out his hands gripped your hips and you leaned forward on the table resting your elbows on the white wood and moaned.

“Are you good?” he rasped knowing you probably needed a minute. His hand gently ran up and down your sides giving you time to adjust.

“Yeah,” you said, speaking for the first time in a while. You weren’t sure if you could form proper words for a moment there.

He started his pace pretty slowly giving you time to get used to him, but as you arched your back and moaned he picked up his pace. Leaning back up you stood there with your hands pressed to the white hardwood table moaning as he thrust into you at a quick pace. One of his hands moved from your hips and reached around to massage one of your breasts. Gasping as he rolled your taut nipple between his fingers as he continued to thrust quickly.

“Wonwoo,” you moaned. “I’m close.”

He leaned forward and left a trail of wet kisses up your spine, and with his lips ghosting you skin whispered, “cum for me then baby.”

Your eyes about rolled in the back of your head as the coil in your stomach grew even more taunt. “Harder,” was about the only thing she could even think to moan.

“Come on baby,” he gripped both of your hips and continued to thrust into you even harder.

A loud gasp falls from your lips as your high crashes over you. Instantly falling to your elbows as Wonwoo continued to pound into you. He only got a few sloppy thrusted in before his own release. Slumping forward he rested his body against your back as he fought to catch his breath.

“Wonwoo,” you paused trying to catch her breath. “I need to sit my legs feel like they’re about to give out.”

He let out a soft laugh and pulled away from you and sat down in the chair by the table. You took a deep breath and sat in the chair that you had been originally sitting in. You were both completely naked as you just stared at each other trying to take in everything that had just happened.

“I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” you said with a little laugh, knowing that you were most likely gonna be hungover and sore from the rough sex you just had.

“I’m rarely that rough with someone the first time,” he ran his fingers through his hair, surprised at how rough he had gotten. “Was I too rough?” he was suddenly concerned he hurt you.

“I’m fine,” you ran her fingers across your face and looked up at Wonwoo who was still staring at you with a concerned look. “Wonwoo, believe me you weren’t too rough. I’m not the type that normally likes rough sex, but damn that was pretty hot. I’m also not the type that casually sits around naked,” you said as you reached down for your sundress that was on the floor.

“I feel like I should let you know, I didn’t have sex with you just because I’m drunk. I actually think your beautiful,” he reached out and placed his hand on your bare thigh.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you smiled. You stood up and pulled your sundress without bothering to put your bra on. You walked over to the fridge still wobbly from the mixture of all the alcohol and the intense orgasm that Wonwoo had just given you. You pulled out a bottle of water and started chugging it and stared at Wonwoo who was still sitting at the kitchen table completely naked.

“I think this puts a whole knew meaning to wine Fridays,” he said with a little laugh.

You shook your head and suddenly felt awkward about the fact that the one-time Mingyu goes away, you and Wonwoo had sex on your kitchen table.

“Should we blame body shots for all that?”

He nodded his head, “yeah I mean body shots gave me a reason to basically get you naked.”

“I can already feel my hangover coming,” you sighed sitting back down at the kitchen table.

“Yeah let’s never mix tequila and wine again,” he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to yours. It was a nice change after how rough he had just been.

“Did you want to cuddle on the couch and watch your anime you like?” You asked.

“Yeah maybe I should put boxers on,” he said reaching onto the floor to find his boxers.

You both got comfortable on the couch and curled up together. As you laid there for a while you finally said, “Mingyu missed a crazy wine Friday.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help the wave of guilt that washed over him. He had just slept with the girl that Mingyu had told him he like. He knew Mingyu said it was just a crush but suddenly he felt terrible, and knew that when Mingyu came home, he was going to have to tell his best friend about what had happened.

“Even though I can already feel the hangover coming on, I had fun Wonwoo,” you glanced up at him.

“Me too (Y/N),” even though he knew he might of fucked up with Mingyu he couldn’t lie he was glad he spent his Friday with you.

THREE: SOMETHING NEW

After the events that had unfolded with you and Wonwoo, you hadn’t seen each other. There really hadn’t been time for you to be able to talk about what had happened that Friday night. You had to go see your mother for a family birthday party and Wonwoo had some work stuff of his own to take care of.

Sunday rolled around and Wonwoo was eating lunch at the kitchen table when Mingyu walked in. The moment his warm eyes locked onto Mingyu he was suddenly filled with a sense of guilt for sleeping with the girl Mingyu had a crush on.

Mingyu sat his suitcase down and walked over and sat down across from Wonwoo. Mingyu could instantly tell something was wrong by the look on his face. “What’s up Wonwoo?” Mingyu was curious to know what was going on.

“I’m a terrible friend,” he sighed as he sat his fork down.

Mingyu tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at Wonwoo confused on what he could possibly be talking about. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I slept with the girl you have a crush on,” he sighed pushing his fingers through his dark locks.

Mingyu let out a light sigh and closed his eyes, processing what Wonwoo had just said to him, “you slept with (y/n).” It wasn’t a question by any means it was a statement. Mingyu wanted to be mad at him, because he had literally just told him about his crush on you. But he knew he didn’t have a right to be mad. He didn’t have claims on you or anything, he had no right to get between you and Wonwoo.

“Yeah, we got drunk, and it just kind of happened. We just had a fun time, and if you don’t want me to hook up with her again I won’t.”

Mingyu shook his head and let out a sigh, “Wonwoo I’m in no place to even try to be involved with anyone, so don’t let me get in the way.” Mingyu is so busy with his tech company he works for he barely has time to attempt and a relationship with how much he travels for work.

Wonwoo stared at Mingyu attempting to read his expression. He had known Mingyu basically all his life and normally he could tell what he was actually thinking by his expression. But at the moment Mingyu just kind of seemed indifferent or emotionless to the situation.

“Are you sure?”

Mingyu nodded his head, “yeah go for it, Wonwoo.”

The two of them talked about Mingyu’s trip for a little while catching up before Wonwoo knew he needed to have a serious talk with you. Walking next door he knocked on the door wondering if you were home. As he thought about it, he wondered if maybe he should have texted and asked if you were free. As he reached into his pocket for his phone to text you, he looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey Wonwoo, what’s up?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

He couldn’t help but let his warm eyes travel up and down your body. You were once again barefoot and wearing a cream-colored sundress that hit about an inch above your knees.

“Do you have time to talk?” he asked.

You nodded and stepped inside signaling for him to follow. You walked over and sat down on the couch that was in front of a large window. Wonwoo sat next to you and stared silently for a moment. You could tell he seems like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“So…” he said awkwardly. “Friday was kind of wild…”

Your stomach dropped, wondering if Wonwoo may have regretted what had unfolded between you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was suddenly a mistake. You were never someone who just casually had sex with someone. You had always waited to be in a relationship with someone before having sex with them.

“Wonwoo, we can forget it if you want,” you said awkwardly.

His eyes went wide and he shook his head, “um, (YN) I don’t want to forget that happened.”

You had a confused look on your face as you stared at him, “wait what did you want to talk about then?”

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly wondering how he could possibly ask this next question without offending you. “I was wondering if you wanted to hook up more often?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little as you thought about the idea of you and Wonwoo having sex more often. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Like we could sleep together more often. I know we're both really busy, and you’ve mentioned that relationships aren’t really convenient for you right now, and I’m not exactly good at the whole relationship thing. But I personally think we have a good connection, and the sex was fun even with us both being drunk.”

You reached over and placed your hand on his thigh and asked, “so you want to be friends with benefits?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean I guess yeah. Like we can hang out and have sex and stuff.” He couldn’t lie he had never once in his life had a friend with benefits relationship, but for some reason his mind was telling him that it was a good idea.

“I mean, I haven’t had sex in like two years before Friday. It would probably be nice to have a way to relieve sexual tension and relax. You’re also nice to look at,” you said, causing Wonwoo to let out a laugh.

He leaned back on the couch, getting more comfortable. “So do we have rules?”

You hadn’t even thought about the fact that you might need to lay down some rules. You stared at him for a moment before saying, “as long as we’re doing this, I would like it if you didn’t sleep with anyone just out of respect for me.”

He nodded his head. He hadn’t even thought about sleeping with anyone else while they were doing this. “Anything else?” he asked.

You nodded your head, “I’m on birth control but I still want to use a condom every time. The last thing we need is for you to knock me up.” He nodded his head knowing that was a smart decision. You didn’t need the possibility of you accidentally bringing a kid into the picture.

“Oh, and just so you know I’m clean, I got tested last month, and I haven’t slept with anyone since then,” he said.

“I’m clean too.”

You smiled and stuck your hand out and he reached forward and shook your hand. He tugged on your arm and pulled you forward so fell towards him. He placed his hand on each side of your face and brought his lips to yours slowly. The kiss was slow and passionate, you placed your hands on his chest firmly as your lips moved together. Pulling away from you slowly he tugged on your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

Your eyes were locked on each other for a long moment, before you stood up and took his hand on your and stood up. You led him down the short hallway to your room. The second you were in your room he stood behind you and dragged the zipper on the back of your dress slowly. The cream-colored dress was in a pool at your feet. Without a second a thought his fingers unclipped your bra and it fell to the floor landing in the cream-colored pool. Turning around you faced him bare chested and reached for the bottom of his shirt signaling for him to take his shirt off. He rid himself of his shirt. You reached for his belt making quick work of removing it. Neither of you could seem to get your clothes off fast enough. Your focus was then on unbuttoning his pants. He pushed his pants off as you slid your panties down your thighs. Walking over you lay on your queen-sized bed. He got rid of his boxers and socks, and followed you to the bed.

“I wanted to taste you, baby,” he said, breaking the silence that had formed between you.

Silently you spread your legs as you laid back. You watched with hungry eyes as he crawled onto the bed. He started placing kisses on your knees and then worked his way to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He placed a wet kiss on the top of your mound before dragging his tongue up your slit slowly. The moment his tongue lapped at your bundle of nerves you instantly let out a moan at the sensation. He rubbed index finger up and down your entrance, as he gently licked your sensitive clit. As his fingers slowly started pumping in and out of you, you tangled your fingers in his hair as you moaned. Each drag of his slender fingers earned a gasp.

It didn’t take much before you hit your high and your inner walls were clenching his fingers. Pulling away from you he licked his fingers and smirked as your chest was heaving as you came from your high.

“(YN), where do you keep your condoms?” he asked as he reached down and slowly pumped his hard length. The sight of you still coming down from the orgasm he gave you was turning him on even more.

“Top draw of the night stand,” you panted, closing your eyes.

He walked over and grabbed the box of condoms that you had in the top drawer and sat them on top of the night stand. Grabbing a foil packet he tore it open with his teeth, and slid the rubber down his length. Crawling back on to the bed he slowly spread your legs again. He hovered over you and pressed his lips to your for a heated kiss as he slowly slid into you. You gasped as he bottomed out and reached up to hold onto his back. Your back arched off the bed as he slowly thrust into you.

“I’m going to be gentler this time, and take care of you,” he said with his lips ghosting the skin of your neck. “I got you baby,” he rolled his hips into yours over and over again at a deliciously slow pace.

You lifted your hips to try and match his thrust as his lips moved across your skin, kissing wherever he possibly could. His lips moved down to your breast and he sucked gently on your taut nipples. With every thrust you couldn’t help but let out breathless gasp. Your fingers clawed at his back wanting him closer. He placed open mouth kisses wherever his lips could touch. The sounds you were making were driving him wild. The echoing sounds of your moans and whimpers, with the sounds of slapping skin was erotic.

“Wonwoo, I'm close,” you whined desperately.

“Baby come for me,” he moved his lips up to your ear and whispered. “Just let go baby,” his breath alone against your ear sent you over the edge. Your walls pulled on his length, and Wonwoo got a few more thrust in before he hit his high.

He came moaning your name and collapsed on top of you. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss before he rolled off of you.

You laid there silently as you both rode out your highs. Wonwoo leaned over and pulled your soft body against his to cuddle.

“I could get used to this,” you sighed.

FOUR: DYING OF EMBARRASSMENT

It was the first Wine Friday since Wonwoo and you had started sleeping together and Mingyu couldn’t lie, he wasn’t exactly excited to be hanging out as a group. He kind of hated the fact that he knew you and Wonwoo were having sex. Mingyu had ordered Thai food from a place up the street and you were all sitting at the kitchen table discussing your work week. You and Wonwoo weren’t acting like you were a couple or anything so Mingyu was pretty happy about that. He also was happy about the fact you hadn’t had sex in Wonwoo’s room yet. Whenever you would hook up, Wonwoo would go over to your place.

The group was finishing up a bottle of wine when you started to play scrabble together. Mingyu was happy that everything between the group hadn’t seemed to change at all. Wonwoo and you never talked about what was going on between you, and Mingyu didn’t ask any questions.

As it was getting pretty late Mingyu told you guys he was going to head to bed because he was tired. He left you alone in the kitchen as you finished off what was left of the wine.

“Did you want to spend the night?” he asked knowing that you actually hadn’t had a sleep over yet, and you hadn’t had sex at his place.

You pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and asked, “is that allowed?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “why wouldn’t it be?”

You raised her hands and shrugged, “I don’t know we haven’t had sex here before, and we haven’t had a sleepover.”

“Well Mingyu doesn’t care, and I want to cuddle,” he smiled standing up.

“I don’t have pajamas or anything,” you sighed.

“Okay let’s run next door and get your toothbrush and a change of clothes for tomorrow because you’re sleeping naked tonight,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, “I need to bring something in case I have to get up.”

“Fine, whatever you say.”

You walked over to your place and you packed a little tote with something to wear tomorrow, an oversized shirt, and small sleep shorts, and your toothbrush. Once back at Wonwoo’s you brushed your teeth in the bathroom that was across the hall from Wonwoo’s room and was in your pajamas that Wonwoo told you he was going to take off you the second you were in his bedroom.

He kept his promise and the second you were in his room he quickly removed your clothes, and had you lying on your stomach on his bed. He laid naked on the bed next to you and placed kisses up and down your spine. He gripped your hips and laid on top of you slowly thrusting into you. You couldn’t help but moan as he gently bit the bare skin on your shoulder. Without a word he got off of you and rolled on to his back and told you to ride him. His hands gripped your soft hips as you slowly sank down on to his length. He sat up and massaged your breast as you continued to slide up and his length picked up the pace lightly. You couldn’t up but moan his name as he reached between you with one hand and rubbed your clit as you continued to ride him.

“Wonwoo,” you moaned.

Out in the hallway Mingyu had made the mistake to get up to use the restroom when it was obvious that his roommate was having sex with his crush. Mingyu let out a light sigh as he walked into the bathroom. His body seemed to be responding to the sounds of your moans. He walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face trying to calm down. He walked back into his bedroom trying to avoid hearing you have sex.

He laid in his bed for about twenty minutes before he got up to get something to drink. Walking back into the kitchen, he found you bent over wearing tiny shorts that didn’t even fully cover your ass. He couldn’t help but groan at the sight. You stood up quickly and awkwardly found Mingyu standing in the dimly lit kitchen wearing only his boxer-briefs. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander across his extremely fit body.

“Hey (y/n),” he said, giving you an awkward wave.

“Hey Mingyu,” you awkwardly waved back. “Do you mind that I’m staying over?” You asked, wondering if he wanted you to go home.

“You can stay over,” he said as he watched you slowly tug on the bottom of your tiny sleep short. He couldn’t help it when his eyes wandered across your soft body. He knew he probably shouldn’t think about you naked, but he suddenly wanted to know how you looked underneath your shorts that were leaving little to the imagination.

You bit your bottom lip and tugged on the bottom of your sleep shorts again, your eyes wandered down to Mingyu's small boxer-brief and noticed that his bulge had grown quite a bit. Suddenly your cheeks burned when you realized that you were barely wearing any clothes in his kitchen and now he had an erection.

His eyes went wide when he looked down, and suddenly he wanted to die. He couldn’t help that not even ten minutes he had heard you and Wonwoo going at it and now you were standing in front of him wearing basically only underwear and a shirt. He couldn’t control that his brain was automatically turned on by all this.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he said, sighed, moving his hands down to cover it.

“Hey it’s not a big deal,” that was a total lie because from the bulge in his boxer-briefs it looked like Mingyu was quite big.

You hated that suddenly you were thinking about seeing what was inside of his tight boxer-briefs. You ran your hands down your face not even sure what was going to happen now.

“I kind of want to die of embarrassment now,” he sighed.

“It’s fine, if you want, we can totally act like this never happened,” you gave him a soft smile knowing that he would probably prefer to act like this never happened.

“Yeah that would be great,” he sighed. “Well not that this isn’t a great time, but I came in here to get some water.

You gave him a smile and reached into the fridge to get a bottle of water. You held it out and Mingyu walked towards you. His hand touched yours and your eyes locked onto each other. There was suddenly even more tension between you. You both still held onto the water as Mingyu stepped closer. There was about a foot between you and your eyes hadn’t moved from each other’s. Both of them were silent, not even exactly sure what they should say. You looked up at him suddenly wanting to kiss him, and those thoughts made you feel like a terrible person. Not even fifteen minutes ago Wonwoo was literally inside you, and now you’re in the kitchen with Mingyu wanting to kiss him.

With his hand that wasn’t holding the water bottle he reached up and gently brushed some of your hair behind your ear. It was taking everything in him not to kiss you right then and there. He couldn’t do that though. He gave Wonwoo permission to be with you. He had no right to want to kiss you.

“Mingyu,” you whispered as you leaned forward slightly.

There wasn’t much space between you as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath wanting to say that you needed to stop, but at the moment he was at a loss for words.

“I should go back to bed,” you said softly as you pulled away from him.

He nodded his head and stepped back, “yeah let’s forget this ever happened.”

You nodded your head.

You both quickly left the kitchen and you slipped back into Wonwoo’s room. He was laying on his bed looking at his phone. He put his phone down and gave you her a smile and she suddenly felt guilty. Crawling back into bed, you laid on your side looking over at Wonwoo. You knew that you needed to tell him what just happened.

“I almost just kissed Mingyu,” you confessed.

He knit his eyebrows together and looked at you extremely confused, “what happened?” He couldn’t really be mad but he was just kind of confused about what had happened.

You rubbed your face feeling suddenly even more terrible, “I don’t even know, we just got close and almost kissed.”

He couldn’t help but feel guilty that he might have gotten in between you and Mingyu. Wonwoo noticed that there was some chemistry between Mingyu and you. He knew deep down inside he couldn’t be mad.

“Do you want to sleep with him?” he asked, knowing that you could slap him for asking her that.

You knit your eyebrows together and stared at him for a moment. You never even thought about the possibility of sleeping with Mingyu. Sure, you’re attracted to him, but you didn’t think about having sex with him. After seeing him only in his boxers though your mind did wonder what he would look like naked.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.

“So, there’s tension between you two maybe you should have sex.” He couldn’t believe he was asking you to have sex with Mingyu. Part of him thought it might ease some of his guilty conscience about hooking up with you when Mingyu liked you first.

“Would you be okay with that?” You asked, reaching over and resting your hand on top of his.

He nodded his head knowing that he couldn’t be selfish, “yeah I can talk to Mingyu about it tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help the butterflies that seemed to form in your stomach. You couldn’t believe that Wonwoo had just offered for you to have sex with Mingyu, and that you actually agreed with it.

FIVE: YOU MAKE ME FEEL GOOD

You stood in the shower together with Wonwoo’s hands wondering your naked body as his lips moved down your neck with open mouth kisses. You couldn’t help but moan as he nipped at the sensitive skin.

You pump his length as he kisses his way across your skin.

“Fuck-“ he moans. His moans egg you on. You continue stroking him until he cums painting your stomach. “You’re so good at that,” he sighs.

“Thank you.”

“Let me make you feel good.” He presses his body to yours as he kisses you. You’re in the mix of a heated makeout session as he moved his fingers down to your core and his fingers started doing lazy figure eights as his lips were still on your wet skin. He removed his fingers from your core and gripped your hips walking you back towards the shower wall.

His strong hand reached down to lift your leg, and squealed a little as you felt your foot slip and seconds later, his hand lost its grip on your thigh and you slipped and landed on your ass. Before Wonwoo could lose his own footing, he managed to catch himself. He looked down at you with wide eyes worried you hurt yourself falling. “(YN) are you okay?” he asked.

You groaned lowly and nodded.

“I’m so sorry,” he reached down and helped you stand up.

Rubbing your ass, you looked over at him and shook your head, “what happened to, I promise I won’t let you fall?”

“I think there was soap on the floor,” he looked down trying to see why you slipped. “I’m so sorry (YN), I promised I wouldn’t let that happen.”

You let out a soft laugh knowing that Wonwoo didn’t mean to drop you, “I guess it’s my fault because I washed my hair first.”

“I can massage your butt and kiss it to make it feel better,” he smirked.

Her eyes narrowed on him, “you aren’t touching my ass anytime soon after this.”

“I’m really sorry baby,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I think it’s safe to say we aren’t having sex in the shower.” He nodded his head knowing you were in no mood for shower sex after falling.

You got out of the shower and were still in the bathroom drying off when Wonwoo brought up the idea of him talking to Mingyu.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You asked, unsure if Wonwoo was actually fully okay with this.

He nodded and said, “yeah I think this is a good idea.”

“Alright if you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it happening.”

SIX: PURE BLISS

Sitting on his bed Mingyu stared at Wonwoo dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure if he heard Wonwoo properly. There was no way that he had brought up the idea of him having sex with you. He was fully expecting for Wonwoo to be upset about him almost kissing you. He never expected for him to be completely fine with it and offer for him to sleep with you.

He scratched his neck and stared at him, not even sure what he should say to him. This had to be some sick joke, there was no way you were was okay with this.

“Wonwoo you’re joking right?”

He shook his head, “no, I think it’s a good idea.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knee and sighed.

“Mingyu, you liked her before I started hooking up with her. She’s not my girlfriend, and she is obviously attracted to you.”

Wonwoo walked over and sat down on the bed next to him. He looked over at Mingyu and rested his hand on his shoulder, “she’s fine with this by the way. She’s not my girlfriend, and I kind of got in between what could have been between you guys.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows knit together, he couldn’t lie he had thought about what it would be like to have sex with you, but the idea of sleeping with you seemed so strange to him. Sure, he and Wonwoo had shared a lot of things over their friendship, but they had never shared a girl.

“Wonwoo you hang out with her all the time, and you guys are having sex all the time. Why isn’t she your girlfriend?” he asked him the question that Wonwoo had been asking himself quite a bit over this last week.

“We both know I make a terrible boyfriend, and I’m not great with commitment.”

Wonwoo knew that he wasn't good at being in a relationship. He figured that out back in college when he dated Yeri. She was an amazing girl who was sweet and beautiful, but for some reason commitment freaked Wonwoo out to no end. He broke up with her out of nowhere claiming he needed to spread his wings

“Wonwoo don’t you think this is a really bad idea?”

Wonwoo shook his head.

“Maybe we should all talk about this.” Mingyu said, trying to think logically about the whole situation.

“We can all talk about it. She’s home right now, we can walk over there right now.”

Mingyu nodded and stood up. He wasn’t going to be fully on board with this idea until he had a chance to see what you had to say about this situation. The whole time Mingyu had known you he didn’t know if he had heard her even bring up sex before. Every time Wonwoo would crack a joke about sex you would just get shy and stay silent.

They walked out of their apartment and headed next door to your apartment. Wonwoo knocked on the door and Mingyu stood back awkwardly. He couldn’t believe they were actually going to have this conversation. You answered the door and gave both the boys a big smile and led them into your kitchen, where you were making yourself a cup of coffee. Both the boys silently sat at the table and watched as you moved around the kitchen. You were once again wearing a sundress like you normally did during the warm weather. Wonwoo loved seeing you like this, he thought you looked so beautiful.

Sitting down at the table you looked at both the boys and smiled, “so what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the chair and smiled, “Mingyu and I talked about the possibility of him sleeping with you, and he’s unsure about it.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if you made a mistake letting Wonwoo know you were interested in sleeping with Mingyu. The fact that he was unsure about it, suddenly gave you the feeling that he plans on rejecting you.

Your face had fallen a little and Mingyu automatically noticed. “(YN), are sure you’re okay with this? I mean I think you’re beautiful, and everything,” he started to ramble on stumbling over his words. “Are you really sure you’re okay with this?” he needed to hear you say that you were one-hundred percent on board with this.

You nodded and couldn’t help but smile as Mingyu was nervously rambling, “I’m okay with this. I was never the type of girl who had sex with someone unless I was in a relationship, but with you guys things are different. I really trust both of you.”

Wonwoo reached over and patted Mingyu on the back, “see Mingyu, she’s good with it. (YN) you have to promise us, if at any point you want to stop any of this, you’ll tell us. You don’t have to worry about hurting our feelings.”

Mingyu nodded along with Wonwoo, “he’s right, anything that happens here, is completely up to you.”

You smiled feeling way better about the situation. “You guys need to promise me that if we do this, this isn’t going to ruin your friendship. I can’t be what comes between the two of you.” They both nodded in agreement. “Also, like jealousy can’t be a thing here,” you said.

“It won’t be an issue,” Wonwoo agreed.

“Also, we need to make sure we always use condoms because I’m for sure as hell not going to have a pregnancy scare and then have to worry about who the father is.” They both nodded knowing that could be really bad for all them. “So, when does this whole thing start?” You asked.

“Well why don’t you two spend some quality time together now?” Wonwoo asked.

Mingyu shrugged, still feeling pretty awkward about the whole situation. You looked over at Mingyu and gave him a smile, “right now works.”

Wonwoo stood up and walked over to where you were sitting. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss, and made his way out of the apartment. He knew it was going to be awhile before you actually hooked up but he wanted to give you both some privacy.

You sat at the kitchen table for a few moments making small talk while you worked on drinking your coffee. As you drank the last sip you stood up and walked over to Mingyu and reached your hand out. He laced his fingers with yours and you led him down the hallway to your room. You were suddenly feeling extremely nervous about this whole situation. You told yourself that this experience was a chance to really work on feeling self confident and was a chance to explore more of your sexual side.

Walking into your room you shut the door behind Mingyu and stood there staring at him silently wondering how this was even going to start. Never in your life had you made plans to sleep with someone you weren't actually dating. Things with Wonwoo naturally happened. You didn’t make a plan to have sex before you did.

“Maybe we should kiss,” you said softly, trying to soften him up. He nodded his head. Stepping forward you placed your hand on his cheek and leaned forward gently pressing your lips to his. Your first kiss was sweet but passionate. You placed your hands on his chest as both his hands reached up to hold your face. Your lips danced as his tongue slid along your bottom lips asking for permission.

Your hands were slightly shaky from nerves as you reached up to start unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He could feel your hands shaking and he slowly removed his lips from yours and looked into your eyes. “We can stop this if you want?” He needed this all to be on your terms.

Shaking your head, you softly sighed, “I’m not exactly comfortable in my own skin, and I normally don’t like people seeing me naked.”

A look of confusion crossed his face as he stared at you, “what do you mean? Wonwoo has seen you naked.”

You stepped away from him and wrapped your arms across your soft stomach, “the first time we had sex, I was drunk and didn’t have time to think about what was happening. I didn’t really have a chance to feel self-conscious.”

Reaching out he rested his hand under your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking right into his warm eyes, “hey (YN), I think you’re beautiful, and the other night in the kitchen I practically saw you naked. Since that awkward encounter I haven’t been able to stop picturing you naked. So don’t doubt yourself, I already know I’m going to like what I see.”

His sweet words caused a huge smile to form on your face. “Thank you, Mingyu,” you reached out for the buttons on his dress shirt again.

His eyes stayed locked on yours as your fingers seemed to steady as you made work of unbuttoning his shirt. The moment his shirt was fully unbuttoned you reached up and pushed it down his toned shoulders. You reached for his belt, he wanted to stop you and ask if he could take off your dress first, but he knew he needed to do things at your pace. You tugged his belt off and unbuttoned his jeans. Reaching down and pushed off his jeans and stood in front of you in nothing but his boxer-briefs.

Your lust filled eyes traveled across his extremely toned body. You were still in awe that you were sleeping with Wonwoo who looked like he was made by the gods and wasn’t real, and now you were going to sleep with Mingyu who looks the same just in a taller stature.

“Are you liking what you see?” he awkwardly asked with a little laugh.

Biting your bottom lip, you fought back a small smile.

“Can we possibly take off your sundress?” he asked knowing you might say no.

You nodded and turned around and pulled up your hair to give him access to the zipper. He reached up and slowly slid the zipper down. He gently reached up and pushed the straps off your shoulders causing the dress to fall to the ground at your feet. He slowly ran his finger down from the top of your neck down your spine to the top of the clasp on your bra. He paused and whispered, “can I take this off?”

Silently you nodded.

He unclasped your bra and removed it. He stepped in front of you and let his eyes travel down your soft body as you stood in front of him feeling very exposed. He reached down and started placing gentle kisses across your chest. His lips placed kisses on your taunted nipples and you closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. He reached down and hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them down your thighs. As your panties hit the floor you looked up at him with wide eyes.

Stepping away from you he pushed down his boxers and he freed his growing erections. You bit your bottom lip wondering how bold you should be. If this was Wonwoo your hands would be all over him right now, but you were still nervous about being with Mingyu. You fully trusted him, but you didn’t know his body like you did Wonwoo’s. In the time you were with Wonwoo you had learned all about the things that make him tick. You know all the right places to touch that turn him on, and he knows the way to make you putty in his hands.

Slowly you stepped towards him and started touching his growing length. He closed his eyes tightly enjoying the feeling of your soft hands touching him. Your soft hand moved up and down his hardening length. He’s definitely thicker than Wonwoo.

“Can I touch you (YN)?” he asked, dying to know what you felt like.

You nodded as you continued to stroke his heavy length. He reached forward and rubbed his fingers up and down your folds feeling how wet you already were. Your eyes stayed locked on each other as you touched each other. Mingyu rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves attempting to make you even wetter than you already were.

A loud moan passed your lips as you closed your eyes feeling the coil start to tighten in your stomach. You stepped away from Mingyu and removed your hand from his hard length, earning a whimper. He stared at you with wide eyes wondering what was going on.

“I need you, all of you,” you walked over to your nightstand and grabbed a foil packet and handed it to Mingyu before crawling the bed.

He tore the foil packet open and slid it down his length and looked at you as you laid on the middle of the bed waiting for him. It had been a while since the last time he had sex, so he was kind of worried he wasn’t going to last long. You spread your legs and he sat back on his hunches between your legs. He stared at you in awe of how pretty you were. He couldn’t believe that Wonwoo had gotten to experience the sight of seeing you like this quite a bit over the last week.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said lowly.

“You sure know the right things to say to a girl,” you smiled.

He slowly lined himself up with your entrance and pushed his way in, you gasped as he bottomed out and stilled with his strong hands gripping your soft hips. You moaned as he reached down to where they were connected and started to toy with your sensitive bundle of nerves. You moaned loudly and gripped the sheets, he hadn’t even moved yet and you were close to the edge.

“Mingyu, please move,” you whined, wanting to feel him more.

He smiled and leaned forward so he was hovering over you. With his lips next to your ear he whispered, “put your leg up.”

Silently you did as he asked and he slowly started to thrust into you. You reached up and held onto his back wanting him to be as close to you as possible as he thrust into you over and over. His lips were on yours for a sloppy kiss as you both moaned.

He was glad you were at your place so you both could be as loud as you wanted to without the fear of Wonwoo hearing you. With each thrust the pull of your tight walls was intoxicating. He moved at a slow steady pace. Each intent thrust earning a moan.

His pace started to pick up as your moans grew more frequent. The push and pull of his length against your velvety walls was hitting just the right spot inside you. Mingyu was slightly thicker than Wonwoo, but that didn’t stop him. He knew exactly what he was doing. He made you a whimpering mess without even trying.

“I’m close, so close,” you moaned.

“You take me so well,” he said breathlessly with his lips ghosting yours.

“Mingyu- you feel so good. I need - more.”

With one quick thrust he earns a high pitched moan.

“Good girl,” he crashes his lips into yours for a heated kiss.

“Can I come?” You whimper desperately.

His soft eyes lock on yours as his hips slowly roll his hips into yours. “You never have to ask.”

“Okay,” you moaned.

As you let go and as your walls pulled on his length, he only got about two more thrust before he hit his own high. He was still in you for a moment and kissed you as the both were riding out your highs. He slowly pulled away from you and laid on his back next to you on the bed. Reaching up you ran your hands down your face as you were trying to stop panting.

“Wow,” was all you could think to say. You and Wonwoo over the last week had quite a bit of sex, and Wonwoo was beyond amazing in bed. He always went out of his way to make sure you orgasmed before him, but something with Mingyu was different and you liked that. You couldn’t even figure out what it was, but you knew this arrangement with Mingyu was an amazing idea.

“So, is that what you and Wonwoo have been doing for the last week?” he asked, resting his hand on his chest slowly calming down.

Silently you nodded.

“Damn, I have been missing out,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

As you laid there in silence for a few moments with both you coming down from your highs. He leaned over and pulled your soft body next to his so you were curled up next to him.

You knew that you needed to make more rules about this whole situation, but at the moment you just seemed to be caught up in everything. You also didn’t know if either of the boys had a clue about how any of this would work out. You weren't sure how long you were going to be able to keep your feelings out of this either. In the last week you and Wonwoo had grown even closer than they already were. And you knew that was going to happen with Mingyu. Part of you couldn’t help but slightly worried.

“You're amazing (YN),” Mingyu whispered, bringing you out of your thoughts.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I can’t believe I’m sleeping with both you and Wonwoo.”

“I can't believe we’re both sleeping with the same girl either, but (YN) you’re a special girl,” he said, causing you to smile.

SEVEN: WERE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS

A few days have passed since you had slept with Mingyu. Work had kept you so busy you hadn’t been able to see either of the boys. You couldn’t say you were exactly surprised when someone knocked on the door and see Wonwoo standing on the other side smiling while he was cleaning his glasses. You step aside and he follows you towards your small kitchen area.

“What’s up Wonwoo?” You asked looking around in your kitchen for you wine opener.

“You look hot today?” His warm eyes traveled up and down your soft body. “What’s under that tight skirt?” he asked suggestively.

You put your hand on your hip and looked over at him shaking your head, “please tell me you didn’t come over to my place the moment I walked in the door from work, to have sex with me?” You had a really rough day at work and at the moment just wanted to drink a whole bottle of wine and relax. The thought of having sex did sound relaxing but at the moment you wanted more than sex. You needed someone to listen to you complain and vent a little. You needed a friend more than anything.

“I’m offended,” he put his hand on his chest dramatically. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to look for the wine opener. He couldn’t help but say, “your ass looks great in that skirt.”

Turning back, you looked at him and glared, “you aren’t allowed to touch my ass after letting me fall in the shower.”

“Hey, what happened to, it’s okay Wonwoo, it's not your fault. It was my shampoo on the ground?” he asked with a little laugh. You didn’t say anything, you just continued to glare at him. “I can kiss it all better, and massage it if you want,” he winked, stepping towards you. Silently you just continued to watch him, it was moments like this that reminded you that maybe Wonwoo was too charming for his own good. Reaching up he pushed your hair behind your ear that had fallen in your face. Your glare softened as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek for a soft kiss. “(YN), I’m very sorry about dropping you on your ass in the shower.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at him, “you’re forgiven.”

“Thanks baby girl,” he leaned forwards smirking and pressed his lips to your for a heated kiss.

“Why did you come over?” You asked, pulling away from him.

He shrugged his shoulders as he ran his hand up and down your side, “Mingyu wants us all to hang together.”

Your cheeks flushed lightly at the mention of Mingyu’s name. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to him really after sleeping together. You wondered if he was still okay with this whole situation. So far you had only had sex once, and you wanted it to happen again, but you weren't sure how he felt about it.

“So, how was Gyu in bed?” he asked, curious to how things went down. He couldn’t lie he had thought about what it was like between you and Mingyu. After he left you alone his mind quickly wandered about what was happening between his friends.

“We’re not talking about this,” you stepped away from him.

“Why not?” he asked, walking towards you.

“Because I just don’t want to talk about it. Up until having sex with you I didn’t even like saying the word sex out loud, and I don’t want to compare the two of you with either of you.”

“You’re being just like Mingyu,” he said, annoyed.

You turned and looked at him and was once again glaring, “of course you asked Mingyu.”

“Hey I just asked him if it went okay, and all he said was yes and left the room.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at Wonwoo. You didn’t want to discuss the differences between them. Both experiences were very different, but also really good in their own way.

“I don’t want to talk about what sex is like with Mingyu, with you,” you sighed, turning back to the wine bottle.

He stood behind you closely with his hips pressed up against your ass and ran his hands up and down your sides slowly. As you pour yourself a glass of wine you grind your hips back knowing that Wonwoo might have actually come over to talk. But his body wanted something else too. You were pretty sure your body was starting to want something else too.

Pulling away you turned around and leaned against the counter holding your wine glass. Wonwoo stood right in front of you staring at you intently. Silently he watched her as you drank your wine. You sat the glass on the counter and reached up and rested your hand on his beautiful cheek right below his glasses. He licked his lips intently as he stared at you with lust filled eyes.

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his neck as you started to kiss your way up to his jaw. Biting his lip, he held back a moan.

“Baby, I didn’t actually come over for sex,” he groaned trying his hardest to behave. It wasn’t a lie he actually came over to talk.

You pulled away and looked at him, “are you sure about that Wonwoo?”

Slowly he shook his head knowing that he would never pass up the opportunity to have sex with you. Reaching down you grabbed his hand and led him toward your bedroom. He didn’t say a single word as you led the way. The moment you were in your bedroom Wonwoo untucked your blouse and left you in your bra and tight skirt that hugged your ass perfectly. He dropped to his knees and stared at you enjoying the view of your soft body on display for him. Reaching behind you he dragged the zipper down on the tight skirt. Slowly he dragged the skirt down your thighs. His mouth watered at the sight of your red bra and matching cheeky lace panties.

“Please tell me you bought this just for me” he reached up and ran his hands down your thighs.

“I bought it recently. I wouldn’t say I bought it just for you,” you giggled lightly. You hadn’t had a man look at you with the same look of awe like Wonwoo was doing right in the moment. You couldn’t lie the way he was looking at you was turning you on quite a bit.

“Baby girl, say you bought for me,” he groaned before pressing his lips to your lace covered mound.

You moaned as he moved your panties to the side and started sliding his fingers up and down your entrance, “I bought it just for you.”

“All of this just for me,” he stared up at you with hooded eyes as slid a finger into your already wet core.

You held eye contact as he continued to pump his fingers into your core. Whiny moans we’re passing your lips letting him know you’re close.

“I want to be inside you, baby,” he groaned, removing his fingers from you. You gasp at him pulling out as you’re on the brink of falling apart.

He stood up quickly and started removing his clothes. You took this as your cue and removed your bra and panties and crawled onto the bed. Wonwoo quickly grabbed a condom and rolled it down his length.

Laying on your bed you spread your legs inviting him in. Crawling across the bed he settled between your legs and leaning forward his lips connected to yours for a searing kiss. His hips thrust into yours slowly as your lips continued to move together. Your hands gripped his back as their hips kept meeting with each thrust. His lips moved from your lips down the base of your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses. Gently he nipped at the skin where your neck met your shoulder.

Your hands moved from his tone back down to his butt, gripping his skin trying to keep him close to you. With each thrust the coil in your stomach tightens more and more.

“I like when you wear your glasses when we fuck,” you moaned.

“I need them to see you,” he laughs before thrusting harder.

You moaned his name and let him know you were growing close to the edge. With his brown eyes locked on you he told you to let go. Rolling your head back you moaned his name as you hit your high.

Gasping as you rode out your high Wonwoo thrust into her a few more times before hitting his own high. His lips connected to yours as you shared a sloppy kiss. Rolling off of your soft body he laid on his side staring at you as you stared at the ceiling completely blissed out.

Reaching over he laced his fingers with yours and gently squeezed your hand. Looking over at him you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered, still attempting to catch your breath.

The smile that was plastered across his face grew even more, “I don’t think a girl has ever told me I was pretty before.”

“Well more people should tell you how pretty you are, Jeon Wonwoo,” you smiled.

“(Y/n) you’re so beautiful,” he squeezed your hand once again.

You laid in your bed for about a half hour when Wonwoo left to go back to his and Mingyu’s apartment so you could get ready without being distracted.

EIGHT - WHO ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH?

Sitting at the kitchen table Wonwoo was telling some random story about Mingyu getting wasted in college. Mingyu looked down at the table with blushing cheeks, you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at Mingyu embarrassment. Reaching under the table you squeezed Mingyu’s thigh capturing his attention. Looking off to the side he saw you smirking at him.

You both looked over at Wonwoo who was still talking about pouring Mingyu into bed when he was black out drunk.

“I think we have all had those moments,” you said, making Mingyu feel better. “One time when I was black out drunk I smacked my ex boyfriend.”

“I bet he deserved it,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

“Oh yeah the guy was an asshole,” you let out a soft laugh.

“What is the game plan for tonight?” Wonwoo asked.

“We could always go down to the bar tonight. A couple of the teachers at my school are going to be the bar down on second street,” you said.

“I would be down with going to the bar,” Mingyu said, placing his hand on top of yours under the table.

Shrugging his shoulders, Wonwoo said, “I’m down.”

-

The three of you caught a cab and headed down to the bar on second street. You walked inside and found a couple of the teachers that you worked with at a table against the wall. You headed over to the table all her coworkers were at. Wonwoo and Mingyu walked over to the bar to get drinks. Wonwoo leaned against the bar and watched as you were laughing about something across the room.

“Gyu, I think we’re in trouble when it comes to (YN).”

Mingyu nodded knowing that his friend was right. He knew deep down inside this couldn’t just be a casual thing.

“I don’t think I have ever known a girl like her,” Mingyu said. You were something else, you’re pretty, funny, nice, and neither of the boys could seem to get over it.

They grabbed their drinks and walked over to where you were with all your coworkers. Mingyu handed you a cranberry and vodka and put his arm over your shoulder as you introduced the boys to your coworkers. The group were all talking and laughing. Mingyu stayed by your side for a while before Wonwoo and two of her male co workers Chan and Seungkwan dragged him off to play a game of pool.

It wasn’t long before Wonwoo dragged Mingyu away from you to join the game. You watched for a short period before leaving the boys to their game.

Walking over you sat down in the booth next to your coworker Honey who was one of your good friends you worked with. Honey sipped her drink and looked over at you wondering what was going on.

“So are you sleeping with Mingyu who can’t keep his hands off you or are you sleeping with Wonwoo who can’t seem to keep his eyes off you?”

You sipped your drink wondering how you could get out of answering this question. You could easily just say nothing is going on. The thing is, you and honey were pretty close and you didn’t want to lie to her.

“I’m sleeping with both of them,” you said softly, hoping nobody other than honey would hear you.

Honey’s eyes went wide and she smacked your thigh in shock, “no fucking way?”

“Yep,” you said before taking another sip of your drink.

“So do you guys like have threesomes all the time?” Honey asked dying to know the dirty details.

Shaking your head you couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation, “no we don’t have threesomes, but I’m sleeping with both of them.”

“Damn girl that’s pretty hot.”

Looking over to the pool table you found Mingyu holding the pool stick and staring at you. You gave him a smirk before looking back at honey. “It’s something I never thought I would do.”

“So are you worried about falling in love with one of them?” Honey asked.

Slowly you nodded, “I’m terrified that’s going to happen, but for some reason I think this is a good idea.” Looking back across the room you found Wonwoo now staring at you. “Why don’t we go watch the boys play pool?”

Honey and you walked over to where the boys were playing pool. Wonwoo wrapped his arm over your shoulder and held you close to his body.

Biting your lips you looked up at him smiling, he leaned over and pressed his lips to your temple and whispered in your ear, “you look really good.”

Since this had started between you and Wonwoo never acted like a couple other than when you were alone. You couldn’t lie you were a fan of the affection he was giving you. Mingyu was the one who had no issue holding your hand or touching you while they were out.

He pulled away from you when it was his turn and you walked over to Mingyu who was a couple feet away. You elbowed him gently and he smiled at you.

As the night went on you all had a blast hanging out with your coworkers. Walking into your apartment building. The boys walked you to your door and they both kissed the top of your head and wished you goodnight before they headed to their apartment. They walked inside and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“I’m shocked you didn’t go into her apartment with her,” Mingyu said before taking a drink of water.

“I slept with her today when I went and saw her, I assumed you were going to go home with her. I thought you two might have some stuff you want to talk about,” Wonwoo said.

Knitting his eyebrows together, Mingyu stared at his best friend, “Wonwoo, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Shrugging he said, “it might not be, but it might be worth the risk.”

Wonwoo smiled and patted his best friend on the shoulder, “I’m going to bed, why don’t you go see her?”

Mingyu stood in the kitchen for a moment wondering if he should just go to bed. Letting out a heavy sigh he walked out of his apartment and walked over next door. Hesitantly he knocked. He stood at the door with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. The door opened and you stood in front of him with her hair pulled away from your face and wearing nothing more than an oversized shirt and a pair of panties. Capturing his lip between his teeth he stared at you for a long moment silently.

“Hey Mingyu,” your voice was soft.

You hadn’t really spent any one on one time since you had slept together. You were surprised when you opened the door and found Mingyu standing on the other side. When you heard the knock on the door you expected to find Wonwoo on the other side.

“Are you okay with this happening again?” Mingyu asked, stepping towards you.

Silently you nodded.

Without another word he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. His strong hand rested on your cheek as your lips moved together. His other hand rested on your soft hip and walked you backward slowly inside your apartment. Pulling away from you he reached down and laced his fingers with yours and led you towards the bedroom.

Standing in your room he pulled his shirt off. You stripped off your shirt and pulled off your panties. You stood naked in front of him watching as he worked on taking his jeans off.

Once you were both naked your lips connected again for a heated kiss. Mingyu only pulled away to grab a condom.

Laying on your back you spread your legs as he sat on his hunches. He pumped his length a few times before lining up with your entrance. His hands gripped your hips as he moved. His thrust were slow but deliberate. Your hands gripped the bed sheets as you moaned loudly. Leaning forward he palmed one of your breasts as his lips connected to you. Moaning into his mouth as his thrust grew sloppier.

There were many differences between Wonwoo and Mingyu. One of them being Mingyu effortlessly made you feel delicate. When Wonwoo was with you, he made you feel like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Mingyu’s soft lips moved against yours as his fingers glided across your delicate skin.

Slow thrust earned echoing moans. The tightening coil in your stomach had you desperate. “I’m close,” you moan, reaching between you. Desperately you started to touch your clit.

He pulled his lips away from you and stared into your eyes as the both you were panting as both your their highs were near.

It only took a few more thrust before you fell apart together. One hand gripped your blush colored sheets while the other tangled in his dark hair.

His forehead rests against yours slowly opening his eyes. Pulling away he couldn’t help but smile. Pulling away from you he quickly discarded his used condom.

As you both rode out your highs you laid curled up against him with your head rested on his chest as his strong hand stroked your side. Mingyu had a way of making you feel safe.

“Are you allowed to spend the night?” You didn’t want him to leave.

“I’m not sure exactly what the rules are here,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Stay the night please, I want to cuddle,” you whispered looking up at him. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to him.

He nodded and smiled, “alright I’ll stay.”

NINE: THE SUNSETS IN YOUR EYES

-Four Months Later-

Mingyu was away for the weekend on a business trip and you had spent basically the whole day with Wonwoo. You went to your favorite diner that was down the street and got breakfast together and on the way back they picked up some coffee to take back to the apartment.

It was a calm summer afternoon as you were sitting in Wonwoo and Mingyu’s living room. Wonwoo was relaxing on the tan colored sofa that was sat across from the tv with his legs kicked up on the coffee table. You were laying down comfortably on the couch with your head resting on Wonwoo's lap. Your bright eyes were fixed on the tv that was playing the third episode in a row of How I Met Your Mother. Wonwoo was half paying attention to the TV while he was partially focused on twirling pieces of your hair around his fingers. You have been in this position since Wonwoo had turned on the first episode and you hadn’t really moved other than for you to take a quick trip to the bathroom.

“Do people actually like Ted Mosby?” Wonwoo asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had formed between you.

“I mean I personally don’t,” you say with a soft laugh. “I mean he’s kind of an asshole, and pretty selfish.”

“He’s really selfish,” he said.

“I mean lets be honest, why would you be with Ted when Marshall is there,” you said looking up at him.

“You’re right Marshall is pretty awesome,” he said before he leaned down and kissed your nose gently.

“Are you annoyed by me laying on you yet?” You asked rolling over so that you were laying on your back staring up at him.

Shaking his head he let out a soft chuckle, “no.”

“Mingyu is supposed to be home Thursday so we can finally have another wine Friday,” he said as twirled another piece of your hair around his finger again.

“Well you two might have to start wine Friday without me.” He knit his eyebrows confused by your comment. “It’s my sister’s birthday that day so I won’t be home until after nine,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek.

“You don’t talk about your family much,” he said, realizing that you were never the type of person to talk about yourself too often. “Can you tell me about them?” He asked.

“Well my parents got divorced when I was eleven and there’s not much to tell about my father. He made it clear when he left that he didn’t want much to do with my mom, my sister and I. My mom is a strong woman. She raised us as a single parent until I was about sixteen when she started dating my now step dad Jack. He’s a nice guy who always treated my sister and I really well. Chaewon is two years younger than me and Jack is really the only father figure she’s known.”

Reaching up he rested his hand on top of your, “is your sister anything like you?”

“My sister is way more confident than me, she’s also a spitfire according to my mother,” you said with a soft laugh. You tried to play it off as a joke, but you had some insecurities when it came to being compared to your little sister. You loved her sister dearly and would do anything for her, but you had grown up hearing you were cute, while everyone talked about how beautiful your sister was.

“(YN) what do you mean? You are confident as hell?” He asked.

You shook your head, “I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin, and that probably has to do with the fact that I have been compared to my sister almost all my life.”

“I would bet all the money in the world that your sister has nothing on you. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met inside and out, and I’m barely able to keep my hands off your beautiful body.”

Your cheeks burned and suddenly you felt like crying because of his kind words. You had never dated anyone who went out of their way to tell you how beautiful they thought you were. Other than Mingyu who would also reassure you that you’re beautiful.

“You haven’t met my sister,” you whispered.

“I don’t have to,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss.

It was at times like this you couldn’t understand how you got lucky enough to have both Mingyu and Wonwoo in her life. For some reason Wonwoo seemed to know just the right things to say to you, and how to push away all your insecurities. You rolled onto your side to look over at the TV that was playing another episode of How I Met Your Mother. Wonwoo rested his hand on your arm and gently started rubbing it as his eyes stayed trained on you. He wasn’t even paying a little bit of attention to what was on TV. Biting his bottom lip he couldn’t help the feeling in his chest as he watched you.

“Wonwoo thank you,” you whispered as your eyes brimmed with tears.

“For what?” He asked with his eyes still locked on the side of your head.

“For letting me know that I matter,” you whispered with a shaky voice.

“You’ve always mattered to me, and you’ll always matter to me no matter what.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the side of your head. This was the first time that he had seen you this vulnerable and he wanted you to realize how special you are to him.

You laid in the same spot for another episode, you tried to focus on the episode and shake away the feeling in your chest while Wonwoo couldn’t even tell you what was going on in the episode. His eyes barely left the girl who was still laying in his lap. Before you knew it both your stomachs were growling letting you know it was time to eat dinner.

Moving off of Wonwoo’s lap you sat next to him on the couch and looked over at him with a soft smile on your face, “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

Normally Wonwoo would have made a joke about being starving for you, but there was a shift between you after your conversation. “Are we thinking we should take out, or maybe we could go downtown and get dinner together?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” You joked.

He shrugged his shoulders, “would you actually go on a date with me?”

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, “is that allowed?”

“Why not?”

A smile formed on your face, “I would like that.”

“Okay let’s go then,” he stood up and held his hand out.

Taking his hand you stood up, “should I change?”

Shaking his head he led her towards the door where their shoes were. You both put on your shoes and Wonwoo led you out of the apartment. You walked down the street as the sun was beginning to go down hand in hand. Wonwoo kept looking over at you and he couldn’t help but see how beautiful you looked during golden hour. You looked as if you were glowing, especially as you wore a smile on your face.

You walked about a mile before you stopped in front of a café that was across the street from a park that had a beautiful view of the sunset.

“How about we get some food to go and sit at the park?” He asked.

“That would be wonderful.”

You walked inside and ordered some sandwiches and salad and quickly headed across the street and found a park bench that was near the edge of a pond. You sat next to each other watching the sunset eating. Wonwoo couldn’t help but keep looking over at you as you seemed focused on the sunset.

“Nobody has ever taken me out on a sunset picnic before?”

“Something tells me you have been dating the wrong men,” he reached over and rested his hand on your thigh.

“Before I started this whole thing with you and Mingyu I didn’t exactly have men bang on my door to take me out let alone sleep with me.” You paused and looked over at Wonwoo, “I took a really big leap out of my comfort zone starting this whole thing with you guys. With me sex and feeling have always gone hand in hand, and honestly keeping my feelings out of this is hard.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, shaking the feeling in his chest. He was afraid to speak, that if he opened his mouth he might say something that he probably shouldn’t say. “I know I was probably crazy to agree to start this whole thing with both you boys, but it’s done nothing but help my confidence.

Looking straight towards the sun that was setting he was fighting the urge to say something that he shouldn’t say to you, “I feel like I’m a different person when it comes to you.”

Glancing over at him you wondered exactly what he meant by that, “is that a good thing or bad thing?”

“It’s a good thing,” he smiled, staring at the sunset.

“Do you ever look back at things that have happened and wished you could change them?” You asked, still staring at him.

Looking at you he stared into your bright eyes, “all the goddamn time.” In that moment there were a lot of things he wished he could have done differently. He wished he would have acted on his attraction for you long ago. He wished that he could have kept his heart out of this, and he wished that he wouldn’t have let his best friend get involved in this. “What would you change?” He asked.

“I would have told myself long ago that I need to love myself, and probably would have kissed you long before our first solo wine night,” you said with a soft laugh.

You stayed at the park until the sun was fully set and walked back to the apartment building with Wonwoo’s arm thrown over your shoulder holding you close while your arm was wrapped around his waist. Everything between you felt so easy, and Wonwoo knew that was for a reason. As they got to your floor of both of your apartments you went to walk off to your apartment when Wonwoo reached down and grabbed your hand. “stay the night?”

A crooked smile formed on your face as you nodded. Wonwoo led you into his apartment and off towards his room. Once in his room you stood at the edge of the bed wondering if this was when he was going to work on seducing you. He never asked you to stay the night unless you planned on having sex. Wonwoo walked off to his dresser and pulled out your pajama shirt you had left in his room a few weeks ago. You reached out and grabbed it and watched as he removed his shirt and jeans. Once he was down to his boxers you waited for him to remove them but was surprised when he reached into his dresser and pulled out a pair of gray lounge pants and put them on. You stared at him, still completely dressed, almost confused.

He walked over and pressed his lips to your temple and said, “I need a cuddle buddy tonight.” He walked over and sat down on the bed.

You removed your sundress and bra and pulled on your sleep shirt Wonwoo had given you. In nothing but an oversized shirt and panties you crawled into bed next to Wonwoo. Laying on your side you looked over at him knowing that you felt something more for him then you should. You were in love with him and you were a fool for feeling that way.

Wonwoo laid down and reached over pulling you close to him. Your soft body curled up against him. With your head resting on his chest it didn’t take long before you were sound asleep. It took Wonwoo a little longer to fall asleep as he held you. He couldn’t help the sense of guilt he had as you laid in bed together.

TEN: I MISSED YOU

As the sun was rising Mingyu walked into the apartment. He peeked his head into Wonwoo’s rooming expecting to find the room empty, but was surprised when he found you lying in bed sound asleep fully dressed with Wonwoo. Quietly he closed the door and headed off to his room. As he laid in bed he couldn’t help but be a little jealous of his best friend.

After waking up to find that Mingyu was home from his trip you had breakfast with him and Wonwoo and headed home to get ready for the day. You barely made it into your living room when Mingyu knocked on your door.

Walking into your apartment he stood there for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours for a needy kiss. The whole time Mingyu was away he thought of you often. Ever since you had first slept together you never seemed to leave his mind.

“Did you maybe want a cup of coffee?” You asked.

He nodded his head and followed you to the kitchen area. Mingyu sat at the kitchen table as you worked on making a pot of coffee. He loved watching you move around the kitchen. You were dressed in her usual sundress and barefoot. You were humming something as you moved around.

“How was your trip?” You asked as you brought two cups of coffee over to the table.

“It went great,” he smiled, taking the cup from your hand. “What did you and Wonwoo do while I was gone?”

You took a sip of your coffee and sat your cup down before saying, “we just hung out and watched How I Met Your Mother.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you thought about the day you had spent with Wonwoo.

“That sounds like a lot more fun, then sitting in a meeting like I was doing,” Mingyu said as he slowly brought his cup up towards his mouth.

“Well we missed you.”

Mingyu had a feeling in his gut that maybe you didn’t miss him as much as you thought you did. He knew that you cared about him, but he also knew that you cared about Wonwoo a lot too.

“I missed you too (YN).”

You sat there drinking your coffee talking more about Mingyu’s trip. You were really enjoying your time you were getting to spend with him. Walking your empty cups to the sink you turned and said, “I was just getting ready to take a bath.”

“Do you mind if I join?”

“Of course not.”

Taking his hand you led him off to your room. Standing by your dresser you slowly started to strip away your clothes. Standing there naked in front of him you gave him a small smile before heading off into the bathroom. Mingyu removed his own clothing and then followed you into the bathroom. He found you filling the tub up with warm water and pouring bath salts in vanilla scented soap.

Mingyu stepped forward and slowly got into the warm water. You stepped into the water and leaned back so your soft body was pressed against Mingyu’s toned body. Your head was resting against his shoulder with your eyes closed enjoying the feeling of his closeness. Mindlessly he drew circles on your thigh. You felt so peaceful leaning against him. Biting your bottom lip, you smiled as he softly said, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You had spent all of the day before with Wonwoo, and that day had left you feeling very confused. But you couldn’t lie, you missed Mingyu quite a bit while he was gone. Over the last few weeks you had to constantly remind yourself not to catch feelings for either of the men you were sleeping with. After the day you spent with Wonwoo yesterday you weren’t sure your heart could stay out of this.

They spent about ten minutes in that bath before Mingyu’s lips moved to the base of your neck distracting you from your thoughts as he started placing wet kisses across your skin. A moan passed your lips as his hands moved up and gently started to massage your breast. Leaning your head back you closed your eyes taking in the feeling of his hands on your skin. Slowly you rolled your hips back against Mingyu's growing length. Biting your bottom lip you held back a loud moan.

“I need you,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Silently you stood up and got out of the bath. You reached for a towel and turned to watch Mingyu get out of the tub, you could tell by his growing erection that he wanted you. Standing in the bathroom you dried off with lust filled eyes staring at each other.

“You are so pretty,” he walked towards you and pushed a piece of your wet hair behind your ear.

Taking your hand he led her off to the bedroom. With his lips pressed to your he walked you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed. Slowly he leaned you back and you laid on the bed staring at him with hungry eyes. Crawling onto the bed he pressed his lips to yours once again and your lips moved together. Your hands were wrapped around his neck. Holding him close to you as their lips danced. He left you with a feeling of butterflies as his lips dragged from your mouth down to your neck. Closing your eyes you bit your bottom lip attempting to not moan.

Pushing on his chest and he removed his lips from you and looked up at you with lust filled eyes. His lips were parted as he stared at you silently. You took a moment to just take in his closeness. Your hand moved from his chest up to his neck. The world seemed to stilled for a moment as you stared at each other. Your eyes were locked on each other for a long moment.

“You're so amazing,” his voice was low.

You paused for a moment before saying, “how do you always know the right thing to say?”

“I always just tell you what I honestly think,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. His lips stayed there for a long moment and you closed your eyes taking in his closeness.

Pulling away from you he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before he looked over at you who was staring at him. You moved and crawled over to him and sat on his thighs. Your finger drew soft circles on your chest. He couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Baby you’re so pretty.”

Leaning down you pressed wet kisses across his collar bones and moved down his chest. As your lips moved down stomach he reached to stop you before his lips could get anywhere near his length.

“Lay back down baby,” he said lowly.

Slowly you crawled off of him and laid back down on the bed. He sat up and reached into the nightstand to grab a foil packet before moving so he was sitting on his hunched between your legs. His hands moved to part your thighs even more. Leaning forward he pressed his lips to yours for a sear kissing. Pulling his lips away from your he gave you a lopsided grin as he tore the foil packet open. He rolled the rubber down his length. His hands gripped your soft sides as he slowly slid into you. A low gasp pasted your lips as he filled you fully.

He leaned forward so he was resting on his arms hovering over her. Your leg was swung over his waist holding him close to her as his hips did slow thrust. Your hands held his face as your eyes stayed locked onto each other’s. Your bodies moved together in perfect sync.

The coil in you stomach tightened as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against your. Low groans past his lips as his hips pick up pace slightly. Through parted lips soft moans escape. Little was said between you as their bodies moved together.

As your hips continued to meet with everything slow, Mingyu pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He dropped down to his elbows so he was closer to you. Leaning down he pressed his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss pushing you over the edge. A gasp passed your lips as you rolled your head back. Mingyu got a few thrust in before he hit his own high. His body was clasped on top of you, his head was resting on your breast. Your hands reached up and you massaged his scalp enjoying how close you were.

They laid like that for a few minutes before Mingyu rolled off of you and disposed of the condom. You laid on your bed, both of you staring at the ceiling quietly. The longer you laid there the heavier Mingyu’s chest seemed to feel. Things between the two of you felt different and Mingyu knew you needed to talk about it.

“(Y/N),” his voice was shaky and unsure.

“Yeah?” You looked over at him and gave him a soft smile.

“Do you love Wonwoo?” Mingyu needed to know. He had noticed how close you had grown and could tell by the way that Wonwoo looked at you and how he talked about you that Wonwoo felt more for you then he was willing to admit.

You took a deep breath trying to figure out what exactly you were feeling, “I think so.”

Your eyes suddenly started to brim with tears. Mingyu nodded his head knowing that all good things had to come to an end.

“He’s a really great guy,” Mingyu said.

You rolled onto your side so you were facing Mingyu who was still laying on his back staring up at the ceiling.

“I think I love you too,” your voice sounded desperate.

“I think I got involved in something I knew was going to hurt all three of us. I was selfish, and I should have just let you and Wonwoo keep this up. If I wouldn’t have never gotten involved you wouldn’t have to sound so guilty about being in love with Wonwoo.”

The room suddenly felt as if it was spinning and you felt sick to your stomach. Warm tears started to slide down your cheeks.

“Mingyu.”

“(YN), we knew when this started somehow someone was going to end up hurt. I think that Wonwoo and you could have something special,” he reached over and laced his fingers with your and gently squeezed your hand.

“Are you ending things with me?” You asked as tears slid down your cheek.

Slowly he nodded his head, “(Y/N) I think I love you too and honestly I can't keep my feelings out of this.”

You took a deep breath as tears continued to slide down you cheek, “We can work this out.”

“(YN) we can’t, if we don’t stop now someone is really going to get hurt.”

“Mingyu but this hurts,” you begged. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to the man that was laying in the bed next to you. Even with all of your confused feelings you knew that she cared deeply about Mingyu. Even though you were trying to deny it. You knew deep down inside you loved Mingyu.

“I know this hurts, it’s hurting me too. I just want you to be happy, and I want Wonwoo to be happy too,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I don’t think anyone gets a happy ending here,” you said softly as he started crawling out of bed.

“(YN) this is for the better.”

He got dressed and walked back over to the bed where you were sitting wrapped up in the blankets watching him with tear filled eyes. You weren't ready for this to be over and neither was Mingyu, but he was trying to do the right thing.

Standing next to the bed the twisting guilt filled feeling is almost too much to handle. His sad eyes stared at you for a moment before he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“No matter what I want you to know that I still think you’re the most amazing woman ever.” That was his goodbye, he was leaving the girl he fell for trying his hardest to be selfless.

His feet carried him as he left the apartment and headed back over to his and Wonwoo’s place. Mingyu walked straight over to Wonwoo’s room. He found his best friend sitting on his bed with his laptop. Wonwoo looked up at the sound of Mingyu lightly knocking on the wall.

“What’s up?” Wonwoo asked.

“I ended things with (Y/N).”

Wonwoo’s eyes went wide as he tried to process what Mingyu had just said to him.

“What?”

“It’s clear you’re in love with her, and to be honest I think I am too. I want you to have a real chance with her.”

Wonwoo knit his eyebrows together as he stared at him, “Mingyu I don’t love her.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Mingyu said leaning against the door frame.

Wonwoo stared at his friend, unsure of what he should even say to him. Over the last few weeks each time he saw you he seemed to grow even more confused on what exactly he was feeling. He had told himself over and over again that he wasn’t allowed to fall in love, but now that his best friend was standing in his room telling him how he felt he wasn’t sure if he could lie to himself any longer.

ELEVEN: ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL

It had only been a day since Mingyu had ended things with you, and in that time Wonwoo had kept to himself. He was completely unsure of what he was feeling or even what he should do. He stood in the shower just blankly staring at the wall, as a million things went through his mind. He thought back to the times that he had showered with you. And how you would stand there talking while he was washing your hair. He thought of how your bright eyes would stare back at him. You always seemed to show exactly what you were thinking.

Jeon Wonwoo had never been in love, and he wasn’t sure if the stabbing feeling in his chest was the feeling of guilt of betraying his best friend or the fact that he was indeed in love with a girl next door. He felt so guilty for hurting Mingyu, he knew when he started this with you that Mingyu liked you.

The cool water continued to fall on him as his eyes looked down at his feet. Reaching forward he turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

Sitting on the edge of his bed he placed his face in his hands and let out a heavy sigh. He felt sick to his stomach as he started getting dressed.

Once he was fully dressed he walked into the living room to find Mingyu sitting on the couch with a sad look on his face. Mingyu looked over at him with his sad eyes and attempted to give him a smile.

“Where are you going?” Mingyu asked.

“I need to talk to (Y/N),” just saying your name made him feel guilty.

“Wonwoo, she's a good girl and you could have something great.”

Mingyu was trying to encourage Wonwoo to continue his relationship, but he knew Wonwoo wouldn’t listen to him. He could tell by the look on his best friend's face that he was sad and riddled with guilt. Mingyu didn’t want Wonwoo to feel guilty. He didn’t feel like Wonwoo had done anything wrong. It wasn’t his fault that you had fallen for him, and that Mingyu had fallen for you.

Wonwoo nodded before heading out of the apartment. Walking next door he took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. As you opened the front door he could tell by your puffy eyes that you had been crying. You gave him a sad smile before stepping to the side.

You had a feeling that Wonwoo didn’t come over to make things better. Walking into your apartment he followed you into your kitchen. Silently you poured him a cup of coffee and sat down next to him.

For a solid two minutes neither of you said anything to each other, you just silently drank your coffee. The sound of you clearing your throat broke the screaming silence.

“I’m assuming Mingyu told you he ended things with me?” Your hand clutched your large coffee cup. Silently he nodded his head unsure of even what to say to you. “He asked me if I loved you,” you felt sick thinking about the night before.

“What did you say?” Wonwoo asked, finally speaking for the first time.

“I told him I think I do,” tears once again started to brim your eyes as you confessed your feelings.

He looked down at the table as if he was suddenly afraid to look at the girl in front of him. Placing his elbow on the table he rested his face in hand and took a deep breath. He was so unsure of everything he was feeling.

“I think it’s pretty obvious you don’t feel the same way,” tears started slowly sliding down your cheek. His silence was heartbreaking. You had managed to fall in love with two men, one who wasn’t going to ever love you back and one who loved you but didn’t want to be with you.

“Mingyu is my best friend, and the closest thing to a brother that I have, and I hurt him,” he sighed, feeling guilty that he hurt the most important person in his life. “I have gone my whole life from the moment I met him doing everything I can to be the best friend I can be, and I fucked up.”

You closed your eyes and winced knowing that you were the reason he fucked up.

“I’m sorry (YN),” his eyes finally looked up to see your teary eyes.

Tears slid down your cheeks, you opened your mouth to speak and suddenly nothing came out. You didn’t even know what you should say to Wonwoo.

“How much I want to keep things going between us, I can’t do that to Mingyu. He means too much to me to do anything that could hurt him more than I already did,” he reached up with a shaky hand and pushed away the tears that kept sliding down your cheek.

“Okay,” your voice was low and shaky.

Wonwoo pulled his hands away from you and stood up and stared at you for a long moment. Biting his bottom lip he held back telling you that he didn’t want to do this. Walking out of your apartment he couldn’t let himself look back to see you crying.

Shutting the door he took a deep breath and leaned against the door. He wanted desperately to run back inside and tell you he didn’t want to end things but he couldn’t do that.

Sitting there at your kitchen table you couldn’t hold back the sob that broke in your chest. You knew when Wonwoo came to your door that you had not only lost Mingyu, but you were going to lose Wonwoo too. Closing your eyes you tried to hold back the tears that just kept falling.

Walking off into you bed she crawled under the cover and just laid there crying until the evening. You hated feeling like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Without a second thought she walked over to your closet and pulled out her overnight bag and worked on packing enough clothes for a week. Zipping your bag up you headed out of your apartment with your purse on one shoulder and your duffle bag on the other. Entering the car garage you went to your car and tossed your bag in the backseat.

You drove the two hour drive up north to where your sister lived. You didn’t bother texting or calling her. You just knocked on your sister's door. It was eight at night and your sister Chaewon was very confused when she found her older sister standing on the other side of the door with puffy eyes.

“(YN)?”

“I got my heart broken,” you cried as she dropped your duffle bag on the floor.

Reaching forward your sister pulled you into her chest and rubbed you back as you continued to cry. Can’t remember the last time you cried this much.

“Who broke your heart?” Chaewon asked.

You hadn’t told your sister about what had been going on with Wonwoo and Mingyu. You hadn’t really told anyone what was going on with the boys. You followed Chaewon inside to the kitchen where your sister made you a cup of tea, and then you went on to tell her all about Mingyu and Wonwoo and what happened.

Chaewon couldn’t lie, everything you told her seemed crazy, but she was never going to judge you for sleeping with both men, or falling in love with both of them.

“Why didn’t you and Wonwoo keep things up?” Chaewon was confused on why things needed to end between you.

“Because he didn’t want to hurt Mingyu more than he did,” you sighed knowing that you had gotten between two best friends that were basically brothers.

“I was so stupid I needed to keep my heart out of this, and for some reason I couldn’t help but fall for both of them,” she cursed. “If I could of just kept this strictly about sex this wouldn’t of been a problem, but I couldn’t keep my stupid heart out of this.”

“Sweetie, anyone would have fallen in love with them.”

You let out a heavy, “the last week with Wonwoo things had just seemed different. We were spending more time together and it wasn’t all about us having sex. I literally stay over with him just to cuddle and sleep together. We didn’t even have sex.”

“It sounds like Wonwoo might have feelings for you too,” Chaewon said.

You shrugged, “I thought he might, but from what both Wonwoo and Mingyu had told me Wonwoo doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t exactly believe in love, he is the kind of guy that just likes to have sex.”

You couldn’t help but feel even more stupid, you knew how Wonwoo was but it didn’t stop you from feeling getting involved.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while. You don’t have to worry about going back to school for another month. You can totally stay here the whole time if you want,” Chaewon said, knowing that you couldn’t just go back to seeing your neighbors every day.

“I can’t stay here for a whole month, but I can stay for a week. I packed enough to be gone for a week,” you sighed. You knew sooner than later you were going to have to see Mingyu and Wonwoo again, but you needed at least a week to try to move on.

“That works perfectly,” Chaewon smiled.

Chaewon helped you move your stuff into the guest room. You took a shower and then went into the kitchen with your sister to make some cookies together before you decided to eat those cookies with some popcorn while watching a movie together. You sat on the couch together watching St. Elmo’s Fire, both of their favorite movies from the eighties. This was some much needed time that you needed with your sister.

TWELVE: TIME TO HEAL

When morning came around you sat at the kitchen table with your sister as she was making you banana pancakes. You had a cup of coffee in your hand as you said, “what’s the plan for today?”

“Hyungwon wanted to come over tonight for dinner if you’re fine with that?”

Hyungwon was Chaewon's boyfriend that you had always loved. You thought Hyungwon was the best possible guy for your sister. Chaewon was a kind and big hearted person, and Hyungwon was the exact same way. He would do anything in the world to make Chaewon happy.

“Of course Hyun can come over, but tell him he has to bring me my favorite Apple pie from the diner by his house,” you let out a soft laugh.

“You know he’ll bring that in a heartbeat for you,” Chaewon said as she put a plate with a stack of banana pancakes down.

“Did you tell him why I’m here?” You were curious to know if Chaewon had told Hyungwon about your relationship with both Mingyu and Wonwoo.

Chaewon shook her head as she sat across from you, “I just told him you got your heartbroken by your neighbor, I didn’t give him any details.”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved, you didn’t really want everyone knowing about your relationship with both boys.

You ate breakfast together and then sat in the living room together watching your favorite show to watch together. You had a bowl of popcorn sitting between you as Chaewon clicked play on the next episode. Chaewon was the perfect distraction to keep your mind off of Wonwoo and Mingyu.

When it got closer to dinner time, Hyungwon arrived with an apple pie from your favorite diner. You sat at the kitchen table eating a slice of pie as Chaewon and Hyungwon worked on cooking dinner. Hyungwon had asked you how you were doing but didn’t ask you anything about getting your heart broken.

You all ate dinner together and then decided to watch a movie together. Hyungwon and Chaewon curled up on the couch together and you sat on the other side of the couch wrapped in a blanket. They decided to watch Catch Me If You Can. As soon as the movie ended, you headed off to your room to give Chaewon and Hyungwon some alone time.

As you laid in bed you couldn’t help but miss the boys. You had rarely slept alone much since everything had started up with the boys. The spot on the bed next to you felt cold and empty. You fought back tears as you closed your eyes before falling asleep.

THIRTEEN: I’M REALLY SORRY

You had been gone for a week and Wonwoo was very aware of it. He tried to not think about you constantly but his mind wandered back to you constantly. Everything seemed to remind him of you. He also noticed that Mingyu seemed to be distracting himself with work. Mingyu was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop working on something, and Wonwoo stood in front of the fridge blankly staring inside, not even sure what he was looking for.

Mingyu looked over at his best friend, noticing that he was staring at nothing. He let out a heavy sigh shaking his head.

Mingyu was also very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been home in a week. He was also aware of the fact that his best friend seemed completely out of it. Mingyu knew that even if Wonwoo didn’t want to admit it he was pretty heartbroken. When Mingyu ended things with you he didn’t expect for all three of you to end up heartbroken. He thought if he stepped away that maybe the two of you would get together and not have to worry about his feelings.

Wonwoo walked off to his room not bothering to get anything from the fridge. Mingyu wasn’t sure what to do but he couldn’t deal with Wonwoo moping around.

-

You had arrived back home and you couldn’t lie you weren’t ready to see the boys. Walking up to your front door you unlocked the door and looked over when you heard your name. You glanced over to see Mingyu leaving his apartment. You both stood still staring at each other for a long moment. Mingyu went to step forward to talk to you but he stopped because he wasn’t sure what exactly to say to you.

His sad eyes locked on your sad ones. He could tell that you were as heartbroken as Wonwoo. Your bright eyes lack the gleam they normally had. Biting his bottom lip, he thought of what he should even say to you.

He wished that he could tell you that Wonwoo was miserable without you. Hell he wished that he could tell you, he was miserable without you. He knew he lost that privilege when he left you. He wished that Wonwoo hadn’t left you too. He never intended for Wonwoo to end things with you. He knew in his heart you had fallen in love with Wonwoo and he couldn’t blame you. Mingyu also knew that you had extremely strong feelings for him even if you weren’t in love. He felt like he had been put in a rock in a hard place. He had managed to put himself in a love triangle without meaning to.

“(YN) where did you go?” He finally spoke up and walked towards you.

You stood still at your door not even sure what you should say to Mingyu. You hadn’t spoken to him since he broke your heart that night. Just seeing him brought back a lot of emotions.

“I went to see my sister,” your voice was soft.

Mingyu took another step towards you and stopped a couple feet away from you. He wished things between you could go back to normal but he knew he was the one who had ruined everything.

“(YN) I’m really sorry.”

“Mingyu it’s not your fault it’s mine,” you reached for the door and opened it.

“I never meant for things to be like this.”

You had planned to walk inside but you stopped and stared at Mingyu for a long moment.

“Mingyu, let's be honest, if you didn’t end things when you did, we were both going to get even more hurt then we are now. How much I wish it wasn’t it true I don’t think I could have ever kept my heart out of this,” you let out a sigh as your eyes brimmed with tears. “Mingyu you mean a lot to me and I think you will always have a piece of my heart.” He walked towards you and stopped right in front of you.

Reaching forward he rested his hand on your cheek. He stepped closer so he was a couple inches away from you. He wished that he could tell you he wanted to take it all back but he couldn’t.

“(YN) you’ll always have a piece of mine too. I know we’re both hurt, but I need to have you in my life. Even if we’re just friends. I also need you to not give up on Wonwoo. He’s confused and he’s trying to be a good friend. I need you both to know there are no hard feelings on my part. I want you both to be happy.”

A soft smile spread across his face. You looked up at him and gave him a sad smile.

“Why can’t I be happy with you?”

“Because I know you can make Wonwoo happy,” he sighs.

“I don’t think he feels the same way for me that I feel for him, and one day I’ll be okay with that.”

“(YN)-” he wished he could convince Wonwoo to get his head out of his ass but he didn’t know if he could.

“It’s okay Mingyu,” you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his for a soft kiss.

“We were great while it lasted,” you stepped away from his touch.

“(YN) I’m here if you ever need anything and I would really love for us to be friends again.”

“Mingyu, I want more than friendship. I'm still trying to work out how to tell myself we can’t be together.”

You walked inside and Mingyu was left standing outside your apartment, wishing he could fix things between you.

Mingyu stood outside your apartment feeling more heartbroken than before. He sighed knowing that he needed to convince Wonwoo to fix things between you.

He walked back into his apartment and poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table waiting for Wonwoo to get home from work. He needed to convince him to get his head out of his ass and fix things with you immediately. In all the years he had been friends with Wonwoo he hadn’t ever seen him so broken up over ending things with a girl.

When Wonwoo finally got home from work he stepped into the kitchen and found his best friend sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him.

“What’s up Mingyu,” he said as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Wonwoo, we need to talk,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

Wonwoo knit his eyebrows together and gave him a confused look before sitting down across from Mingyu. He opened the bottle and took a drink of the water.

“You need to talk to (YN),” Mingyu said, jumping to the point of not bothering to dance around things.

Wonwoo closed his eyes taking a deep breath before he looked down at the table with a guilty expression. He slowly shook his head, “I can’t”

“Wonwoo, I don’t think you realize that you’re in love with her. In all the years I have known you I haven’t ever seen you broken up over someone,” Mingyu stated, attempting to get Wonwoo to realize how he felt.

“Mingyu I don’t love her, love isn’t real.”

As long as they had known each other Wonwoo had always told Mingyu he didn’t believe in love. Even after his high girlfriend cheated on him, he told Mingyu he wasn’t heartbroken because according to him love wasn’t real.

“You might not think love is real, but what you feel for her is love. You aren’t the only one completely torn up over this. I talked to (YN) today and she’s just as messed up as you. Hell, I'm just as much of a mess as you are.”

Wonwoo stood up and groaned as he pushed his fingers through his hair, “Mingyu it’s pretty clear you’re in love with her, so why don’t you get together with her? Like make her your girlfriend and have something with her that is something more then sex.”

Mingyu shook his head and stood up, “Wonwoo I talked to her and it’s clear she loves you. I can’t just date her. I already made the mistake of letting her go.”

Wonwoo paced in front of Mingyu for a moment silently. It was almost as if he was at a complete loss of what to even say.

“Fix it then Mingyu!” He shouted at his best friend.

He slammed his hand on the table, “I can’t fix it, she was yours first. I don’t get to be happy here.”

“Mingyu, she was never mine. She doesn’t just love me. Why are you dismissing her feelings for you?” He pushed his fingers through his dark hair. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a moment.

“Because even though I love her, Wonwoo. I love you too. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother and you mean too much to me,” tears brim his eyes as he looks up at his best friend.

“How do we fix this?” Wonwoo sits down sighing. “Why do we both have to walk away?”

“Wonwoo, do you love her?”

“You think I love her?” He looked up at Mingyu.

“I think we both love her,” Mingyu sighs.

Slowly Wonwoo nodded his head, “I think I do love her, and I know that she loves both of us.” The world felt like it was spinning sideways to him. “Mingyu if I fix things with her. Could you fix things with her?”

“I don’t know if she would take me back,” Mingyu reaches up, pushing away his tears. “I hope you realize just because we tell her we love her doesn’t mean she’ll just want something casual again. She deserves more, she deserves a relationship.”

“Could we make that work with both of us?” Wonwoo had never thought of the possibility of them both fully getting to be with her.

“I think we both need to talk to her, it’s up to her if wants one of us at all or both of us.”

FOURTEEN: I WANT TO FIX THIS

With the bottle of wine in hand Wonwoo reached forward with a shaky hand and knocked on the door. Seconds seemed to be creeping by as he waited for you to answer the door. Mingyu rested his hand on his shoulder attempting to calm his best friend's nerves.

As the door slowly opened he took a deep breath waiting to face you. You stood in front of him with sad eyes.

“Hi,” your voice was soft and unsure.

Wonwoo didn’t know what exactly to say to you. He had tried to prepare what he wanted to tell you but all of it seemed to leave his mind the second his eyes locked with yours.

“So Mingyu says I’m in love with you. I haven’t ever been in love and to be quite honest I don’t know if love is exactly real. I know I feel things that I haven’t felt before for you. I hadn’t seen you in a week and honestly this week has been hell. I haven’t been able to think straight knowing that I lost you. I never meant to hurt you by ending things,” he rambled on, not even sure if he was even making any sense at all.

You look next to Wonwoo and sees Mingyu standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think you love me?” You look up at Wonwoo's tall figure.

Wonwoo slowly nodded his head, “I feel things for you that I have never felt for another person.”

“What about you Mingyu?” You asked, speaking to the other man standing in the hallway.

“I already knew I love you,” he gives you a gentle smile.

“What made you decide to come over here?” You asked, looking up at Wonwoo.

“Mingyu told me I needed to make sure I didn’t lose you,” he sighed. “Mingyu and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Did you want to come inside?” You asked, stepping aside. The whole apartment building didn’t need to know what was going on between you.

He nodded and walked past you. Mingyu stops in front of you before walking in. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your cheek. Your eyes lock as he pulls away and you can love behind his eyes.

You led them over to the living room coach. You sat down on one end of the couch and they sat on the other end staring at you.

Wonwoo still had a million things he wanted to say to you, but he wasn’t even sure how to say them. He had never really put himself out on the line like this.

“(YN) I can’t really picture my life where you aren’t with me. This last week has been hell not being able to be with you.” Wonwoo is trying his hardest to convey how he’s feeling.

“I can't be with you if you’re going to break my heart again,” you couldn’t deal with having your heartbroken again by the man sitting across from you.

“I won't break your heart again,” he reached over and rested his hand on your thigh.

“What about you Mingyu?” You looked on the other side of Wonwoo to see Mingyu staring at you.

“I fucked up.”

“Are you still done with me,” you stood up moving so you stood in front of Mingyu.

Silently he swallows staring up at you. He stood up, taking one of your hands and resting the other on the side of your neck. Gently he dragged his thumb across your delicate skin.

“(YN) I love you,” he whispered, leaning forward resting his forehead against yours. “Please forgive me.”

“Kim Mingyu, I love you too,” leaning back you stare at him and you can’t help but smile. “Is it still over?” You don't think your heart could handle losing him again either.

“If you’ll take me back it’s not over. I won’t ever walk away again.”

He leaned forward pressing his lips to yours for a soft kiss. Both his hands hold your face as your lips move together for a heated kiss. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, missing the feeling of his lips against your.

Pulling away from you his nose rests against yours. A soft laugh passes his lips. “All this is complicated and not traditional, but just know we both love you.”

Looking over on the couch you find Wonwoo still sitting on the couch. Mingyu steps aside and you move to sit down next to the tall boy with glasses. You rest your hand on his thigh and give him a smile.

“I just need you to know that I’m new to this whole being a boyfriend thing, and I’m going to mess up sometimes, but I’m begging you not to give up on me.” He reached down and took your hand in his. “I won’t give up on you, but I need you to always talk to me and be open and honest with me.”

“I can do that,” he leaned forward so his face was a few inches away from yours.

“I love Wonwoo,” you say softly, moving forward so your lips were brushing against his.

“I think I love you too,” he pressed his lips against yours for a heated kiss. Your lips danced for a moment before Wonwoo pulled away from you and rested his forehead against yours.

“Did you both want to stay the night?” You asked not wanting to spend another night without them.

He nodded and smiled, “yes I would love to stay.”

Looking over at Mingyu he gives a soft smile and nods.

Wonwoo pulled your body close to his and they sat on the couch with you curled up next to him. His hand gently rubbed your side as your head rested on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure at that moment how he had gone a week without you. You had somehow managed to break down his walls without even trying. He wasn’t sure if Mingyu didn’t make him fix things if he would have been to get you back. The thought of you slipping through his finger hurt.

You reached for Mingyu's hands, pulling him down onto the couch next to you. You held his hand tightly as you cuddled closer to Wonwoo.

“So you both love me?” You beamed.

Mingyu leaned over, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. With his lips ghosting your skin he whispered, “I love you more than anything.”

“I believe I do too,” Wonwoo presses his lips to the top of your head.

You all sat together on the couch for probably an hour before you looked at both the boys with bright eyes and said, “can you take me to bed.”

Silently Mingyu nodded and took your hand leading you off to the bedroom. Wonwoo wasn’t far behind, taking in the sight of you two in front of him.

You stood at the foot of the bed and Mingyu slowly stripped away your clothes. Standing in front of them both completely exposed just smiling. You had spent the last week thinking you had lost Wonwoo and Mingyu forever and now here they were together confessing how they really felt. Reaching forward you worked on removing his clothing.

Standing naked in front of each other his hungry hands roamed your soft body as your lips moved together. Wonwoo leaned against the wall watching as it all unfolded in front of him with lust filled eyes.

Mingyu pulled his lips away from yours and said, “I missed you so much”

“I missed you too,” you walked away from him and moved to the bed.

You laid naked on the bed staring at the man you loved with lust filled eyes. He stared at you for a long moment. Things between you felt suddenly even more different than they ever had before. This didn’t feel like just sex like it normally did. Slowly he crawled on the bed and hovered over you. Gently he connected his lips to yours for a heated kiss. He dragged his lips from yours down the base of your neck. He left a trail of wet kisses across delicate skin. His lips kissed across each breast earning a gentle moan.

Your eyes looked over to the wall where the other man you loved was standing. “Wonwoo I need you,” you said as you reached for him. Your words did nothing to deter Mingyu who continued to kiss his way across your skin.

Pushing himself off the wall, Wonwoo made quick work of removing his clothes. Stepping towards his best friend and his girlfriend who were sprawled out on the bed in front of him.

Dragging his lips away from your soft skin, Mingyu eyes stayed locked on your. He crawled off you sitting on his hunches next to you.

Reaching into her nightstand by the bed you grabbed a foil packet and handed it to Wonwoo. He tore the packet open with his teeth and slid the rubber down his length. Laying on your back you stared at him in complete bliss that she managed to find two men who truly loved you.

Crawling on the bed he sat opposite of Mingyu, whose lips have not left your neck. Wonwoo pumps his hardened length watching.

Wonwoo leaned forward and kissed your cheek for a moment before moving his lips up to her your. “On your side baby,” he whispered with his lips brushing against your ear.

Mingyu pulled his lips away from your delicate skin and looked at his best friend. He couldn’t help but be a little unsure of what his position was in this situation.

You moved so you’re laying on your side and looked over her shoulder watching as Wonwoo moved behind you. His hand rested on your soft stomach as he slowly slid into you. Gasping as he bottomed out. He was completely still as his lips rested on your shoulder.

Leaning back and connecting your lips with a passionate kiss. Slowly he rolled his hips into you and he felt like he was home. It was almost as if you were made for him. His strong hand moved from your stomach and lifted your leg up. Hooking your leg under his arm as he continued to move into you at a slow pace.

“Mingyu, we can share,” he groans, not wanting his best friend to feel left out.

Mingyu’s eyes grow wide as he stares at the couple in front of him.

“Gyu please touch me,” you moans running your fingers across his abs. His stomach tenses as your fingers graze his hardened length.

Mindlessly he moves so he’s laying in front of you. You’re face to face. Your bottom lip is captured between her teeth as Wonwoo thrust into your velvety walls over and over.

One of Mingyu’s hands takes your breast massaging it as he kisses your jaw. Your hand grazes his length earning a moan. Reaching between you to of you pump his erection, desperately wanting to be close to both boys.

Your lips crash together, muffling the sounds of each of your moans and cries of desperation.

The air felt thick as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your pace you were stroking Mingyu picked up as you were getting closer and closer to the edge. Pulling your lips away from Mingyu you moan his name, earning a cheeky grin from him. Your head rested on Wonwoo’s chest as his hips continued to roll into you over and over again.

“Baby,” Wonwoo groaned before connecting his lips to yours for a rough kiss.

Your lips danced for a moment before you pulled away and looked at Mingyu who looked like he was on the brink of falling apart in your hand.

“Mingyu, please touch me,” you begged.

You were so close to falling apart and it wasn’t going to take much for him to push you over the edge. You had never felt as greedy in your life as you did right now. You wanted anything and everything the boys would give you.

Mingyu reached over brushing your sensitive clit with his thumb earning a whiny moan. He made quick work of playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves. Touching you just the way he knew would have you falling apart with very little effort. You continued pumping Mingyu’s length until he crumbled, moaning your name, while he painted your stomach with white ropes.

“Let go,” Wonwoo groaned with his lips ghosting yours.

With another thrust he pushed you over the edge and finally reaching the high. You couldn’t help the moans that passed your lips as he slowly rolled his hips into you a few times. It didn’t take long before he reached his own high. He dropped your leg and was still holding you close to him.

Mingyu laid on his back, his chest rising and falling coming down from his high. He looked over at the girl he loved, completely blissed out.

“I love you baby,” Wonwoo finally admitted how he felt as he held you close to him.

Laying there holding you close he hesitates letting go. He removed himself from you slowly and rolled onto his back. Laying on your back you look over at Mingyu for a moment before you smile at Wonwoo. He made a quick word of disposing of the condom and ran off to the bathroom to get a rag to clean you up.

Crawling back into the bed he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you and Mingyu completely blissed out.

“So you both love me?” You asked not being able to hold back a huge smile.

“I believe I do baby” Wonwoo reaches forward pulling your soft body close to his. “I love you.”

With your head resting on his chest you couldn’t help but feel like you had finally found happiness with Mingyu and Wonwoo. Mingyu moved over, curling his body up close to you. He placed a kiss gently on your shoulder.

“YN I love you so much,” Mingyu said.

Pulling away from Wonwoo, you laid on your side with your back once again to him. Wonwoo wasted no time spooning your soft body.

Mingyu leaned forward pressing his lips to your for a gentle kiss. Things suddenly felt so right between you all.

Things between you weren't traditional by any means. You weren’t exactly sure how things would work out, but they knew you would have to learn as you go.

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART III

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: After a mishap on his part, you doubt that Chan is ready for a relationship but he is determined to prove it, except that he's having problems following your one condition. (17k words)

Author's note: Sorry for the late post. Hope you like the new chapter and don't forget to share your thoughts on it x

Chan has always been the type to run when conversations gets hard, when the truth is too heavy to carry. But not today.

Today, he is standing still, facing it head-on. His hand hovers over the wood, hesitating for only a second before he knocks again, his heart is beating out of his chest.

The second knock seems to last forever, but then, the door creaks open and youu stand there, looking at him with an expression that made it clear you aren’t surprised to see him.

Chan feels a lump forming in his throat—he was expecting more. Maybe shock, or even anger. But what he gets is quiet resignation, and that hurt more than he thought it would.

“Can we talk?” His voice comes out softer than he intended, laced with the weight of what he needed to say. His eyes searched yours for any sign of what you're feeling, but you are calm, too calm.

For a moment, you consider his request, eyes narrowing slightly before you step aside to let him in.

Chan exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he is holding and steps past the threshold. The apartment feels familiar, yet foreign—last night’s tension still lingering in the air like a ghost. He can feel the weight of his own mistake pressing down on his shoulders as he moved toward the living room.

You followed behind him, closing the door with a soft click before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.

Chan runs a hand through his hair, his nerves making him fidget more than usual. He isn’t used to this—staying when things got hard. But here he is, about to dive headfirst into the conversation he would have normally avoided.

“I’m sorry,” he begins in the best way there is: with an apology

“About last night. I know it looked bad,” he winces as the whole incident flashes through his eyes.

Your expression remained unreadable, and that only made his stomach twist. He pauses, carefully find the right words to say next.

“I sent that text before you came over,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It was stupid, I know. I was angry... knowing you went on that date. I acted out of impulse, and I didn’t even think she’d show up. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d come.”

You cross your arms in front of you, your silence heavy with expectation and he knows you are waiting for more.

“I messed up,” he continues, the next best thing to do is acknowledging his mistake.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve never sent that text, and I’m so sorry for how things turned out,” he continues, his voice tinted with regret.

Chan’s chest aches with the weight of the confession. He is baring it all, and the fear of rejection, of messing this up even more, is creeping up on him. He takes a step closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

“I just... I didn’t want to lose you. And when I saw you with someone else, it hurt. More than I expected it to,” He painfully admits, then he stops talking and waiting for you to respond.

For what feels like an eternity, the silence hangs between you and him like a barrier. Finally, you sigh, dropping your arms to your sides.

“I know it wasn’t great timing,” you begin, your voice calm but firm. “And I know you didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, but Chris... this isn’t just about last night.”

Chan blinks his eyes repeatedly, surprised, “What do you mean?”

You turn to lean against the back of the sofa, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About how fast all of this has been moving, and maybe... maybe I moved on too quickly from my last relationship.”

Then you look away as if searching for the right words, “Maybe we both aren’t ready for this.”

The idea of losing you now, after everything, is unbearable. His heart is sinking but he sees the doubt in your eyes, the walls you are building to protect yourself. And yet, he couldn’t walk away from this—not when he is feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he says, taking another step closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I’ve made mistakes. But what I feel for you... it’s real. And it’s different from anything I’ve felt in a long time.”

Your eyes flicking up to meet his, and for the first time, he sees something soften in your expression. He presses on, sensing that this is his only chance to convince you.

“I’m not the guy I used to be,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “Yeah, I’ve had my moments, and yeah, I’ve been a fuckboy. But that’s not who I want to be with you. I want this to work. I want us to work.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the raw honesty in his words. And despite all the doubts and fears swirling in your mind, there is something about the way he is standing here, owning up to his mistakes, that makes you want to believe him.

“I don’t want another heartbreak, Chris,” you openly share, “The last thing I need is to go through that again.”

He nods, fully understanding the weight of your words but it only encourages him to convince you more, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I care about you. More than I can put into words.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The room feels thick with emotion, but there is also something else—a glimmer of hope. Something worth fighting for.

You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all you see is sincerity, and that is enough to make you consider his plea.

“Okay,” you finally whisper, “Let’s give it a shot.”

Chan’s face lights up with a warm smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your decision. But the joy in his expression doesn’t last long as you look at him seriously, your gaze sharp.

“In one condition,” you add.

His smile falters, and a flicker of panic replaces it. “W-What condition?”

“There’ll be no sex,” you say plainly, your voice calm and firm.

“No–no sex?” He stammers, looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s not allowed to breathe. His eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process what you’ve just said.

You nod, your expression unwavering. “I don’t want you to confuse this— physical attraction with emotional connection... Sex will only distract us from our goal.”

Chan’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to protest, but no words come out. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he tries to gather his thoughts.

After a moment, he nods, though his expression is one of disbelief. “Okay... okay, no sex.” His voice is strained, but he’s doing his best to sound agreeable.

But then, something flickers in his eyes, and a small hope sneaks back in.

“Just sex, right?” He asks for clarification, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. “I’m still allowed to kiss you...?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and a sly smile spreads across your lips. “I’m afraid not.”

His face falls, the hope vanishing in an instant. “Not at all?” He asks, his voice horrified.

“At all,” you confirm, your tone playful but firm.

He stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and despair. “You’re serious?” He mutters, more to himself than to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as if you’ve just remembered something else. “Oh, and that includes no more barging into my place.”

Chan blinks, still processing the former information when your next statement hits him like a second wave.

“I know you’ve been keeping my spare keys," you say with your eyes narrowed at him, "I want them back.”

He closes his eyes, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare he desperately wants to wake up from. But when his eyes open, nothing has changed. You’re still standing there, waiting for him to comply.

“Come on,” you say, nudging his arm gently, “give them back.”

With a deep, reluctant sigh, Chan reaches into his jeans pocket, his movements slow, as if giving up the keys is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He pulls them out and holds them in his hand for a moment before finally passing them over to you.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, taking the keys from him.

He watches you with a defeated look on his face, his shoulders slumping as you put the keys away. His lips press into a tight line, clearly still processing the fact that not only has he agreed to no sex, but now he doesn’t even have access to your place anymore.

Chan sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

You catch his thoughtful expression and smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. “Well, you can just quit now,” you tease, the words light but with a hint of challenge.

His eyes snap to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Oh, just wait and see,” he replies, his voice low, but there’s a spark of determination behind it.

The teasing grin lingers on your lips, but Chan’s heart is set. This isn’t just about sticking to your rules—it’s about showing you, through his actions, that he’s no longer the guy who flirts and leaves when things get complicated. He’s here, and he’s staying.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as if amused by his newfound resolve. “We’ll see.”

"You will," he boldly remarks, his voice steady, and there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. It’s not just a flirty remark or an empty promise. It’s real.

This time, it’s different. He’s different. And he’s going to show you that he’s ready to be the person you deserve.

-

When Chan thinks about it again, you’re not asking for much beyond that one condition—but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. It’s not just about avoiding physical intimacy; it’s about proving himself. He’s not the guy who plays games or casually dates for fun anymore. He’s not that fuckboy. He’s changed, and he’s ready for something real, something meaningful.

However, words are just words until he acts on them.

That’s why Chan waits in the lobby around the time you usually get home from work. To pass the time, he chats with the new guy working the concierge, trying to distract himself from the nervous energy building up.

The second you step into his radar, he can almost sense it. He turns his head toward the entrance, and there you are—pushing through the apartment door with a bag slung over one shoulder and another in hand.

Without missing a beat, Chan rushes toward you, grabbing the bag from your hand. “Great day at work, darling?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

You let out a low scoff, eyeing him skeptically. “And you’re still doing your best at work, huh?”

“Well, I aim to please,” he playfully responds, giving you a wink.

Before you can protest, he takes your bag to the concierge and talks to the new guy to keep it safe, leaving you standing there, eyebrows raised.

“Why... what are you doing with my bag?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“He’ll be keeping it safe,” he simply replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “While I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Before you can get another word in, he takes your hand, pulling you with him as he drags you right back out the door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

It’s clear: Chan’s not just saying things this time—he’s showing you.

The restaurant he is taking you for dinner is only two blocks away from your apartment building, and it surprises you that you didn’t know about it until now.

“How come I didn’t know about this place before?” you ask in wonder, chewing on your food.

Chan clasps his hands together in front of him and props them under his chin, “Maybe if you were being a lovely neighbor from the start, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” he teases.

You narrow your eyes and take a jab back at him, “And maybe if you weren’t busy taking girls home and avoiding them in the morning, you would’ve taken me here sooner.”

Chan sighs in defeat, putting his hands off the table, deciding to let the conversation slide. “But you agree that you like the food, right?”

You shovel another spoonful of food into your mouth and nod in approval, "Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

Spotting something on the corner of your mouth, he grabs a napkin and, with a soft touch, dabs it away. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You had something on your face. Was I just supposed to leave it there?” he defends with his grin.

You take the napkin from him and finish the job yourself. “You know, you don’t have to try this hard,” you say.

It's not a surprise that you would think that way, that he’s overcompensating, but he's doing it all because he genuinely cares for you.

“What? I’m just taking my lovely neighbor to one of my favorite spots nearby,” he says with his signature dimpled grin.

Shaking your head, you sip your drink, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of anything, he changes the subject.

“So, what are we doing this weekend?” he asks, as if it’s a given that you’re spending it together.

“Bold of you to assume I have nothing to do this weekend,” you say.

“Well, if you do have something to do, I can only hope it’s me,” he says with a wink.

You groan and toss a crumpled napkin at him. “I have to work this weekend.”

His groan is louder than yours. “If you’re working weekends too, when do you have time for me?”

You shoot him a look. “As far as I know, you didn’t have a problem keeping yourself entertained before.”

Chan’s smile turns cryptic as he slumps in his seat. “True... but it would be fun to play with you.”

“You remember my one condition, right?” you remind him.

He tosses the crumpled napkin back at you. “There are so many ways to have fun without sex.”

“Sshh,” you shush him, glancing around.

“Why are you still weird about it? We’ve had sex twice al—”

You cover his mouth with your hand, glaring. “You might as well announce to the whole restaurant we’ve had sex twice!”

He pulls your hand away, grinning wide as if he’s about to do it for real, just to see the horror in your eyes. But then he bursts into laughter instead and catching you off guard by kissing your hand softly which makes you withdraw your hand immediately.

“Did you really think I would do that?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“For a second, yes,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You were right,” he playfully says.

When the server arrives with the bill, you get ahead of Chan, placing your credit card down before he can.

“So you’re the one paying in this relationship?” he teases. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t,” you warn, rolling your eyes.

The server returns with your card and receipt, but she also gives Chan a familiar smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, flirtatiously and completely dismissed your presence there.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” he replies, glancing nervously at you.

“Next time you stop by, I’ll give you a little free service,” she says, smiling a bit too much.

You’re not blind to her tone, but you keep quiet as the two of you leave the restaurant. Once you’re back at the apartment building, you retrieve your bag from the concierge, muttering your thanks as you take it. Chan offers to carry it for you as you head up in the elevator.

“You should invite that cute server to play with you this weekend,” you say, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

His smile grows, sensing you care more than you let on. He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder if he’s considering your suggestion. Even after the elevator doors open, he follows you to your apartment, still carrying your bag.

“I can take it inside for you,” he offers, clearly hoping for an invite in.

“I can take it myself,” you say, effectively blocking his plan.

He hands over the bag with a pout, lingering as you unlock your door. He leans against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“You’re going away for the whole weekend, and I get nothing?” he asks, inching closer.

You cross your arms. “And what do you expect?”

“A kiss would do,” he says, almost shyly, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

You shake your head, staying firm on your one condition. “No kisses.”

“Just a nibble then?” He grins wider.

“A nibble?” you laugh. “I’m not some... snack.”

“You’re not. You’re a whole damn feast,” he says, lowering himself to your eye level, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and not hiding his eyes from looking at them.

Your breath hitches as he inches closer, his lips brushing past your ear. His boldness catches you off guard, and your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your jaw. Then, just as he’s about to claim your lips, you block him with your fingers.

“You’re good,” you admit with a smile, “but not that good.”

For a guy who always gets what he wants when he wants it, this is frustrating. He lets out a heavy sigh then drops his head onto your shoulder.

“I have to go,” you mutter, even as you let him hold you.

“Just give me a minute,” he mumbles, nuzzling his head further into your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

He savors the moment, holding onto you a little tighter, soaking in the feel of you against him. Everything about you—your warmth, your softness, your scent— oh, it’s all so right.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you whisper again, rubbing a hand along his broad back.

“Fifteen more seconds,” he mumbles, discreetly letting his hand slide lower, only for you to catch it and place it firmly on your back.

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to let go until you finally pull away.

“Goodnight, Chris,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight,” he replies with a smile, slowly letting you go, though everything in him wants to hold on.

As you take a step back, he does the same, the two of you locked in a gaze to keep the intimacy of the moment continues through your eyes until you close the door with a faint smile that lingers in the back of his head.

Letting you go isn’t easy, but sometimes he knows he has to if he wants to bring you closer.

-

Chan lies awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weekend he had envisioned was simple: hanging out with you, maybe grabbing dinner or spending lazy afternoons together. But since you weren’t around, the plan had crumbled, leaving him stranded with nothing to do.

He could go out, like he usually does on weekends, but something in him resists. It's too easy to slip back into old habits, to fall into the routine of partying and avoiding the emptiness that comes with it. So instead, he’s here, in his apartment, doing nothing.

With a sigh, he reaches across the bed, his hand brushing against the smooth fabric of something familiar—your underwear. He’d kept it from that night, the night everything between you two changed.

Lifting it to his nose, he inhales deeply, letting your scent flood his senses. Just a whiff, and he’s already lost, a fire igniting in his gut. His cock twitches, aroused, stirred by the memory of you.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back to that night—the way he had kissed you, held you close, felt your warmth pressed against him. He remembers the way his hands explored your body, how he had parted your legs and exposed you, tantalizing and perfect, making his every nerve scream for more.

"Fuck," he mutters, the word hanging heavy in the quiet of his apartment. His frustration is palpable, throbbing inside him.

The thoughts alone aren’t enough. He needs more. He needs you. But you're not here, and that only makes the ache more unbearable.

Thankfully, his phone rings, pulling him from the spiral he was sinking into. He groans and drags himself out of bed, grabbing the phone off his nightstand. The call is brief, no more than a minute, but it does the job. It snaps him out of the rut he was teetering on the edge of.

It looks like Chan has to go out tonight after all.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the text that came through. Someone had pulled out of a gig last minute, and now he’s been asked to fill in. It’s a valid reason to get out of the apartment, at least. Better than staying cooped up and letting his thoughts eat at him.

Before he knows it, he's dressed and heading out the door. The club he’s heading to isn’t unfamiliar—it’s one of his favorite spots to work. Maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it’s just because he desperately needs a distraction tonight, but it feels less like work as he steps inside and feels the pulse of the music hit him.

He takes a deep breath and dives into the scene, ready to let the night carry him wherever it leads, all while keeping you in the back of his mind.

After his set, he decides to hang around the club for a bit, rewarding himself with a drink. It’s been a good night, the crowd was lively, and he deserved a little downtime.

He leans against the counter, sipping slowly as the music thumps around him. Girls have been giving him smiles, glancing his way, but he’s used to that. It’s nothing he can’t handle, especially now when he’s keeping his focus sharp.

Then the bartender sets another drink down in front of him.

“This one’s on her,” he says, nodding toward the far corner of the bar.

Chan follows the bartender’s gaze and spots her—a girl with a sultry smile, waving at him. She’s undeniably attractive, but he’s not interested.

Still, it’s just a drink, and rejecting it feels unnecessary. So he lifts his glass, offering her a polite smile of thanks from across the bar.

Before he can even take a sip, someone else steps up to him, practically radiating anger.

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” the guy growls, eyes dark and filled with rage.

“What?” Chan responds, confused and caught off guard.

“I said, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” The man’s voice rises, his presence looming over Chan.

“I’m not,” Chan says quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “She bought me a drink, and I thanked her. That’s all.”

But the guy isn’t having it. He steps closer, grabbing the front of Chan’s shirt with one fist. “How dare you lie to me!” he shouts, pulling Chan closer, their faces inches apart.

Before things can escalate further, the girl who started all of this rushes over, forcing herself between them.

“Stop! He’s telling the truth!” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm and dragging him away from Chan.

Chan can see the regret in her eyes as she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before leading her fuming boyfriend toward the exit.

As they leave, Chan sighs, straightening his shirt and shaking his head. Maybe tonight, he should have just stayed in his apartment after all.

-

Chan arrives at his place, feeling weighed down by the events of the day. You've only been gone a day, but it feels like an eternity to him. Everything feels off without you around, stretching out every second into what feels like endless suffering.

He needs you. Desperately.

He knows it's late, and he isn’t even sure if you're home yet, but he finds himself walking toward your door. His feet move on their own, driven by an overwhelming need for comfort. When he gets there, he knocks gently at first, waiting in the quiet hallway. No response.

With a sigh, Chan leans his forehead against your door, feeling a sinking hopelessness wash over him.

“Please… open the door,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Then, to his surprise, he hears movement on the other side. He steps back quickly, his heart racing as the door creaks open, revealing you—looking slightly disoriented, your hair tousled from what must’ve been sleep.

"I'm sorry," Chan says, his voice soft with guilt. "I didn’t know you were home already."

"I just got home not long ago," you reply, your voice still thick with sleep.

Seeing you—standing there in the low light, with tired eyes and that familiar warmth—pulls at his heart in a way that makes him ache. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself before speaking again.

“I’ve had a really, really bad day,” he admits, his voice low, almost breaking.

The truth is, you’re a big part of why his day feels so unbearable. The distance between you gnaws at him, creating a physical ache he can’t shake. He needs you, even just your presence, to feel whole again.

Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently but firmly, as if letting go would mean losing his grip on everything.

"Can I stay the night with you?" His voice is heavy with vulnerability.

You hesitate, shaking your head. "You know that we can't—"

“I swear I’m not trying to do anything else,” he cuts in quickly, his eyes pleading. "I just... I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"

The sadness in his voice is raw, and you can see how much he needs this, needs you. You massage your neck, the exhaustion of the day visible in your eyes as you consider his request.

For a moment, silence hangs between you two. Then, finally, you nod. “Okay.”

From the way you're giving in with less resistance than usual, Chan can tell you're too tired to fight him on this tonight. He feels a pang of guilt but, at the same time, relief. A win is a win, and right now, he just needs to be near you, hoping his presence might bring some comfort, as yours does to him.

Once you let him in, there's no more talking. You silently lead him to your bed, making space for him without any fuss.

"You can have that side," you gesture to the left side, your voice soft with exhaustion.

Any side would do. As long as he's here, next to you, he couldn't care less. You crawl under the covers while Chan stands there, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Your voice holds suspicion, your eyes peeking over the blankets.

He smirks, pulling the shirt off. "I told you I sleep naked."

"Naked naked?" you ask, eyebrows raising as his fingers move to his jeans.

He notices the way your eyes fixated on his body, he knows you like what you're seeing so he makes a good show out of it. He's working his jeans open in a painstakingly slow motions, stripping down to his dark boxers.

"Your expression is filthy," he jokes, "what are you thinking?"

You let out a scoff and tuck yourself into the blanket, trying so hard to not to be affected by what he just did.

Chan can't help but quietly smiling in triumphant and comes over to the bed. Climbing into bed next to you feels surreal. It's more than just sharing a space now; you're sharing your bed.

The scent of your sheets is intoxicating, subtle yet enough to make him feel like he's sinking into you even without touching. He pulls the covers over himself, careful to leave a respectful gap between you two, honoring your one condition.

He rolls onto his side, facing you, while you lay on your back, eyes closed. The darkness wraps around both of you, the room heavy with quiet and the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air.

"What happened?" you ask, eyes still shut, your voice breaking the silence.

"What?" Chan asks, fingers barely brushing the edge of your arm, almost on instinct.

"You said you had a bad day," you repeat, softly, your voice drifting through the stillness.

He sighs, staring up at the ceiling now. "Well, I went out tonight and I tried to be... good," he starts, his voice low. "But it turned out to be not easy."

You don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, your presence alone urging him to be honest.

"I was at this club after my set, just hanging out. Someone sent me a drink, and next thing I know, this guy is in my face, accusing me of flirting with his girlfriend," he explains, his tone frustrated. "I didn’t even do anything. But... it just made me realize how easy it is for things to get messed up. One small misunderstanding, and it all spirals."

His fingers lightly brush your arm now, the contact gentle, but you don't push him away. He takes that as permission to continue.

"I don’t want to be that guy anymore—the one who gets mixed up in stuff like that," he murmurs. "I’m trying to be better... for you."

You don’t respond right away, your breathing steady, as if you’re already halfway to sleep. But your silence is enough of an answer for him. He feels calmer, just being here with you.

"He almost punched me," Chan dramatically shares to gain sympathy from you.

You chuckle softly, "So, the usual, huh?"

"The usual, yeah," he responds, grinning.

"But that's also where you're doing it wrong, Chris," you say, turning your body to face him and see his eyebrows knit in confusion.

"You're doing it for me." You say, resting your hand under your head as you clarify, "When you should be doing this for you."

That sinks in, and it hits him why everything's felt like a struggle lately. He's been trying to change because of external pressure—because of you—not because he truly wanted it for himself.

"Don’t get me wrong," you continue gently, your voice low and soothing. "I appreciate that you’re willing to change for me, but I want you to change because you want it. For yourself."

Your words, so calm and caring, open up a new perspective for him. It's not just about trying to impress or be better for you, but about becoming someone he's proud of. It all feels clearer now, and at the same time, he feels a deep sense of reassurance—he really is with the right person.

"Can we cuddle?" Chan asks, pulling his best puppy eyes to win you over.

You don’t answer verbally, but the way you open your arms for him is all the permission he needs.

Without wasting a second, he slides in closer, wrapping himself around you, his arm draped over your body as he nestles his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of your body envelops him, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

"Goodnight, Chris," you murmur, patting his head softly.

"Goodnight," he mumbles back, sneaking in a kiss on your jaw.

You let it slide this time, smiling into the darkness before closing your eyes, drifting off.

Chan, however, is still wide awake, his mind buzzing with the proximity between you two. There's only a thin layer of clothes separating your bodies, and he's doing his best to respect your boundaries, but the way your warmth radiates against him makes sleep the last thing on his mind.

Still, he takes a deep breath, doing his best to settle down, grateful for this moment of closeness with you.

-

Chan is used to waking up unsure of his surroundings, but this morning is different. He knows exactly where he is, and for once, he doesn't immediately rush off. Instead, he nestles his head closer to yours, savoring the warmth of your body pressed against his while you're still unaware that he's awake.

The sound of your alarm blaring from your phone finally breaks the silence. You groan, forcing yourself to wake up, eyes still closed as your hand fumbles around the bedside table to turn it off.

After silencing the alarm, you yawn and stretch, your body still heavy with sleep. "Ugh, I have to go to work," you mutter, tapping Chan’s forearm in a silent request for him to release you.

But instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "No, stay," he mumbles, his voice low and groggy.

"Not everyone makes money from spinning records," you tease, a playful jab at his career.

"I’m not going to take that personally," he grumbles, his voice muffled as he refuses to lift his head from your neck.

You chuckle softly, your fingers naturally slipping into his curls. Gently, you start brushing them with your fingertips, feeling the texture of his hair as you absentmindedly comment, "Is this your natural hair?"

"Hmm," he hums, affirming.

"They’re a bit dry and..." You pull back slightly to take a better look, "...a little dull too."

"Mmh..." he hums again, clearly enjoying the gentle scratching of your fingers against his scalp.

"You should condition them better," you suggest, offering hair advice out of the blue.

An idea forms in Chan’s mind, and though he knows you’ll likely see right through him, he can’t resist. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, a cheeky grin forming on his lips as he asks, "Can you show me how to take care of my curls?"

The playful gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can already tell what he's up to. But the question catches you off guard enough to make you laugh.

"Show you how exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you pretend to play dumb.

Chan, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, stumbles through his words, "You know... we could, uh, get in the shower together, and you can, um, show me how to... condition my curls, or whatever…" He flashes you that dimpled grin, the one that always manages to make his adorable babbling irresistible.

You lift your head slightly, propping it up with one hand as you look at him skeptically. "You want us to shower together so I can teach you how to wash your hair?"

He nods, eyes wide with feigned innocence, fully expecting a refusal and maybe a reminder of the boundary you’ve set about physical intimacy. But instead, you surprise him by giving in.

"Okay," you simply say.

The stunned expression on his face is priceless, his eyes widening further as if he didn’t quite hear you right. "Wait, really?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. You want to learn, right?" You give him a smirk, teasing him without saying it outright, fully aware of what he's really after.

His grin grows, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to leap out of bed with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.

Without another word, you swing your legs out of bed, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the bathroom. Chan watches you, dumbfounded for a second, before scrambling to follow.

-

Nothing could have prepared Chan for this.

The moment you slip your nightdress off and pull your underwear down your legs, his brain shuts down. His eyes roam over your bare skin, every curve, every inch of you exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination.

As if that weren't enough, you gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, exposing your neck—a sight that only intensifies his desire. He stands there, frozen, unable to decide which part of you to look at first.

You step into the shower, and Chan steps aside, barely breathing as the water begins to cascade down your body. He watches the droplets slide over your skin, wishing desperately that he could replace the water, that he could all over you like that.

When you turn to face him, he lets out a low breath, trying to keep his composure. His gaze travels down your body, soaking in every detail, every inch that he so badly wants to touch. He grips the shower stall handle tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you.

Your hands slide down your body, the action as innocent as washing off yesterday's weariness, but in his mind, it's anything but innocent. You're driving him crazy, and you know it. The way you look at him, allowing him to watch you like this—it's tantalizing, almost cruel.

"Okay, first," you break the silence, your voice echoing in the small shower chamber. "We need to get your hair wet."

He almost forgot the pretense of this shower. He tears his eyes away from your body and focuses on your words, trying to remember that this was supposed to be about hair care. You take the showerhead and aim it at him, chuckling as he remains rooted to the floor.

"It's hard if you stand so far away," you tease.

He steps closer, knowing that proximity will only make things worse for him. Still, he obeys. The moment you're close enough, you bring the showerhead to his hair, gently wetting it with your fingers brushing through his curls. He's so close to you, his lips mere inches from yours. He has to fight the urge to kiss you, to taste your skin.

"Now it's wet and ready," you murmur, putting the showerhead aside and reaching for the shampoo. You work it into his scalp, massaging it in slow, circular motions.

"That feels good," Chan mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"Yeah?" you whisper, stepping even closer, your chest now grazing his. "You like that?"

"Yeah, I like that," he says, his voice strained as he struggles to keep it together.

The intense eye contact is too much for him, and though he's usually good at holding a gaze, this is different. He closes his eyes, trying to calm the heat building inside him. His body is betraying him, and the situation down there is getting harder—literally—to control.

"Okay, now we're going to wash it out," you say, grabbing the showerhead again and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

Chan almost groans when you step away, the loss of your touch leaving him aching for more. He keeps his eyes closed as you instructed, but every brush of your fingers against his scalp, every sigh you let out, sends him spiraling.

"It's all good now," you say, smiling as you wipe a stray bit of foam from his face.

He's at ease, yet burning inside. He feels taken care of, but also teased to the brink of madness.

"What's next?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"We're going to condition it next," you explain, turning away to get the conditioner. "Your curls need moisture, so you have to condition regularly. Or just condition without shampooing sometimes."

He nods, barely hearing your words. The proximity, the feel of your breath on his ear, is driving him wild. As you apply the conditioner, you're even closer than before, so close that he can feel your breath on his neck. He’s barely holding on.

Then you ask, casually, "Do you want me to wash your body too?"

The offer hits him like a shockwave, and for a moment, he can't speak. Blinking, he nods, his heart pounding. You take a bar of soap, lathering it up before sliding your hands over his skin. Every touch is electric, and when your hand glides over his abs, he clenches them, trying to maintain control. Your hand goes lower, tracing the path along his pelvic bone.

But then, mercifully, your hand moves away. You rub down his legs and even grab his rear, making him chuckle nervously.

"Something funny?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"Nothing," he replies, swallowing hard as he lets you continue. He’s letting you do whatever you want, helpless under your hands.

When you finish, the two of you just stand there under the warm water, the tension in the air thickening by the second. The bathroom feels smaller, the space between you more unbearable.

Chan snaps. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you flush against him, his body fitting against yours perfectly. He presses his lips against your neck, kissing the soft spot under your ear. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze.

"What’s next?" he growls.

You wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw until your mouth hovers near his ear.

"I'm going out of the shower," you whisper, "and I'll give you a few minutes to..." Your eyes flick downward, pointedly glancing at his hardening member. "...sort out your situation."

You kiss his cheek and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. With one last playful smile, you say, "I can't be late for work."

And just like that, you leave him standing there—wet, aroused, and utterly flabbergasted.

-

Chan’s life is different now—less chaotic, more focused. He’s found a new rhythm, avoiding old habits and temptations, reminding himself that he can be better. At work, he's polite, giving empty promises when girls ask him for drinks, knowing full well he has no intention of following through. His nights out have become rare, and if he feels that sexual urges, he'll channel that energy into working out at the gym.

Tonight, he's watching for you, keeping his apartment door open so he can see when you arrive home. The moment he hears the elevator chime, he rushes to the door and spots you stepping out, looking exhausted from work.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You give him a tired but warm smile. “Hey.”

Chan walks over, grabbing one of your bags to help lighten your load. “Come on, I cooked us dinner.”

The sight of you eating so well makes him feel proud. Every bite you take feels like a reward for the time he spent preparing the meal. When you finish your plate and look at him with a shy smile, asking for more, he grins and happily gets up, placing more fried rice on your plate.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely as he refills your glass of water before sitting back down.

“You’re very welcome,” Chan responds, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.

Dinner ends with a cold can of beer, and soon, you're both on the sofa, enjoying the comfortable silence that fills the space. Chan sits there, the question he’s been wanting to ask weighing on his mind. He takes a breath.

“Do you have plans this Saturday?” he asks casually.

“Why?” you inquire, taking a sip of water, sensing something behind the question.

“A friend asked me to play at his sister’s wedding,” he explains, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, his hand just brushing your shoulder. “and I want you to come with me.”

“As a date?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Chan grins, trying to suppress his excitement. “As a date, yes.”

“I’d love to,” you say, but something in your tone makes him sense there’s more.

“But?” he asks, bracing for the letdown.

“I can’t. I have a guest coming over that day,” you explain apologetically.

“A guest?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity.

You nod. “Yeah, a guest.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Colleague?”

“Nope.”

“Friends?” he asks, growing more curious with each question.

You shake your head, hesitating for a moment before finally revealing, “Ex-boyfriend.”

Chan leans back, exasperated. “So, you're not coming with me because Lee is coming over?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep things simple.

He stares at you, dumbfounded. “But why?”

“Because I told him to,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant, though you know it’s frustrating him.

“What?!” Chan looks at you in disbelief, his eyes wide.

You laugh softly at his reaction, putting your glass down and settling into the couch. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to make this work, so, I thought maybe it’s time I do my part too.”

He’s silent, listening intently, trying to understand what you mean.

“I told Lee to come so he can take his things from my place,” you explain. “That way, I can have space for… new things.”

Chan’s pout fades into a smile as the meaning behind your words sinks in. Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently on your lap. For a moment, he can’t believe it—the two of you are really doing this. You're starting fresh, together.

“Okay,” he says softly, understanding now. “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling back at him.

“I still want you to come with me, though,” he says, the hint of disappointment still lingering.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, genuinely apologetic. Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you offer, “But I can still help you with your hair if you want.”

Chan laughs, his grin returning. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Later, when he walks you to your apartment door, he dreads the moment of parting. You share a long, warm embrace, and as usual, you're the first to pull away, though you keep holding his hand for just a little longer.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say softly.

Chan smirks, joking to lighten the mood. “If you’re really thankful, you should dream of me tonight.”

You smile, playing along. “I’ll try.”

“And I’ll try to dream of you too,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, “preferably naked.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”

He gently caresses your face, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly, then adds with a smirk, “I think we should start picking pet names.”

You shake your head, but there’s a smile on your face as you step back, ready to go. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight… baby?” he tries, testing out the pet name.

You say nothing, just smiling at him one last time before you let go of his hand and step inside, leaving him standing there, heart fluttering, wondering when he’ll get to hold you again.

-

Chan stands in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, though leaving the cuffs open for now. He can’t help but think what a shame it is—looking this good and going to the wedding without a date. You had refused his invitation, but he can’t fault you for it. There’s something good in your intentions, and all he can do is be understanding.

He’s about to grab his suit jacket when there’s a knock at the door. With a smile, he heads to open it, already knowing who it is.

There you stand, a can of hairspray in one hand and a hair straightener in the other. “It’s your hair appointment,” you announce with a grin.

Chan chuckles and motions you inside. He sits in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, carefully styling his hair. As he watches you work, he’s struck by how focused you look—creases forming between your brows, your lips slightly pursed in concentration. He never thought it was possible for someone to be both cute and sexy at the same time, but here you are, proving him wrong.

“Would that suffice?” you ask after spraying his hair one last time.

“No,” Chan says, his tone playful, “not if you’re not coming with me.”

You smile but don’t respond, busying yourself with taming the last few stray hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re done now,” you announce, satisfied with your work.

He glances at himself in the mirror and smiles. “Aren’t you going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me I look handsome?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you tease, tidying up the clutter on the table.

Chan stands, smoothing down his shirt, but there’s one more thing to complete his look. He picks up the tie from the table and holds it out to you. “We still have a problem here.”

You glance up, understanding immediately. Without a word, you take the tie from his hands and skillfully knot it around his collar. Your fingers work quickly, and before long, the tie is secured neatly in place.

“Okay, you’re ready now,” you say with a nod.

Chan puts on his suit jacket, then spins around with his arms spread wide, showing off the full look. “How do I look?”

You step closer, and to his surprise, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You look handsome,” you say with a soft smile.

He stands there for a moment, warmth spreading through him from that simple gesture. It’s enough to make him feel like he’s already won, even if he’s going to the wedding alone. He places his hands gently on your waist and pulls you closer, his voice soft but persuasive.

"It's not too late to text Lee and tell him to come another day," he suggests, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reconsideration.

You chuckle lightly, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I don’t think it's wise to cancel it on the last minute," you explain, your tone gentle but firm.

He nods, accepting your decision even though it’s not the answer he wanted. At least you have a good reason, and it’s not as if you’re choosing your ex over him. But the tension lingers, and Chan pulls you even closer, savoring this tender moment before Lee shows up and disrupts his day. He knows he has no reason to be jealous, but it nags at him anyway—what if Lee has other intentions with this visit?

"Can't you just... put his things in a box and mail it to him?" He asks, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.

You chuckle again, tilting your head slightly. "We’re grown-ups, Chris. We broke up on good terms. I don’t see why we can’t be civil after everything."

Chan tightens his grip around you, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "But what if he asks you to get back with him?"

Instead of answering, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "And you think I’d say yes?"

His grin widens, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

You shake your head, smiling. "Oh, Chris... you're ridiculous."

He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah, but I had to ask. I just don't like the idea of him coming around."

"He's just going to come, pick up his things, and leave," you explain, trying to reassure Chan that there’s no need for jealousy.

Chan takes the opportunity to pull you even closer, his arms tightening around you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "No deep talking, no reminiscing the shared memories, okay? No smiling either," he warns, his voice full of playful intensity.

You laugh at his protectiveness, letting him rest his forehead against yours.

"I love the way you smile," he says suddenly, the words catching you off guard. "I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don't."

"Why?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"Because you don’t give it to everyone," Chan murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. "And I don’t plan on sharing you."

The possessive edge in his voice stirs something in you, and you feel yourself relax, leaning into his embrace. His fingers cup your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly as he draws closer, his gaze flicking down to your lips.

Just as he’s about to close the gap, a knock sounds—not on his door, but across the hall. You gently break away from his hold, heading to check with Chan trailing behind, a bit flustered.

"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry, I was at Chris's place," you say as you open the door and spot your ex, Lee, standing there.

"Oh hey," Lee greets you, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. A hug that, to Chan, feels way too long. Chan clears his throat loudly, making his presence known.

Lee finally lets go of you and acknowledges him. "Oh, hey, Chris," Lee says, extending his hand for a handshake.

Chan hates that Lee’s actually being nice—he's a good guy, and that makes him feel like the bad guy.

"Hey, Lee," Chan mutters, reluctantly shaking his hand.

"You look dashing. Going somewhere?" Lee asks, genuinely.

"Yeah, uh... a friend's wedding," Chan replies, his earlier hostility fading slightly.

As they exchange pleasantries, you unlock your door and gesture for Lee to come inside. "Please, come in," you say.

"Are you joining us, Chris?" Lee asks, seriously offering for him to stay.

Chan would love nothing more than to stay and keep an eye on things, but he checks the time on his phone and realizes he’s already pushing it if he doesn’t leave now. "I have to go, actually," he says, regret heavy in his voice.

"What a pity! I brought us food," Lee says to you, smiling. "It’s the baked ziti from your favorite place."

You smile awkwardly, glancing at Chan. "That’s so nice of you, Lee."

"See you next time, Chris," Lee says as he steps into your apartment.

Chan sighs, feeling torn between wanting to stay and knowing he has to leave. His chest tightens as he glances at you one last time.

"I’ll see you later, okay?" you say, smiling, though it does little to comfort him.

"Don’t smile at him!" Chan grumbles, trying to cling to his playfully jealous tone.

You laugh softly and surprise him by stepping forward, placing a quick but tender peck on his lips. The brief contact sends butterflies swirling in his stomach.

"Have fun at the wedding," you say sweetly, flashing him one last smile before closing the door.

Chan stands there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of your lips lingering. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he turns to leave, knowing that despite everything, you’re still his.

-

Seeing that most of the guests have already left and only a few remain on the dance floor, Chan decides it’s time to wrap up his set. Grabbing the mic, he announces, "Everyone, this is the last dance."

His suit is no longer in its proper form—he ditched the jacket long ago, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He inhales deeply, satisfied with a job well done.

As he packs up, his friend, the groom's brother, hands him a bottle of champagne as a token of gratitude. "You killed it, mate. Thanks for stepping in."

"Anytime, man," Chan says with a grin, accepting the bottle. Just as he’s about to take a sip, a voice interrupts him.

"Are you planning on sharing that?"

He turns around, surprised to see someone he least expected. "Sue?"

"Oh, I thought you forgot about me," Sue says with a teasing smile.

How could he? Sue was his first love, the one who gave him his first heartbreak. She’s older and taller than him, just like before, but Chan sees her differently now—not as the boy who once idolized her, but as a man. Yet, the admiration still lingers.

Sue chuckles and gives him a quick hug. "Of all places, we meet here?"

"I know, right?" Chan shakes his head, still bewildered. "My friend is the brother of the bride."

"And I’m one of the groom's family," Sue says, showing off the dress. "What a small world!"

They share the bottle of champagne in the garden, sitting by the pool as they catch up. The evening air is warm, and the conversation flows easily.

"Is it alright that you're here with me?" Chan asks, glancing around as though expecting someone to pop up and claim her.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" Sue replies.

"I don’t know. I figured your boyfriend would be looking for you soon," Chan jokes, though there’s a part of him that’s curious.

"I don’t have a boyfriend," Sue says casually, taking a sip from the bottle.

Chan arches an eyebrow. "That's a lie!"

Sue playfully elbows him. "Oh, I know you’re happy to know I’m single," she teases.

"You can’t be single," Chan insists.

"But I am," she assures him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"No way," Chan shakes his head, unable to believe it. "I mean, you’re taller and more beautiful than the last time we met. You can’t be single."

Sue leans in, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "And maybe that's why we met again tonight."

The suggestion in her voice throws him off balance, and before he can say anything, they bump into a group of people running around in their underwear, dripping wet and giggling as they pass by. Some guests have clearly taken the after-party to the hot tub.

Sue looks at the now-empty, steaming hot tub and asks, "What do you think?"

"You... you want to get in the hot tub?" Chan asks, incredulous.

"You and me, together," Sue says with a mischievous grin, her fingers already reaching for the zipper of her dress.

Chan's eyes widen as she strips down to her undergarments, standing confidently in front of him.

Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the tub. "Come on! It’s getting cold!"

Seeing no harm in it—and after all, it’s been a lovely night—Chan relents. He strips down to his boxers and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water. The heat engulfs him, relaxing his muscles.

Sue leans back in the tub, her fingers playfully skimming the surface of the water. "Chris, you’ve really grown since the last time I saw you."

"Nah, I’m still the same," Chan says, feeling oddly shy. Despite the years that have passed, Sue still has a way of making him feel like a nervous kid.

"You're... hot. Like, really hot," Sue says with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over him.

Chan shakes his head, his ears turning red. "Nah, nah."

Sue moves closer, her voice dropping. "I’ll admit, I regretted rejecting you back then."

"You’re only saying that to make me feel better," Chan says, trying to deflect, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that throws him off.

"Let's hope that's the case," Sue replies, and for a moment, their gazes lock, the tension thickening between them.

The heat of the water and the intensity of her gaze make Chan’s heart race, and he’s not sure if it’s just the temperature that’s making him feel this way. "It’s getting late," he finally says, breaking the moment.

"Yeah, you’re right," Sue agrees, being the first to climb out of the tub. She picks up her dress from the sun chair—and grabs Chan’s clothes as well.

"Hey, Chris," she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face as he’s about to step out of the water. "I have your clothes."

Before he can react, Sue takes off running, leaving Chan standing there, drenched and half-dressed.

"Sue!" Chan shouts, scrambling to get out of the tub. With no other option, he chases after her, his laughter echoing in the night.

As a family member of the wedded family, Sue has a room reserved at the resort, and she generously offers it to Chan so he can clean up after their impromptu dip in the hot tub. Chan stands in the bathroom, holding a hair dryer in one hand and his damp boxers in the other. He’s wrapped in a towel, waiting for his clothes to dry as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other.

"Chris, are you done?" Sue’s voice calls from outside the door.

"Almost done!" Chan shouts back, his voice strained. The air in the bathroom is warm and heavy, matching the tension he feels in his chest.

Before he can finish drying his boxers, Sue barges into the bathroom, still in her wet undergarments, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s there.

"I can't wait any longer," she announces, her voice playful but firm as she strides confidently toward the shower stall, tossing her towel to the floor.

Chan swallows hard, eyes widening as she starts stripping out of her wet underwear. His gaze flickers to the mirror, catching glimpses of her body before he quickly tries to avert his eyes, heat rising to his face.

"I–I'm almost done..." Chan mumbles, his voice barely audible now as he turns the hair dryer off, but his words trail off because Sue isn’t listening. She’s busy shedding the last of her clothing, standing completely exposed now, her back to him.

His heart pounds, and though he desperately tries to look away, his eyes betray him, catching her figure in the reflection again. She moves toward the shower, but then she pauses, noticing his gaze through the mirror. A small smile curves her lips as she saunters back toward him, utterly confident.

"Chris," she says, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sends a shiver down his spine. She steps closer, her bare body now in full view. "Want to shower together?"

Chan’s throat tightens, and he can’t seem to find the words. His mind is racing, caught between a surge of old feelings and the shocking reality of the moment. Sue stands there, teasingly exposed, as if waiting for him to make the next move.

Chan was a boy back then but now, he's just a man.

-

Is Chan still mad about Lee visiting you? Or did he go somewhere after the wedding and forget to tell you? Or... maybe he simply doesn't want to see you?

You’ve been turning these thoughts over in your mind ever since that night. You thought he’d come over after the wedding, share his usual stories about the day, about anything, really—like he always does. But the silence has been unsettling.

Coming home from work today, you half-expect to see him standing at his door, greeting you with that dimpled grin, his usual "Hi, neighbor." But all you see is his closed door.

You convince yourself that if Chan wants to see you, he’ll come around like usual, to poke fun at you or make you laugh. But it’s been too long now, and a knot of worry forms in your chest. What if he’s sick? What if something’s wrong?

After dropping off your bags and changing into comfortable clothes, you make up your mind and head over to his door. You knock, heart thudding with anticipation. A few moments later, you hear footsteps from inside.

When the door creaks open, there he is. He looks well—he looks good, as usual—but something feels off. There’s no dimpled grin, no sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey, can I come in?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't betray the unease creeping in.

"Sure," he says, stepping aside to let you enter.

You walk in and sit on the sofa, waiting for him to join you. The silence feels heavier than usual, and he seems distant, avoiding your gaze.

"How are you?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

He lets out a long sigh before replying, "I’m good." He says but it doesn’t feel like the truth.

"That’s good to hear," you say, though you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

You reach out to press your hand gently against his forehead. "You’re not sick, are you?"

He lets you touch him, and you tease, "Ooh... you’re still the hottest tenant in this building."

You hope the joke might lighten the mood, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s faint, distant. You don’t want to push him too hard, but this isn’t Chan. Not the Chan you know.

"Are you trying a new persona?" you tease again, nudging him lightly. "Because this brooding emo guy thing doesn’t suit you."

This time, he chuckles, and the sound makes your heart lift a little. He finally looks at you, and his hand reaches for yours, fingers loosely intertwining with yours in the space between you on the sofa.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, the apology catching you off guard.

"What for?" you ask, scooting closer to him, sensing that he’s carrying something heavy. You want to comfort him, whatever it is.

He leans back against the sofa, exhaling deeply. You wait, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.

"I met someone at the wedding," he begins, his voice careful.

A flicker of unease ripples through you, but you don’t say anything. You stay calm, letting him explain.

"Oh no, don't say you ran away with the bride," you joke, but it's more to ease the tension you feel building inside you.

Chan doesn’t react. He keeps looking straight ahead, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"I met Sue," he starts, his voice struggling to push the words out. "She’s... someone I knew from the past."

You stay quiet, sensing that there’s more he needs to get out, but the pauses between his words are long and heavy.

"We met there, talked, had some drinks... and we ended up taking a quick dip in the hot tub."

"Sounds fun," you say, but your voice is flat, far from convincing.

He swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. "We ended up in her hotel room... we were in the bathroom at the same time, and then... she asked if I wanted to shower with her."

Your heart sinks, but you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You stare down at your lap, your thoughts swirling, every unkind possibility flashing through your mind.

"I didn’t take her up on it," he quickly adds, "but... I hesitated. And in that moment, I realized I completely dismissed your feelings. I hate myself for it." His voice cracks with regret, and you can see the pain etched across his face.

"Maybe I haven’t changed at all," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Maybe I’ll always be... this... ‘fuckboy Chris.’" He lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back as if trying to escape the weight of his own thoughts.

He turns to look at you, his eyes full of sadness. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready for this." His voice is small now, hesitant. "And I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue."

It’s a lot to take in. The silence fills the room, and you let yourself feel everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the empathy. You need time, just a few moments, to let it all sink in.

When you finally lift your head, you give him a soft, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for being honest with me," you begin, your voice steady but quiet. "And I know it wasn’t easy to say... but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed."

His expression is heartbreaking. "I’m really sorry," he whispers.

"But Chris..." You take his hand, resting it on your lap, your fingers curling around his. "The fact that you acknowledged what you did was wrong, and that you took responsibility for it, shows me you're on the right path."

His eyes shift, the glints of warmth starting to return. "Don’t ever say you can’t change. You’re changing... I can see it, believe me."

Chan lets out a breath, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Goodness, what did I do to deserve you?"

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "You don’t have to be perfect for me, Chris. You just need to be good for yourself."

He buries his head into the curve of your neck, his arms tight around you, holding on as if to remind himself this isn’t the end. Not yet.

"But, you know..." you tease, your voice light. "You could always quit now."

"Never!" he exclaims, pulling you even tighter into his embrace.

The two of you sit there, holding onto each other, your flaws laid bare. The silence between you feels different now—it's full of understanding, and something deeper starting to grow.

Chan tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and his eyes soften as they lock with yours.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispers, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

You meet his gaze, the same emotions swirling within you. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you echo, because this journey hasn't been easy for either of you.

The moment between you is tender, delicate, and charged with something deeper—something that goes beyond words. You can feel it in the air, and in the way he looks at you. It feels right, like it needs to be sealed with something more, something real.

Your hands gently cradle his face, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You swipe your thumb across his mouth, your touch lingering as you think about how much you missed the feel of him, the taste of him. Slowly, you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his.

The kiss feels unlike any you've shared before. It's soft, deliberate, and filled with all the unsaid emotions between you. His lips move against yours with such tenderness, and in that moment, everything melts away—the hesitation, the doubts, the fear. This kiss marks the start of something new, something deeper.

Chan kisses you gently, and it makes your heart tremble in your chest. Every brush of his lips against yours speaks of the emotions he's been holding back, the sadness and the sweetness of what you’ve both been through. It’s bittersweet and lovely, all at once.

This kiss signifies that you’re ready—both of you are ready to take this leap, to explore this new depth together.

When the kiss breaks, Chan can’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He buries his head in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent that always calms him down. The feeling of your hand rubbing his back as you rest your head against him only solidifies how grateful he is that you're here, that he didn’t lose you.

He almost blew it, and yet here you are, forgiving him, giving him another chance. It's moments like this that make him certain—you’re the right person for him. Everything feels just... right.

You interrupt the peaceful silence with a playful tone, "It's your turn now."

"My turn for what?" Chan asks, momentarily confused as he lifts his head to look at you.

"Your turn to host the pajama party," you say, reminding him of the promise he’d made.

For a second, he’d forgotten all about that. "Huh?" he blurts out before realizing what you mean.

"I'll bring the snacks," you offer, and Chan nods, still smiling.

"Okay," he agrees without hesitation.

But you quickly add, "No weird movies, please?"

He can’t help himself from teasing you. "I know this French porn movie where the man—"

"Don’t make me cancel it," you cut him off, shooting him a stern look.

Chan laughs, "Okay, no French porn movies. Noted."

A mischievous idea crosses his mind as he playfully grins. "It's my party, though. I can do whatever I want, right?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing through his intentions, but to his surprise, you don’t outright protest. "Well... yes."

His grin widens as countless thoughts—most of them lewd and not remotely innocent—flood his mind. You’ve given him too much freedom now, and with that playful look in his eyes, Chan’s already thinking of ways to push your buttons.

-

The pajama party is officially on, and Chan has everything set to perfection. The bed faces the TV, freshly made with new sheets, and a scented candle flickers nearby, filling the room with a light, romantic scent. He carefully curated a movie list that’ll support the atmosphere he’s trying to create—a mix of feel-good films with enough romantic tension to get you in the mood.

As for himself, he keeps it simple yet calculated—gray sweatpants, worn low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of his pelvic bones, knowing full well how much you like that.

He checks the room once more, muttering to himself, "What else? What else?"

After a while, he spots something."The lights!" he says, darting toward the switch.

Setting the lights to a soft, dim glow, it ensures the perfect balance—just enough to see but low enough to encourage a little closeness.

Just as everything’s ready, you arrive, right on time. He’s been buzzing with excitement, but he tamps it down, making sure to keep his face casual as he opens the door slowly.

"I'm on an all-protein diet, but I can't say no to this snack," he teases, his eyes shamelessly traveling down your body. There’s a flicker of disappointment when he sees you in an oversized sweater, hiding your figure.

You hand him the bag of snacks with a smirk, "I hope you like grapes!"

He places the bag on the table, watching as you stroll into the room, eyes observing the cozy setup he’s prepared.

"I see that you did a little renovation." You comment with eyes narrowed.

"And I see that you're not dressed according to the dress code," he quips, pointing at your large, cozy sweater with a mock frown.

"Is it necessary though?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.

"Yes," he insists, determined.

You sigh in playful defeat, tugging at the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head, revealing a short, black slip dress underneath. It's silky, tight, and leaves just enough to the imagination—but not too much.

As you bend slightly to place the sweater on the sofa, Chan catches a glimpse of the lacey black underwear peeking out beneath the dress. His eyes widen for a second, and his pulse quickens. Suddenly, he wonders if maybe insisting on the dress code was too good of an idea. That slip dress, especially with the way it clings to you, is dangerous.

Oh, this is going to be fun, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing as he watches you settle in, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

"Do you want me to prepare the snack or something?" you ask, snapping Chan out of his daze. He’s been standing there for what feels like a full minute, just staring at you.

He quickly averts his gaze, trying to shake off the image of your nipples lightly pressing through the silky fabric of your slip dress. It's too much of a distraction. "No, I'll do it. You can just..."

"I'll just get comfortable," you say with a teasing smile, turning away and heading toward the bed. His eyes can’t help but follow the way the hem of your slip rides up with each step, revealing more of your thighs than he's ready to handle.

He manages to gather his thoughts long enough to prepare the snacks. When he returns with the tray, he finds you nestled in the bed, already looking far too comfortable. A pillow is propped behind your back, your legs casually stacked and splayed across the bed, and the hem of your slip dress rides dangerously high, showing off even more skin.

You crawl over to the side of the bed, the neckline of your dress dipping low and giving him an accidental peek at your soft, unrestrained curves. You help him place the snacks on the bed, and his mind keeps wandering as he tries not to lose focus.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, clearly unaware of the war going on inside his head.

"I don't know," Chan blurts out without thinking, his mind still stuck on how your body moves so effortlessly in that dress.

Your brow furrows, and you pout in response to his non-answer.

"I mean, I've chosen a few, but I’ll let you make the final decision," he says, completely surrendering control of the night, which had not been part of his plan.

He places the tray of snacks in the empty space on the bed, and you pick up a chip, popping it into your mouth with a playful grin. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance—for now.

"Okay, now I’m curious about your choice of movies," you say as you crawl over him to reach for the remote.

The scent of your skin, the warmth of your body so close, it’s all so utterly distracting. His breath catches as you move over him, the proximity stirring something deeper inside.

"No porn," you say with a laugh, scrolling through his movie selections. "That’s a good start."

Chan grins, but the effect you have on him is overwhelming. He needs to cool down fast before his mind strays too far. Thinking quickly, he suggests an action movie, something that could help him focus on anything other than you.

You agree without hesitation and settle back against the pillows as the movie starts, the room dimly lit, and the night now filled with a tension that neither of you can completely ignore.

"So, the father no longer lives with his daughter?" you ask, eyes glued to the screen while Chan’s attention remains fixed on your body.

"Uh-huh, yeah," he mumbles, clearly distracted.

"I don't like the stepfather," you comment about the movie, unaware of how little Chan is actually paying attention.

You turn your head to him, catching him in the act of staring. You pretend not to notice, reaching casually for a grape from the bowl he's holding. But as you bring it to your mouth, it slips from your fingers, rolling down Chan’s bare stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Without hesitation, you innocently reach for the grape, your hand brushing dangerously close to where he’s most sensitive. The moment is fleeting, but it lingers for Chan. He feels the heat rise in his chest as your fingers pull the grape free and pop it into your mouth as if nothing happened.

For a second, he’s frozen, his breath catching as the proximity of your touch leaves him wanting more. His carefully crafted plans for tonight? They seem to be backfiring, with you unintentionally driving him wild.

-

Chan may think all your actions were innocent accidents, but little does he know every move was calculated. You've been noticing his wandering gaze, the way he keeps getting distracted by you rather than the movie. His bare torso, though distracting, only adds fuel to your own plans.

When the first movie ends, you decide it’s time to build a little anticipation. You scoot to the edge of the bed, casually announcing, "Bathroom break."

You linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, letting the tension grow. When you return, Chan has cleared the tray and is fluffing your pillow—a sight that makes you grin inwardly. He’s already under your control.

"Can we watch a romcom next?" you ask as you climb back onto the bed, this time settling even closer to him.

"Sure," Chan agrees without hesitation, confirming that you've got him wrapped around your finger.

The second movie begins, and a few minutes in, you fake a yawn, casually resting your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, but eventually, his arm slips around you, his hand gently rubbing your arm. You smile softly, knowing you’ve set the perfect stage.

You lower your voice and whisper, "She’s beautiful, don’t you think?" referring to the actress on screen.

"Yes, she is," Chan replies quickly, too quickly.

You chuckle, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you'd say something like, 'but you're more beautiful,'" you tease.

That comment finally breaks his concentration on the movie. He looks at you, eyes locking with yours. The tension between you simmers, everything falling into place.

"You are more beautiful," he says, catching you off guard with how sincere he sounds.

You gently hold his chin, making sure his gaze stays on you. "Yeah?"

"Yes," his voice is low, thick with desire.

"Thank you," you sweetly murmur, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. It's a tease, just enough to leave him wanting more.

Chan is clearly struggling to hold on, but you're determined to push him further. You move swiftly, pulling one of his legs aside and slipping between them to sit.

The sheer panic in his voice when he asks, "What are you doing?" is impossible to miss.

“I want to sit here so we can cuddle,” you reply, playing the innocent card. You settle yourself against his chest, making sure to let out a low, sultry hum as you lean back into him.

He remains tense for a moment, but you feel him give in, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. His fingers gently squeeze your waist, and then his arm wraps around you, pulling you in close. His lips find your skin, starting with soft kisses on the top of your head, then trailing down the side of your face and to your bare shoulder. Each kiss becomes more ragged, more desperate, and you can feel the weight of his breath against your skin.

Finally, he turns your head, and the intensity in his eyes says it all—he’s done resisting. His lips crash into yours, the kiss raw, hungry, filled with more than just lust. It’s deep, hard, and leaves you breathless. You're barely keeping up as he kisses you with an urgency that feels like he’s been waiting for this forever.

“How can I walk away from this?” he asks, his voice heavy with emotion, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile, your lips barely grazing his as you reply, "You don’t, because it's your party, and you can do what you want."

That’s all it takes. Something inside him snaps. Chan gives in entirely, kissing you more feverishly, his hands roaming your body, touching you everywhere at once. You feel his fingers tug at the hem of your slip dress, and you lift your body slightly, allowing him to pull it off. The fabric falls away, leaving nothing between his hands and your skin.

“You’re so soft it's ridiculous,” he murmurs in awe, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You watch as his hands trail down your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides, claiming every inch of you. He traces the lines of your body like he’s memorizing them, his breath hot against your neck as he leaves searing kisses along the way.

“Everywhere my hand slides, you fit me,” he whispers, showing you just how well with every touch—from your throat to your breasts, your hips, and down. His mouth follows his hands, kissing, tasting, marking you.

You let out a quiet whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “Please let me touch you too,” you manage to whisper.

Chan doesn’t hesitate. He flips you over so that you’re straddling him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your every move. You waste no time, leaning in to kiss his neck, trailing your hands down his broad shoulders. Your fingers explore the firm muscles of his chest, and your lips follow, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.

You pause, admiring his sculpted abs, running your hands over them. "How do you even look like this?" you ask, awestruck.

Chan grins shyly, clearly not used to the compliments. “I don’t have anything better to do than go to the gym.”

“You do now,” you tease, tugging at him playfully.

Before he can react, you pull him down with you, both of you collapsing onto the bed together, laughing as the tension between you grows thicker.

In the dim light of the TV, Chan’s body hovers over yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he props himself on one elbow. You can feel the tension in the air, the weight of everything unsaid building between you. His eyes are locked onto yours, and you respond by slipping your hand down into his sweatpants, wrapping your fingers around him.

The way he groans, half-broken, sends a shiver down your spine. His hardness pulses under your touch, and each breath he takes sounds more ragged than the last. It’s intoxicating, knowing how undone he is because of you. Every stroke of your hand, every gentle squeeze makes him unravel a little more, and for a fleeting moment, you realize just how much power you have over him.

But before you can dwell on it, you feel his mouth. It takes you a second to pinpoint where, but then you feel it—hot and hungry, kissing your abdomen. His lips trail down, kissing along the curve of your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. The tension coils tighter inside you with each kiss.

With a playful grin, Chan grips the elastic band of your underwear between his teeth. The memory of last time flashes in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh at the familiar sight.

"Someone better not interrupt me again," he mutters between clenched teeth, determination and amusement laced in his voice as he tugs at the fabric.

The laughter bubbles out of you, half from the tickling sensation of his chin grazing your skin, half from the irony. But soon enough, the underwear slips away, and your laughter turns into a breathy sigh.

Chan wastes no time, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You can barely catch the words he murmurs between kisses, your focus completely stolen by the feel of his lips and tongue, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

Your legs part instinctively, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Anticipation swirls inside you, tightening in your core as Chan’s mouth ventures dangerously close to where you need him most.

The first contact of Chan’s mouth on your wetness is deliberate—a slow, teasing swirl that feels like the soft lick you’d give to the top of a melting ice cream cone. The sudden sensation draws a sharp gasp from your lips, and you almost snort from the intensity of it. He rewards you with a soft kiss on your inner thigh, as if pleased with himself.

The second contact is a gentle kiss, a reminder of the first kiss you shared. It’s pure, almost chaste, without any tongue, yet it holds a promise of what’s to come. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, a single thought pulses through your mind—you deeply wish that his kisses were meant for no one else but you.

Then comes the third, another kiss that slowly progressing from pure and innocent to something much dirtier. His lips linger and press deeper, his tongue tracing lines that send electric shocks through your entire body.

Chan takes his time, savoring every second, and with each passing minute, your body alternates between moments of tension and relaxation, yielding completely to him.

All of a sudden, he lifts his head, groaning in frustration. "I can’t handle it..." His voice is rough, desperate. He rests the side of his head on your thigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit as he breathes out, "I need more. Please."

His words are strained, raw with need. He’s hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge, and you know that if you don’t give him what he wants soon, he might just break. You slide your hand through his curls, tugging lightly to bring his gaze back to yours.

“More?” you ask, voice low, teasing, though his desperation makes your heart race.

"Way, way more," he whispers, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.

You smile softly, the pet name slipping out so naturally it surprises you. "Okay, baby."

At that, Chan hurriedly kneels, shedding his sweatpants in a rush, and when his erection springs free, it’s impossible not to stare. The sheer size of him, the desire etched across his face, it’s all aimed at you, and the heat between you intensifies.

He positions himself above you, taking your hands and tangling them with his own, pinning them above your head. "Finally..." he breathes, his voice thick with excitement and relief, almost bordering on ecstasy.

Despite the waiting, the teasing, you realize you were just as desperate as he was for this moment, "Finally..." you repeat.

As he pushes his hard length into you, he does it slowly, savoring every inch as your body adjusts to him. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can hear every sound that escapes his lips—soft gasps, sighs of pleasure, as if he’s trying to survive this moment and let it consume him all at once.

Fully sheathed inside you, he flexes his hips, and your eyes flutter shut. The sensation of him filling you, hot and hard, is overwhelming. It’s perfect.

"God, I was so right," he groans, his voice filled with awe. "You fit me perfectly"

Chan kneels again, his muscles contracting, his skin flushed red from the intensity. The view of him above you—his sculpted chest and arms—is breathtaking. He starts moving, each thrust measured, controlled. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and something similar to panic grips your chest, a raw intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.

“Talk to me,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips.

You smile weakly, your eyes half-closed as you try to keep yourself together. "This is... this is nice," you mumble, barely coherent as your mind reels from the pleasure.

He looks almost offended, his brow furrowing as if the word "nice" is beneath him. "Nice, huh?" he repeats, voice low and teasing.

Before you can respond, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you just enough to create a new angle. The depth he reaches now makes your breath hitch, and any attempt at keeping a coherent thought vanishes as he thrusts harder.

"Nice is good..." you start to say, but the words are swallowed by a moan as his pace increases, hitting just the right spot with every thrust. Your eyes roll back, and he grins at the reaction he pulls from you.

“I don’t do... nice,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning down as his movements grow faster, deeper, shaking the bed with every thrust.

You let out a sob, the sensation too much, and your body tightens around him, trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter. It’s a battle to hold on, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.

Chan hovers lower, his face close to yours as he studies every expression, his hips moving with precision. "Is it still nice?" he growls, his voice hoarse.

You can’t answer, not with the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. Your breath hitches, and just as you open your mouth to say something, a desperate cry escapes as your body finally gives in, releasing all the tension in a wave of pure ecstasy. You cling to the sheets, legs shaking, your voice echoing in the room as Chan continues to drive into you.

Moments later, you feel Chan reach his own peak, his body shuddering against yours as he releases with a deep, guttural groan, collapsing onto you, exhausted and trembling from the intensity of it all.

Once he's come to his senses, he lets out a shy laugh, his cheeks flushed. He’s so different from the brash, confident man you expected him to be—soft and vulnerable in ways you didn’t anticipate. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of affection for this man you’re getting to know in a completely new way.

"We’re going to miss the end of the movie," you tease, glancing at the TV still flickering in the background.

Chan laughs, his voice rich and warm. "I think we finished just in time."

-

Every time Chan wakes up in the morning, he no longer wonders where he is. He’s right where he belongs, lying next to you.

On weekdays, you live your separate lives, each sleeping in your own beds. But on weekends, you’re his, and he makes the most of it. It’s not just about sex—though there’s plenty of that. Your nights are filled with movies, video games, long dinners, and endless cuddling that eventually leads to even more sex.

Once, he warned you that it would take him days, weeks, maybe even years to get enough of you.

As expected, your alarm rings just as Chan is about to pull you closer, his arms instinctively reaching for you. With a quick motion, he grabs your phone, turns off the alarm, and shoves it under his pillow, refusing to let you go.

“Work,” you murmur, still half-asleep, rubbing your eyes as you reach for your phone.

“You know what time it is,” he teases, pulling you on top of him with ease.

Chan brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears so he can plant soft kisses all over your face. When his lips finally reach yours, his hand glides down your spine, resting on your rear before slipping his fingers under your underwear, teasing you through the fabric.

"Chris..." you mewl, your voice a mix of protest and desire.

“It’s either we do it here or in the shower,” he says, voice thick with need. He doesn’t care about the setting—he just knows he needs you to start his day right.

“As long as you’re doing all the work,” you reply, half teasing, half serious.

His eyes widen in disbelief. "Since when do you ever—"

You cut him off with a kiss, your lips pressing firmly against his. "Are we doing this or not?"

No matter how much you protest, Chan always gets what he wants. And he knows you secretly love catering to his desires, just as much as he loves pleasing you.

Your lips move together again as he pulls his cock out of his boxers, positioning himself. You lean forward, lowering yourself onto him slowly, feeling him fill you inch by inch. His hands rest on your hips as you stay on all fours, your back arching beautifully while he thrusts into you from below.

You glance down, watching his cock move in and out of you, and let out a playful giggle. “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” you ask, a little amazed.

He grins up at you, his hips never stopping their rhythm. Honestly, just looking at you is all he needs to feel alive in the morning. Your moans, your smile, the way you move—it all drives him wild.

“That feels so good, baby,” you purr, leaning down to kiss him deeply.

Chan’s mind wanders for a brief second, wondering how he got so lucky. There was a time when he feared you might think this was only physical, that he mistook lust for something deeper. But now, he knows it’s not just his body that craves you—his heart does too.

“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your nose brushing against his.

"Nothing," he murmurs, looking at you with the softest expression. "I’m just so happy."

You smile at him, pressing another kiss to his lips, and he holds you close, your bodies fitting perfectly together as he continues to move, his hips rocking into yours until both of you are lost in the sensation.

When you finally reach your peak, he follows, planting his seed deep inside you to complete what’s now become his favorite morning ritual.

As you get dressed, Chan stays in bed, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He watches you with lazy, contented eyes, still basking in the afterglow.

"I’ll cook dinner tonight," he says, hands propped behind his head, already thinking of the next time he’ll see you.

"Okay," you reply casually, slipping your sweater over your head.

"It would be easier if you gave me your spare keys," he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the underlying hope in his voice. "So I can cook at your place."

You pause for a moment, a coy smile creeping across your face. "You want the spare keys to my place?"

"Yes," he replies eagerly, sitting up a little straighter, hope flaring in his chest.

"Well..." You walk toward the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "You’ll have to earn it first."

As you leave his apartment and head across the hallway to your own, Chan lies back on the bed, his grin widening. It seems he has a new quest: earning the spare keys to your place.

And knowing Chan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them.

-

Chan knows your morning routine by heart. He lingers in bed for a moment after you leave, his mind wandering back to the last time you were together. Whether it was this morning or the night before, the memories of your body against his make him smile lazily.

Eventually, he gets up, washes up, and grabs a quick breakfast before heading out of the apartment to send you off to work.

As he steps out of his door, he sees a sight that surprises him: you're helping someone unload boxes from the elevator. Without thinking, he rushes over to help, noticing that there are still several boxes left inside.

“You should be on your way to work,” Chan says, more concerned about your punctuality than anything else.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get into the stuffed elevator,” you reply with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the time.

Just then, someone else steps out of the elevator, carrying the last box. “You can use it now,” he says, smiling.

You turn to Chan and introduce him, “This is Minho. He’s our new neighbor.”

Then you turn to Minho and gesture to Chan, “And this is Chris, the other neighbor.”

Chan feels a pang of disappointment. Just the "other neighbor"? He swallows it down, deciding to let it go for now.

Minho puts the box down and extends his hand to Chan. “Minho,” he says with a friendly grin.

“Chris,” Chan replies, shaking his hand. As their hands clasp, Chan gets a quick read on him. He knows the type—game recognizes game—but for now, he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’d better get going,” you say as Minho holds the elevator door open for you.

“Yes, please, I’d be devastated if you were late to work,” Minho says with a smile that seems just a little too smooth.

You laugh softly, waving it off. “It’s fine. No worries.”

That laugh—the ease of your interaction—it’s all too friendly for someone you’ve just met. It takes Chan back a little, knowing how long it took for you to warm up to him. Still, he lets it slide again.

As you move to leave, Chan pulls you close, intending to kiss you goodbye, but at the last second, you turn your head, and the kiss lands awkwardly on your jaw.

“Bye,” you say softly before stepping into the elevator.

“Have a great day at work, neighbor!” Chan calls after you, trying to play it off with a wave as the doors close.

Left standing in the hallway with Minho, Chan notices the pile of boxes still waiting to be moved into the new neighbor’s apartment. He offers to help, not feeling right about leaving the guy to handle it all alone.

After placing the last box inside, Minho hands Chan a can of soda as thanks. They sit for a moment, taking a breather from the unexpected workout.

“I must say,” Minho says suddenly, cracking open his can, “that was hard to watch.”

Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Sorry?”

“You and that pretty neighbor of yours,” Minho continues, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Chan straightens up, his grip tightening on the can. “What are you trying to say?”

Minho lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can see you like her, but her… I don’t think she likes you back.”

Chan feels the jab, but he doesn’t let it show. He knew there was something off about Minho from the start.

“She introduced you as her mere neighbor,” Minho adds, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And that kiss dodge? Ouch.”

Chan tries not to take the bait, but it’s impossible not to feel a little stung by the comment. Pissed, actually.

“How long have you been chasing after that cute neighbor?” Minho presses, his chuckle laced with condescension. He doesn’t even give Chan a chance to defend himself.

“Hey, you can mess with me all you want, but not with her,” Chan warns, his voice low, a dark edge creeping in.

Minho only snorts, crushing the empty soda can in his hand before tossing it casually into the trash. “And here I thought you were just like me.”

Chan tenses as Minho steps closer, eyes narrowing with a fierce smile. “I could have that girl in a week,” he declares boldly.

Chan’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to mess with her.”

Minho shrugs, completely unfazed. “Just watch me.”

And with that, it’s clear: there’s a new fuckboy in the area, and Chan’s got more than a little competition.

-

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[theapangea]

Bruised

Characters: Lip Gallagher x reader, Fiona, Ian, Debbie, V

Summary/ Request: How do you think lip would react if fwb that they've known each other forever ends up coming to the house in the middle of the night in the middle of winter with sleep shorts and a tank top with socks, covered in bruises

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Parent abuse, physically abuse

A/N: PROTECTIVE LIP AHHHHH!!!! I just love him and know he'd protect reader at ALL COST! All mistakes are mine as I am sometimes too lazy to proof read but I hope you enjoy!! Let me know what you think!! <3

You are in a daze.

Your frail body shakes as the sudden flashbacks of yelling and pushing and crying continue to play in your head. Trying to understand, to comprehend what in the hell just happened. Thinking a million thoughts yet completely nothing at all. Your head aches, the shooting pressure builds, beating against your skull. 

The snow crunches under your steps, soaking through your socks as you stumble to keep yourself up right. The icy wind causes you to tremble more than the horrors of the night. Barely able to keep your eyes open wide enough to see where you are going. 

Having no particular destination in mind but here you are standing outside Lip Gallagher’s house, knocking on the door in the middle of the night, begging to be let in. 

Lip has been the person you’ve leaned on for almost every bullshit thing that has happened in your life, understanding each other on a deeper level. It was only recently that your relationship with Lip became sexual but your connection was much more than that. And unfortunately neither of you have the guts to make it anything more than just friends who sleep together.

Your knocking rapidly increases, quickly becoming impatient until you hear the lock on the other side click and the porch light turn on. Coming face to face with his older sister Fiona who’s look of annoyance quickly washes over with concern, brows furrowing, mouth open in shock as she stares at your fragile body, wearing only a cotton tank top, small boxer shorts and socks shielding you from the cold. Your exposed skin is covered in purple bruises, deepening in color with every second that you tremble in front of her. 

Immediately snatching one of the jackets off the hook behind her and wrapping it around your shoulders as she pulls you inside. Goosebumps lining your skin as the warm, inside air circles around you. The pain is no longer from the cold but from the aching bruises. 

And while your world has been turned upside down, a happy boy on the next street over is fighting a huge grin as he walks back home.

The extra skip in Lip’s step was from the wonderful night he just spent with Karen, mainly the sex part. Their relationship has become more positive and Lip hopes that they are finally going to make it more official, like boyfriend/ girlfriend official, no one else on the side.

But...becoming official with Karen means that he will no longer get to see you...at all. Karen is hugely jealous of your relationship with Lip. The inside jokes, the constant hanging out, the connection that she sees that you two are obviously oblivious to. And the only way that she agreed to making things official with Lip is that he will have to cut off all ties with you.

Lip is feeling torn, picking between you and Karen should be so easy for him but these past couple of months, especially when you add sex into the equation, makes him question everything. He lets out one more deep breath, the fog floating in front of him as he knows that tomorrow he will finally have to tell you that you can’t be friends anymore. Knowing that the outcome is going to be disastrous.

Skipping every other skip as he jogs up the stairs of the back porch, a curious thought enters his mind as he notices all the lights shining into the darkness of the night and the door unlocked as he jiggles the handle. Walking into the warm kitchen, unwrapping his scarf and shrugging off his jacket, dismissing the items onto the table until some unknown later time.

The commotion from the front end of the house travels around his body as he stumbles to kick off his boots, catching himself on the wall by the stairs to stop himself from falling over. Peaking around the corner, trying to understand the roaring chaos that fills that Gallagher house tonight. 

Ian comes down the stairs, his hand placed on his forehand and the other holds a phone tightly to his ear. Practically arguing with the person on the other line, speaking some details about a house over on Gilmore Street.

Gilmore Street…that’s where you live. 

Lip’s interest suddenly peaked, his face asking a plain question towards his younger brother…what the hell is going on here?

But Ian waves him off, continuing on his story on how the police need to check on the house now and how something really fucked up happened. 

Lip stands there dumbfounded, trying to figure out this super confusing situation that he just walked into. His attention floats elsewhere as the two women in the next room talking abruptly loud. If he didn't know Fiona and V personally, then he would think hat they are arguing. Walking closer to the dining room but not actually in the room itself, Lip watches their interaction. 

Their movements are elaborate and complex. Fiona runs fingers through her hair, tossing it to one side, passing the hard floor beneath her. The conversation between them is making no sense to Lip, something about having to wait until tomorrow and trying to solve some problem. 

Lip stands still, his mind trying to piece the puzzle together from the small details that he has been given. But how could he, when it feels like everyone is talking in code. Like it's some top secret event that he can't know anything about.

Feeling something graze his side, bringing him back to reality to see Debbie walk between the two women towards the living room. In her hands a mug with steam coming from it. Walking quickly to the couch where she hands the mug to a girl. Lip following Debbie's same movements to get a better look at who's in his house. Eyes wide when it see that it's you...

A confused look freezes on his face as he studies your body. Your shaky hands reach out towards the mug as the warm contains seeping through the glass cup through your body. Your eyes fixated in front of you, as if the small girl standing in front of you isn’t actually there. Your chest heaving rapidly, breathing heavily through your nose. Knees bruised, shaking together. 

It is as if the dam that keeps the water of emotions behind a strong wall suddenly shatters. The instant fire spreads through Lip’s body as he sees your weak state. The walls of decorum crumble as his hands turn into fist and his jaw locks. The blood making his face bright red, moving quickly to your side, his knees hitting into the wooden floors hard as he practically pushes Debbie out of the way so he is kneeling in front of you.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Lip voice breaks through the chaos of the house as he holds onto your shoulders, shaking slightly but your gaze would shift to meet his, “What happened, tell me!” He whines, the pain mixed with anger driving his actions.

“Don’t yell at her dummy.” Fiona shouts as she comes over, grabbing Lip off the floor so they are face to face.

“What the fuck is going on?” The spit spewing from his mouth, his hand signaling towards you and why you are bruised and bleeding and hurt. Why you? Why you?

“We don’t know. Your little girlfriend just showed up here like 10 minutes ago.” V crosses her arms behind Fiona. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lip quickly remarks, the comment would have stung you more if you can actually concentrate but tonight is not the night for you to be dwelling over how Lip Gallagher feels about you. 

Your soft voice speaks his name.

Lip coming to you again, “Hey,” Lip’s kind eyes are on you, his touch now gentle as his heart aches. 

Eyes shaking as they meet him, glossing over as a tear slips down your cheek. But you struggle to get any words out.

“Just tell me what happened?” His hand on your cheek, wiping away the tears, “Please tell me.”

Gulping hard, your trembling body making the liquid in your mug move, hesitating as you say, “My dad."

“He got out?” 

“From where?” Debbie asks.

Lip groans, hate having to explain further, “Prison. Shut up.” Debbie rolls her eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Th-this morning.” The words feel like cotton balls in your mouth.

“He did this to you?” Standing up immediately, “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. Get the bat Ian.” He points towards his brother who instantly follows his orders.

The tears start flowing now, the snob leaking from your nose. Your body collapsing as the abuse of the night finally settles in causing you lose yourself.

“Lip.” Deb pulls Lip's attention back to you.

“She needs you right now buddy. You can beat the son-of-a-bitch up tomorrow.” Fiona patting his back before leaving the room.

And he knew Fiona was right. He didn't need to be this guy who beat the shit out of some low-life, that isn't going to make him a hero to you. Lip needs to be here for you now, comfort you, take care of you. Be the man that you need.

He realized why you came over to his house, looking for him at your darkest moment. Understanding that you and him can spend hours together without saying a word. Be closer, more intimate then sex with Karen will ever be. It was always going to be you, he was always going to pick you.

Wrapping his arms around you as you sob deeper against his chest, shushing as he rocks you, "I've got you." Kissing the top of your head. The instantly relief coating your body.

~~~

Let me know what you think!! thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU!!!

[forlix]

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“God, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kim Kyeyoung «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that.”

“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”

“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. ��Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.

Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

His role model.

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. But only sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It really fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I’ll genuinely commit homicide if I have to do all this again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡