#non idol au

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[seokminfilm]

green beans | choi seungcheol

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

warnings: non-idol au, ceo!seungcheol, lots of fluff, reader is implied to be female, playful bantering, pet names ('babydoll'), mentions of children, reader is a badass housewife, lots of kissing

now playing: a lonely night (the weeknd)

word count: 699 (1 away from 700 are you serious)

"I'm home," The sound of footsteps pulled your attention from the simmering pan of vegetables, and you turned to see your CEO husband Seungcheol, sleeves to his button-up shirt rolled up as he dropped his wallet and keys on the countertop.

He strolled up to you, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your neck, smiling against your warm skin. "Smells so good, babydoll."

"Thank you, Cheollie. How was your day?" You ask, and Seungcheol sighs, leaning back on the cuonter as he clears his throat.

"Very tiring. We had new interns today and they brought me to my limits multiple times. One of them even clogged up the toilets." Seungcheol's voice was tired, and you chuckled, almost bursting out with laughter over your simmering green beans.

Sighing, you seasoned the greens with a bit more soy sauce, stepping back seconds after as you properly brought your arms around Seungcheol's neck. He pressed into you, smiling underneath your touch as you kissed him passionately.

"What if they see us?" Seungcheol chuckles deviously, eyes crinkling up with his smile as you blush and swat his chest. "We're not doing anything bad, Cheol."

"Are we sure kissing in front of our family dinner isn't bad, babydoll?" Seungcheol's hands squeeze your sides, and you roll your eyes at him, flicking your water covered hands at him as he gasps.

"Like you've not kissed my hand and collarbone while stirring green beans." You rolled your eyes at him, and he giggled, that cute, familiar chuckle sending shivers down your arms.

"You were too damn cute, hunched over the oven trying to season the green beans right. I was gonna explode if I didn't grab your face and kiss you until you couldn't think." Seungcheol whines, lips pouty as he nuzzles his face in your collarbone again. Laughing aloud, you jump when you hear your six-year-old daughter's voice come crashing into the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Her arms were open wide, and Seungcheol pulled away swiftly, catching her in his arms as he spins her around.

"Oh, it's my pretty little girl! How was your day?" He smiled at his daughter with such joy it broke your heart a little, and Yena couldn't help but squeal with delight, small gummy smile lighting up your world.

"Good, Daddy! I got first place in my class's spelling bee!" Yena jumped up and down in excitement, and Seungcheol's eyes sparkled as he kissed her all over her face, causing Yena to squeal happily.

"That's my smart, pretty girl." He praised her, and soon afterwards, your son, named after your husband, made his way into the kitchen. His thick eyebrows, which matched his father's, rose into his hairline as he crashed into his father's arms.

"And how have you been?" He questioned his son, and he smiled. "I've been good, Dad. I missed you so much. Mom missed you even more, though." The younger Seungcheol smiled evily as he grinned up at you, and you glared at him, neck and cheeks heating up as your husband laid eyes on you, obviously enjoying your flustered reaction.

"Seungcheol II!" You whisper to him, and he skips off happily, Yena sprinting after him.

"So you missed me?" Seungcheol teased, leaning in as he kissed the shell of your ear.

"........Maybe," You crossed your arms, and Seungcheol dove into your neck again, peppering kisses across your collarbone as his lips leave a trail of warm tingles down your neck and over your body.

"Your green beans are burning, by the way." He whispers, deep voice making your arm hair stand up before you blush deeply, stirring the beans once more as you mutter, "You made me forget how to stir for a second, Cheol."

"Keep stirring, babydoll, you're doing great." Seungcheol smiles, a hint of sarcasm behind his voice as he holds up two thumbs in an measly encouragement. Smiling at your husband's antics, you finish up dinner, smiling as you finally sit down beside your other half and enjoy a nice, home-cooked meal.

tags: @k1eev @kstrucknet

a/n: first addition other than dk!! still miss my pookie though so probably going to start working on my dk garten of banban au next?? (garten of banban is a stupid game but it's my comfort game so suck it up and deal w it)

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[nevernonline]

✧.* talk too much; kmg

synopsis:  a charismatic but slightly awkward mingyu, whose tendency to talk too much creates hilariously unpredictable situations.  one early morning he spots a stranger sitting in the corner of the café—someone who's quiet, mysterious, and a little intimidating. drawn to her aura, he strikes up a conversation. but every time he opens his mouth, his words seem to betray him.

paring: mingyu x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 11k

content: . non-idol idolings, awkward over sharer mingyu.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. ( there's a part 2 in my drafts fully bc I couldn't stop writing about these two)

The bell above the café door jingled as the stranger stepped inside. Mingyu, standing in front of the register, halfway through recounting a story to his favorite barista about the time he accidentally adopted a stray cat. He paused mid-sentence, caught off guard by the stranger’s presence.  

She was unlike anyone who usually wandered into the cozy café—a stark contrast to the warm, inviting space. Dressed in muted tones, she carried an air of quiet confidence and mystery, expression unreadable. The girl didn’t look around or hesitate, walking directly to a table in the far corner as though she had been here a hundred times before.  

Mingyu watched her settle in, his curiosity piqued. The girl placed a cherry red leather-bound journal on the table, opened it to a blank page, and began scribbling furiously.  

“She doesn't look like she’s here for the coffee,” Mingyu muttered to himself.  

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the notepad behind the counter from his stunned regular bar keep and approached the table.  

“Hi there,” he said brightly. “Welcome to uh, Black Rabbit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? One of the world-famous muffins? Well, they’re not world-famous yet, but I think they are. Anyway—”  

The stranger looked up, her sharp eyes meeting his. Mingyu froze for a moment, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say next.  

“Black coffee,” the stranger said curtly. Her voice was low, measured, and entirely unimpressed.  

“Got it. One black coffee. Simple. Classic. You know, I respect that. Some people come in here and order drinks with so many extra syrups and toppings it’s like they’re trying to create a dessert in disguise. But you—you’re all about the essentials.”  

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this? Also do you even work here?”  

Mingyu blinked, realizing he was rambling. “Uh, nope! No point. Just making conversation. I’ll get that coffee for you. And, uh, no I don’t. Just helping out.”  

He turned and practically sprinted back to the counter, silently berating himself. “Cool, Mingyu. It's really cool.”  

When he returned with the coffee, he found her staring out the window, lost in thought. He set the cup down gently, but instead of leaving, he spoke again.  

“Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but are you... writing something? You looked really focused earlier. Like, next-level focused. Are you an author? Or maybe a secret spy writing down your next mission?”  

The stranger sighed, looking back at him with an exasperated expression. “Do you always ask this many questions?”  

“Only when I’m curious,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “And I’m very curious about you. You’ve got that whole mysterious, ‘I’ve got secrets’ vibe going on.”  

The girl finally gave a hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable. “Maybe I do.”  

That small flicker of amusement was all the encouragement Mingyu needed. “Okay, so you are a spy. Or an undercover rockstar. Oh! Or a—”  

“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to work,” she interrupted, though her tone was softer now.  

Mingyu took a step back, raising his hands. “Got it. I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything—like a refill, a snack, or a friendly face—I’m your guy.”  

“But you said you don’t work here.” 

As he walked away, the stranger shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. Mingyu may have talked too much, but there was something disarmingly genuine about him that made it hard to stay annoyed.  

Heading up to grab his own cup from the counter, Mingyu stole another glance at her and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of story they were carrying—and whether he’d somehow become a part of it.

The next afternoon, the café was busier than usual, filled with a mix of students typing away on their laptops and a few regulars deep in conversation. Mingyu was at the counter, enthusiastically explaining to another regular Mrs. Park how the secret to perfect coffee lay in "a gentle pour and a mindful attitude," when the bell jingled again.  

Mingyu's head snapped up, and sure enough, the girl from yesterday was back. This time, she seemed even more aloof, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling back on her spot in the corner. She didn't notice Mingyu’s stare as she quietly set down her cherry red journal and began flipping through its pages.  

Mingyu found himself momentarily frozen in place, suddenly aware of how *awkward* his last encounter had been. "Don't be weird this time. Don't overdo it," he muttered to himself, but his mind was already spiraling into potential conversation starters. What if he said something she’d find interesting? What if he said too much?  

With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped away from the counter. He was *determined* to keep things casual.  

“Hey, you,” Mingyu called out, walking toward her table, “back again, huh? Is the coffee that good, or are you just here for a change of scenery?”  

The girl looked up from her journal, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke in her usual flat tone. “Just getting out of the house for a while.”  

Mingyu nodded, trying to read the mood. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, you just need a little break from your own four walls. I mean, my walls are full of stuff—vinyl records, old concert tickets, a couple of questionable cat sweaters... but still.”  

Her lips twitched, just for a second. “A questionable cat sweater?”  

Mingyu grinned. “Yeah. It’s got a picture of a cat wearing glasses, trying to look intellectual. But honestly, I think it just makes the cat look like it’s about to take over the world. It was for my work Christmas party, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worn it more than once.”  

There was a moment of silence, and then the corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “I’d like to see that.”  

Mingyu’s heart did a little flip. She’s smiling. "It’s not for sale. Only available to cat enthusiasts who appreciate the depth of their feline overlords."  

Her smile lingered for just a second longer before it faded back into the neutral expression she wore so often. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.  

Mingyu felt a brief hesitation. Maybe it was better not to press too hard. He had a tendency to run with a conversation until it got awkward, and right now, the conversation felt almost... comfortable.  

"So," Mingyu started, his mind racing for something else to say, “I’m guessing you’re writing more top-secret spy notes today? Or is it a shocking revelation about how you once got lost in a supermarket for three hours?”  

The girl’s eyebrow arched. “That’s an oddly specific guess.”  

Mingyu shrugged. “You'd be surprised how many people get lost in supermarkets. But, you know, it's all about the aisles and the lights. Before you know it, you're trapped in the frozen food section, wondering how you got there in the first place.”  

She watched him for a moment, then laughed softly—a real laugh this time, not just a polite chuckle. It was low, but genuine, and it made Mingyu’s chest feel lighter than it had in days.  

“Okay, I’ll admit that’s sort of funny, considering I assume you’re speaking from experience,” she said, surprising him even more. “But no, I’m not writing about that. Just...” She paused for a moment, her fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Just... trying to work through some things.”  

The shift in her tone was subtle, but Mingyu could feel the change. For the first time, he wasn’t just a guy talking too much. He was hearing her in a way that felt real, as if she was opening up to him without fully realizing it.  

“I get it,” Mingyu said, his voice softening. “Sometimes you just need a space to think things through. Like, I talk on the radio every night—way too much sometimes—but I guess it helps me sort out my own head.”  

The girl looked up at him then, her eyes lingering on his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart race.  

“You talk on the radio?” she asked.  

Mingyu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You could say I’m kind of a big deal, I mean here anyway to people who know me” He made a vague gesture to the café around them. “But only to the people who are really into weird facts and  random stories. Like, one time I told my listeners about how I accidentally ended up with two lunch boxes after a miscommunication with a vending machine. I’m not proud of it, but hey, it makes for a great segment."  

She tilted her head slightly. “What else do you talk about?”  

Mingyu opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he was getting carried away. "Well, I don't want to bore you with my radio segment. Not everyone's cup of tea."  

She looked thoughtful for a second. “I’d listen to you.”  

His heart skipped. “Really?”  

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still steady. “If you were actually interesting enough.”  

Mingyu burst out laughing. “Okay, ouch. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”  

She shrugged, and for a moment, Mingyu just stood there, unsure whether he’d said something that was too much or if she was just being her usual, unreadable self.  

Finally, he broke the silence with a casual, “If you do end up listening, I’ll make sure to talk about my cat sweater for at least twenty minutes. That’ll make it worth your while.”  

A flash of amusement crossed her face. “I’ll hold you to that.”  

Mingyu smirked, making a mental note to talk in depth about his weird festive sweater, “Are you ever going to tell me your name?” 

“If you’re worth it.” A challenge from the enigma of a girl. 

“Okay, I’m Mingyu, by the way.” 

She just smiled as he walked off and went back to her black coffee without another word. 

Later in the night, the rain hitting the pavement outside of his office he watched as he had just finished setting up for his radio show. He spoke into the microphone, he could still feel the weight of his earlier conversation with the girl in the café. Something about her, her quiet mystery, had left him thinking, and for the first time in a long while, he felt calm on air.  

“Good evening, everyone,” Mingyu’s voice boomed through the mic. “I’m your host, Mingyu, here to take you through the night with some extremely random thoughts in between your hot hit countdown. But first, let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart: cats. Yes, that’s right. Cats. And how, in some cultures, they’re considered mystical beings that can sense your innermost thoughts. Which, if you ask me, explains a lot about why my cat is currently judging me for eating cereal at 11 PM.”  

He paused, chuckling to himself as he imagined the girl sitting in the corner of the café, maybe listening to him right now.  

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning into the mic. “If anyone out there has a cat sweater as legendary as mine, I’d love to hear about it. Or if you’ve ever gotten lost in a supermarket, accidentally adopting an extra lunchbox, send me a message. You know, just the things we all need to talk about. Let’s connect, guys. Let’s keep it real. If you’re watching us live right now on Youtube leave your stories in the chat or don’t hesitate to hit me up on twitter at gyunation.”  

The next morning, the café was as cozy as ever, with soft music playing in the background and a few early risers getting their caffeine fix. Mingyu was ordering coffee when the door opened again. He turned, already knowing who it was before she even walked in.  

The girl from the had returned. She gave him a small, knowing smile as she walked in and headed toward her usual table.  

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d hold you to it.”  

He blinked. “Wait, what?”  

“You’re wearing your cat sweater today,” she said with a hint of a smile, her eyes glinting. “And I’m listening to you. Now, tell me about the mystical powers of cats, Mingyu.”  

Mingyu couldn’t help it. He grinned. He’d found a way to connect, just like he’d always hoped—through the stories, through the weirdness, and maybe, just maybe, through the unexpected bonds that only seemed to form when you weren’t trying so hard.  

“If you finally tell me your name.” 

“It’s y/n.” 

Mingyu blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering in his eyes. "Y/N," he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it. It was simple, yet it felt like a small victory. There was something about hearing her name that made everything feel a little less mysterious, a little more real.  

“I didn’t expect it to be so... normal,” Mingyu said with a half-joking grin, but there was a warmth in his tone that made the words feel genuine. "I was kind of hoping for something  cooler, like... I don't know, Phoenix or something. Or even Astrid, that would’ve been a great name."  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”  

Mingyu let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “Maybe. I get random ideas sometimes. Like, when I was younger, I was convinced my name should’ve been something cooler, like Max or Axel. But then I realized I was always just Mingyu. And now, well, I’m starting to like it." He hesitated for a second. “I’m starting to like the name y/n too.”  

There was a flicker of something in her expression, something soft and fleeting, before it was replaced with her usual composed demeanor. “I’m glad to know you like it. Mingyu is honestly a nicer name than Axel. Though, you’re still in trouble. I’m waiting for my cat wisdom.”  

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically, happy to follow the new flow of their conversation. He slid into the chair across from her, trying to hide the fact his hands were still slightly shaking from the excitement of actually talking with her. “Okay, okay. The mystical powers of cats—where do I even begin?” He leaned in dramatically, as if about to reveal some ancient secret.  

"First of all, cats are masters of manipulation," Mingyu began, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "I mean, if you’ve ever had a cat sit on your lap, staring at you like they know you’ve got food, but they're too dignified to beg—that’s sort of like when you know you’re in their power."  

Y/N’s lips twitched, and for the first time, she seemed fully engaged in his rambling. “Manipulation, huh?” she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I thought we were talking about mystical powers, not  deviousness."  

Mingyu grinned. “That is their mystical power, come on. They can manipulate you into giving them whatever they want, whether it’s food, affection, or a new scratching post. It’s all about the gaze, the quiet dominance. There’s a reason people say cats can see into your soul.”  

Y/N nodded slowly, clearly entertained. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the mystical part? You know, the one where cats are supposed to be magical, like, bringing good luck and stuff.”  

“That’s a good one.” Mingyu leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with the sudden spark of inspiration. “Well, think about it. Cats sleep all day, but when they wake up, they’re already confident they can get what they want. They just know that time is precious, that sleep is sacred, and that the real power is in being present when it counts.”  

He paused for a second, realizing that this wasn’t just him making random, funny observations anymore. There was something about how he’d said it—how focused he’d been—something deeper that he hadn’t planned for. Mingyu quickly shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed.  

“Okay, maybe I’ve been watching too many cat videos, but you get what I mean, right?”  

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I get it. Cats don’t waste time. They don’t do things for anyone but themselves. That’s kind of powerful.”  

“Exactly.” Mingyu’s smile was so wide it threatened to overtake his face. “It’s like they’ve got it all figured out. We’re all running around, doing a million things at once, but cats? They take it easy, let things come to them and somehow, it works out.”  

Y/N sat there, looking at him for a moment, before her gaze drifted down to her journal. "I never thought about it that way," she said quietly.  

Mingyu noticed the shift in her energy. It was subtle, but he could tell that his words had struck something deep. Before he could say anything more, she lifted her head again, her expression more thoughtful than before.  

"Maybe I need to take a page out of the cat playbook," she murmured, almost to herself.  

Mingyu watched her for a moment, wondering if he’d said too much, or if he was getting into dangerous territory where he might have pushed her too far with his endless chatter. But when she glanced back up at him, there was no irritation, only curiosity.  

“I think we all do,” Mingyu said softly. “We could all use a little more time to just be. No pressure. No rush. Just existing in the moment.”  

Y/N gave a small smile, and for the first time, Mingyu felt like it wasn’t just her pulling away from the world. It was almost like she was letting a piece of herself connect to him, in this little moment of vulnerability.  

"So," he said after a beat, trying to keep the conversation light, "what are you going to do now? Go home and take a nap like a true cat?"  

Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But maybe I’ll actually finish what I’m writing today. You know, before I get distracted by any more of your stories."  

Mingyu’s grin widened, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't realized he was craving. “I promise, I’ll keep the stories to a minimum. But if you need a distraction, you know where to find me.”  

She raised her cup of coffee, as if to make a toast. "I might just have to do that."  

Later that day Mingyu returned to his usual post at the counter on his break from the studio, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d just had with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about a conversation. His thoughts wandered back to her, and how she hadn’t seemed annoyed by his rambling. Instead, she’d actually listened—like she wanted to listen.  

As the afternoon light filtered through the café windows, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N from the counter. She was still scribbling in her journal, her focus so intense it was almost like she was channeling her own version of that "cat power" he had talked about earlier.  

And maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of her story. Or at least, part of the narrative she was writing in her mind.  

The thought made him smile to himself, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just talking to fill silence. He was talking because it felt like she was listening—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the sound of his voice, too.  

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her things from the table and walked up to him standing in line,”I already got you another one, I remembered you came here around this time yesterday so I just took a shot.” Her fingers brushing against his in the exchange. 

“I think it’s going to be just what I need,” he said softly, her smile lingering.

Mingyu nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet space between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but there was something comforting in the silence, something deeper than just shared words. It was like they both understood that there was more here than just a random meeting. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to find something that couldn’t easily be put into words.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Mingyu asked, leaning against the counter, trying to keep the conversation going. “Any secret missions? Any mysteries waiting to be solved?”

Y/N took a sip of her espresso, savoring the rich taste before setting the cup down and looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I have been thinking about something,” she said, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be somewhere. You know? Per our earlier conversation. Not just physically, but mentally. To actually let yourself be present and not be running from one thing to the next.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed as he processed her words. “I get that,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “I think... I think I’ve been running around like that a lot lately. Always filling up my time with stuff, trying to get things done, but I’m never really here, you know? It’s like, I’m always on autopilot.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Exactly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But sometimes, the quiet is where the answers are.”

Mingyu felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. It was as though they were having a conversation that was much bigger than coffee, much bigger than just now. It felt like she was giving him a glimpse into something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.

"You know," he said softly, "I think I needed to hear that today."

Y/N looked at him, her gaze steady. "I think you were meant to hear it."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the whole world outside the café had faded into the background. It was just him and her, and in this small, quiet space, they had carved out a little corner of understanding.

But before he could say anything more, Y/N stood, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said, offering him a gentle smile. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Same time?” Mingyu asked, suddenly eager for the next day, for the next conversation, for the next moment with her.

She gave a slight nod, her smile turning a little more playful. “Same time. And don’t forget your charm, Mingyu.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll bring it. I promise.”

As Y/N left the café, Mingyu stood there for a moment, watching her go. He had no idea what was coming next, no idea what kind of story he and Y/N were writing together. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to rush ahead to the next chapter. He was content to let it unfold, slowly and naturally, like the turning of a page.

And when the door swung closed behind her, he found himself already looking forward to tomorrow.

This time, he didn’t mind that he was talking too much.

It was a slow evening at the radio station. Mingyu leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily in circles while a groovy indie track filled the studio. The red ON AIR sign glowed softly above the window, casting the room in a warm, familiar light.  

"Alright, everyone," Mingyu said into the mic as the song faded. His voice slid effortlessly into his signature radio tone—smooth, playful, and just a touch self-deprecating. "It's your favorite over-sharer again. If you're tuning in tonight, let me know you're out there. Send me your requests, your shout-outs, or your best guess for how long it took me to ruin my dinner plans this week."  

As he flipped through a stack of vinyl records, his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the now not so stranger at the café. She had become a regular fixture in his life over such a short time, always sitting in the same corner, writing in that journal of hers.  

The thought made him smile, and before he knew it, he was speaking again.  

"You know," he began, leaning closer to the mic, "there’s this person who’s been hanging around my favorite café lately. They don’t say much, but there’s something about them—you know, the kind of person who’s like a locked treasure chest. You just want to figure out what’s inside. I, of course, have been trying to charm them with my wit and sparkling conversation. Has it worked? I’d say sort of. But hey, persistence is key, right?"  

He chuckled, then added, “Anyway, I’ve decided to name them ‘Mystery Corner Person.’ If you’re listening, MCP, this one’s for you.”  

Mingyu queued up the next track—a dreamy, nostalgic tune that felt just right. As it played, he leaned back and sighed, wondering if she's still listening to hear his ridiculous ramblings.  

But, she did. 

The next morning at the café, y/n walked in earlier than usual, her journal tucked under one arm. Mingyu was sitting at a high top table at the window when they approached him directly.  

“I heard your show last night,” she said, her voice as calm and unreadable as ever.  

Mingyu froze, a muffin balanced precariously in one hand. “Oh, uh—did you?”  

Y/n tilted her head. “Mystery Corner Person?”  

Mingyu’s ears turned pink. “That... might’ve been about you.”  

“I figured.” They placed their journal on the counter, resting their hand on the cover. “You’re very open. I was waiting for you to bring it up actually.”  

“I like to think it’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin.  

For a moment, they just stared at him, and Mingyu worried he’d made a fool of himself again. But then, to his surprise, the stranger smiled—a real, genuine smile.  

“Your persistence is let’s just say.. entertaining,” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth.  

Mingyu felt a rush of relief and a spark of something else—hope, maybe. “Does this mean you’ll give me a shot? By being friends, I mean. Or acquaintances. Or—well, anything, really.”  

Y/n chuckled softly, their smile lingering. “I’ll give you a shot.”  

As they turned to head to their usual corner, Mingyu couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for the first time, he felt like he might actually be breaking through that carefully guarded exterior.  

He picked up his muffin and placed it back on the plate, walking over to their table with a little extra bounce in his step. Maybe his tendency to talk too much wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“So, mystery corner person,” Mingyu started, his voice light, playful. “Does this mean we’re friends now, or are you just humoring me?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quivering. “I’d say we’re on the road to friendship. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Mingyu said, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, still standing. He tried to suppress the urge to keep talking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have the best stories, and I’m betting you’ve got some good ones. Maybe you’ll share them with me one day.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound melodic. “I’m not exactly one for sharing my whole life, though. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, no pressure,” Mingyu said quickly, lifting his hands as if in mock surrender. “You’ve got your own time. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m a terrible secret keeper. So if you start telling me anything too wild, I might end up broadcasting it.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Y/N replied, her tone a little teasing. “I’ll make sure to be careful around you then.”

Mingyu smiled at the playful challenge in her voice. He was surprised how easy it felt to talk to her now. There was something about her calm, unruffled nature that made him feel comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.

He sat down at the edge of the table, leaning forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the radio host charm for now,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “But you should know, it’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been talking to a microphone alone for so long, I forget there are real people out there sometimes.”

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “I think it’s a good thing. You’ve got a way of making everything sound a little brighter.”

Mingyu blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but he found himself chuckling, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said about my rambling.”

Y/N gave a slight shrug, but her eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like rambling is a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to just say things and see where they go.”

“See?” Mingyu said, leaning in as if he’d cracked a code. “That’s what I’m talking about. You get it. You’re a fellow over-sharer in disguise, I just know it.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’ll have to decide whether you’re worthy of knowing my secrets first.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t annoy you with my stories,” Mingyu said with a wink. “But I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be sharing anything you don’t want me to.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Y/N said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Mingyu chuckled, standing up from his chair and giving a mock bow. “Alright, I’ll leave you to write. But, just so you know, I’m very persistent, so you’re going to be seeing a lot of me, mystery corner person.” 

Y/n just waved him off, “For someone who wanted to learn my name so badly you’re in the habit of not using it.” 

“Ah, you’ll be hearing a lot more of it. Don’t worry too much.” 

Y/N shook her head with a faint smile, but just as he turned to leave, something tugged at her resolve. She called out after him, her voice hesitant yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?” He turned around quickly, almost like he’d been waiting for her to say his name again. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, words hanging unspoken.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook as if it could anchor her nerves. “Would you want to have dinner or something? I mean now that we’re friends, I figured we could hang out more. Not just over coffee.”

Mingyu’s expression softened into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “I’d love that,” he said without hesitation. “How about tonight? I’m off at 7:30. Can we meet at Yeatta’s? It’s just a block or two from here.”

“Yeah, that works for me,” Y/N replied, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to play it cool.

“Great,” Mingyu said, his excitement barely contained as he gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

As he walked away, Y/N found herself staring at the space he had just vacated, her lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. There was something about Mingyu that made her heart feel lighter—like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something worth holding onto.

Mingyu arrived at Yeatta’s at exactly 7:25, five minutes early but not surprising given the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager. When Y/N walked in a minute later, scanning the small, warmly lit restaurant, she found him standing by the entrance, his smile lighting up as soon as he spotted her. 

“Right on time,” he teased, holding the door open for her. “I was starting to think you might stand me up.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, smirking as she stepped inside. “You’d just hunt me down at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

“True,” Mingyu admitted with a grin. “I’m nothing if not persistent.” 

They were seated at a cozy booth near the back, the smell of wood-fired pizza and roasted garlic wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Y/N found herself relaxing more than she expected, her usual hesitations melting away under Mingyu’s easy charm.

“So,” Mingyu began, unfolding his napkin with a flourish, “are you going to finally tell me what you were writing so furiously in that notebook of yours?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked up the menu. “You mean the “mystery notebook” that you keep trying to pry into? Not a chance.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “You can’t keep a secret forever. Especially not from me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Nice try. Maybe if you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

“Deal.” Mingyu grinned like he had already won. “But first, what’s your go-to comfort food? And what drinks should we get? I need to know if you’re a pizza or pasta person before it kills me.”

“Depends on the mood,” she said, glancing over the menu. “But tonight? Definitely pasta and red wine. You?”

“Pizza all the way, yes to the wine for sure, I might get white though? Better for the red sauce is what I’ve heard before, not sure if it’s true.” he said confidently. “ But I’m flexible. We can share if you want to try both.”

The waiter had just placed their wine glasses on the table, a rich red for Y/N and a sparkling white for Mingyu, who claimed he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur but was always up for a little sparkle. As they clinked their glasses, the sound rang out softly, blending into the warm hum of conversation around them. 

“To new friends,” Mingyu said with a grin. 

“And persistent ones,” Y/N added with a sly smile before taking a sip. The wine was smooth, warming her from the inside as much as the company did. 

“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back comfortably in his chair, “tell me something about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking as she swirled the wine in her glass. “Hm,I used to play the cello when I was younger. Like, seriously. Competitions and everything.”

“No way,” Mingyu said, his eyes widening in surprise. “Why don’t you still play?”

“I got too busy with school, life, and, well, other things took over,” she said with a shrug, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “But it was fun while it lasted. Your turn.”

“Something you wouldn’t guess about me?” Mingyu echoed, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Alright. I once auditioned for a cooking show.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What happened?”

“Well,” he began, leaning in like he was about to reveal a deep, dark secret, “I made it to the second round. But then I totally botched a dessert challenge because I got the sugar and salt mixed up.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh no! What were you trying to make?”

“A soufflé,” Mingyu groaned, dramatically slumping in his chair. “I thought I’d be impressive, but instead, I made the world’s saltiest disaster.”

“I would’ve loved to see that,” Y/N said, still laughing. “You’re brave, though. I can barely cook for myself, let alone under pressure.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty decent cook these days,” Mingyu said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself and cook for you sometime.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but smiled. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be the judge. Ramsay style.” 

The conversation naturally shifted as the wine loosened their inhibitions. Y/N talked about her love for old bookstores and how she could lose hours flipping through dusty pages, imagining the lives of people who owned them before. Mingyu shared his obsession with spontaneous road trips, confessing that he once drove five hours just to try a diner he saw on TV. 

“You’re kidding,” Y/N said, incredulous but amused. “Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Mingyu said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Best blueberry pancakes of my life..”

Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You’re so carefree. I don’t know if I could ever just get up and go like that.” 

“Why not?” Mingyu asked, genuinely curious. “Sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, taking another sip of wine. “But I’m more of a planner. I like knowing what’s ahead.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, his tone playful but with a trace of sincerity, “if you ever feel like throwing the plan out the window, let me know. I’m pretty good at finding adventures.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when the waiter approached with their pizza—a perfectly charred margherita, the thin crust bubbling with golden edges, fresh basil leaves glistening against the vibrant red of the tomato sauce. The aroma alone made Y/N’s stomach rumble, but neither of them reached for a slice right away. Instead, they lingered over their wine, the warm, dim light casting a golden glow over the table as their laughter filled the space between them.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as he recounted one of his more daring childhood memories. “So, I was about ten, and I decided I was going to build the fucking coolest treehouse in the neighborhood,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “I had this old plank of wood, some rusty nails, and no clue what I was doing, obviously. I climbed up this huge tree in my backyard—like, way higher than I should’ve—and started hammering away. Next thing I know, one of the branches snapped, and there I was, dangling halfway up the tree, screaming for my mom.”

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “No way. You didn’t fall, did you?”

“No,” Mingyu said, shaking his head dramatically. “But I was stuck for maybe three hours? My mom had to call the neighbors to bring a ladder. And the worst part? My treehouse was just some lame ass piece of wood dangling from the tree like I was. It wasn’t exactly the cool architectural design I pictured.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “That’s hilarious. I can totally picture you as this ambitious little kid, full of big plans and no backup.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mingyu said, chuckling. “I had all the ideas but zero execution. What about you? Any wild childhood adventures? Secret missions rather, since you’re a mystery.” 

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then her expression softened, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re a little bit of a smartass, huh? When I was fifteen, I used to sneak out of the house late at night—not to go to parties or anything. I’d climb out my bedroom window and bike to this hill just outside town. It was the perfect spot to stargaze. I’d lie there for hours, just staring at the sky, convinced I was going to be an astronomer one day. And as I got older I still go sometimes, just to have a beer and sit alone, it helps me relax.”

Mingyu’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as she spoke. “That sounds really nice actually,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why astronomy?”

“I think I liked how small it made me feel,” Y/N admitted, swirling her wine glass absently. “Like, no matter how big my problems seemed, they were nothing compared to the universe. Plus, I thought if I studied the stars, maybe I could find some meaning up there. I was always sort of lost as a kid, too shy to make a lot of friends, too terrible at sports to have nobody laughing at me when I would try out for teams, all that.”

“I feel like you’re selling yourself short,” Mingyu said sincerely. “So you still go?”

Y/N shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much anymore. Life got busier, you know? But I think about it sometimes. I miss how peaceful it was.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes, “next time you want to chase stars, let me know. I think I have a spot you’d like.”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You’d sit in silence under the stars? No smart ass remarks or treehouse stories?”

“Hey, shut up. I can be quiet,” Mingyu defended, though his grin gave him away. “For a little while, at least. But no promises if I see a shooting star. You’re supposed to make a wish, right? Mine would be to bring alcohol and snacks.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a slice of pizza at last. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, raising his glass for another toast. As their glasses clinked again, their laughter and stories spilled over like the wine in their glasses—easy, unhurried, and warm. Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his wine glass balanced loosely in his hand, and gave Y/N a look that was equal parts playful and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You tell me when you want to go stargazing, and I’ll make it happen. Snacks, drinks, blankets—you name it. I’ll even promise to be quiet for the first ten minutes.”

Y/N smirked, taking a small bite of her pizza. “Ten whole minutes of silence? That might actually be a record for you.”

“Don’t push it,” Mingyu shot back with a laugh. “You’d miss my voice too much.”

“Debatable,” she teased, but her smile lingered, softening the edge of her words.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation weaving between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. Mingyu asked her more about her writing, his questions thoughtful and encouraging, and Y/N found herself sharing more than she expected—her half-formed ideas, her struggles with self-doubt, and her dream of one day publishing a book that might make someone feel the way she did when she opened a favorite story.

“I feel like you’re already halfway there,” Mingyu said, his tone serious now. “You light up when you talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile talking about something.”

She looked down at her glass, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not easy,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Besides, if you ever need a cheerleader, I’m available. Very affordable, too—just pay me in pizza.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves dissolving under his earnest encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you? What’s your big dream?”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Honestly? I think I’m still figuring it out. But I know I want to make people happy, you know? Whether it’s through cooking, making them laugh, or just being there when they need someone. That’s what feels right to me.”

“That’s a pretty great dream,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “And I think you’re already doing it.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Mingyu’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got at least one satisfied customer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re not  terrible company, I guess.”

“High praise,” Mingyu teased, raising his glass again. “To not being terrible company.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her laughter mixing with his as they returned to their meal. As the night wore on, the slices slowly disappeared, but the conversation never lost its spark. They lingered long after the plates were cleared, talking about everything from childhood dreams to places they wanted to travel.

Eventually, the waiter discreetly dropped off the check, and Mingyu reached for it without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it,” he said when Y/N protested.

“I could’ve at least split it with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You could have,” Mingyu replied with a cheeky grin. “But then I wouldn’t get to say I treated you on our first official hangout. You can cover the snacks for stargazing—deal?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Deal.”

As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Mingyu turned to her. “So, was I as annoying as you thought I’d be?”

“Annoying? Yes,” Y/N said, her lips twitching in amusement. “But I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It was probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a while.” 

“It was,” she admitted, surprised by how much she meant it. “See you tomorrow, persistent coffee guy?”

“Oh, you’ll see me,” he said, winking before turning to head down the street. “Unless I see you first, Mysterious Corner Person.”

Y/N watched him walk away, a warmth settling in her chest. As she started toward home, she couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to their next meeting.

As the dawn broke, the soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the windows of the café, casting a warm hue over everything. Y/N sat at her usual corner spot, absently scrolling through her phone while waiting for her favorite annoying friend. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of light chatter and the clinking of cups. She hadn’t quite managed to shake off the memory of last night—Mingyu's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, and the lingering warmth of their conversation.

Just as she checked her watch to see if Mingyu had been late or not, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell, drawing her attention. In walked Mingyu, a wide grin plastered on his face, walking up to grab two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Y/N’s heart did a little flip; she couldn't help but smile back as he approached her with the casual confidence that always made her stomach flutter.

“I brought you your favorite,” he said, placing the cup in front of her. “Consider this an apology for being too charming last night. I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet or anything.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Y/N chuckle, though she rolled her eyes playfully, masking the warmth tinting her cheeks.

“Too charming, huh? Is that even a thing?” she shot back, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. With every interaction, she found herself drawn deeper into the lighthearted banter they had cultivated. He sat down across from her, his playful nature washing away any remnants of a serious morning.

As days turned into weeks, those spontaneous coffee runs became the highlight of Y/N's mornings. Each day, Mingyu would find a new reason to linger—asking about her weekend plans, recounting strange dreams that had caused him to wake up giggling, or debating the merits of pineapple on pizza. There were moments when their conversations would drift into deeper territory, discussing their aspirations, fears, and the odd twists life threw their way. 

Y/N soon discovered that Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane topics feel important. One Tuesday, as they squabbled over the best pizza toppings, he insisted, “Peppers and onions bring out the true flavor of the cheese!” which led to an impromptu debate that had them both laughing until their sides hurt. 

She found herself anticipating these morning rituals, a bubble of happiness blossoming in her chest at the mere thought of seeing him. What started as a casual coffee run had morphed into something undeniably special—she began to crave his company more than she cared to admit. 

Despite her attempts to play it cool, every shared laugh, every gently lingering gaze exchanged started to intertwine their lives in ways she hadn’t expected. Each day, the corner café felt a little more like a second home, not just because of the coffee, but because of Mingyu’s presence. Occasionally, she’d catch herself daydreaming about what it would be like to invite him over for a pizza night or to share a quiet evening watching movies, a little voice in her head whispering fears of slipping from friendship into something deeper—something beautiful yet terrifying.

But for now, they relished the simplicity—the easy comfort of shared coffee, laughter, and the exhilarating thrill of something unspoken hanging softly between them, waiting for the right moment to blossom.

After weeks of easy laughter and coffee-filled mornings, Mingyu—emboldened by Y/N's growing fondness for their time together—decided it was time to showcase his culinary prowess. He had mentioned his love for cooking during one of their coffee chats, specifically teasing about a past cooking show attempt that had ended in disaster when he mistakenly used salt instead of sugar in a dessert. It was an absolute failure, but the way he recounted it had left Y/N in stitches, and she couldn’t help but encourage him to put that experience behind him. 

So it was with a mischievous smile that Mingyu sent her a message inviting her over to his place for a “proper meal.” His confidence was infectious, and Y/N found herself excited at the prospect of spending an evening cooking together, even if she glimpsed a little fear behind her excitement.

That Saturday evening, Y/N arrived at his apartment with a spring in her step, holding a bottle of wine as her contribution to the dinner. Mingyu greeted her at the door, a cute apron tied around his waist, and his hair slightly tousled as if he had been preparing all day. The kitchen already smelled inviting, with the simmering of something savory in the background.

“Welcome to my kitchen.” he declared, flinging open his arms in mock grandeur. “Prepare to be blown away.” Y/N giggled, feeling a playful banter already brewing between them as they stepped into the kitchen. 

They started a little unsure, mixing up ingredients and dancing around each other in the small space. Laughter filled the air as he guided her through the preparation of their meal. Chopping vegetables turned into a chopping competition, resulting in some accidentally discarded pieces flying across the countertop. They were both a bit clumsy, but it only added to the charm of the evening. 

However, chaos ensued as Y/N intentionally mixed up the sugar and salt while measuring the ingredients for the sauce. As a callback to make fun of Mingyu’s cooking show embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t take it to heart too much. 

Mingyu’s face morphed from confusion to pure horror as he tasted the sauce. “What is this? Are you fucking with me?” he exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a burst of laughter erupting between them.

“Hey, I thought we could give you a call back to your days as an aspiring chef. You were just telling me to ‘add seasoning’!” Y/N retorted, her laughter bubbling over. 

The kitchen transformed into a battleground of flour and spills as they attempted to clean up the mess, dashing here and there grabbing paper towels and laughing uncontrollably as they dodged flour clouds that seemed intent on sticking to every surface—including themselves. The floor bore witness to a sprinkling of flour footprints leading from sink to counter and back. 

“Okay, okay. Clearly, we’re not going to win a Michelin star tonight,” Mingyu chuckled, wiping a hand across his forehead, flour now dusting his cheek. 

“Maybe we should just clean up and order takeout? Sorry for fucking up your nice meal” Y/N suggested with a grin, realizing neither of them had even started on the main course yet. 

“I have a feeling this was your plan all along, think I’m going to poison you?” He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Absolutely.” 

They huddled over his phone, browsing menus and sharing a laugh about different food combinations, all the while enjoying the relaxed comfort of each other’s company. As they placed their order, Mingyu playfully bemoaned the “greatest culinary disaster of the century,” and Y/N couldn’t help but tease him about his cooking abilities.

When the food finally arrived, they sat down on the couch, a jumble of takeout containers and mismatched plates, laughter still dancing in the air. They dug in, enjoying their food with a warmth that stemmed not just from the flavors but from the shared experience that had turned their simple dinner into pure chaos, followed by comfort as their legs touched settled into his cozy sofa, which they both pretended not to acknowledge. 

In between bites, their conversation flowed easily, the earlier chaos of the kitchen forgotten, only to be replaced by gentle teasing and heartfelt discussions. The evening had not gone as planned, yet in those moments, Y/N felt a closeness to Mingyu that she hadn't fully anticipated and wasn’re sure what it meant. 

As they polished off the last of their takeout, they leaned back against the couch, feeling the loosening tension from the day, laughter still bubbling between them. She glanced at him, his face lit up with a satisfied grin, and realized that this was far more memorable than if everything had gone perfectly. The spilled flour and overly salty sauce had become their personal anecdotes, stories to reminisce about, etched into their growing relationship. 

And even amid the mess, she felt something shift—this was more than just a casual evening; it was a bond that deepened with every laugh shared and every slight mistake made together. In the cozy warmth of the moment, Y/N found herself contemplating just how right it felt to be here with Mingyu. 

“Do you-” 

They both said at the same time, their laughter flowing still. Y/n prompted Mingyu to talk first, grabbing the can of sweating beer sitting on his coffee table and taking a swig. 

“No, just do you ever think about how crazy it is that we met each other?” Mingyu watched y/n's expression as if she was a television character. “We were strangers a few weeks ago and now here we are, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” 

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, a flutter of something electric that made her heart race. Swallowing her sip of beer, she considered his question, the implications of it wrapping around her like a blanket. “It is sort of crazy,” she replied softly, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms as she reflected on their journey. “Just a few weeks ago, we were two random people in a coffee shop, sharing awkward small talk over our drinks.”

Mingyu chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting, causing Y/N to smile at the memory. “Right? I remember how you tried to hide your eye roll when I started rambling about my guilty pleasure shows. You've been way more patient with my quirks than I deserve.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to twist my arm to talk about junk food and reality TV. That’s a gift you offered me,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “But seriously, I don’t know. It just feels almost too easy with you.”

He nodded, the sincerity on his face deepening. “Absolutely. I had this fear that after my cooking show mishap, I’d never cook for anyone ever again. But, somehow, I feel comfortable with you. Like I can be myself—flour-covered and all.. 

“I get that.” she replied, her heart still racing from the way his eyes searched hers, filled with an openness that was rarely offered. “It’s everything—our late-night talks about nothing and everything, all those moments and I like that I don’t feel pressure to impress you.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he let her words sink in, a smile spreading across his face—a mix of relief and happiness. “I feel the same way. I guess it’s nice to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, flaws and all.”

“I thought you didn’t have any flaws?” 

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a gentle gravity settling around them as they shared this moment of vulnerability. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the sacred space between them filled with thoughtful breaths and unspoken words.

Then, suddenly, Mingyu leaned a little closer, his elbow resting on his knee as he caught her gaze with an intensity that made her heart flutter even more. “You know… I think the best part about getting to know you is discovering how we both navigate our own messiness. We’re both a little chaotic in our own ways, and it’s refreshing to find someone else who can embrace that.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Mingyu’s honesty wrapped around her like warmth. She knew that beneath the laughter and playful teasing, he was speaking to something significant happening between them. “It’s like we balance each other out, right? Your zero flaws perfectly complement my complete lack of many. ”

He threw his head back in laughter, and it vibrated through them both like a comforting echo. Touching her thigh out of instinct. 

Mingyu’s expression shifted then, his eyes earnest yet playful as he leaned in closer, robes of laughter giving way to something deeper. “Okay, but in all seriousness—what do you think happens next for us? I mean, if we keep this up?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability swirling in her chest. Tilting her head slightly, she studied his face, a thought bubbling to the surface that she hadn’t articulated before. “I guess we keep figuring it out. I know that’s a lame ass answer, but-” 

Mingyu’s face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have takeout nights, of course—maybe even attempt cooking again when we’re feeling bold.”

“Yes. But with a solid plan in place this time,” she teased, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. “whatever this is.”

“Whatever this is,” he echoed with a soft smile, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, leaving just enough space for her to lean against him if she wanted to. The gesture lingered in the air, an invitation that made her pulse quicken.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N felt a wave of courage washing over her. She shifted closer, rationally giving way to instinct, and in that moment of intimacy, she let herself lean against him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly. 

“And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she murmured softly, feeling a profound shift in their dynamic as she nestled against Mingyu’s side. Warmth enveloped her, not just from his body, but from the genuine connection they had forged. She took her hands to his warm cheeks and brushed off the lingering flour, running her fingers over his soft lips. 

Mingyu’s arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and she felt an undeniable sense of belonging in his presence. “You can’t be this close to me and not kiss me.” he replied quietly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the gravity of their shared moment.

As she stared at him in silence for a minute, a smile washed over her face as she leaned in and made a path to his lips with hers instead at the last minute swerving and giving him a kiss on the cheek playfully. 

Laughter bubbled between them, lightening the tension that had built in the air. Mingyu looked momentarily surprised, his eyes widening and brows raising in mock disappointment. “Oh, come on. That was a dick move.”

Y/N giggled, the sound of a playful melody that danced around them in the cozy space. “I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was so worth it.” She winked mischievously, enjoying how their moment, which had felt so heavy and charged just seconds before, had shifted into this playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. “You’re so mean.” He feigned frustration, but the warmth of his expression and the sparkle in his eyes told her just how much he enjoyed her whimsy.  

Pride swelled within her at his compliment, and her cheeks flushed at the spontaneity of it all. They were sharing this beautiful blend of fun and intimacy—a carefree-ness that made her heart flutter and her stomach twist into knots of anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, still wrapped in the warmth of his presence, contemplating allowing the moment to settle in further. 

“Okay, okay… I’ll redeem myself,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a hint of seriousness beneath her earlier teasing. The shift in her tone caught his attention, and his playful expression faded slightly, replaced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache in the best way. 

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the boldness wash over her again, surpassing any lingering nerves. “I am,” she assured him, her heart hammering as she leaned in closer this time, matching his gaze as they hovered just inches apart. “I guess we’ve come too far to hold back now, right?” 

“Right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with something primal, something that sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her. The air between them felt charged, electric, as if they were daring each other to bridge the final distance.

In one swift movement, she closed the small gap, finally pressing her lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, teetering on the edge of hesitation, but as Mingyu responded—his lips molding to hers with a warmth she'd yearned for.

Time seemed to blur around them as they savored the kiss, allowing the moment to expand, realizing that this was a milestone in their relationship. Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still; she could feel the way he leaned into her, matching her eagerness. Each touch ignited sparks, tossing her into a whirlwind of longing that was both intoxicating and exhilarating. 

When they finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead against his, her heart racing from the tenderness that hung in the air between them. Mingyu’s eyes were bright, reflecting the disbelief and joy of their shared moment. “Wow.” 

“Yeah?” she asked softly, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Because, I’d say it was mediocre.” 

The lightness returned, and Mingyu laughed, the sound lifting her spirits even more. “Shut up, you’re a liar, you were basically begging me for more. ”

“I might need another later, just so you can redeem yourself.” 

“I can make that happen, you know.” 

They grinned at each other, a shared understanding deepening their connection even further. The world outside felt like an echo, distant and unimportant as they savored this newfound bond, filled with untapped potential and the joy of each other’s company.

“Can you imagine what our friends would say if they knew we spent the night making a mess and then ended with a make-out session?” Mingyu said, his laughter still dancing in the air.

Y/N shook her head, chuckling softly. “Who knows? They might be incredibly jealous we got to have missed out on our “disaster” of an evening. But honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me neither,” he replied, his tone shifting back to sincerity. “But just so you know, I’m claiming the next time we cook together you just sit and watch.”

“And why is that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism, her heart dancing at his enthusiasm.

“So I can look sexy for you in the kitchen and you might kiss me again, obviously.” he declared dramatically. 

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for his silliness. “Alright, chef. You have yourself a deal. But next time? I’m bringing dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll just have you for dessert.” Mingyu said with a teasing grin, and she felt her cheeks flush once again in delight. 

With that playful banter, the rest of the night melted away into easy laughter, light touches, and the thrill of new beginnings. She felt something incredible blooming between them, something beautiful that blended friendship with a newfound romantic spark, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey might take them next. 

As they settled back on the couch, Y/N nestled against him once more, content with the knowledge that whatever chaos life threw their way, they would tackle it together—with laughter, love, and perhaps a little less clothes involved.

[pookieisdokyeom]

Hii, loved your bj Jake headcanon , can you do one for Niki as well? Thank you so much, I hope you have a great day <3

Dating Ni-Ki/Nishimura Riki includes...

he's so in love with you, like he'll act like your he's primary school crush (he's so obsessed)

the rizz is on another level like he WILL constantly flirt with you

however, that doesn't mean he doesn't get so shy around you; you could just be simply complimenting him, and he'll turn into a tomato

the members tease you guys whenever you show an ounce of liking each other, which makes him grumbly and not like PDA that much (but alone TRUST he's clinging onto you)

he loves dates with you, which results in the most fun and chaotic dates. Laughter is constant between the two of you

every time you get him something cute, he'll act nonchalant but will proceed to carry it with him everywhere he goes because he loves your gifts that much

LOVES to play with your hair, especially when you're cuddling or just laying together (he leaves it a mess, but you still love him otherwise)

he wants the whole world to know you're girlfriend but since he can't, he'll constantly brag about you to those that do know about your relationship and drive them crazy (y'all know that sound that's like "Yeah that's my girlfriend suckers", that's Ni-Ki right there)

knows you like it, so sometimes he'll sing for you even though he doesn't feel he sounds good enough (which he does because he's literally amazing)

matching outfits are his favorite except they're not normal, and it's either pajamas or character based clothes (saw this and this idea immediately popped up)

the height difference is crazy, so he uses it to his advantage; always get high things for you even if you can reach it, using you as an arm rest, constantly reminding you that you're short (you're average height but since he's a tree you look like a gnome)

his favorite body part of yours has to be your waist, he'll always hold your waist. When you're kissing, cuddling, hugging, dancing together (on the off occasion he convinces you to do so) literally just standing together (it's the only PDA he does without fear of eyes)

if you wear glasses he likes to just watch you while you're doing literally anything cause he finds you so pretty with your glasses (you call it staring and creepy he calls it admiring and romantic, agree to disagree)

Idol! Ni-Ki

he's always looking forward to seeing you dolled up at concerts, he loves watching you sing along and enjoy yourself

you're his no.1 supporter meaning most of his "thank you to engene" speeches he has you in mind

he loves his job but since it is a job and he's still young it can get tiring, luckily for him he has a safe space called y/n who always helps him relieve stress

whenever he sees you at fan signs he visibly gets excited and starts vibrating in his seat (which engenes find so cute even though they don't know why) because he never expects to see you supporting him

always wants to impress you, so every performance he'll do his absolute best so he can impress you even though you're not physically there (the members joke that he got more passionate when he started dating you)

he's scared of what the public could do to you so anytime you're out together he's very passionate to protect you as much he can

A/N: AHHHHHH. First ask, you have no idea how excited I got when I saw this so thank you so so much. Hope this was enjoyable <3333

[edenesth]

Clumsy Hearts, Steady Love

Pairing: boyfriend!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: He was a great friend but a terrible lover, and he knew it. For the longest time, he believed he wasn’t cut out for relationships. But then you came along, and for the first time, he wanted to try. He wanted to be better, to be good for you, even if it meant being clumsy along the way. For you, he was willing to learn how to love.

A/N: Only @itstheghostofmypast knows this was initially meant to be a timestamp🤡

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Don't drive today, darling. I'll pick you up from work this evening."

Those words from Kim Hongjoong echoed in your mind. For the first time in a year of being together, he offered to pick you up. Your heart soared at the unexpected sweetness from him.

It wasn't that you thought he was a bad boyfriend, but you knew his nature from the very beginning. Your friends had warned you when you accepted him; he was a workaholic, someone who would always put anything and everything before you. A good friend but a bad lover—that was his reputation. Yet, you couldn't deny the way he made your heart race, the way his presence made everything better, the way he vowed to love you as you deserved, the way he promised he would try for you.

From the start, you knew what you were getting into. You didn't expect perfection. You didn't want perfection.

You just wanted him.

But loving Hongjoong truly was not easy.

It could be exhausting. Perhaps today was another one of those days.

You had looked forward to this day for so long, hoping he would be the boyfriend he promised to be. But deep down, you knew better than to have such high hopes.

Letting out what felt like the thousandth sigh of the day, you nearly froze to death from being soaked in the rain, your ankle throbbed from a sprained heel as you stood by the bus stop outside your office building where he was supposed to pick you up.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Every call went straight to voicemail, escalating your worry to panic. You didn’t dare move, fearing he might arrive at an empty bus stop.

After hours of agony, trying to reach him, and calling all his friends, you got the same useless response: he was unreachable, and they had no idea where he could be.

Three hours.

You sat there for three hours, sick with worry about him, when you were the one who needed care, only to end up taking the bus home. So much for the excitement and anticipation of him picking you up for the first time. You should have been furious, but the pounding headache and rising fever stole that from you. Another heavy sigh escaped your lips, the disappointment of what should have been an exciting Friday evening turning into an utter disaster.

"Enough, my darling. I'm here now, am I not?" said Kim Hongjoong.

The audacity.

You had left work to be greeted by a heavy downpour, cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella. As if things couldn't get worse, your sprint to the bus stop where he promised to pick you up was interrupted when your heel chose that moment to snap. You yelped in pain, stumbling forward onto the wet ground, your belongings scattering everywhere. Crawling on the rough pavement to collect them, you finally stood up, only to feel a sharp throb in your ankle.

But it was supposed to be okay because seeing Hongjoong was sure to make everything better.

Ha, bitch you thought.

He left you panicking like a mad woman for hours, only to show up in the most infuriating way. When the 8pm bus finally rolled to a stop before you and the automated doors swooshed opened, you were busy dialling his number yet again.

"Come on, pick up pick up pick up—"

Wait a minute, is that...?

You did a double take when the very person you had been desperately trying to reach this whole time stepped off the bus with a sheepish smile, only for his expression to fall when he saw the miserable state you were in.

"Please throw your phone away if you have no intention of using it," you said flatly, walking past him and intentionally bumping his shoulder as you boarded the bus, no longer caring if he followed.

Of course, he did.

He cursed under his breath, noticing your limp, the heels in your hand, and your soaked, shivering form.

Settling into the last row of seats beside you, he quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. You were too weak to fight back or refuse. His heart ached as he pulled you close, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. Silently, you accepted it all. Not only were you too exhausted to reject his gestures, but you also felt you deserved this and more after what you had endured. When you were warm enough, he immediately checked on your now swollen and bruised ankle, careful not to hurt you. The concern in his eyes was enough to melt your heart, but he didn't need to know that.

Once he was done fussing over you, he leaned back in his seat, offering his shoulder. Stubbornly, you turned away and leaned your head against the window instead. Knowing you needed time to calm down, he kept quiet and let you be, but not without staying close. He needed you to know he was there for you.

When you sighed again, he could no longer take it. He felt the need to explain himself.

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, and I'm so sorry. I got caught up in something I couldn't get out of, and I swear I was going to call you, but my phone died and the stupid car broke down. God, I'm such an idiot. I should have tried harder to reach you or get to you sooner."

Still, you said nothing, your silence more punishing than any words you could have spoken. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss.

"I love you," he whispered, almost to himself. "I just want to make things right."

For a moment, you softened, but the memory of the cold rain and the throbbing pain in your ankle kept your resolve firm. He had to understand the gravity of his actions.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just show up and expect everything to be okay, Joong. You scared me. I thought something terrible had happened to you. And all the while, I was the one who was hurt and alone."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "And I'm so, so sorry, my darling. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he got on the bus. The sincerity and regret in his gaze were undeniable.

"One chance, Kim Hongjoong," you said firmly. "Don't mess it up."

He nodded, relief washing over his face. "I won't. I promise."

With that, you leaned back against the window, still not ready to forgive, but willing to see if he could truly make amends. And for the rest of the ride, he stayed close, his presence a silent vow that he would try his best to make things right.

As you slowly drifted to sleep, he guided your head to his shoulder, gently pressing his cheek against your forehead. Feeling your breath steady and the tension ease from your body, he allowed himself a small, relieved smile. He reached for your cold hands, stroking his fingers against your skin to warm you, finding it funny how he used to judge couples in public, but now that he had you, he realised he couldn't blame them—you were all that mattered.

The truth was, he had been late leaving work today, and to make matters worse, his car had broken down in the middle of heavy traffic. When he tried to call you, his phone had died. In desperation, he had caught the quickest bus he could find, but traffic had been relentless. He could have told you all of this, but he didn’t want to make excuses. He knew he should have done better.

Hongjoong glanced down at you, his heart aching with tenderness and guilt. He was still clumsy when it came to love, but for you, he would learn to be a better lover. Stroking your hair gently, he whispered, "I’m so sorry. I won't make you wait again. I promise to do better. I promise to always be there for you."

The bus ride continued in peaceful silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional jostle of the road the only sounds. He held you close, vowing silently to never let you down again. As the bus neared your stop, he adjusted his position, cupping your cheek softly and kissing your head, whispering, "We're here, darling."

You let out a small groan as your eyes fluttered open, unconsciously snuggling closer to his warmth and comfort as you tried to register your surroundings. If only you knew what your little actions did to his poor heart. Tightening his grip around you, he helped you up from your seat and carefully guided you out of the bus, ensuring you didn't put pressure on your injured ankle. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod as the two of you stepped off. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the night was calm.

As you walked the short distance to your shared apartment, you suddenly remembered what had happened and peeled his hands off you. You weren't necessarily cold to him but you still needed space to cool off. He gulped, his fear of losing you was apparent. "Please, you're hurt. Let me take care of you."

To be fair, he knew he deserved your reaction. You weren't upset merely because of what happened today; he believed this was you letting out all the frustration you had kept in for the entirety of your one-year relationship. And he knew now that if he wanted to keep you by his side, this was his sign to take things more seriously.

No more excuses.

You had been nothing but the best and most attentive girlfriend to him. So, what was stopping him from doing the same for you?

He knew you didn't want to be near him right now, but he also didn't have the heart to stay away. Offering his hand, he nodded toward it. "Come, let's go home."

Tired out of your mind, you swallowed your anger, deciding to save it for another time. For now, you needed him. You reached out with a pout, surprising him by holding onto his pointer finger. "Fine, let's go."

He chuckled, his heart bursting with affection at how cute you were. This was better than nothing. Walking slowly, he made sure you weren't hurting yourself, each step a reminder of his promise to himself and you.

As you entered your apartment, he helped you settle onto the couch, your injured ankle elevated and cushioned. He fetched a blanket and wrapped it around you, his eyes filled with concern. "I'll make us some tea," he said softly, heading to the kitchen.

While he prepared the tea, you watched him move with a newfound determination. You could see he was trying, truly trying, to be better for you. And that thought, more than anything, began to melt the icy wall you had momentarily built up in your heart.

He returned with two steaming mugs, setting them on the table before sitting beside you. He took your hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I promise, I will. You mean everything to me."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty and love there. It was a start, and as you sipped your tea together, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could truly change.

Just as you finished your tea, you sighed and looked up at him, intending to get up and head to your room. But before you could move, he gently squeezed your hand and stood up. "Let me help you," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to assert your independence and appreciating his newfound care. "I can manage," you insisted weakly.

"I know you can, darling," he replied softly, crouching beside you. "But let me take care of you this time, please."

His sincerity was palpable, and despite your initial resistance, you found yourself nodding. He carefully helped you to your feet, supporting your weight as you limped towards your room. Once inside, he waited patiently as you freshened up and changed into dry clothes, his presence a reassuring warmth in the quiet of the room.

As you emerged, feeling somewhat more composed, you glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you, Joong," you murmured, genuinely touched by his unexpected tenderness.

He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting relief and determination. "It's only my job as your boyfriend," he replied earnestly.

Returning to the living room, you settled back onto the couch together. The warmth of his tea and his presence beside you enveloped you in a sense of security and hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, things could indeed change for the better between you.

You couldn't deny his affections any longer, his pleading look was enough to melt you into his embrace. As he gently pulled the throw blanket snugly around you, drawing you closer, your heart fluttered. His actions conveyed a heartfelt apology, reminding you why you could never leave this man, no matter how tiring things became. At the end of the day, you both belonged to each other, despite his occasional clumsiness; your love remained steadfast.

Nuzzling against his neck, you breathed in his familiar scent. "How's the car? Have you contacted insurance?" you murmured, slipping effortlessly into the role of the attentive girlfriend he knew so well.

With a tender smile, he shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Take care of everything. Take care of you."

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you tightened your grip on his sweater. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Kim Hongjoong," you teased gently.

He reassured you with a squeeze of your shoulder. "I won't, my darling. Not anymore."

Looking up at your boyfriend, you could see the honesty in his eyes. You knew perfection wasn't guaranteed from this point onward, but you at least trusted that he would always give his best effort.

And that was what mattered most.

"If you say so," you whispered, your eyes closing as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. Hongjoong understood your doubts, but this was where he would begin to earn your trust.

From now on, he would do everything to be the lover you deserved. He would learn from his mistakes and grow, all for the sake of the person he loved most in the world.

I swear, this came out of nowhere lmfao. I was supposed to be working on Jongho's TWTHH spinoff but this happened. Tbf, this has been swirling in my mind for the past week at work because something similar happened to me. I was soaked in the rain and my heel did snap. The 3-hour wait was also a past experience of mine, except that douchebag was no Kim Hongjoong HAHA

Thank you for reading and I hope you lovelies enjoyed this random little oneshot. As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

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[slutteok]

Long Time Coming (rockstar yungi au)

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pairing ✭ dom!yunho x afab!reader x dom!mingi

summary ✭ Things get a little steamy in the green room after your last show on tour

content ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 9.3k

warnings ✭ smut, unprotected sex, mingi is VERY rough, choking, slapping, heavy degradation, threesome,

tags ✭ praise kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex, rough sex, thigh and ass slapping, polygamy, childhood best friends to lovers, rockstar yungi au, non idol au, dubcon, power dynamics, under negotiated kink, throat fucking, multiple fem orgasms, yunho and mingi have big dicks, size kink, cervix fucking, fluff at the very end

notes ✭ it's a little more yunho centered than mingi, but please enjoy anyways <3

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

When you were 6 years old, you met these two little boys. They were cute you thought, and the three of you became insanely fast friends. The older of the two had always been fond of you, always fawning, and fretting over you, he was quick to defend, protect and comfort you, while the younger of the two, usually kept his distance physically from you, but that’s not to say he wasn’t also fond of you. He loved you in his own way, much different to how he loved your mutual friend.

If you were to tell your 6 year old self that in 18 years time you’d be in a band, doing what you loved more than anything in the world, alongside those two boys, you’d never believe yourself. You’d actually call yourself a liar.

But if you were to tell yourself at 16 years old that in 8 years, you’d be lying underneath the older boy, with your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails clawing down his back so hard it drew blood, you’d believe it… mostly because even at 16 that’s exactly what you were doing.

Today was one of the last days of the tour. You and Yunho laid together in the hotel room bed, both naked, your legs still tangled with each other and the sheets. Yunho snored softly in your ear, his face half buried into your neck, as your arms wrapped around him, his fingers twitching against the bare skin on your sides, making you tense up as it tickles sometimes.

A knock on the hotel door is what inevitably wakes Yunho up. He groans, pulling away from you. You watch as he sits up, and stretches his arms above his head, groaning and arching his back. You watch in awe as his back muscles seem to taunt you. You sighs, sitting up and looking at him.

“Morning.” he lets his arms fall to his side, and he turns to look back at you. You hold the covers tightly to your chest, before leaning forward and quickly capturing his lips with yours. You both giggle a little, before another knock on the door sounds. Yunho rolls his eyes, “coming, coming..” his morning voice was deep, and gruff, something you learned gave you massive butterflies. You slip out of Yunho’s bed, pulling your clothes on from last night.

“Yunho, where’s y/n? Have you seen them?” Mingi asks, looking around from the threshold of the door for you. Yunho, now fully dressed, shakes his head as he opens the door. Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes and storming off. Yunho closes the door, and hurries back to you, beckoning you to leave. You nod, and you follow him out into the hallway, before Yunho starts running towards Mingi, giving you an opening to hurry back into your own room.

You take a quick shower, washing off as much of Yunho that you possibly could. You could swear you still smelled like him, though, even after washing yourself 3 times. You changed into new clothes, brushed your hair quickly, and applied your usual amount of makeup before finishing up your hair.

“y/n!” Mingi knocks on your door, and you have to physically fight off the smile that is peaking through the corner of your lips. You hop out of the bathroom, and swing your door open, revealing your done up self to Mingi and Yunho. Yunho looks away from you, and you catch a glimpse of his red ears. Mingi just looks frustrated.

“What? I was sleeping. Are you dying?” You question why Mingi was so adamant on finding you this morning, but you couldn’t let him know why. Maybe someday… but probably not anytime soon. Just like you couldn’t let Yunho know about you and Mingi either.

“W-what? No? Can you focus?” Mingi scolds you, and you stifle a laugh, raising your eyebrow at the younger male, who was actually still older than you by a month or so- give or take.

“I’m focused.” You’re still a bit confused by why he was looking around for you. Your eyes dart to Yunho, and he shrugs, before walking to his room. You wanted to chase after him, you were tired of pretending. You were tired of pretending to both of them.

You were the one who wanted to tell the other about the other, but they were the ones holding back- like they were scared something terrible would happen to the group. You had a good feeling though, they had been friends much longer than before you came along. They had spent essentially their entire lives together, and you can recall that one time Yunho’s mom actually thought the boys were dating, because at that point in time- there was not one thing the two didn’t share.

“They want us down at the venue early, to do soundcheck.” Mingi snaps you back into reality, and you nod, furrowing your brows just a bit. Mingi looks you up and down, then looks to where Yunho’s room is. He smirks before grabbing your chin. A small whine leaves your lips, as he brings you closer to him. You watch his eyes flicker to Yunho's room once more, before pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes instantly shut as Mingi’s familiarity comes crashing over you.

You couldn’t lie, you were sore… so fucking sore, but that had never stopped you before. It honestly had been a while since you and Mingi were intimate, and you can tell that he’d been pent up for a while. He came looking for you this morning just to fuck you, and get on with his day.

His hand moves from your chin, down to your throat, and his tongue presses into your mouth, meeting yours in a battle of dominance as he gently pushes you back into your room. You oblige, taking a step back, while Mingi’s other hand wrapped around you, pulling you tightly to his chest.

He pulls his lips away from you, moving his hand back up to your face, his thumb stroking your bottom lip gently, before hooking on your bottom teeth. Your face twitches slightly, your eyebrows turning upwards as your lips lock around his thumb.

“Where were you, pretty baby?” He croons, leaning close to your face, his eyes focused on your lips around his thumb. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, before pressing his index and middle finger into your mouth. You willingly take them, staring up at him as your tongue moves skillfully around his fingers. He lets out a deep sigh, his hand around you coming to your hip to squeeze you, eliciting a small moan to leave your mouth. He pulls his fingers out, then wipes them off on your shirt. You scowl at him, before rolling your eyes at him.

“I was asleep. Is that a crime?” You retort, turning around and going to sit on your bed. You weren’t lying… you were asleep, just not in your bed.

“Oh give me a break.” Mingi rolls his eyes and scoffs, sitting next to you and turning to look at you. You follow suit, turning to face him.

“What?”

“You weren’t in your room, at least.” Mingi growls and you roll your eyes again.

“it's not a crime to not be in my room all the time.” You argue, and he scoffs. he puts his hands on your shoulders and quickly turns you around, before pushing you onto the bed. you gasp at the sudden movements, and you know you're about to get pounded mercilessly. though you were excited, Yunho had destroyed you the last three nights and mingi was just a tad bigger and thicker than Yunho.

“I bet you were out being a little whore, huh? you just had to sneak past not just me, but Yunho? what would your little boyfriend think of his little girlfriend getting fucked by her best friend while she's away on tour huh?” he was just throwing insults after insults at you, and you couldn't say you hated it because you were soaked through your panties.

“what would your little boyfriend do if i sent him a video of me fucking his little toy?” Mingi hisses, and there's a sharp pain in your asscheek for a split second, making you bite down on your lower lip so hard it almost broke skin. you feel mingi’s hand come down to your asscheek again, another sharp pain shooting through you- harder this time because that cheek was particularly sore because of Yunho.

“Mingi,” you choke out, and Mingi laughs at the sound of your voice dying in your throat. you let out another little moan as his hands grab your ass, spreading you apart and massaging you just for a moment. his hands release you, then you feel his hands grab your hips. your head reels at the feeling of his hands on you, completely ignoring this fact that he had flipped you over onto your back.

In an instant, as you're coming out of the daze, you look down at your body, and see he’d already taken your pants off. your eyes widen, and he chuckles, seeing your confusion.

“you're so fucking easy, y/n.” Mingi chuckles dryly, grabbing the back of your thighs, and pushing them up and against your body. He pulls his right hand from your thighs, creating space between you two again. He smiles, and sighs happily seeing you bent like a pretzel for him. “I think I should just leave you here, soaked and desperate.” Mingi taunts, and your eyes rolls into the back of your head and you groan- obviously frustrated with him.

“Mingi, i just know your cock is painfully throbbing, please let me take care of it.” you whine and pout, making sure to stay quiet as people pass by your room. Mingi laughs again, leaning over you, caging you in before capturing your lips with his. He kisses you hard, and with force, eliciting a moan out of you against his lips before he pulls away. you inhale sharply as you feel another sharp pain hit your inner thigh as Mingi’s hand makes contact with it.

“you don't know anything,” he laughs dryly, pulling his hands from you and watching as you sit up, your legs dangling off the bed. “You should be there when I need you, and we wouldn't have this problem.” he commands and your eyes widen a little. you roll your eyes though, and he scoffs.

“I have other things I have to deal with, you know. I can't just drop everything when you want to fuck.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. Mingi rolls his eyes, and his hand grabs your chin, again, before moving down to your throat. He leans over you, putting his mouth next to your ear, his breathing tickling you.

“All you are is a hole to me, so I don't care what your excuse is. you’ll drop whatever you're doing, no matter what, if i come looking for you.” Mingi hisses into your ear, you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed and a moan leaving your pretty lips, before he forcefully pushes you down on the bed. “got it? that's our new agreement- and because you annoyed me, i’m not gonna fuck you. I'll go find something else to use.” Mingi says, looking down at your trembling shape on the bed, licking his bottom lip. you lift your head to watch him touch himself briefly through his pants, and you gulp. You wanted him, but if he was seriously about to go fuck a fan, you could easily go find Yunho, and he’d be more than happy to fuck your brains out.

Mingi rolls his eyes, turning around and swiftly leaving your room. you sit up, in a daze, wondering what the hell just came over both of you. you run your hands through your hair, and let out a shaky breath before deciding to just take care of the longer effects mingi left you with.

“y/n!” Yunho comes bounding over to you with a wide smile, he grabs your waist and picks you up, embracing you tightly. You laugh, clinging onto him tightly as he spins the two of you around. Your set had just finished for the night, it was such an amazing show- the best one you guys had yet.

You can't lie, you were exhausted. Yunho kept you up late last night, and when Mingi came into your room this morning you thought you’d have a chance to nap but Mingi had left you so bothered, you hardly had a chance to even rest- your legs had felt like jello all day.

Yunho sets you down, leaning forward and kissing your forehead, before leaning down to your ear.

“how about round 2?” he asks, and honestly, how could you deny him- not only that, you were still worked up from mingi’s words and touch. you nod, excitedly and Yunho grins, standing up straight. He grabs your hand and basically drags you into your green room. you both knew Mingi wouldn't show up to the green room after some time- he only came to the green room at the very end of the night.

As Yunho opens the door, Mingi is stood there, with his arms crossed- presumably waiting for you. Yunho instantly drops your hand, tucking his hand behind his back quickly.

“h-how did- what?” Yunho stammers, feeling embarrassed by mingi’s sudden appearance in the place the least expected it.

“Can I talk to y/n about something? privately?” Mingi asks, and Yunho looks down at you, his eyes suddenly narrowing at you, then darting over to Mingi. you gulp loudly, and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

“Whatever you say can be said in front of Yunho, too.” you stumble over your words a bit, and the two men look down at you- confused. Mingi shakes his head, and Yunho glances between the two of you.

“y/n!” you hear a familiar voice come from behind you, and your eyes widen to probably the size of the moon. if you turned around right now, you’d be faced with your latest boyfriend you left back at home. you did like him… just not enough to not fuck Mingi and Yunho while you were away.

“ohhh… you're here!” you turn slowly, forcing a smile on your face, and you skip over to him, you raise your arms to hug him but he stops you.

“I'm not here to hug and kiss and make up.” your boyfriend glares at you, and you feel a pit in your stomach. you felt like you were going to be sick.

“then… Why are you here? why did you come all the way out here?” you question, your voice trembling just a bit. you shoot a quick look behind you to see Mingi and Yunho; with conflicting emotions on their faces. you turn back around to face your boyfriend.

“because i’m not stupid y/n, i know there's something going on but i just don't know what. you're sleeping with someone, fans or whatever. I know you are.” he begins, and you instantly freeze. unbeknownst to you, Mingi glances at Yunho, then at you, then back to Yunho- whose eyes never once left you. Not that that was strange, Yunho had always had his eyes glued on you, but it was the way Yunho looked at you that made his heart swell in his chest. Yunho was infatuated with you… but so was Mingi. A tinge of jealousy crept through him, but he very quickly dismissed it.

“No, I'm not. you can't just claim a statement like that and accuse me of being a cheater without any proof.” you fight back, shaking your head. you could feel your emotions rising in your chest- you were still a little on edge from the adrenaline of the concert.

your boyfriend reaches for you, and grabs the collar of your shirt. Yunho and Mingi both instantly respond, and you freeze again- the older boys standing behind you to protect you if something were to happen.

“Relax your hound dogs,” your boyfriend rolls his eyes, and you can't help but smile at the nickname for the boys- it was funny. Then you remembered where you were, and who you were with the second they stepped back. He pulls your shirt down just a bit, past your collarbones, exposing the marks Yunho had left all over your chest- marking his territory.

“I fucking knew it!” your boyfriend exclaims, pulling his hands from your shirt- it popping back into place. your eyes begin to tear up, and your eyebrows furrow, shaking your head. you didn't even understand why you were crying- you hadn't been invested in him in a long time… you’d been on tour so long you almost forgot you were even dating someone. “we’re done. you're a fucking cheater. i should have known better than to date a damn musician.” he scoffs, as he walks off. you watch him with misty eyes, before Yunho steps in front of you.

Mingi is quick though, and he pulls your shirt down too. his eyes widen, his lips part slightly, and you look up at him, with fear in your eyes- hopefully he didn't recognize yunho’s mark.

“Jesus christ… is that where you were this morning? getting fucked?” Mingi sneers, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment- the jealousy flashes through Mingi again and he clenches his jaw. Yunho on the other hand, was absolutely fascinated by the marks he left- successfully marking you as his. He loved seeing it, he loved doing it, and for as long as you let him, he will continue to mark his territory.

“no, I was actually asleep this morning.” you stumble over your words, feeling your tears start to well up- you got caught in an elaborate lie and now you were terrified of Yunho and Mingi finding out about each other.

“whatever. I don't care.” Mingi mutters, dropping his hand from your shirt. He looks down at you, then at Yunho, then he leaves without another word. you sniffle, and blink your eyes a few times, watching him leave. Lately Mingi had been distant, and you wonder why- did he know about you and Yunho?

“y/n…” Yunho’s voice snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts and you look at him, feeling a little dazed. you watch as Yunho's jaw clenches, and his eyes move down your body. you shiver under his gaze.

the way he’s looked at you since you both were 16 was intoxicating. he would literally undress you with his eyes and you could see he was just thinking about pounding you into the mattress, or whatever was closest, until you were a stupid, drooling mess. But, you didn't know, he thought about this for a longer time- when you suggested it he was thrilled to know this could be reality.

“Yunho,” you start, but Yunho shakes his head, putting his hand on your chest, and pushing you back into the green room. You oblige, and watch as he kicks the door closed. “What are you doi-” you’re cut off as he grabs your hips, and smashes his lips into yours in a fevered manner. you can't help but melt into the kiss, despite your almost panicky state.

You cling to Yunho like never before as he presses into you harder, instantly deepening the kiss, a low groan coming from Yunho's mouth. He squeezes you, making you gasp, and he takes his chance to shove his tongue into your mouth- this time making you moan in response. your tongues dance together, allowing Yunho to take the lead.

You try to focus on the feeling of Yunho’s fingers on your body, relishing in every since touch he gets on your bare skin but between his fingers, his mouth, his scent, mixed with your emotions from your now fresh breakup, and even the tension Mingi had built up in you earlier that you never got rid of no matter how hard you tried, your mind was reeling. it was hard to focus all on one thing, and before you knew it, Yunho was pulling your pants off and kneeling in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” You look down at him, and he looks up at you, with a smile. He points to his face, and your eyebrows furrow. “what?” he points again- you could swear you could see a tail wagging. “Yunho, what?” you try to ask him for clarification because you genuinely are confused.

“Sit, idiot.” Yunho laughs, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you to him. He grabs your thigh, lifting it up and placing your foot on the couch not even giving you a second to protest before his mouth is on your clit, eating you ravenously.

Your body jolts, and you catch yourself as a loud moan is suddenly ripped out of you. Yunho gave you no time to prepare for this, and that was on purpose. You look down at him, and his face is buried between your legs, his eyes closed as he enjoys himself, feeling content at the way your body responds to him so eagerly, and the sound of your moans he loves so much.

“Fuck, yunho~” you moan, and he pulls away to catch his breath, looking up at you. You run a hand through his hair, before taking a fistful of his hair and pushing him back towards your core. He laughs, before slowly, agonizingly slow, licks between your folds, until his tongue flicks over your clit- making your hips jolt.

“You're so fucking beautiful.” Yunho groans, before plunging two long, spindly fingers inside of you, making you gasp and moan loudly; not quite used to the two fingers off the bat. your grip on his hair tightens and he chuckles, attaching himself to you again, as he works his fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, Yunho,” you exclaim, moaning out his name as his fingers curl inside you, before he starts pumping them inside of you faster. You can feel yourself getting increasingly wetter with each thrust of his fingers inside of you, his fingers and even knuckles are coated in your slick.

Yunho quickly pulls his fingers out of you, and pulls away. You whine at the loss of his mouth and fingers, you glance down at him, and he has the most mischievous grin on his lips as he takes in your fucked out expression. Your breathing is heavy, and irregular, like you had just ran a mile, but all Yunho did to you was finger you and eat you out- he knew you were never this exhausted this quickly.

“I didn’t tire my puppy out, did I?” he grins, standing up to his full height. You follow him with your eyes, tilting your head back to look up at him. You shake your head, and swallow hard. Your eyes flicker to his fingers that were covered in your own fluids. “Good girl.” He whispers, before presenting his fingers to you, gently pressing the pads of his fingers on your bottom lip. You part your lips, and Yunho pushes his fingers into your mouth.

Your tongue darts around his digits, lapping up any evidence of your arousal left on his fingers. His eyes never leave your lips, he would never find the courage to tell you how many ways he’s imagined your mouth on him since he hit puberty. He was always jealous of the boyfriends you brought around when he was here all along. From as far as he knew, he was the only one to make you orgasm… more than once at least.

“You're mine.” Yunho suddenly grunts, ripping his fingers out of your mouth and grabbing your chin forcefully, making you look up at him. The grip he had on you almost hurt, but you didn’t mind it. Your hand instinctively makes its home on the groin of his pants, gently moving your hand back and forth, creating some sort of friction for Yunho.

Yunho swats your hand away, and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling his other hand away from your chin. You swallow hard, and your eyes flicker all over his body, drinking in every single detail about the man in front of you. The way is brown hair was messy from his headbanging from the set, the fact that some of his eyeshadow had smudged and his eyeliner was definitely fucked up- all of your perfect work from earlier, messed up- but honestly you weren’t complaining. You had always preferred Yunho to look more grunge than his normal attire outside of venues.

“You hear me puppy? Mine.” Yunho growls into your ear and you let out a moan, your body jolting at his words as you are brought down to reality. Yunho holds your head at an arm's length, and he looks you up and down. He chuckles a little when he realizes he only undressed your bottom half. “Let me get you all fixed up.” He says, and you give him a questioning look as he releases your hair and takes one long stride towards you.

“Fixed up? Are you not-”

“Who is talking to you? Because I don't remember addressing you.” The words that come out of Yunho's mouth are harsh in nature, but you knew he didn’t mean it. He would spend the rest of his life listening to you talk. It was just Yunho's funny duality.

You blink in response to his words, dumbfounded. He’d only ever spoken like that to you once and you honestly weren't even sure if you liked it then, but for some reason at his condescending words, it churned your stomach and you could feel yourself getting wetter the longer you let the words sink in.

“Good pup.” Yunho praises, his hands come down on your shoulders and you watch his every move. You watch as his long, spindly fingers ghost your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they slip under the straps of your tank top. The veins in his hands, his arms, and all the way up to his neck, taunt you- they mock you even. Yunho wasn't even flustered for a moment, his heart wasn't pounding in his chest so hard it felt like it was going to explode.

Your breathing becomes shallow, as you feel and watch Yunho slip the straps of your tank top off of you. A sudden urge to cover yourself up crashes over you, but Yunho knew better. He swatted your hands away again, pulling your tank top down past your breasts.

“God,” Yunho groans, pushing your tank top around your waist, where it makes its home now. Yunho’s hands cup your plump flesh, and you can feel a shudder ripple through you as his thumbs pass over your nipples, making you moan. “My puppy, ever the eager one.” He giggles, making the corner of your lips twitch into a smile- but that's easily ripped out of you when his mouth makes contact with your breast, eliciting a small, quiet moan from your lips.

Your hands immediately come to the back of Yunho’s head, your fingers grasping onto his hair as his tongue flicks over your sensitive bud, making you jerk in response.

“Yun… p-lease…” The begging starts to slip out in small pleas at first, the whining and the whimpering- it wouldn't be long until the tears and the incoherent mumbling came along too. Yunho looks up at you, you were closer to tears than usual.

“Not yet, princess. You're not ready.” Yunho mumbles against your flesh, before moving his mouth to give your other breast the same attention. While he does that, he takes advantage of your pathetic state, and his hand slips between your legs. You gasp in response as you feel his fingers slide through your folds, two fingers slide into you, and you practically collapse right on top of him. “mmm, maybe you are.” He chuckles darkly, before pulling away from you completely. You blink back the tears forming and stare at him, in shock.

“Yun-”

“Who is talking to you?” Yunho hisses, grabbing your hips and turning you around. You gasp, bewildered once again by his behavior. It was hot- but he seemed… genuinely upset… jealous even. You try to turn around again, but Yunho forces you back, then throws you down on the couch. You gasp again, turning around to look at him. You weren't scared of him, he would never ever hurt you- it took him years of convincing to even hit you.

“Yu-” You try again but your attempt is in vain, because before you can even open your eyes after blinking his lips are on yours again, in a hungry kiss. You can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, then being thrown to the floor, the all familiar clunking is your signal that you're about to become nothing but a sex doll for Yunho… not that you could complain.

Yunho pulls away, pulling his jacket and shirt off, in two swift motions, before kissing your forehead.

“bend over.” Yunho instructs, and at first, your instinct is to say no, but Yunho is quicker than ever. You feel a sharp sting as Yunho’s hand comes down on your thigh, you inhale sharply before rolling your eyes and obeying his command. You wince at the lingering feeling, but you don't budge even still. Yunho growls, and pushes you down onto the couch.

You fall onto it, but Yunho isn't satisfied with your positioning so he leans over you. He grabs your wrists, and puts them on the back of the couch. He drags his hands from your wrists up your arms, making you shiver and shake under his touch, while he leaves a trail of kisses along your bare shoulders. You can feel your mouth watering, as your body begs him to continue to touch you, to fuck you into the couch, into the wall, wherever Yunho wanted.

Yunho’s hands drag along your waist, until his large hands cup your ass cheeks. He groans quietly, cursing under his breath as he appreciates the plush flesh. He squeezes your cheeks hard, and you let out a small whimper in response. You feel another sharp sting on your asscheek as his hand comes down. You hiss at the feeling, jolting away from him. Yunho grabs your hips and pushes you forward, making you stumble on the cushions of the couch, your knees touching the soft fabric. Yunho leans back, admiring the sight before kneeling down.

You look back, your breathing starting to get heavier and shakier. Your eyebrows furrow a little, watching him dip his head between your legs again. The feeling of his mouth on you again unexpectedly rips a loud moan out of your mouth. The feeling of him sucking on your understimulated bud, paired with the way his tongue lapped every inch of you up made you realize your orgasm was not too far off.

“Shi-” You moan out, but Yunho slaps your ass again, making you hiss in pain again, jolting away from him. Yunho grumbles, pulling you back to him as he continues to devour you. His fingers slide back inside you, curling up and hitting all the right places as another moan is choked out of you.

Your orgasm approaches fast, and hard and before you know it, you've basically drenched Yunho’s fingers and face, your moans spilling out of your mouth at different frequencies. You feel Yunho pull his fingers out, and you're about to protest, to tell him to wait to ride the rest of your orgasm out but he slams himself into you. Your body spasms around him, and you gasp loudly, your knees buckling under his sudden weight.

“Fuck, you're so tight. You feel so good, baby.” Yunho leans forward, his mouth right by your ear as he whispers praise. You moan at his words, and the feeling of him filling you up and stretching you out was just heavenly. Your breakup long forgotten about as Yunho begins to kiss along your back, leaving a lingering feeling behind as he pulls back, just a little. You moan at the feeling, and at the loss, before he thrusts his hips into you again. You curse under your breath.

His hands reach around you, cupping your breasts in his hands, before he starts to slowly pick up speed in his thrusts. Your body is still a little weak and sensitive from your orgasm a moment ago, and Yunho knows it. He knew your body better than anyone- even Mingi. He’d been with you long enough to know the signs- you were on the brink of another orgasm.

“oh? so eager to cum already?” Yunho whispers into your ear, making you shudder again. Yunho slips his hand down your body, between your legs. Your knees start to buckle again, but he catches you. “not so fast~” He chuckles dryly, watching you melt under him.

“What the fuck do you think you're fucking doing?!”

You and Yunho both instantly stop. Your eyes are wider than the moon, and you could swear you could feel Yunho’s heart just genuinely stop.

“Yunho. Y/n. What the fuck?!” He says again, this time, with a lot of anger behind his voice. You couldn't move, you were literally glued to this couch. Mingi just walked in on Yunho fucking you senseless- there was no way you were getting out of this one.

“Mingi, let me explain!” Yunho starts, his hands leave your body, and he pulls out of you, making you whine. He gently sits you down on the couch properly as he shoves his still hard cock into his pants and zips it up. Yunho even goes as far as handing you a blanket, but you didn't take it.

“No, let her explain.” Mingi points at you, and you look up at the two of them. Mingi’s eyes come across your chest, sneaking another quick peek at the marks left on you.

“Mingi, it’s not what you think…” You try to protest, but both Yunho and Mingi’s eyebrows raise, and Yunho shoots you a glare.

“What do you mean y/n?” Yunho asks, and now suddenly you're being grilled by both of them. You wondered what you did wrong in this life for this to happen to you.

“Yunho, you know what i mean, please…” You beg, and your voice cracks as you can feel your emotions start to rise. Your body was still hot with arousal, and your chest felt tight at the thought of them both leaving you.

“Mingi, I can't lie anymore.” Yunho says, and your eyes widen, you start to shake your head, and you reach out to grab his arm. He lets you take it but he doesn't look at your pathetic state. “Y/n and I have been sleeping together since high school, behind your back, behind all our partners backs.” Yunho admits to Mingi, who to Yunho’s surprise doesn't even blink.

“You think I don't know?” Mingi tuts, smacking his lips together while he looks between the two of you. “I've known you had a thing for her since we met, and well… you're both kind of really fucking awful liars, and you're terrible at sneaking around. By the way, since we live together full time, you should know by now y/n isn't very quiet.” Mingi explains, his words hitting your ears and making you blush. You weren't a good liar, but Yunho when he wasn't trying was a terrible liar. He also just generally hated lying to you and to Mingi.

“oh…” Yunho mumbles, his eyes falling to the floor. Mingi looks over at you, and smirks. He reaches out to your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair and you look up at him. Yunho notices Mingi move, and he looks up to watch what he was doing- his jaw about fell off his face when he realized what was happening right in front of him.

“What you don't know, that I know you don't know, is that we share the same toy. The same dumb, slutty little toy- but not just each other… all those stupid guys she keeps bringing into her life who are nothing but useless, anyways.” Mingi’s voice is low, almost like a growl. Yunho and your eyes are glued on Mingi’s hands, unbuckling his belt, and pulling down his pants, just slightly. His cock springs free from his boxers right in front of your face.

“So what do you say? Should we teach her a lesson, Yunho?” Mingi asks, lightly tapping the head of his dick right on your plump lips. The corners of your mouth twitch, and the heat in your belly becomes so fucking unbearable you can't stop the moan from escaping. Mingi uses this as his opening to shove his dick in your mouth, and down your throat, forcing you to choke on his thick length.

Mingi lets out a low moan, before pulling you away from him by your hair. You gasp for air, already feeling the tears start to spill over. Mingi grins, and places his hand on your cheek. You brace yourself, closing your eye on that side as Mingi’s hand comes into contact with your flesh, hard and fast, making your head spin.

“Mingi- what are you doing?!” Yunho sounds panicked after seeing this, he himself had never hit your face- he refused to. He didn't want to hurt you or make you distrust him.

“She likes it. Trust me. You're not the only one who’s fucked her for 8 years.” Mingi grumbles. He pulls away from you, and pulls you to your feet by your hair. You obey, standing up and looking between the two men- Yunho is looking at you with concern, wondering if Mingi was taking it too far but you give him a reassuring smile and just like that, he snaps back.

You feel Yunho’s hands on your back, but you can’t see him, as he’s behind you and the grip Mingi has on your is deadly- denying you from looking at Yunho.

“Think I didn't know about this little thing between you two? Yunho’s like a little lost puppy without you, following you around, wanting to always be near you, always touching you. You think I didn't notice your glances, your sneaking away with one another. The fucking hickey’s that litter your body, that I know I don't leave.” Mingi pulls you close to him, pulling you out of Yunho’s grip. Yunho looks up, and shoots a glare at Mingi, before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Do you think I’m stupid y/n?” Mingi growls, and your eyes widen, shaking your head. You gasp, and moan as you feel Yunho enter you again. Mingi’s other hand cups your breast, his thumb and index pinching your nipple hard making you moan, and your eyes roll back as your body gives into Yunho.

The sensation of Yunho filling you up, while Mingi grills you, kneading the plush skin of your breast, was driving you crazy. Yunho’s hand coasts up from the small of your back, pushing Mingi away with his other hand as he forces you to bed back over the couch. Your body gives in, and you faceplant right into the couch. Yunho adjusts both of your bodies so now he’s on the couch behind you, as he starts to pound into you.

Mingi watches as your eyes shut, your brows furrow and your lips part as Yunho destroys you. His body twitches at the sounds of your moans, needing to touch you somehow. It was driving him insane. For a moment, he just watches as Yunho ravages you, his cock aching to feel any part of you.

“M…Mingi.” You choke out, and Mingi’s entire body goes rigid… You wanted him too? Not just Yunho? Yunho pulls you back onto him, lifting you up a little. You move your arms out, resting your palms on the cushion of the couch to hold yourself up, while Yunho’s arms encapsulate your body.

You and Yunho watch Mingi process all of this, the smile on your faces more than evident that you were literally inviting him to join. Yunho pulls an arm from around you, and reaches out to grab Mingi’s wrist pulling him closer to the two of you. He lets go of Mingi, and wraps his arm around you again.

“This is what you wanted, right, Mingi? To fuck her? To teach her a lesson? So why are you just standing there and watching? Are you that pathetic?” Yunho’s words strike a chord with Mingi, and he groans, letting his head fall back for just a second, before lifting his head up to look down at you.

Neither you or Yunho can say anything else, before Mingi’s dick is down your throat again. You moan at the feeling of being filled from both ends, and the feeling of being used by both of them is so intense, your second orgasm comes crashing down. You pull away from Mingi to catch your breath, but Yunho’s hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, while Yunho fucks into you, at a relentless pace. Mingi reaches forward, grabbing your head and pulling you back towards him, smashing your nose against his pelvis.

You try to breathe, you try to cry out, do anything, but all you can do is choke, and sputter and just cry. You felt so small between them, their hands just swallowing every part of you up as they use you for their own pleasure.

Yunho’s arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. It felt like they were playing tug of war with you, being tugged back and forth between them. Yunho’s fingers graze your folds, feeling himself push in and out of you for a few second before finding your clit and rubbing small circles in it, making you moan against Mingi’s dick.

“Oh, Fuck.” Mingi curses, pulling out of you quickly. He bends down, and kisses you, harshly. You don't have time to even catch your breath as Mingi pushes you further onto Yunho’s dick, and Yunho bottoming out inside of you. All three of you moan simultaneously, and there's a familiar feeling inside of you, and Yunho’s grip around you tightens so hard it's painful. The warm liquid spilling inside of you, and the twitching, and pulsating makes your body clench around him naturally.

Yunho holds you in his embrace for a moment, while your lips are still locked with Mingi’s. Yunho can't help but watch, feeling something different growing in the pit of his stomach. Mingi cups your face and his thumbs pass under your eyes wiping your makeup and tear stained cheeks off.

Yunho watches in awe, before his amazement is replaced with concern as he watches Mingi strike your cheek again. This time, Yunho could feel how much you liked it. You clenched around him hard, and let out a little whimper.

“Want me to cum inside you?” Mingi asks, pulling away from you to allow you to catch your breath. You pant heavily, and you nod your head, your eyes trained on Mingi as he presses his forehead against yours. Yunho, reluctantly, pulls his arms from around you, and watches as you slide off of him, whining at the loss- even he was a little upset at the loss.

Yunho gets up, and Mingi takes his place immediately. Mingi slaps your ass, harder than Yunho had done previously, making you whimper in response. Although Mingi and Yunho were similar in length, Mingi was just a tad girthier than Yunho so watching your face contort almost in pain as Mingi pushes himself inside of you made Yunho’s heart flutter.

“A-are you okay?” Yunho grabs your face, worried that Mingi was doing too much to you. He would hate it if you got hurt by either of them. You look at Yunho, and he can't help the twitch in his cock again as he takes in your fucked out expression.

“Y-yun…” you choke out another moan, as Mingi bottoms out inside of you. Your body still raw from Yunho’s usage of it, it makes you jolt a bit, Mingi pulls you back again, forcing you to take all of him. Your head falls forward, and you reach for Yunho, who gladly takes your hand, holding onto it tightly.

“Good to know you're still so tight after Yunho uses you.” Mingi leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he growls in your ear. You whine in response, before Mingi’s hand comes to the back of your head, forcing your head into the seat of the cushion, and Yunho’s eyes widen as Mingi literally fucks you into the couch.

“Are you just gonna watch?” Mingi tuts at Yunho, and Yunho’s eyes snap to Mingi- a little conflicted. Of course he wanted to join in again, but your safety was his biggest concern. It had always been.

“I-”

“She likes it, stop worrying so much. She isn't as fragile as you think.” Mingi grumbles, before his hand comes down hard on your ass again. You let out a muffled cry, and Yunho watches as Mingi’s hand moves from the back of your head, to the back of your neck, gripping you tightly and pulling you up. “Don't you?” You pant heavily, but nod regardless. Your body trembles under Mingi’s force.

Mingi’s other hand comes around, hooking under your arm as he grabs your throat, and squeezes the sides. His hand moves from the back of your neck, down to your ass as he starts to speed up his thrusts again.

Yunho was so conflicted, but he got an idea- he stands up, taking Mingi’s former place. Mingi nudges your chin, making you look up at Yunho who towers over you. He gently pats your head, before pressing the head of his cock against your lips. You whine a little, your throat feeling raw from how rough Mingi was, but you oblige anyways, knowing Yunho wouldn't be so rough now that he has cum.

Yunho’s strokes are slow and gentle, but his hips buck as you hollow your cheeks out, flattening your tongue against his shaft. He lets out a little whimper, and as Mingi thrusts in, Yunho pulls out, making your body feel electric. Their thrusts are opposite of one another and it drives you literally insane. Mingi’s thrusts are harsh, and forceful, but Yunho’s are gentle and kind.

Mingi’s hand was still on your throat, squeezing perfectly, making you feel just perfect. Yunho get another idea, and he pries Mingi’s hand from your throat, replacing it with his own.

“Yunho? What the hell.” Mingi frowns, furrowing his brows as he halts his movements. You whine out and push against him, he growls and slaps your ass again, making you jolt forward and choke on Yunho’s cock. Yunho groans, and holds the back of your neck, pushing his cock so far down your throat, your nose touches his pelvis and he can literally feel his dick in your throat.

“Ohhh, fuck…” Yunho moans, looking down at your pathetic, fucked out state. The tears that stream down your face, and the spit bubbling at the corner of your mouth, as you choke on him.

“Look at her,” Mingi croons, smiling devilishly at you. “So pretty with our dicks inside you, huh?” Mingi whispers, making your body erupt in goosebumps. You can hear Mingi chuckle behind you as he picks his pace up once more, pounding into at a punishing force and speed, and Yunho pulls out of your mouth. You gasp for air, before a choked moan leaves your lips, your eyes closing tightly and your hands reaching for Yunho.

“You're doing so good, princess.” Yunho mumbles, moving his hands from your neck to your face. One hand holds your chin to face him, the other is wiping the tears from your cheeks, and the drool from your lips. You were a fucking mess, makeup smudged everywhere, your hair tangled, your lips swollen and abused, along with the drool coming out of the corners of your mouth as you get fucked stupid.

“So fucking good.” Mingi moans, grabbing your hips and forcing you back against him again. You cry out, and Yunho’s brows furrow with concern- never having heard you make that noise before.

“Mingi, stop.” Yunho warns, and Mingi shakes his head.

“Shut up.” Mingi strains, slamming into you once more, his painted nails digging into your hips. You reach for Yunho again, just needing something, anything to stabilize you, before you collapse as you can feel Mingi’s cum spilling inside of you. “Oh, shit…” Mingi moans, throwing his head back and letting out a loud, deep breath. Yunho holds your hand tightly, he can feel you shaking, and he wants to sweep you into his arms and protect you from everything but he wasn't quite sure you wanted to be touched after all of this.

You're left completely speechless, panting heavily with your head resting in Yunho’s hand. Hot tears still spilling out of your eyes only concern the eldest boy more and more.

“Baby, what's wrong…? Did we hurt you?” Yunho asks, pulling his hand out of yours to push your hair out of your face. Mingi watches Yunho, his heart aching a little at the sight of his best friends. Although Mingi loved you, just as much as Yunho did, he had always wondered if the bonds between the three of you were different.

“N-no, she’s okay… she usually takes a while to recuperate after we have sex.” Mingi admits, Yunho’s eyes flickering up to Mingi, giving him a dirty look, before looking back down at you. You nod at Mingi’s words, letting Yunho know the truth.

Yunho was rough with you, but not like Mingi was.

Yunho huffs in response to your nodding, before wiping your tears away from your cheeks. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose before he pulls his boxers, and pants back up, and walks over to the vanity where your makeup was. He swipes a makeup wipe off the desk, and comes back over to you, sitting in front of you.

“A-are you always this way…?” Mingi asks, a little hesitant. He didn't know what he should or shouldn't say, if anything at all. Mingi just looks down, and pulls out of you, making you gasp and whine, while Yunho shoots him another dirty look.

“She deserves to be treated well.” is all Yunho says, as he begins to wipe your makeup off with soft, and tender hands. Yunho pulls away for a second, grabbing your underwear and shorts, putting them in his lap, before guiding you to sit next to him.

“I’m so glad today was the last show.” You mutter, and Yunho chuckles, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him again. He instructs you to look up with just your eyes, and you do. He takes the makeup wipe, and begins to very carefully clean your under eyes of makeup and tears.

Mingi watching the two of you made his heart shatter. No wonder you two were so smitten with one another. He clears his throat, catching both of your attention. He quickly gathers himself, pulling his pants back on and sitting next to you.

“We should talk about this.” Mingi offers, and Yunho and you exchange a look, before looking at Mingi again. “What?”

“Talk about what?” Yunho asks, seemingly clueless to what Mingi was trying to get at.

“What just happened…?” Mingi raises an eyebrow, and you giggle. You grab the collar of his shirt, and pull him down to you, planting a tender kiss on his lips. Mingi melts into you, both of your eyes closing at the contact, and Yunho chuckles. You pull away, and look at Yunho, then back at Mingi.

“We kind of already talked about it before…” You start, watching as Yunho sets your clothes in your lap. You pull your shirt back on properly, before slipping your panties and shorts back on.

“Talked about what? I’m really confused here…?” Mingi scratches the back of his head, and furrows his brows. Yunho shakes his head, swatting Mingi’s hand away from his head.

“Stop worrying. It’s nothing bad. Y/n and I agreed, back when we first started all this, that if you ever found out, and joined us- that it solidifies her and I’s relationship.” Yunho explains, but Mingi looks even more confused than ever.

“Wait so you're dating now? What the hell am I doing here?” Mingi scoffs, finding your agreement to be bullshit. Yunho knew Mingi liked you, just as Mingi knew Yunho liked you, and somehow Mingi is being left out? How dare his best friends.

“Mingi!” Your voice brings Mingi back to earth, and he looks at you. You looked so cute, sitting next to Yunho as he leans close to you, holding himself up with his arm behind you, just to be close to you. God… you both looked so good to Mingi.

“Can you let us explain?” You ask, gently, knowing Mingi was one to overthink and jump to conclusions. He sighs and nods, mentally shaking off the daze he was just in.

“I guess, yeah, us two are dating now… but if you want, only if you want… we want you to join us.” Yunho says, almost awkwardly- like he doesn't want to say the words. He wants you all to himself all the time, he doesn't want to share. but if he was going to share with anyone, he was glad it was Mingi.

“what…?” Mingi narrows his eyes at Yunho, then at you, before turning back to Yunho.

“be our boyfriend, or my boyfriend.” You blurt out, and Mingi’s eyes widen the size of large saucers and his lips part in shock.

“What?” He repeats himself, and Yunho scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You can either be both of our boyfriends, or you can also be her boyfriend. I don't mind either way.” Yunho explains, but Mingi just looks as dumbfounded as ever.

“Like… polyamory…?” Mingi asks for clarification and the two of you nod. You didn't know why the boys were so scared of the outcome- you knew they'd love doing what they just did to you, but they both just refused- scared to lose their friendship with one another.

“I… I guess I can try being her boyfriend too…” Mingi finally answers after a long pause between the three of them. You smile and nod, leaning forward and kissing the corner of Mingi’s mouth.

“Great! Well, I’m starving and my throat hurts, so I’m gonna go to the bus.” You get up from between them, grabbing your phone that was discarded at some point, and swiftly leaving the room, leaving behind Yunho and Mingi.

Mingi glances at Yunho, seeing the dreamy expression on his face, and the small smile playing on his lips.

“How long have you waited to officially be her boyfriend?” Mingi asks, his voice barely above a whisper, and Yunho turns his head to look at him, the smile just growing and growing.

“19 Years.”

“Since we were 6?!” Mingi exclaims, and Yunho nods, patting Mingi’s knee before getting up and pulling his shirt and jacket back on. Yunho looks at Mingi and shrugs his shoulders, before starting to follow your footstep.

“Since we were 6, Mingi.” Yunho smirks, before turning on his heel and chasing after you with a new spring in his step.

[skzfairyyydreamz]

hiiii loveyyyy!!! so abt that angst 👀

it's very specific but like i loveeeeee replacement stories (iykwim) so how abt skz replacing you with a new girl (or your bsf cuz more angst 😋), it can be them replacing you altogether (like a gc ig) or seperately is fine too!!!

also anoth r request, can you make it very very very detailed, pls? and later maybe like in part 2/3 they regret it a lot and reader is unhappy as well but reader won't take them back cuz they alr broke her trust and can't be trusted again in readers pov :3

upto u in the end :D

Replaced?

Genre: Skz smau, Text posts, Non!idolAu, Angst, crack/humor, Mini series.

Pairing: Bsf!skz , Fem!Reader, Bartender!skz, Club manager! Chan, Club security!Changbin, Bottle girl!Reader.

Warnings: ‼️Slow build‼️Suggestive jokes, Strong language (but you guys know me by now .. if it’s one thing imma do .. it’s cuss lmaoo)

Synopsis: Some people say friendship breakups hurt more than actually relationships .. and now y/n sees for herself why some friend groups are best kept separate.

next >>

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha acha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @imastraykidsfan @simpracha @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny @armystay89 @eclipsemina @4ln-stay8 ;(plz lmk if you would like to be removed or added

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee know x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> swearing, y/n is cheated on, references to sex/suggestive, y/n doesn't have a good relationship with her family

taglist rules -> CLOSED!

MASTERLIST

INTROS -> Y/N & CO , APT 143 , OTHER

CH 1 -> BREAKUP

CH 2 -> LONELY ST. APARTMENTS

CH 3 -> AM I IN?

CH 4 -> JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

CH 5 -> BAD BITCH ENERGY

CH 6 -> LIVE A LITTLE

CH 7 -> WORKPLACE ROMANCES

CH 8 -> EXS AND OHS

CH 9 -> IS THIS A DATE?

CH 10 -> TAKE IT SLOW

CH 11 -> NEXT STEPS

CH 12 -> FAILED ROMANTIC ESCAPADES

CH 13 -> IT'S... COMPLICATED

CH 14 -> I'M THE PROBLEM?

CH 15 -> LIKE IT USED TO BE

CH 16 -> BIG MISTAKES

CH 17 -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE

CH 18 -> LISTEN TO ME

CH 19 -> OPERATION MINJI

CH 20 -> UNWANTED MEMORIES

CH 21 -> COMFORT ME

CH 22 -> BEFORE

CH 23 -> I MISS YOU

CH 24 -> Y/N TIME

CH 25 -> MOVE IN DAY

CH 26 -> OPPORTUNITIES

CH 27 -> BIG STEPS

CH 28 -> AMERICA?

CH 29 -> COMPLICATED

CH 30 -> BABY FEVER

CH 31 -> LIKE LIKE

CH 32 -> CELEBRATION

[unholywriters]

Bright Looks, Dark Mind

╰┈➤ Summary: He could never hurt a fly, choi San, the one who was always there when you needed him and would always find time to make sure you felt included or safe whenever he wasn't around, but he can't possible be a killer in the mafia right? Let alone the Heir to one?

╰┈➤ Pairings: Mafia San x Male Reader

╰┈➤Genre: Smut, Non-Idol Au, Mafia Au

╰┈➤ Trope info: San always knew what his life was going to, and tried not to get into outside of his circle out of protection but he couldn't help it when it came to you, but of course nothing goes plan.

╰┈➤ WC: 18.6k

╰┈➤ Networks: @cromernet @illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork

╰┈➤Warnings: MDNI

╰┈➤ Ratings: 18+

╰┈➤ Taglist: @sweetinsaniiity

New World university, a place that was tricky to enter because of the long and complicated standards coming from the higher ups in the school. Your Grades not only had to be on top, but your attitude had to be clean, if you were going to be hasty you can't let it show, if you were going to be known as an enemy you had to plan things out perfectly with little of any fails. One wrong move could cost you everything. The pressure from the teachers was tense, even the best teachers had some of the hardest courses, leaving you to take notes on what was you to decide what was important to remember and what wasn't worth remembering. Another reason the books were free and if you bought one that was new, you got to keep it and do as you pleased with it, as long as you got to pass the class is all that matters.

There was one student here who seemed to never falter under the stress unlike most kids who got into here because of their parents. Choi San, known to be the top student in his classes and gym activities, offering study groups for those who were too worried to fail, but never letting them just copy his notes without fully understanding since he also made his notes impossible to fully cheat off of. He was kind, but knew what strings to pull so everyone would either listen, or leave him alone if he so wished to. His uniform always seemed brand new, not a single wrinkle or speck of dust. The cufflinks always shinning and looking polished with his pants never looking a mess, each step ringing felt like a bell for the other students to either flock around him, asking for tips and if he was busy, or if they should move out of the way and allow him to keep walking. Especially if he was in a hurry and needed to get somewhere.

His smile always either always attracted people, or made them look away. it always depended on his eyes, if they felt soft and welcoming, or if they were full of hostile, something rarely anyone ever got unless they truly were crossing a boundary, or they were involved with him outside of school. After all this was his also year, the stresses weren't as ever since he knew he was on track to graduate and would inherit things from his father as promised, given his grades and the appearance he kept up in school and could handle his father's business with little trouble despite how much time he would spend reading books and practicing other things. But today was different for him. It was a weekend, and he got asked about showing a new student around without the pressure of the other students. Which was something he agreed to, knowing the other kids could make someone's new day a problem, but it is strange to him.

They were coming at the last semester, where things get more busy between classes, test, and group activities would get more stressful to prepare for another end of the year celebration, especially for those who were graduation so it would be something they would truly enjoy and remember for years to come. Could have not have waited till next year? Or were they a transfer student? He didn't know that he arrived to the office. Slowly opening the doors to see the headmaster standing in front of a male, in the male uniform, his pack back with his scheduled in his hands, locking eyes with san as he walked in, letting the doors close behind him as he bowed softly. Standing up to show his friendly smile while walking closer.

“There he is, San this is y/n. A transfer student who did so well at their last school they were sent here to finish out the year. Can you help them find their classes and catch up on most of the lessons? I know there isn't any projects going on since those would take too long to grade.” “Why of course, it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n.”

The two bowed to each other, San standing up and being the guide and being as friendly as he usually is with the other students. Depending on the students and how they are. The lockers were something barely anyone used, and he didn't to waste their time.

“No one uses their lockers here either?”

“Depends if they have dance classes and such, since that would be a lot to carry around, is there any classes you would need this for? Though the dance class is more full and it would be hard to keep up. They take these last three months too seriously and have no room for error. Not to mention the classes have a lot of work stacked up just to make sure you can attend the graduation. They take it very serious. May I see your classes?”

Looking at the classes, San was a bit surprised to see all the classes. Even the music class, but decided not to ponder on it too much, knowing that it would give off the wrong impression for when school actually starts.

San spent most of the day waking through the halls and answering questions, his friendly smile never faltering as he kept walking, now having to go upstairs to another part of the building to the literature wing. Where the library also was and took up most of the hall since the books here were a lot to take in. Some being years old and there in attempts to keep them from fading away into nothing, more books or kids to feel more at ease and those in other languages so the kids can better their practice's and get things done at the rate they're wanting. Along with a small place to sit with drinks and rest some.

“The library is everyone's favorite place to come because of the coffee spot inside, everything is free of course. There are just some books you are only allowed to look at since they are old and crumble.”

Turning around, thinking y/n was still behind him, he was shocked to see that were looking inside of the classes. The large stair style of seats leading up and around to the center of the room. The rooms always looked bland, but inside it was always filled with tension some must keep under to keep focused on their glasses.

Shows always made places like this seem terrifying, especially for those who are new and don’t come for wealthy families. Often getting dragged into things they didn’t want to. But of course it was more than that, but y/n was determined. They got here from hard work, not doubting themselves and ready to crumble at the sigh of someone wealth just to bring them down.

“You know, some teachers are supposed to leave their classes locked on the weekend since some kids try to cheat in these classes. Surprised this one was open, I wonder if someone is here and hiding.”

Looking at the doorway, there was San leaning against the opened doorframe, his hands slowly seeping int his pockets with a curious look on his face as he looked around the room to see if anyone was there, the desk would show someone hiding since they have room for you to move your legs and set things under. Sometimes their bags sounding like bombs hitting the floor while they sat in the chairs and started to take notes of things for the day.

“It was just opened. I only saw rooms like these from movies and shows where the poor kid is out of place, but proven to have their spot here. Never thought I’d get the chance to be here myself.”

They admitted, looking at the large white board with a projector being close, but it was off to let the dim lights from the outside windows shine bright inside. It was a cloudy day so things felt more grey, but it felt more relaxed in the empty room. The shelves around the desk having books that seemed to never leave after years, only being pulled as props to use for things. Some of these books even had note markers sticking out against the hard rich wood. The tiles allowing more echoes to be heard with each footsteps, the two of them being alone in a large room. This gave San time to study them more before asking questions. The way they walked, talked, carried themselves with all the things in their hands and shoulders. He wanted to see if they were easy to crack with the pressure here. Would they truly make it out of here? Would they truly make it even a week in a place where you will always be in the light regardless of how quiet you are?

It was something that made him curious, but asking too many questions gets boring. Wanting to find out things from clues and see if he should add you to his social circle. A place where many people try to get into but almost never get in, the last person got in because they were always close with someone else who came to the school, but San wanted to make sure it would be a smart Idea to add them and not just to do as a favor. It was rare someone ever got that from him, let alone just because and if he felt like he was in a truly good mood despite this place feeling like t was crushing your sound each day you walked inside.

“Poor kid coming in the ranks of the Rich kids? Don’t those always ended up with the new kid being paired with the boy everyone is fawning over?”

He teased, watching y/n turn around and begun scanning his face once again but it was hard to. It was like they had practice how to make their face hard to read without giving it away that you were staring and trying to look, something San never wanted people to see because it would make them change. He wanted to see people in their raw colors.

It would be easier to make them crumble an even stumble on their words, he always enjoyed watching people squirm under him while he had a smile on his face the entire time. Those who saw the darkness in the smile would leave and try to keep their distance from him, but those who were still oblivious to his actions would never believe someone until it happened to them, being too late and their social status among the school would be ruined, nearly impossible to get back since San knew how to make you show how foolish you are while he stood in the back, his arms in his pocket and his innocent smiling hiding with the look in his closed eyes. With the dark expression only showing once he stopped smiling and just stared at you. He wondered, would he have to do so with you? It would be easy since no one would stand up for you if given the hard choice to. Those who would, would get cast out from the others with only you and whoever there to support you, depending on how fast you climb these deadly ladders.

“They do, it annoys me sometimes. They made you feel sorry for the poor kid despite their hard work. Why make the new kid go after someone who clearly has more control over the school and risk yourself? It’s a shark tank in places like these. And I have a feeling you’re hungry looking for food.”

The comeback made San show his curiosity, his eyebrow raised high and his mouth slightly curved into a smirk while Y/n got closer, walking past him and back into the hallway, taking in his new surroundings like the read the numbers of each class, not caring if San was trailing behind him. He wanted to come and do this alone, just to plan out places he would go into his classes. Each classroom was a battlefield, the front of the class was more for the note takers, those who were ready to answer things head on without fear, the back was for those who didn’t really want to pay attention but they were also under more watch, depending on where you sit in the middle, you are always pulled into something, and where the gaze of the teacher lands on the most. Sometimes feeling like you’re in the class's front sometimes. If you aren’t careful where you sit, things could either go well in your hand, or it could go against.

Depending on the subject, it can either be a safe place or another place where lies are thrown around in order to throw someone off just to get through the day and act like nothing else is wrong.

“Your last class is down here, extra classes are always last as a reliever.”

“That sounds like something you’d tell anyone to see if they would trust you or try to cling to you as a shield if they shared the same classes with you so you have something to do. Headmaster Lee was very vocal about his views of you and how sad he will be when you graduate because it has now raised his standards for the next person.”

Each word was planned carefully before being told out loud, this was just an introduction to the battlefield of the new school. Trusting someone so soon, giving in because of how they looked was a death wish and you would be left to dry in the sun till you were dried up with nothing left. 2 months doesn’t feel so fast during the day where it feels like there is no end to it. Mainly if the place feels like it’s doing nothing but taking your soul and leaving you with nothing with a smile on its face while you struggle to reach the light you had clung to.

San had a smirk on his face, locking eyes with y/n before they descended the stairs, walking through a large corridor, each side having floor and ceiling lengths windows to show the gardens and outside places to sit and eat. These places were for show, a place where you would be watched and judge for the things you did in such open spaces where people could see you and judging you from the inside, knowing you couldn’t hear what they were saying unless they wanted to. These places were a no-go, people would pester you about why were you there and wanted to know what you were hiding, but if they couldn’t find you, there was no point on starting a rumor because it could always be proven false and that would damage your reputation, losing those some had tried to hard to get close to only to sit there and prove themselves.

“Took notes from the shows and movies you watched I see. Wish some kids here took those shows into thought but it’s hard to do that when your worried about others things.”

“If you don’t live up to the part, your shark food. I have better things to do then play someone's game just because their bored with nothing better to do.”

Keeping their head up high, San walked past them to show them the music room, it was large as well. A place for someone to sing alone in booths, checking their pages, notes and such, somewhere for the choir to sing and those to practice and play their instruments for their own reasons. The walls were more lively with some lights and beanbags to help this place feel more relaxed, almost like they were trying to lure you in like a siren does before taking a bite. It was fitting since the choir here was named New World: Sirens. They would lure you in with their voices, movements, everything they could think of before tearing you apart and enjoying it like nothing else would happen to them. They were undefeated, and untouchable after all. No need to pull anything considered drastic, they had each other back and there was nothing anyone else could do. Even if they wanted to or if they weren’t considered being careful enough with their words and actions. But this was the main place San had control over, knowing if he wanted to sing to someone they would melt with such ease it would be like pouring water into a puddle, watching it expand and each ripple showing someone’s bright dreams becoming nothing more than a shell under his hands. And he wanted to see if they could live, after all they were already swimming so easily.

San watched as Y/n walked around the room, looking at each setup, everything was perfect. To the stands to the way some pencils were left with no dust or scratches on anything. The floor being cleaned enough to show your reflection and shine with the lights, the windows and doors being clean enough to see both inside and outside but the sound proofing making it hard for anyone to hear. The only doors that you couldn’t see through were the private booths for you to sit in and focus. But that doesn’t make them a place of interest. But, this was a place San held dear, he would make sure it was respected.

“I’m stepping into a landmine. This is your place, you got too excited walking do the door instead of telling me where to go.”

Turning around, the two locked eyes but San was more-so standing behind y/n, just waiting for them to turn around just so they could stare at each other while he leaned in closer, his head titling to the side like a curious cat who wanted to know what you would say or do in this situation but also kept his face confusing to read.

“No, this is our personal field, if we’re going off of the things you’ve said. But I like to call it a dance floor, we’ll dance till graduation, if I see you there.”

“Thanks for the doubts, that just makes it more to tango with you along with everyone else, clearly.”

San had led you back to the main entrance, the headmaster waiting so he could do the rest of his things with San there to help in case he had forgotten anything so far, thought it was highly unlikely. San lasses given your stance on most things, figured you could handle the new work and get things done and catch up. After all where is the fun if your given an advantage already?

Each quick step was like a snap of a finger. The seats were filling up quickly with students as they pulled out their notebooks for the first class of the day, math. San had made the choice of sitting next to you, his bag being heavy with his notebooks as he looked at your setup. Small and thin sticky notes that seemed to be labeled, the last pages seemed to be filled and nearly confusing, But you knew where everything was and that was all that mattered. Your pens were used for each class, Any form of blue was used for this class. San was scanning everything while being careful, knowing he shouldn’t speak as the professor walked in. Very little greetings since this class was always filled with information and missing it was fatal in any sense. The desk felt cold but soon it was be a test of listening carefully and if you could write fast enough, leaving things in while also asking questions.

“Where is the new student, I need to know if they need more notes before catching up?”

Opening the attendance book, the professor was scanning the class before seeing y/n raise his hands while already having writing things in the notebook, sitting somewhat in the front with san being next to him, His face content while everyone's else was now on the professor, some quickly gazing over to y/n just to see who the new kid was and if they should bother to ask, but with how fast the teacher was typing and getting ready to have the lessons taught, there was no time. If you wanted to talk, you were on your own for anything related to the class since people could always hear something different and needed time to let the information sink in before anything else.

“I’m caught up in this theory, if you want proof I have most of my old notes to scan to make sure and if anything is missing, I’d like to know.”

Ignoring all the stares, holding the book and walking down the steps to hand the professor his notebook, she was already holding her hand out before looking at the past notes, her eyes scanning each page that was flipped and filled with clean notes and marked. But what surprised everyone was when she was done and her gaze was looking at san, known to be her smartest student and was quick to have things solved like these were the easiest questions to solve.

“He’s a little ahead of you and given the grades at his last school, he’s tied with you, san. Back to your seat, you can talk about this outside of my classroom.”

Sitting back down, y/n gave a quick look seeing the curious look on his face with his trusted pen in his hands. A smirk nearly showing while he was curious before the lecture began, the professor writing and talking fast. One hand flipping pages in the textbook she was going off of with the questions while the other was writing on the whiteboard, explaining things before turning around with her finger pointed to someone in the class, this being how she would make kids answer questions and if they weren’t quick enough, they would feel the stares and pressure from others about being more careful next time for her. After all this was now the end of the year, things were only going to get more stressful before they got better. She would save san for last, but she wanted to see how y/n would answer the questions and how quickly. Every question was a test, each reaction being the answer.

“Y/N, does x equal a while number or a decimal, and if a decimal how many far back?”

“Decimal, 5.76824, rounding would make it 5.8 or would make it 6 if you didn’t want the decimal in the answers spot, professor.”

His head never leaving his notepad unless he heard his name, his hand moving quickly like he was cutting something and making sure nothing was wrong while trying to solve the question before getting called on, Knowing if he fell behind he would be ruined before the end of the day even got close, let alone lunch if San would continue to be a constant presence. Each word was like showing just how fast you will go, some would have two notebooks just so they could have one that's messy, with some points to get the messages across and then go back in their second one to make things look more organized and easier to read, since most of these test will always be no-note, unless the teacher wants to see who will do so, but it was almost always a test to see who was unsure of their answers, to see who will get more information from other students in order to get the answers they were searching for.

The professor knew this was going to be an interesting class, two smart students sitting next to each other, it wasn't a peace offering it was a tactic to see what they could learn from each other. Taking a piece from the other but making sure no one could figure that out. As long as the teacher didn't see a distraction it was fair game, get the work done, turn in the work at the end of the time and get ready for something more compact and makes you question more and more. It was a battle between the pair, each of them answering clearly but quickly and making sure they never stuttered. That would create an opening for teasing and the teacher wanting to make sure that you trusted your answer before choosing someone else, losing your advantage on the playfield.

What was worse was the class length, it was nearly 2 hours of pressure and nonstop writing with more notes flying around before the professor let out a loud clap. It made everyone look up and stop writing, some set down things and this must mean that it's time to stop. To relax some before the next class, maybe looking through notes and having conversations that seemed playful but were also holding more meaning, but making it hard for anyone else to try to listening without getting caught. If you were going to be interested, you had to play the cards right, whispers flew around the room, no one really getting ready but there thing different from the room.

Looking over, San was still staring, but it was more so like he was waiting for you to look in his direction, his eyes were hiding a message no one else could truly know. Was he curious about you? Did he want to throw more test your way just to make things more difficult? No, it would be pointless given the classes and his own life. He has things to collect from people, people to hunt down to get answers from and overall things to organize and show he can handle things himself. After all, he was born and raised in a life like this, how could he not have things figured out on his own with little help. Making sure he owed no one in the end and he had his debts and what not handled before anyone could hear about it and try to use it against him. Which was never a smart Idea, but he always seemed to enjoy it when to came to people, but that was always a question and saved for later.

There was no needs for words to be spoken, the two were just looking at each other, ignoring all the others before trying to come up with what words to say. Like starting a new game of chess. Debating on which piece to move first and how will one of each other try to figure this out for themselves.

“It's a shame you came in the last three months to graduate.”

He started, no one was truly listening, those who would, would've given it away that they were listening in on the conversation, it would then have to be switched around in order to keep people away. But what made San more curious was a slight smirk on his face, why were you smirking at him? Was he missing something more? But what could It be? It was hard to get san to miss anything unless it was true, someone slipped past him and he was just now realizing it.

“Telling you now would be a giveaway. And that would make things more complicated, hyung.”

After getting things packed away just before the bell had rang, Y/n slowly stood up from the chair. Fixing his dark red uniform since it had wrinkled some when sitting down and left the room. Leaving san there in a daze but also with a mission, it was clear you knew something he didn’t know. And that was something most teachers didn’t even have against him, so how was it possible that you had something on him? What did you know about yourself that he didn’t know?

It was pointless to ponder; he had classes to attend, battles to win and more pieces to move around in order to corner people and enjoy watching them squirm from under him. And clearly, he had to put more thoughts into you. Gathering his things and standing, he was quick to walk out and leave to his next class, knowing that you were going to the next one but the question is where would you sit? You were new, right? They always made new students sit close to the front, making sure you move quickly and without fail. But of course he couldn’t be too obvious, people would see that and slip in through his cracks, pulling at certain things and enjoying finally making the most terrifying person crumble. Something he would never let you see within the walls of the school. Then again, no one would ever get this chance and there was no room for you to get inside.

Walking to his next class, scanning the room to see you sitting right next to his seat yet again. His seat wasn’t in the front, it was in the back since this was a class he hated to answer in. Science was always more confusing, but he knew he was passing it simply because he took in all the notes he could, this was the class where kids would have extra notebooks just to make extra notes in more of a neater way, along with the library, making sure he got the right lesson and basically wrote things to make more notes and notecards just to quiz himself. But he was more glad he was about to be done with this class and not have to worry about it anymore. But he knew for appearance, he had to keep it up just to get through the classes. Walking to the lab table slowly, staring at you with question piling in his head, but it was pointless to ask now. What answers would he get?

In a place like this, ears were everywhere, wanting to pick up every little piece and make sure no stone was left unturned for this. Sitting down in his chair, he wanted to sigh, but he knew this class was full of seniors and it was more relaxed since everyone was already stressed as is, the last time this class went full on to make sure seniors could party the results were alarming and were damaging the school's reputation. So for those close to fully leaving, this was more known as a relaxation period. Which was surprising to y/n, a class like this for them? But there was no time to be asking questions no time to give in to something else but a time to prepare, next was history. And that class always focused on the darker side of history that some schools can't teach because of how graphic it can be. Which is why they also rarely have any projects since it would require research that would gain questions from parents and more peers outside, can't have that with a school like this. The funding would be cut, teachers would be less and the quality would disappear, something no one wanted to happen and would make sure nothing else would.

“I will say this again for the new student it seems. This class is used as a break period. We covered everything for the year and the district hasn't approved for a large project given the workload of the other classes. Unless you want to give the class something to do.”

Y/n was quick to shake their head, this classroom was already painful to truly learn everything. You needed to draw things, label them correctly so you would understand and remember them before having to actually write the notes down, drawing things already took so long if you wanted to get things to look right, leave the right labels and make sure the notes that were detailed enough to hold all the right information without fail or complicating things. Overall, this class would make someone wish it was never here, but of course some people needed it for their jobs and majors. San was here to show he can run things on his own without slipping, softly tugging on strings he had wrapped around his fingers before just tugging them in the right way he needed to. And that always made it fun for him, something he took joy in but would never show it unless his dad was around, but it made him wonder, what was y/n in here for?

What was their dream that they needed to get something from here in order to do so? He had such little time, yet so many questions. He felt himself looking over like it was out of habit, staring at yn as they were re-working on some notes to make sure things were making sense for him. After all once the last three weeks come to play, there will be nothing but test, and if he joins the music class seriously, singing till his that hurt since the final will be a duo. Two people having to agree on singing something and make sure they were singing fully with no mistakes, and if there were any, to make sure that no one knew they had messed up. But he wanted to wait till the last class in order to ask, knowing if he tried now people would try. And besides there would be booths no one could go into without permission and some areas made for small and private conversations. Since lunch here was still packed and busy, conversations would overlap with each other, some kids trying to stay silent in order to get more information about people or their classes.

How were you keeping Choi san, the dream student of the school with a twisted mind, now being curious about you?

San was pissed, something he was good at hiding but sometimes depending on the situation. But he could keep a bright and happy smile and appearance in front of everyone around him while he was walking to his classes, going through the motions since most of it was more so taking notes and with their English class, it was more so reading, taking notes since this test would be the second hardest compared to the math test they knew would take the longest time. Now back to why he was pissed on the inside. He couldn't find you when it was lunchtime, he looked in some of the most obvious places and some places that most kids couldn't find out. But you were gone, only to reappear in the last class of the day, you looked more refreshed, relaxed and ready to finish the day off singing. When he walked in he saw you talking with the professor, your eyes filled with excitement, like you just returned to an old place of ours.

He stared at you while being the last one to close the class door, he usually would talk to the professor about what song to sing with someone or if he would have to do by himself, pushing himself to make sure he could cover two parts into one to fit within his registry. But the professor looked over and motioned him over, he was quick to move over with his bag on both shoulders, since the bag was heavy with books, supplies and sometimes some other things for this class. Here, he would bring his tablet in order to find songs to sing and focus on his pitch to make sure things were in tune.

“I was hoping you would be here soon, I'm sure you've yn, do you remember them from freshman year? You two were so close!”

San looked visibly shocked at the teacher, his eyes widening some while he looked at the two of them, his face showing confusion as he tried to scan his mind to see if it was true. It would explain why you seemed to know your way around the school, but if that were the case wouldn’t the headmaster have said something? Or were they just waiting to see if he would figure it out on his own? But this was a class free from the war zones of outside. After all, music brings people together and shouldn't be sued to tear people down like paper being cut with scissors in a quick or painful manner. Maybe therefore he felt himself being curious, you looked and sounded familiar, but times had changed in those years you were gone, and things seemed to come back up to the surface, a fight not all are prepared to do.

“They went here in freshman year? It must've slipped my mind with all the studying I and homework, forgive me y/n, it didn't seem to click just yet for me.”

Bowing softly, his mind was racing once again, this would explain how you just vanished during lunch time, despite his other friend's finally being able to talk to him after classes, he wanted to bring you over just to see if you could handle the group, to see if the roughness of them and the teasing would break you or if you could handle it with these last three months, since they show off sometimes and they can wear their mask to well and pull stings as if they were keys on the piano, barely any pressure to watch you lose everything you've built up to this point. Yet here he was, staring at you while all the memories slowed pour back in, like a flood coining in after a door was opening, well not entirely in that manner but it was enough to keep him distracted some. But he had to keep himself together, even though this was the last class that doesn't mean the adults outside will have the calm stance they have now till they all truly leave the school.

“Well, I brought this up because I knew you were still looking for a partner before the final comes up. I think pairing you two would work, y/n says since they had to leave before the 2nd year, they would still practice their singing. I think it would create something no one has yet to see.”

The two looked at each other. San remembering how he would hear you singing during lunch, you'd leave the door slightly cracked to hear if someone was coming inside and if you needed to stay quiet so they could leave or listen to secrets. Coming to him the next day as a friend with more tea because you wanted to stay with him and his friend group because you loved talking with them during lunch. Everyone would share their food and drinks at their special spot so no one would try to butt in on conversations where they weren't welcomed. How San and the others would always try to sit next to you and would be known as the smart group.

People always tried to have study groups with any of you just to get the best notes, the best scores and overall answers they needed when the teacher would leave and say they could give out things, or if the teacher would even have the share notes for students to compare and get things done. San was sad when he heard you had to leave when summer was over, he wanted to help you. Offer money in case your family was struggling or even offer you a place to stay with him, but you took it as a chance to explore.

To see things outside and maybe they would come back. San was so hopefully that you would've come back to him, he wanted to catch up with you, to see how things were and get the others to be with you so everyone could sit down again. All these memories made him smile, a genuine and rare smile almost no one outside of his friends ever got to see since most of the time his smile would always have something dark. But now he was standing here, he had secrets he couldn't offer to tell you, more blood on his hands than you could wash off with acid. Seeing you smile, like you were waiting for this moment since you had limited time and dragging it out was pointless. But what made him question more was why did you have to come back on a scholarship.

Your parents were wealthy they could send you here and pay for each semester like it was pocket change. But suddenly you had to leave, he wondered what was your family situation, but you two were no longer that close, the two of you had grown in that time frame and there are things that will slowly come to the surface, but he wanted to see your reaction to the man behind that smile. Who would gladly bite you till you stopped fighting him.

“Thank you professor, I think we can make that work. Can we use one of the private rooms?”

Seeing the pure joy on his face, the professor allowed the two of you to walk to a room. Knowing nothing would happen since the glass would show, even though pixelated, it was still easy to see if someone was doing something they shouldn't be doing. The room had red soft walls with a wooden carving to show a floating couch, with some stands, music equipment, chargers and everything they could have needed. Y/n looking around before being pulled into a warm hug, San gave it without thinking, his shoulders seemed to wrap around you like he was protecting you from something but he just wanted to keep you close. Being startled some, but you slowly hugged him back, this was still the same San that would run after you at lunch to give you a hug because he couldn't do so during the morning. This hug was tighter than the other but you still had room to breathe, which was something he always wanted to do the day you left, the night he didn't get to call you because you told him calling would be weird, you were in a new place and everything, your text were rare to the point either of you got to text each other because of the differences. And now here you were, standing in front of him and got your way back here, he remembered your promise before leaving.

“You Really kept your promise to graduate here? Why did you even have to leave if you were so attached to it? I would've gladly got you a place settled so you could’ve stayed closer to us!”

Pulling away and looking down at your smiling face, like you just caught him being excited over a joke or something he truly liked. His voice carrying it while you held onto his arms, balancing yourself since after all, he wasn't that small boy anymore who could barely hug you without looking small; he was larger now. He had grown up and became someone that was almost hard to recognize until you spent more classes with him, it slowly clicked for the both of you.

“Money problems is all, and extended family but I planned on keeping my promise. I didn't want to just be handed things, you know?”

Your tone made him worry, but he kept his mask on. You sounded like you didn't want top fully say the truth, which hurt because he missed you and wanted to know why his best friend had to actually leave. He wanted to ask you, to keep pressing till he got the answers but that would expose you to things he wasn't ready to show you. After all you still had the others to meet again, to hear the excited screams, the hugs, the questions, the meetups. You had everything to get used to, and no was not an option, even if they had to meet you at your place, unless you could score the dorm, those were always the hardest to get into because of what they truly were, they were like apartment with the size and everything, but it would still feel cozy.

“Oh, you have to walk with me to see the others. Wooyoung would point you out quicker than seonghwa-hyung would! Please?”

“Have I ever been able to say no too you? Without a pout of all things?”

San gave you a pout, just to show that despite everything it still reminded the same before he got excited once again, Wooyoung would wait for him by the hallway just to walk with him telling him things from his classes before everyone would meet up and go to San's new house, where they would all get all of their homework done, play games and such before they all had to head home, something san would dread because he enjoyed having his friends over but he also wanted to see the others reaction to you coming back.

But it was enough of that, you two had to figure out what this song was going to be, san going through some samples of tempos he had, wanting to see your honest opinion, not what you think he wanted to hear and he knew he would trust you with that. Your face would say it all before the words could come out of your mouth and be coated, he weaned the raw truth so he could improve and not be distracted into thinking they were good since you two would have to perform this in front of the school as a final, and the college was a large place despite everything, so it needed to outshine the others in some for.

He wanted to work on this more, but he knew wooyoung would barge in before he could get another thing in before he could save everything into his computer, something he was slowly doing with these last 10 minutes while talking to you, his smile showing brightly while hiding his eyes. But his dimples would show and it was honestly just the cutest sight for you to personally see ever.

“Be warned, wooyoung still loves to jump when he's excited so please be ready. He's not a small either.”

“Oh god that scares me for Jongho, did anyone else grow?”

“That's for you to find out.”

San laughed with pure joy as the two of you walked out of the class, being a bit late since san had got gotten up with talking with you and nearly forgetting his computer in the room with his bag. Keeping his hands in his pocket, he spotted wooyoung before you did, seeing him push back his curly black hair with his eyes looking around for him, his lip piercing shinning in the light as he smiled at san, getting ready to run till he saw San pull you in front of him. At first wooyoung slowed down some till he saw that smile, he knew that smile anywhere and it made him gasp before taking off. San staying there to act as a boulder as Wooyoung picked you up, squealing despite people looking over as he hugged you tightly. His smile wide and forgetting that the two of you were still carrying bags with books too heavy, yet he picked you up like it was nothing.

“oH MY GOD SANNIE! WHEN DID YN-INNIE GET HERE?”

“They just got back here today. I almost didn't notice! Can you believe that?”

Wooyoung was so happy he was still jumping at the sound of your laughter before setting you down, scanning you over with his hands in a tight grip.

“Oh, my god you still look the same! Quick quick we've got to go Seonghwa is going to be so happy to see you he might let no one else hug you!”

Wooyoung grabbed both of your hands and ran to the front entrance. Since most of the students were gone given their classes and such, making it through with ease and not bumping into people till he saw Yeosang standing by the door, looking confused why Wooyoung was dragging san with someone else. The person seeming to struggle as wooyoung got closer, seeing Yeosang slowly blink while fixing his tie. His hair was a mess because he usually had gym last, getting a nice run and workout in with jongho, who would usually leave early since his car was known to be the biggest despite one of the older ones wanting to drive most of the time.

“Yeosang! It's Y/N! Look at him!”

“Good lord you're arms have gotten bigger what did you do-"

After looking at you for a while, listening to your tone that's when Yeosang smiled before hugging you, San stood there in the back a little, watching him hug you the same way he did. He knew yeosang missed you, everyone did, but there was something burning inside him as he watched you smile at them, it wasn't jealousy, why would he be jealous at the person his friends adored more than anything here? Maybe it was because he wasn't sure if this was real or not. Maybe he wanted to see if he was dreaming and when he opened the door to see the others, he would wake up in his room and want to throw things, but why did this not feel like a dream?

You were catching up with the others while you walked outside; he saw the shocked look on your face when you saw Min-gi and Yunho. They had grown taller, towering over everyone just by standing but the two had a name that you used to call them, since everyone called them twin towers you would call them the tall duo, a name they only got used to you calling them and when they hear it. They were more than happy to see you. They particularly picked you up off the ground when they got close to you, their cheered of excitement after years of no longer seeing you or hearing you call their names burning something inside of them. They were happy to see you while The parents of the group came over, hongjoong being the first to hug you before seonghwa practically picked you up like a mother happy to see their kid after so long.

You guys would joke that seonghwa was your adoptive mother, but he never denied the claim since it was just how he watched with the others and san was right. It really took a while before he fully let you go. Looking around at everyone with wide eyes as if he couldn't believe you were actually there in his arms but he knew jongho was excited when he finally got close enough, knowing there was only one person who would be held like that in the group, he stilled looked the small but it was clear he had more muscles to him just like san did, if not all the others. Despite the uniforms being tight they all still gave you a hug like nothing was stopping them.

Hongjoong however, stayed back towards san, seeing his gaze never leaving you despite how you were trying to answer questions without giving too much away. He still had to know, why did you have to leave in the first place? Why didn't you take his offer to grow with the and learn of him sooner? Now he had to show you things he didn't think you would like as of now. But it wasn't like he was losing you again. He lost you once already, how was he supposed to lose you again and simply be fine with it?

“Your staring too deep at him, san.”

Hearing hongjoong's voice brought him back, his eyes slowly claiming down as he shifted his attention to hongjoong, looking down to meet his gaze while standing still, blocking out the noises. Hongjoong had the look of he wanted to talk, but they had to stay quiet, although it was easy because everyone was trying to ask questions while making sure you weren't hurt during their excitement runs and hugs.

“They vanished after the last day of summer, came back on a scholarship and seemed to just…blend back in like nothing happened. I'm happy he's back, I truly am but.”

“You want answers why they left. You missed them the most, you'd stare at old pictures to the point if you didn't you'd lose your mind. And clearly, their hiding something.”

“Maybe their family was running low on money?”

“Think san. You knew everyone's parents and their struggles, there was one pair of parents you hated because they acted high and mighty as if they never had children. And you taught them a lesson like your Appa told you to.”

San's face fell for a moment, but it came back with something dark in his eyes. Something hongjoong knew not even he could protect you from or the others could. He knew exactly how to get you to stay this time, by his side and nowhere else.

Despite his efforts to try to get you to stay with him tonight, San truly didn’t want you walking by yourself. He had to see where you lived since it was clear it wasn’t around here anymore, so what did he do? He let the driver take you, knowing there were camera's in the car and trackers to see where you were going. Knowing that during the last hug he gave you, where he almost didn't let you go, he kept one on you just so he could see and hear everything that was happening. Knowing he needed to be careful for your sake.

He got you to come to his house so everyone could catch up, like old times and the living room was actually filled with laughter again and not just plans of other things. For a moment, it felt like you never left till you did once again, but this time he got to watch you leave. He got to see you sitting in the car, staring out the window before having to stop in front of apartment buildings that looked unsettling to say the least. San was watching you, in his own darkroom with a cup of water in his hands, it looked like it was moments away from breaking but he tried not to, knowing he would've had to be explained to his dad why his hand was bleeding because of the glass.

He watched you walk inside the place your parents sounding tired, but they were happy to see you were okay, but you didn't tell the where you went, something San picked up because you would even call them in front of his parents so they knew where you were, but you didn't even do that unless he wasn't paying attention. You greeted them, helped them with some things like dishes, getting the laundry from the basement and looking for jobs,

So hongjoong was right, he made your parents pay their actions years ago, but he never knew you were their son. If he did, he would’ve made a deal much earlier, I mean he could always do that now, but he wanted to do so when you were finished with school, knowing he could show you things slowly at a time, planning everything while knowing he now had to see you outside of school. He sat there in his room, messing with drink slightly while sitting back in his chair, knowing he had a phone call to make but it would always come later, he enjoyed using a voice changer to mess with those who crossed him because who would believe that a college student about to graduate at the top of his classes, would do things in such a nature?

Nearly no one if they saw him outside, but those who saw past the act knew better and sometimes they wouldn't be able to tell others of what they had to witness or they would be silenced as well. But he wanted to see your reaction, not now. He watched you take off the uniform and hang it on the closet door, your room looking so cramp but you made it your own with what you could. The way it was set up he could watch you sleep while tuning out the other noises around him, something he was thankful for because he truly wanted to focus on you.

He heard you shower, knowing he would never look there and never wanted to, if he would look he wanted to see if for himself. And that would come with time, of course, knowing he had a couple strings to pull beforehand. But for now, he was just watching you rest, the way your face relaxed while holding onto a blanket, he remembered that one. He gave it to you as a joke one day because you were freezing when everyone went to an outside movie and sat in the car, turning it off so the gasses wouldn't make people cough and he held you under it. He watched you fall asleep. He wanted to go there and sleep next to you, but he knew better. The place you now had to live in was somewhere he owned, where he would send people to be watched and struggle to climb back up to the ladder.

He wanted to give you a way out, but that would give you an illusion that would be shattered quickly with one stare. How would he even explain he knows your situation? He watched you; you were tossing and turning like you were trying to keep bad memories away; he was listening for footsteps to see if anyone was coming and if they were, he would have a building manger come in and remove the person. Even if you screamed for it, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. He wondered, what were you thinking of in a situation like this? What were you thinking of after all these years, it felt longer than it truly was?

Staring at his screen, his mind was racing with thoughts and questions but they were cut short when he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. It made him jump in his chair, thinking all of his friends had left but Hongjoong stayed back. He had a look in his eyes that was a mix of darkness but comfort. This meant they had a job to do, another test San had grown used to doing after everything was done, since this would be the nights he would have in case someone were to push his buttons.

“I had a talk with your parents, San.”

“Is about another partner since the last one didn't stick for long. I warned them she was bluffing.”

Hongjoong had a smirk on his face while sitting down, pulling up a spare chair with his legs crossed. Even though he was still in his school uniform, knowing he would have a hard day tomorrow since it was just the middle of the week, there were still things that needed to be figured out and such but also long nights that had to be settled before they leaked into the next day or longer than needed to be. San was used to having to be up a little later and waking up earlier, sometimes during lunch or in his second class and use it for a nap. Feeling better till lunch got there and he could now fully keep up and make sure he had things ready for the others classes for the day. Some days were easier than the others, but his music class was a daily thing.

It was a joy he had and would sometimes go to that room on the weekends when he was free before having to go back to his other work, knowing that was being taken on more dangerous and involved missions that would make him learn more about his choices and how to wear the sheep skin so well not even other sheep could tell he was a wolf. Something he enjoyed doing, but the one who could truly pull more strings was Hongjoong, he was in this world before his parents even dipped their toes into it. Knowing if he wanted to do things without the threat of money, he got into and build things up from scratch, working with San's father to make sure he would have a team he could rely on, and so he created one with his own hands and enjoyed watching it grow more and more than the days went on, turning two weeks, months and now years each time he thinks about.

Hongjoong was always known for the way he can smirk, a face full sunshine before seeing the smirk that could show just a peak of darkness that was brewing inside of him, sometimes people would be surprised at the things he says, sometimes questioning why he would say such things but he would just find ways to denture the conversation and acting like nothing had ever happened. It was something he honed till now.

“Your dad saw the look on your face when he heard that name. He looked at you thinking you had moved on, but given the questions you were trying to ask, he knew you were going for them, and that you might start adopting children, since you always wanted to have a family of your own.”

“Either adopting or a surrogate, either way, though adoption sounds better. I don't want someone trying to claim my children at the end of the term saying they grew attached. Then things would get more complicated.”

“Unless you made it clear where they stood, some always need that terrifying push to see you're serious about it. But that is a talk between the two of you, my question for you is, how do you plan on keeping them here. Scouters will come for that final and offer deals, some are always out of state, if y/n picks one out of there, since if they picked one here, you'd been able to pull more strings even if they went on tours.”

San looked at the screen one more time, seeing you resting on your bed as comfortable as you could get before turning back to Hongjoong. He had a planning look, and hongjoong knew what it truly meant, he was planning things and he was going to make it work, no matter how hard you would fight to get away from him.

Unknown Number: You know, trying to hide in the classrooms, or even behind your little knight in shinning armor won’t always save you. Even the brightest people, have the darkest secrets. You should know better than that, y/n.

Y/N: You really must have nothing better to do. This is childish.

Unknown Number: [Image attachment]

Unknown Number: [image attachment]

Unknown number: You should focus now. You Can’t afford to fail now can you?

The text didn’t happen for almost a month; you had gotten used to being around san and the others again, keeping your housing situation a secret still while enjoying your time with them. Going to lunch and even having the study sessions again. Even sitting around and would sing with each other and help make sure everything was good for the pair. Hongjoong being the most help with the sounds and production help and an outside opinion since sometimes you think it would sound good, but having help from someone who can tell the difference and the song you're going for, it easy to do.

“San, you need to let it sink a bit lower for this next part. So the emotion is there and carries through. Run it again from the last stop.”

San gave a thumbs up, he was wearing his favorite hoodie and sweats, his hands in his pockets with the headphones on his ears. Looking back over to you, smiling softly while you sat your phone down, wanting to forget the messages you’ve been receiving. Some classes were done with their finals, the only two that were more pressuring were math and singing. Math was soon, but you had to be confident in your answers and having someone who had your number, sending you picture of places you were at, even somewhere you were looking around and didn’t see anyone was a shocker.

Watching san and listening to him, it was clear he took time with it, his eyes were closed while he took in hongjoong's advice as carefully as he could. You had finished your sessions for the day, getting closer to the end of the song but trying to make sure everything else would tie in perfectly. It made you wonder could you tell them what was happening? Would that have changed anything if you did? You were told not to, along with an attachment of your parents sitting in the cramped living room, oblivious to someone taking pictures with cameras no one could find. You even looked with everything you had but couldn’t find anything and yet you still get pictures sent as a reminder. Whoever this person is, wherever they are, they’re always watching you, at first you thought it was one of the boys.

But the pictures you’re getting, how could it be one of them when in some pictures all of you are together. How could it be one of them if everyone is busy together and not even paying attention? But trying to think about it was pointless. You have better things to worry about, more things to stress about and eventually, leaving this place for getting out of the family drama you were being pulled into and force to live through. The facade your parents tried to live for so long was now ruined because they took a leap too early when they weren’t ready to take it. It was a mess, and you wanted to start over, singing is something that could get you out if you reached out far enough. Wanting to start all over but it was hard. What was gonna happen now?

Unknown Number: Sitting there zoning out about me will do nothing for you.

Unknown number: [attachment sent]

Unknown number: Getting out of state will be impossible for you, but you can keep trying though, you’ll meet him soon~

Each text was like a taunting shiver, as if the person was there just enjoying you squirm and shiver. Even now with the zoned out look on your face, San looked over and the mic was hiding the smirk on his face, knowing the messages were the reason you were having trouble looking focused and interested in anything that you were involved in. But he hid that smirk so well it was almost like nothing could happen to him, watching you look over your shoulder while trying to hurry to the next class, only to look at his phone and see the messages and wonder why was this happening? This school takes things like this seriously and yet they haven’t been able to find the person who's behind these, making him question everyone around him, yet san was your safety net, like always. He’d do his best to distract you while getting you to laugh, his smile always wore off on you which would make it harder to even stay paranoid or even mad at something's. But sometimes you wondered, what happened when you left.

There’s no way he stayed the same, it was clear he didn’t and sometimes you wish the music teacher didn’t give you away so you could’ve learned more about him before being exposed, but you also weren’t sure if he actually had this class or he was being silly just to mess with you. But clearly things were happening, and the professor wanted to see what would happen with the two of you paired up, knowing it was to create more doors, unless she knew how San would act, regardless. Having you trapped in a corner with puppet strings and no matter how hard you were tugging, trying to get out there was nothing y/n could do to get free from him. Even with a careful tug, there was barely anything yn could do against this person, this force that wanted to mess with you. Maybe this was just a prank to get you on edge as the transfer for the last quarter. But either way it can’t break you, not this close to the finish line.

Slowly blinking, you see San giving you a concerning look while standing in front of you, kneeling down while holding your hands in a soft and caring embrace. This was taking a toll on you, he knew that just by how often you’d look nervous every time you grabbed your phone, looking at it before going the app or song you wanted to play as a distraction when you were alone. It was time for a break, after all you two were doing great and not everything had to be finished, but you two also needed to get ready for the final. Math was tomorrow, and it was going to be annoying, clearly this person would do nothing, after all when you had your finals you would get nothing in return, not till afterwards since hearing any phones would cause you to fail, something you couldn’t afford to lose today and took every precaution needed in order to do so.

“Here, let’s get you something to eat, I brought snacks just in case we stayed here too long.”

Not wanting to argue with him, the two of you sat down to eat, Hongjoong looking at the two of you through the reflection of the screens, watching San feed you like he used to, telling jokes whenever he could with that bright smile on his face. His eyes even smiling with him as he did so like he always used to. He always knew how to make you smile, leaving was hard, how could anyone else make you this happy by barely trying other than being himself? It was like each day he was getting to be closer and closer. He knew you wanted to explore, to leave and sing your heart out for those around you to enjoy while leaving this place behind. Who knows, maybe he could visit you and you two could keep talking like nothing was wrong even with different time zones. But there wasn't much he could do, and you knew it was making him sad.

You came back only to leave again? To follow your dreams and shine with him in the corner with the others, who knows maybe the two of you could have a collaborate one day and blow the charts and make it enjoyable. But that was forb the future in later days but the two of you had to build up the foundations before getting there. Hongjoong wrapping up the things for the day, knowing the song was done, you two had recorded things in the spare time and slowly got to put things together for the recording since most people would want to hear the actual recording compared to the two of you singing it live. He knew during that day; he didn’t have much time before the graduation party, which he was making sure you were attending since it was traditional and you two would talk about this for hours on end before anything else. He was curious about it since sometimes the theme would have you dressing up either in a fancy way or even a silly way if they liked your year enough, but this year it was just however you wanted to dress. If you wanted to dress fancy, it was completely fine for you to, but if not then you didn’t have to and it was fine.

“Here, I can walk you home or to the stop if you want me to. Hongjoong can send me the rest of the song and we can send it to the professor and focus on our math final, then after that maybe we can practice more?”

“Well, I don't have a suit for graduation, but I also can't afford one but don't want to show up out of place with the rest of you. I know seonghwa, even if he tries to wear down he will still show up looking great.”

“Then how about we just go do that and then we can figure out the rest of things later? I still have the keys and card so we can just look around and pick what you like?”

“Sounds like a plan to me, I know exactly what I want to wear, I think.”

San smiled at you, holding your hand while he walked to the door, turning back to hongjoong just for a second, wanting to make sure he was doing the right to think and he could see the look on hongjoong's face. He had that knowing look some of the hair falling in front of his face with a smile showing how dark it was. He knew San would have questions later at the end of this, but he also knew that San had to wait before checking on anything so he trusted his captain to make sure things were to his liking, along with wooyoung and yeosang since they would hang around him the most and wanted to make sure things were looking good enough before the big day, san still had to plan out everything before the big day and that day was making him so nervous because anything could happen and it would only make things harder for you, not for him it would just make things more annoying because he already had to make a speech. You hated the mafia; he learned that and since he was about to run it, you would hate him but he will take it.

“Where do you want to go for this? A lot of places around here are having sales going on so it would be pretty hard,”

“There is only once store I trust and if it's gone I'm letting seonghwa out stage me.”

He couldn't help the laugh that came out as he helped you inside of the car, the shop you loved was still there, genderless clothes were always something you and seonghwa had in common, wanting to wear clothes and feel like yourself without the pressure of others looking or making things weird just by stares but what was going to stop the two of you? Maybe San could match with the two of you But it was all up to him for how that would go, you would not make him match with you, if not that was fine, you were there to have fun after everything, not out stage anyone as a last push comes to shove.

The drive there was filled with singing other songs you would play on the speaker, seeing if San knew these or if you could surprise him with songs he hasn't heard before, which was hard in itself since he enjoyed listening to a lot of music when no one was paying attention or questioning him. So finding songs he didn't know was pretty tricky sometimes, and he knew how to look clueless before revealing that he knew the song, where he heard it from and how often he plays it. Reading it out like he was reading of a spreadsheet of information and telling you things you needed to know before making it off as completed. But he also had to pay attention to the road so trying to see your reactions were hard to do, that was until he came to a nice parking spot in front of the large and busy mall. It wasn't as busy as it usually would be, since the sun was setting and people wanted to get things done before the deadline, but you had that already handled and was more than happy to do this with help from San, knowingly he also would not let you pay even if you came up with the money somehow.

Even when he walked inside with you, it was natural for him to hold your hand while walking around, window shopping at some places or even getting some snacks, if people didn't know you two, they would think this is a date given how the two of you were acting. The look san would give you whenever you talked or point out things you liked, it was enough to make him fall even more, you could see it in his eyes but also know he would be respectful, but you didn't know just how dangerous it was. If there was one thing he would've told you beforehand, it would've been that you should've stayed hidden and out of his sight. The small and innocent puppy turned into something not even you could fully tame without getting bit a couple times in order to learn the lesson. Clearly he needed to speed up his lessons if he wanted you to learn faster before the final push.

Yet throughout the entire day he allowed you to lead him, holding his hand unless you went to the bathroom, he seemingly never left you go even when looking at clothes to try on. Letting you conclude on your own what you wanted to get and not be influenced by his idea since the person who was going to wear it the most was you, it didn't matter what he thought or anyone else for that matter. If you liked it, that5 is all that matters to him during the end of the day. He was just happy to tag along and watch you be happy about your choice, if you had everything you wanted he paid for it without a second thought or hesitation, he mainly just wanted to make sure you had everything before checkout so no one had to run to get you something at the last minute, especially if there was a line behind the two of you.

“Is this everything you want, y/n?”

He watched you nod your head while he held the bags, if there was one thing his mother always love to see and bag about sometimes it was that he raised a gentleman despite the chaos he was in. Watching him grow to give everyone respect, till they cross the line and then he acts like his father, but he's able to balance them out, but with all of this being said. He was determine to help you carry things inside, even though at first you were hesitate since your father was still jumpy, since he wanted you to leave the country before anything else could happen. But you needed help, so he offered and you took it, he didn't park close since he didn't want to set off any red flags and there were no spots close to bark, but he still carried everything even up the stairs since the elevator was down, but you were on the third floor so the stairs weren't really an issue for him either.

He watched you open the door and allow him inside; the place seemed quite like no one was there, but he looked to the corner, well more like behind the door into the small living room, he saw the look on your parents' faces; the shock growing as San locked eyes with your father, but he mouthed the words Don't. Say. A word. With a sweet yet sickening smile as he greeted the two of them, bowing deeply while helping you set the bags in your small room. It wasn't the best, but it was still yours.

“Maybe after everything you guys can pick me up last? So that way it's more of a surprise on the way to the hotel or wherever the thing is being held at?”

“I don't see why not, I heard it was going to be more relaxed this year but I'm no longer on the student council so I sadly can't spoil anything for you like I used to.”

“Please, with how excited you'd used to get? I would've known way beforehand. But thank you again for the help, are you sure I didn't spend too much? You refused to let me look at the price tags.”

“If you did, you would've tried to downgrade everything and besides it was fun going to the mall with you like that. I missed your long talks about things you loved or things you wanted to yes, it's truly fine. I want you to enjoy the last year just like the rest of us, it's only fair, isn't?”

There it was again, that charming look that seemed to get everyone on their knees and feel a soft spot grow inside of them. His smile looking so genuine and full of care, it just made the days easier if not better in most ways.

“I will leave you to studying, please make sure you actually eat something. If you can call me before you go to bed, please do.”

“Alright you big dog, I will and please drive safe, I'll see you when the final comes.”

San gave you one last hug, smiling softly as he did so before leaving your room, slowly closing the door out of habit but you also didn't seem to mind it. Once it was closed, he looked at your shocked father, like his hands were shaking despite the friendly look on san's face as he got closer, wanting to make sure you didn't ease drop on the conversation before he left the place for the night. He didn't get too close, but close enough to where they would hear his every word and make sure it all stuck with to them like super glue.

“Now now don't look at me so frighten like that, I'm not gonna hurt a tiny little hair on y/n's little head, unless I have no choice that is. But you should also be careful, after the annoying celebration things are going to be different, you'll either be tossed out of state or moved to an entirely far and different part of it, and y/n will be the star he oh so worked so hard to get, but he's not leaving me again. If I knew he was your son, I would've been so much more generous with my offer, but sadly, you are known for being a snake and lying till you're like this, stuck in a corner with so much fear it's laughable. You should chose your net actions carefully, I'm always watching and listening. If I even so much as hear you get angry at hi, try to send him anywhere out of here again, suddenly, he's an orphan married under my name, understand?”:

[Play the song above, ]

If math wasn't stressful enough, singing like this was because you two had to stare at each other. Al dressed up in clothes besides the ones you would wear tonight, but in a way that matched the song you were singing. Each word had to carry something, and you had to make the timing just right when switching between each other or having to collide with each voice in a melody that seemed to carry around the large auditorium, the lights shinning brightly down on the two of you while making it nearly impossible to see anyone else in the dark area; the chairs being filled with people since you also had to stay and watch the other perform, but you two were the last ones and everyone to stay and wait to see this.

Heard he got you a penthouse on the west side, when we will he learn that you're afraid of heights? I heard he got you a new Benz, with the white wheels, when will he learn, that you like to tandem bike?

And I hate that….

I could love you with my eyes closed kiss you with a blindfold figure you out.

I might hold you with my hands tied show you I'm the right guy to figure you out, na-na-na, na na.

San started the first part, his eyes were giving the look that screamed her was there for you, as if he had watched you run away to chase something only to realize almost too late that he was right there, next to you and holding onto you, his words carrying through the hand held mic while he stared into your eyes like he was just one more push from risking it all in front of everyone but he had to stay there, and he had to stay still and let you sing the next part by yourself, it was too early for backup vocals.

I heard he got you some new friends with some big dreams, when will he learn, that you already got your own?

Oh, I heard he got you the front raw, at the rap, when will he learn? That you like the rolling stones?

And I've been thinking of all the little things that you've been missing…When will you learn?

I could love with my eyes closed kiss you with blind fold figure you out [Figure you out}

I might hold you with my hands tied show you I'm the right guy to figure you out, na-na-na na na

San tried to make sure your eyes never left his, as if he was using this song to confess feeling he never got the chance to do so till now. Watching you sing while you two held each other's hand when he acted as the backup vocals during some of your lines with the chorus. But then he did something you two didn't talk about doing, but he was going with what felt right. To add more emotions and meaning into each lyric that he could with no one there to stop him from doing so, but he had to make sure it was equal so both of you were heard.

I could treat you so much better I've known you forever, figured you out.

For some, what made this more emotional and powerful was the sight of seeing San nearly got on his knees while singing. He stumbled closer, like his legs had given out while the two of you were singing still, this was raw. Something that no one could truly ever recreate unless that felt the same emotions he was going though when singing and it was something he wanted to share with you, he didn't care if others enjoyed seeing him get this way, he just wanted to share a moment with you, even when the music was dying out and you two just stared at each other for a while. The grip on each other was strong, but you two still had a smile that was growing, bowing to the ground in a way to show the thanks you had for each other while the lights slowly came back on. It was like stepping back into the old world and having to come to terms with the fact that now you had to talk and wait for recruiters to reach out to you. Along with a quick bathroom run because those lights were making it hot, and San's stare wasn't exactly helping with that it seemed. The way he stared at you, like he wanted to lean in and do something he otherwise wouldn't do with all the eyes looking at them, looking at you.

He watched you walk to the bathroom, seeing you bow to the crowd before running backstage, while he walked behind you. He didn't go in the bathroom but he stayed close, making sure his heart wasn't racing nearly as much before pulling out his phone. He got a text from Wooyoung; it was his signal, the purple heart. This meant that no out-of-state contracts could go through, and the only ones here were ones you already heard about, and depending on which one you picked, San would have his men handle the mangers, the team and have his own men or women in the staff just to make sure he always had an eye on you. No matter where you went, unless it was the bathroom, he would not be that crazy now, though he thought about it often.

He was quick to tuck his phone away, not wanting you to be peaking since you had a habit of just peaking over this shoulder when he was on the phone for too long. But he also knew to keep his contacts in separate phones and hidden under things you couldn't get into. He had everything planned out from the start to the end, but he of course had to look clueless, watching you be confused why no one else reached out to you and why it nearly seemed impossible for you. Even your parents, who used to support your dream of getting out seemed to look nervous about it, meaning it was too late and the people they wanted you about had come and made sure they couldn't leave, meaning you couldn't leave because they were watching the entire family, and there was nothing you could do about it.

When you finally came out the bathroom, you looked more relax, looking at him with a confused look, why was he waiting for you by the bathroom? Did he want to join with you or was it something else?

“want to join me with talking to people? I thought KQ seemed to look pretty interesting.”

“Yes I did, and let's go see what they have to offer.”

By the end of the day it was settled. KQ was the one, they were small, and you wanted to grow with a company, to watch them grow and shine and not just be another person in the company trying to grow like nothing happened. Though for san, it just made things more easy since he Knew the owner, all it took was one gaze and he knew better, you had to be taken care of or everyone would be in trouble if not. He didn't need to threaten anyone, or nearly cause a scandal, since they were slowly growing that wouldn't be a good thing for them now would it? But now came the most excited for him the party. Everyone was rushing to get home and get ready, he had a driver take you home since you knew he would speed home just so he could make sure he had everything right with his own looks.

He promised he would come and pick you up last so everyone could enjoy the car ride together, and he stayed true to his word. But it wasn't for that reason either, even now that he was home. He had phone calls to make, places to check and to make sure even things with his own father were ready. Tonight after graduation, San would have to go to a building, where other mafia members would sit on the sides and watch him be accepted into his new role, and you would have to be there where Wooyoung would explain things with hongjoong besides him, something he really wanted to do and enjoyed doing regardless of what would happen to him if he were to mess up, which is why he was called a wildcard. Some thought mingi would be the wild card because his actions were truly out of pocket and he always surprised people, but wooyoung could do more and make it stick in your mind.

“Wooyoung, are you sure everything is ready? You enjoy messing people up too far in the head.”

“Now are you doubting me? Captain will be there to keep me in check from messing them up too far, and will walk them down to you, of course. Don't get too nervous you're about to be the head of everything mafia related and people can't see the weak spot already.”

Looking in his mirror, staring right at Wooyoung who was already wearing what he wanted to wear, but he had a smirk on his face the entire time. He was excited, this was a big day and moment for san, he proved his worth to everyone who tried to tear him down and even used their backs as stepping stools to get there without mercy and was about to sit on a chair he knew he earned, not just because he was brined into the family but he showed more interested in it, if he wanted to leave he truly could and no one could do a thing to him. Yet here he is, about to rule over things and make sure there was nowhere you could run without him being able to hear you, but of course he would tease you about things while making sure you could handle things, creating a mask for the outside but being deadly in the inside.

Wooyoung was right, San couldn't be doubting himself during a moment like this That would be dangerous for him and there was no time for things like that. He had to finish getting ready, making sure he liked his hair while fixing the outfit more. Wooyoung couldn't help but smile at the sight, here he was seeing his best friend step into something he had been preparing for the day you left, he would’ve searched for you either way, even if you did manage to leave the state he wouldn't have given up. But now you just made it easier for him in that sense, but of course he needed to be careful of how to keep you here and to be careful with letting you try to slip through cracks before getting stuck in them, but either way, you'd return to his home and there would be nothing you could do about it.

Watching San walk out of the room, Wooyoung smiled. Tonight was the night everything would fall back into place, after today he would be known as the right hand, worked his way up from nothing into something and he was proud of it. Though part of him hoped you won't put up much of a fight, his makeup bag could only hide so much.

Think. You had to think and remember how did you get in this situation. You were with San, the two of you were walking with the others to go and find a place to relax after food was being served, you had just gotten your diploma’s and were now free. You could start training under KQ with the others as a surprise and grow with the company/ You were about to sit with San, you looked over to him and saw a look you'd never seen before, he had a smile on his face but it wasn't bright, it was dark. And you heard wooyoung's laugh before everything went dark, it was hard to hear but now you were here. The room looked lavish, but there were no windows, the lights were on and there was only one gun on the far table. And one door that looked like it would open any moment now.

You were sitting on a chair, your hands and legs were tied tightly and you were stuck on the chair, slowly waking up and getting used to things once again, but something just felt off. There was a loud sound that broke through the silence and the voice sounded familiar.

“Good morning Mr. Choi, little nap refreshing for you? I didn't think that scent I gave San would make you pass out so quickly! Then again, eomma knows best what can I say?”

“…Wooyoung? Where are you! What are you talking about?”

“oh sweet, innocent y/n-innie. Did you really think San would've stayed the same innocent little boy you met back then? The same one who hated the mafia just like you do because of situations? Awe your Appa never told you why he lost everything, oh you poor poor boy.”

“Wooyoung this isn't funny! What are you talking about?!”

His laughter was ringing everywhere, the speakers he had in this room made it sound like he was everywhere yet he wasn't even near you. Yet he was watching you, and he was enjoying it all. Seeing how quick you were turning your head while trying to look calm about the situation, how your hands were balled into fist but not too tight since the robes weren't exactly loose enough for you to get out, and even if you did. Hongjoong was waiting right outside the door, ear piece in while he heard wooyoung’s little speech, he was enjoying himself truly, pressing a button that showed a screen in front of you with a recording. It was your Appa; he was sitting with san's father in a room where it was just the two of them sitting across each other from a wooden desk, Mr. Choi having a suitcase next to him while your Appa looked more uneasy, more scared even.

“You know Mr. [last name], I trusted you a lot given the last couple of years. Truly I have, even when you told me you were struggling. After all, family helps family, and you were like a brother to me, someone I'd help at the quickness of a text.”

“And trust me, Mr. Choi I respect every action I do.”

“You told me you wanted to raise a family, yet I see you using my money on trips? Mistresses and everything? Leaving your pregnant wife in our care like she wouldn't have told my wife everything while leaving her with nothing?”

He opened the briefcase, laying out pictures of him with different women, in resorts and showing off money like it was his own. His ring was off in each picture, proof of everything, and pictures of you. Growing up with your mother and even san when he was still too young to understand, with the last picture of the two of you in freshman year of college, cheeks being pressed together with the brightest smiles you two could've given. You looked happy, each picture had timestamps with where you were, text where your Appa told you where he would go, and actual proof of where he was and with who. The look on your Appa's face said it all, guilt.

“See now I have to cut you off, and my money is the only thing allowing your son to stay in school with san, let alone in the same neighborhood. And you lied to me, to your wife, to your own Son who looked up to you and his own mother. How could you do such a thing?”

“Mr. Choi- please- maybe Y/n can stay with you-”

“You want him to see San change into me? San is the only son I have, the heir to the entire mafia. He's been putting it off to spend more time with y/n. But now he needs to make a hard choice, So no. Your family will have to pay with the choices you've made. You won't be able to leave the state, neither will your son since I know my Son. He will grow obsessed, missing him so much he dives into the work head on and willing to take on anything. And when the day happens when he finds y/n, there will be nothing you can do. Nothing he can do either, because by then San will have learned everything, how to hide the want in his eyes, the dark intentions in his mind, he'll be able to hide it all so well until he sees them again, and takes what is his.”

“Sir- you can't do that. My son just wants to sing-”

“Don't worry, San won't keep him caged in the house, but caged in the state. Any dreams of y/n leaving and getting you two out, If your wife still wants you, if she did it would be Y/n can have some normalcy in his already crumbling life. But y/n will still be able to have access to everything he could ever dream of, expect leaving. Even if San became a singer with your little boy, y/n could go anywhere without him near, and if he goes, his other friends go and they will grow to be something not even I saw coming, with your son being the prize between it all.

The video cut off, wooyoung spinning in the chair while Hongjoong had quietly made his way inside of the room, both of them now seeing the shocked look on your face as everything came to a head. This was all planned, everything from the moment you came back to know, and the person who planned it all was the one person you trusted more and was more excited to see and watch him remember who you were. But you'd never imagined that sweet little boy now being the head of all of this, but what hurts more is knowing the reasons everything was lost, was because the money and fame got to peoples heads and now everything had fallen apart in front of them and there was nothing anyone could do, not even you.

Trying to stop the tears from flowing, you blinked and tried to move around, wanting to get out and probably throw something, hit someone or even slap Your father and maybe even san if you got the chance to do so. But wooyoung's voice cut through the room once again, and his voice was still cheery but firm, something he rarely ever did.

“Here is how things are going to play out for you y/n, you are going t be seen as someone who's untouchable, and those who even try it or think about it are going to be tortured in ways that will make you sick. But, we will train you since San can't bring himself to even lay a harmful hand on you, though he would do wonders in bed. I've heard his drunk confession one too many times. But like his father said, you won't be caged to the house with no human interactions unless it's us. You'll still be able to do things you wished to, but you can't leave the state without all 8 of us, and don't test me. I had to learn things and if I get permission, I could do things, not too bad but I can and I will. Tonight is the night where San sits on the throne after getting gifts from other mafia's, all of which we will take over since there are only 7 other major mafia’s and it worked since we all grew up together and make sure no one tries anything even those from out-of-state wanting to take over. And soon me and hongjoong will walk you down to him, and know this, trying to fight or cause a scene won't hep you. Unless you're yelling at your father and in that case by all means, yell at him. But we have places to go!”

Hearing the cuffs click, you looked behind you to see hongjoong takin them off before helping you up. His smile was gentle but his eyes were dark, everything was going too fast, soon you were out of the room with a skipping wooyoung on one side and a calm hongjoong on the other taking you to a pair of doors before they slowly opened. San's back was turned to you, he was walking to the chair after getting the welcoming speech done while his father pulled out the head chair for him to sit on, the moment he did that's when you saw his face. It had a dark look in his eyes, his smile was soft and gentle though, he looked more relaxed than he was hours ago while he watched you walk closer, the dazed look in your eyes while you got closer to him, watching him smile as he held you hand and softly kissed your knuckles, this was your life now. And there was nothing anyone could do about it even if they wanted to.

“you just can't ever keep quiet now can you? This small room can barely give me enough room to fuck you.”:

San huffed out, holding your hair in one hand, and keeping one of your legs up against the wall in another. It was after a long concert the 9 of you had; it was nothing new for you, after that day things felt wrong at first. But despite his dark nature san was still kind to you, he never pushed you to do things, unless it was training then he sadly had to, but other than that he stayed near and watched you slowly get used to your new life, but also trying to get things done with KQ. It took nearly 3 years for things to fall into a new normal, sometimes San would stay away just because he knew he was too angry and he refused to let you get caught in that, but today? He just had to fuck you. Even if he didn't make it to the hotel you were staying at. He took your hand after everyone was leaving and ran into a room, the moment the door had closed he kissed you.

Holding your neck in his hand while keeping you against the door, your legs wrapping around his waist while his free hand and undoing the belts. He was so needy, so pissed off and the reason? It rained and your shirt was sticking to your chest, your pants, and it didn't help that everyone was throwing water at each other earlier. It was something he just need to let out before he returned to the hotel and slept with you, though he had a feeling you'd be asleep given everything from performing to now. He had your face against the door, your hips against his while his hips never seemed to stop or slow down.

Each in was hitting things perfectly, the sound of the shirt chains hitting each other, your moans probably being heard from outside but he didn't care. He wanted to hear you, to see you drool while your legs were struggling to stay up and support you still but he never seemed to stop. HIs eyes looked dark, not the scary dark but the lustful dark, enjoying the pleads he heard, seeing you try to claw at the door since it was the only thing you seemed to be Abel to hold while his thrust never seemed to end and it was something he was enjoying too much and there was nothing anyone could do about it, and he enjoyed that. Looking down and seeing your ass jiggle was replaying in his mind non-stopped. Gods, he loved watching your body react to each touch he gave you.

His eyes darting from your ass to your face, seeing how you were trying to look back with high-pitched moans that made it hard for you to even say his name. But he also loved how quick you were losing your voice, knowing he and the others would have to come up with a reason you were having trouble talking and had to take a break but he could worry about that in the morning just like everyone else would have to.

“S-San!… The cars! Fuck come on I have to walk!”

“The cars wait on me remember Mr.Choi? Or do I need to remind you about that?”

“San- Ngh!”

The sound of skin slapping got louder, your moans shaking the room while and even leaking outside some. Jongho collecting 20s from everyone because he placed a bet that by the end of the night, San wouldn't wait to get to the room or even the car ride, he'd take you to a storage room and take you right then and there and there would be nothing anyone could do about it. He enjoyed the extra money, keeping it to himself while everyone had to wait for San to be done. Hopefully, the ride home would be silent.

“come on Mr. Choi, cum for me. Anywhere I can tell. Gods, you keep squeezing like you don't want this to end yet here you are telling me about cars, so needy you are.”

Each touch was like setting a fire, the way his hands moved up to squeeze your nipples just to hear the broken cry and seeing how you were shaking. He could see your eyes roll back as you released, but he had to keep his arms out to catch you, pressing you against the door as he kneeled down on the floor. He looked up at your dazed yet shocked expression, What was he about to do? He already made you see the stars once, there was no way you could do it twice with everyone waiting on you but he seemed to have different plans for the rest of the night.

San laid your legs on his large shoulders before taking your cock in his mouth, sure it wasn't too big or small, but it fit just right. This was something he never mind doing, sucking you off knowing you were sensitive and trying to stay quiet but there was on point. The way he would squeeze your inner thighs while hearing the way your breathes quickened while your hands were gripping his short black hair tightly. Your hips bucking despite how fast he was moving his head, moaning around you just to tease you. Feeling how you were shaking just by his mouth. His gagging sounds being covered over by the sounds of your whimpers, each hair tag gave off another moan, the way his long tongue swirled around the tip, pressing down on the silt just to watch you tremble, the scream you let out sounded so broken, like you were trying to reach a high note but you failing at it.

But he stayed still, tasting your own cum before slowly pulling away. He was careful since he had to get you dressed after cleaning you up yet again, but also getting you dressed and carrying you in arms. After making sure his outfit was fixed, he carried you out of the small room and went to join the others in the lobby, seeing them all turn to look at him carrying you, seonghwa looking the most shocked while Jongho just wanted to go to the hotel room to sleep, wanting to not even question what was happening here anymore.

“San we have got to talk about this-. He can't even stop his legs from shaking!’

“it's alright, I'll give him a bath when we get to the rooms, are the cars here?”

“…Are you fucking kidding me.”

[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

[sweetkpopmusings]

yeosang coworker headcanons <3

a/n: i am FINALLY starting the coworker!ateez series !!! i had written a note about coworker!yeosang in my phone over a year ago, so it only felt right that i started with this angel <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, nonidol!au | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none really! | pairing: coworker!yeosang x gn!reader | requests: open

as soon as yeosang starts at the company, you hear constant conversations about him

everything from descriptions of him looking like a greek god to stories of his babygirl nature, you are WELL aware of everyone’s new favorite coworker

despite knowing so much about yeosang, you never see him in the office

you’re starting to think that he’s an urban legend or some shared delusion

because how could he have been working here for months without coming into contact with you ??? 

the office building was certainly not big enough for that to make sense

and so, when your paths finally cross, you think you’re hallucinating

because he is in fact 1) stunning 2) radiating the energy of an angel

like you KNOW it’s yeosang immediately

you consider running away because he feels like the office celebrity and you’re not sure what the protocol is in this situation lmao 

before you can, though, yeosang turns around

he offers you a sweet smile and a somewhat shy hello

heart = melted

it turns out he too is shocked that you haven’t met before, and the conversation becomes you two trying to figure out how you managed to miss each other at every turn

within minutes, you are laughing with yeosang and joking about conspiracy theories

immediately an office friendship is formed

it’s almost as though a curse was broken because now you see yeosang CONSTANTLY and are a witness to all of his habits

for example, he is always carrying packages for the office

he likes showing off how strong he is

people literally tell stories of his rise to being the office superman like somehow employees across the entire company know when he started working out and his current workout routine

and sure he has some….fans….in the office who are a little obsessed with his muscles and his looks because obviously he is the definition of beauty

but mostly it’s in good fun and people are really grateful they don’t have to hurt their backs anymore

once you and yeosang become close, though, he is showing off CONSTANTLY

you literally never have to lift a finger in the office again

yeosang is carrying EVERYTHING for you

he says that he accepts compliments in return or coffee/snacks as payment he wants the compliments more let’s be real lol

but deep down he just really wants to help you because he appreciates you so much :-(

especially since you see him do embarrassing things all the time and you never tell anyone about it

yeosang feels like he owes you for keeping his dreamy coworker reputation intact lmao

like every time he spills coffee, drops his pen, runs into doors, and even says something strange, you are somehow there

it’s a gift of right place, right time

you are probably the only one in the office who knows just how human he is

you giggle to yourself whenever you hear people describe him as “perfect” and “godlike” and “intimidating”

because, of course, you think he’s perfect and stunning still

but you also know that he’s a dork who lives in his own world and lowkey needs to be taken care of because he’s a goofy, precious babygirl

knowing the truth behind reputations goes both ways in your friendship, though

unfortunately, yeosang is also always there when you do something embarrassing 

and boy will he not let you forget about your faux-pas EVER.

he loves to tease you about it 

he finds it so endearing that you too are a little bit of a mess despite your professionalism

sometimes most times he will laugh so hard at something you’ve done that he’ll be in tears before he can even remind you of what happened

and you’re just standing there like -_- because hello ??? yeosang ??? it is 9 a.m. on monday morning you can’t be having a case of the giggles this early

yet he IS having a case of the giggles once again

because you are just so giggle-worthy (yeosang’s words, not mine)

yeosang also secretly loves when you tease him 

it humbles him LMAO and also reminds him of how close you two actually are

in spite of how much he enjoys teasing you, he also hypes you up all. the. time.

being your #1 fan is actually his full-time job

he’ll compliment every piece of work you do, applaud after you give a presentation or make a good comment in a meeting, and even tell coworkers about how talented you are

everyone’s jealous of how much he loves you

yeosang follows you around like a sweet puppy and gets so excited when you pay attention to him

people know you and yeosang are a duo, and they WISH they were you

because who wouldn’t want yeosang by their side during the workday and even at office events ??? 

he’s an absolute JOY to be around

he loves to be silly with you too, and he doesn’t care how much he distracts you because he thinks silliness is a high priority for you every day

he always tells you it’s about “work-life balance”

but you see right through him like you know he just wants to enjoy being friends as opposed to being just coworkers

sweet boy never found work fun until he met you

like he genuinely looks forward to seeing you every day, and he hopes he can be the favorite part of your workday too

on stressful days, he tells you this and reminds you that, while your friendship transcends the confines of the office, he is so grateful to have this job because it brought you into his life

and, just like the moment he said “hello” to you for the first time, your heart is entirely melted

that’s just the yeosang effect <333

please know you melt his heart constantly too :,,-) y’all are a match made in heaven (or, in this case, talent acquisition lol)

[wolfytae-exe]

TEACH ME.(S)

Summary: In which your boy best friend needs help impressing a girl.

Warning: Noona kink, dry humping, implied unrequited love, fwb, raw(wrap before you tap), bottom tyun, grinding/humping, teasing, tempting, nipple sucking, oral(fem receiving), early orgasm, over-stim, multiple orgasms, college au, switch tyun, mean dom tyun, slight pain kink, whiny sub tyun, thigh riding, praise + degradation, name calling + pet names, switch reader, size kink if you squint lemme know if i missed anything

Paring: virgin bbsf!Taehyun + Older!Reader

“I’m sorry- what?” You whisper yell, staring at your best friend. Kang Taehyun, you’ve known him since you both were in the 2nd and 3rd grade. You had fended off tiny little bullies that made fun of him being a child actor with your hot tempered personality.

You always stood by his side, fending off bullies until he grew a pair and was able to stand up for himself, given that only really happened mid-highschool when he began working out.

You are now in your 3rd year of college, him in his second, and sitting in your dorm room.

Your roommate had left the shared space hours ago to go to some frat party so you decided to invite and catch up with your boy best friend.

Everything was just fine, he got in the building just fine, been sitting in your floating chair for hours now, but the moment he began talking about his tiny little crush on the girl in his vocal class, telling you everything he loved about her and how badly he wants to impress her you couldn’t help but be shocked.

Taehyun has only dated once, in middle school. He’s always mentioned how he never felt an attraction to the people around him, even recently claimed to be Aromantic, but with this new found information you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

You’ve never liked Taehyun, never even thought of him anyway other than a friend. Except that one time when you first hit puberty, and after him and his girlfriend broke up, and when his voice deepened, and when he grew taller than you, and when he started working out- but that’s besides the point.

Your jealousy was cut short the moment he asked you for help anyways, he really wanted to impress this girl. “I really like her Noona..” Taehyun whined, hand pressed to his chest simply because thinking about her overwhelmed his heart.

You cocked a brow at him, never seeing him like this. “And I’m supposed to help? I don’t know the girl, she’s probably already impressed by you anyways.” You argue, muttering the last bit under your breath as you pull out your phone to check the time

10:36PM, damn no wonder your eyes were heavy.

Taehyun groaned and sat up from the chair. “But you’re a girl, you can point me into the right direction!” You rolled your eyes at that. “Tyun I’m almost positive you won’t be rejected no matter what you do.” You say as you get up and move to your closet, pulling out of the boys t-shirts, now stuck with the smell of you from the multiple wears.

“I doubt that, she never even looks at me, I sit right in front of her and she’s never looking at me!” He complains, not even bothered as you begin to strip your shirt and shorts. “Look, if she’s not looking at you in the first place then something is already wrong with this picture.” You say before slipping the shirt on, letting it fall over your ass and thighs like a short dress.

Taehyun let’s a pout fall on his face, he was always so open and expressive with you. “God, fine if you really want some advice you need to get out your comfort zone and fuck her.” You bluntly said, reaching under your shirt to unclip your bra. “Why would that help me?” The man sounded appalled, and unbelievably stupid.

“You’re fucking with me right?” you deadpanned before groaning in frustration when your bra just refused to budge. “Help me.” You say before walking and dipping down a bit in front of him. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t joke like that, I don’t just want to get into her pants.” Taehyun responds with frustration before running his hand under your shirt and unclipping the bra between two fingers with ease.

You ignored the shiver that crawled up your spine the moment his fingers brushed your skin. “Tyun look in the mirror. You’re basically a sex symbol, virgin or not I promise you a lot of girls want you, hell she probably wants you too.” You say as you pull the bra out from under your shirt.

It’s silent for a moment, like he was trying to think of some kind of solution to his problem. You took the opportunity to stand up and toss your clothes into the hamper.

When you looked back over to the younger he was just staring. “What?” Was there something on your ass or something? You brushed your hand over your ass to feel for whatever was making him stare so hard. “Did I sit in something? Oh my- am I bleeding?” You gasped out, now panicked and trying to look down.

“You’re okay Noona, no blood, I just had a question.” You let out a sigh at that, falling back into your bed with content. “Yeah?” You responded further. “What do you think?” Taehyun practically whispered the question across the room. “Think about what?” Your eyes squinted, trying to hear him.

Taehyun practically avoided looking at you any more than he has, becoming more aware of how bare you were in front of him. “Me.” He paused as if finishing his question would really change the meaning of it. “Do you want me?” He finished, sinking a little in his seat.

Your eyes widened. “E-excuse me?” You stutter up a scoff, the question making you think about it, what being in bed with him would be like. “You just seem so sure and you’ve known me the longest so I think it’s a fair question.” Taehyun breathes, trying to slow the bouncing in his leg.

Your silence is what answers the question, making him hum when you sit up and avoid eye contact. Taehyun’s the one staring now, legs opening into a more comfortable position. “Noona~” He practically dragged the word over his tongue with a hum and teasing smile.

“You look so guilty, you want me that bad?” He continued before getting up, taking in the way your thighs press together at his words. The moment he starts walking over, your head is up, staring up at him with shame. “So? I can want and know not to touch. Don’t change the subject when we’re talking about your little crush.” You huff, dodging his accusing teases.

Taehyun hums, standing over you with a new found confidence. “Okay, so how do you expect me to fuck her.” He follows up fast, fighting the smirk threatening to give away how much he’s enjoying the power you simply handed to him. “What kind of dumbass question is that?” you scoff, running your hand over the sides of your shirt.

Taehyun just inched closer, now leaned over the bed. “I get you’re a virgin and whatever but don’t tell me you don’t know the birds and the bees.” You say sarcastically, trying to desperately de-escalate the situation at hand.

“Noona.” Taehyuns face remained stoic, he spoke with depth and full intent to continue what he started. “Stop calling me that.” You fought the whimper in the back of your throat, instead breathing out a bit hard through your nose. “I’m only a year older.” You mumble, sucking in when the younger gets a bit too close.

“Teach me.” Taehyun can’t hide the smirk anymore, a wide upturn of his lips making his request sound a lot more dangerous than it was. “Wh- Do you hear yourself?” You’re absolutely bewildered with this mans confidence.

“I’ve never had sex before Noona, I can’t impress her that way, I need to learn first.” There was a slight purr in his voice, and you felt a rush of wetness soak the middle of your panties. “Tyun, I don’t know.. We’re like- Best friends, isn’t it a bit weird?” You confess, trying hard not to react.

Taehyun hummed. “I think it’s just fine, we’ve known each other for so long, I trust you enough, and I’m positive that we’d stay best friends no matter what.” And just like that Taehyun was down on the bed, laying in front of you on his side.

You were still nervous on it, you wanted him so badly, he has always been your type, a nerdy dork turned gym jock with hella musical background. “Are you sure? I just- I don’t need you to regret your decision.” You sigh out, nerves not allowing you to breathe correctly.

“I’ll be okay, please teach me how to please you.” His voice softened, eyes hard yet big. You could feel yourself throb, pressing your thighs harder together. “Okay..” You let out, leaning out of your spot and leaning toward the younger. “First, uhm, okay—“ You stutter, this was so not hot. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Taehyun asked under his breath, eyes already on your lips.

That was definitely hot, a whimper left your mouth in response, which caused your ears to burn in embarrassment. “Yes..” You sighed, letting him lean into you and take control, pressing his lips flush against yours softly. With a shiver you followed, closing your eyes and letting your lips move together fluidly, there was so much trust and softness in the kiss you felt yourself melt into him.

Taehyun pulled away a bit quick, a little red in the face. “Did I do good Noona?” He asked, a little more eager for you now, god this man just keeps switching back and forth, does he want to tease you or please you? “So good, touch me- my waist-“ You tried to order, you didn’t mess around a lot, too focused on school to party or do anything other than get your degree so it was a bit difficult to voice what you wanted.

Taehyun was quick to please, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him and rolling onto his back so you could get on top. “Can I?” He panted, hands running under your shirt. “Not yet- just- just stick to touching me first.” You respond, too embarrassed with your bare body all of a sudden.

The younger just nodded and went straight to your neck, planting small kisses and licks like a cat. “Oh- Tyun-“ You whimpered, pressing more weight of your hips into his. The feeling making a “Fuck-“ slip out from him and warm your skin further. Taehyuns hands found purchase on your hips and began grinding you down, wanting to feel that pulsating pleasure again.

“Fu- Tyun you- you fucking liar-“ You choke up, following his hands and humping his jeans. “You’re good and you know it.” You pant the accusation, a whimper following quickly. “Fuck don’t stop.” Taehyuns hands were far from your body now, moving to remove his shirt. You tilted your head back, feeling his rough jeans rub just right on your clit.

“You’re so hot, using me like this. Use me to please yourself Noona.” Taehyun whispered, the last bit to himself yet loud enough to make you whine in response. The boys jeans were so unbelievably tight, painfully tight, all he could do was moan and buck into you, the motion did nothing but make your hips stutter and stop, all of a sudden overwhelmed with the pleasure.

When you came back too, you looked down at Taehyun, his washboard abs and tight pecs on display. Without a second thought you were in between his neck, planting kisses from his jaw to his throat, a small suck on his adams’s apple before moving down to his chest.

You both made eye contact, lust filled gaze connected with each other instantly before you took his left nipple into your mouth, licking at the tiny bud of nerves. “Ah- Noona please-“ He whined, unable to keep his facade up. Your left hand ran through his hair while your right ran down his chest to his jeans.

“S-so good I- Oh god-“ He stuttered, too distracted by your tongue so foreignly on his nipple to even notice your fingers undoing his jeans, it wasn’t until your hand palmed his cock through his boxers when he noticed, a gasp coming out so hard you felt his chest cave in for a second. “Falling apart just from this? I don’t think you’ll last to fuck a girl, Tyun~” You teased, not expecting Taehyun to buck and moan with no care for volume as a response.

You could feel Taehyun growing in your palm, enough to makes you pull off him and pull his jeans and boxers down to see if what you were feeling was real. The younger let out a whine at the cold air hitting his cock while your eyes widened. “You’re not gonna fit-“ You gasped, looking a little defeated as you eyed the curvy, thick cock in front of you.

His cock curved up onto his abs and you knew if you were to wrap your mouth around him you would dislocate your jaw halfway down. “Please- h-hurts Noona.” He panted desperately, tears welling up at the painful throbbing at the tip of his red cock.

You hesitated for a second before peeling your wet panties off and taking his shirt off your body, tossing it away. “Taehyun if you break me I swear to god.” You spew as you climb back on him. “Do you have a condom?” You ask quickly, it takes Taehyun a moment to realize you weren’t doing anything until he answered so he simply shook his head. “You?” He asked simply, you shook your head. “Maybe my roommate has one- ah!” You yelp put as Taehyun pulls you down to his cock, the tip hitting your entrance before slipping through your pussy lips and over your clit.

“Tae!” You scold, “you cant play like that, you have no experience pulling out.” You continue while he slowly grinds into your clit. “I’ll get soft by time you come back.” The boy whines, “I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum and you can pull me out if I don’t move.”

You let out a sigh. “Not happening.” You hold your ground, you’re not risking it even for your best friend. “Not even if I do this?” He tests before running your clit up and down his cock a bit harder yet slower, letting you feel every vein and fold with the drag. A whimper left you as you looked down at the way his cock pressed flat against his abs, pooling pre-cum into the crevices.

“We can just stay like this- please, just wanna feel you on my cock.” Taehyun begged quietly, eyeing the way your nipples hardened in the cold. The effect those words had on you were borderline embarrassing as you whined and let him roll your hips into his.

“Oh fuck- ‘o good-“ You pant, feeling the way the praise goes straight to his cock. “so good to Noona.” Taehyun bucked at that, fighting the way he wanted to cum already. “‘m good boy?” Taehyun asked with glossy eyes, unable to not melt in your control.

“Such a good boy, Tyunie.” You praise before slowly giving into him and his whining, letting his tip slip in before pulling out and rubbing him down your folds again. You repeated this a few times until he began squirming.

“Noona- ‘m sorry- close-“ Taehyun whined, eyes closing in embarrassment before cum shot over his abs and chest and a raspy moan that came straight from his chest followed.

You let out a moan as his cock twitched against your clit. His cock looked so cute spurting out the white strings of his arousal. A giggle left your lips as you continued your movements, pushing more and more out of him until he was trembling and begging for you to ease up.

“Tyun, Noona isn’t satisfied, how will you ever please your girl if you can’t get me to cum?” You taunted, bringing your nails to his chest and scratching down to leave red marks.

“N-Noona~” Taehyun high pitched purr left his lips in response. “T-Too much-“ he panted. “Hmm, then you need more practice.” You hum, lifting off him and moving to the side while he caught his breath.

You watched the way his cum trickled down his sides before they dripped off into sheets of your bed. “You’re messing up my sheets.” You mutter before swiping a bit off his navel with your finger and licking it off, watching as he stared deep into your eyes.

You hum at the salty taste that sticks to your tastebuds before going down and licking directly off his abs. You’ve wanted to do this the moment he ended up with them, wanted nothing more than to lick them up and down.

Taehyun whined, the feeling of your tongue all over him reigniting that flame in his stomach. “You’re like a half virgin now, how does that feel?” You tease, kissing up his abs to his chest, sucking small hickeys on it. “Did that even count?” Taehyun panted, running his hands over your hair.

“Either count it or we can try over and over and over again.” You whispered, kissing up his chest in between words. “We can set a schedule, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.” You hum, kissing at his jaw before settling close to his face and pressing your chest to his.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Y/N.” Taehyun lets a flushed grin grow on his face. “I’m not threatening you, but I am serious.” You say before rutting onto his thighs slowly. “I’m sorry I came so early.” Taehyun mutters in embarrassment. “You’re a virgin ah- It’s bound to happen.” You pant in reply, letting your arousal wet his thigh.

“God look at you, using me like a slut.” Taehyun hums, before moving his hand to the small of your back to help

control your movements. “What happened to being a good boy?” You tease, a shaky sigh in pleasure following quickly after.

“I know I’m a good boy, letting you use me for your own pleasure, you’re supposed to be helping me but you just can’t help but rut your dirty little cunt on me after i’ve already cum.” Taehyun degrades, eyes dark all of a sudden as his free hand finds your face, thumb pushing your bottom lip down and flattening your tongue.

A wail comes out from your throat as you speed up, the degradation doing nothing but making wanna cum all over his thighs. “You’re bad~” He teases, tensing his thigh muscles under you. “I bet that slutty pussy of yours tastes just as good as it feel though.” He moans out, nails clawing into your lower back just at the thought.

“F-Fuck wh-“ You whimper, why was he being so mean all of a sudden? The pain in your back made tears prick your eyes. “Please- make me feel good-“ You beg, wanting nothing more than to feel his tongue all on you.

“Aww well how can I deny that pretty little look, doll? Move up pretty.” Taehyun commands, fingers digging a bit deeper. “Ah!” You let out before moving fast and lifting off his thigh. You shuffled your hips up, moving above his face. “Y-You know how to do this?”

Taehyun just stared at you, lust haze covering every corner of his iris. “Just sit on my face.” He rasped out while wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to sit completely. “O-Oh..” You sighed as his nose pressed straight into your clit.

It was only when Taehyun opened up his mouth and began eating you out that you really felt the knot in your stomach. “Ah- Tae-ngh~” You moaned, gripping his hair as his tongue pressed into your heat before performing figure 8’s on your clit.

“W-where-“ You panted as your thighs attempted closing on his head. Your heart pounded and you felt a rush of liquid run down your thigh as he hummed into you. His eyes never left you, nails embedded in your inner thigh to keep you open and nose rubbing and bumping into the sensitive bud whenever he dipped into your hole.

“Tyun- Oh fuck I can’t-“ A whine left you as you gasped for air and arched into him, trying to grind against his nose. “Need more~” Pleasure overtook your senses when he let his teeth graze your clit, a scream let out fast and loud before you came hard.

You tried squirming out only to be pulled back in. Taehyun began eating you out more ferociously, a growl bubbling from his chest as his lapped up your arousal. “Ah- Ah~ Tyun please-“ You begged as he began pushing you to overstimulation. His arms loosed for you to get up and he spoke. “Just one more, Noona, a big girl like you can handle it.” He pushed before holding you back down onto his face and ravaging your heat once more.

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, unable to control the shaking in your lower body. He was turning you into mush, smile evident on his face as you began babbling about not being able to handle anymore. Very quickly you came again, the push was weak and yet Taehyun enjoyed it just as much before pushing you off him and onto the bed.

“I knew you could take it.” Taehyun sighed before looking at your state. You were curled into yourself, catching your breath. “Wh-Where did you learn that?” You panted before uncurling and turning to him.

“Porn.” He simply said before pulling you into him. “You learned how to do that from porn?” You questioned, allowing yourself to be pulled close to his chest. “Mhm, well they did say it gets women coming every time so I just tried it.” He shrugs before pressing small kisses to your neck.

You hummed and closed your eyes. “I’m surprised it worked. Porn is always exaggerated.” You sigh, running your hands down his chest and back up. You both were feeling each other, too tired to do more but still wanting to touch.

“Is your back okay, Noona?” Taehyun muttered into your hair, gently rubbing the marks in your lower back. The small sting caused you to hiss slightly. “Just burns a little..” You respond quietly. “Is your chest okay?” You ask back, remembering the way your nails clawed into him. “Just a little red..” He responded back.

The comfortable silence was enough to put you both to sleep, gentle snores and cuddles in each others arms. Safe to say, you hoped he’d ask for help more often.

[drvirgus]

Behind the Screen

Idol! Minji X non-Idol! Reader

Description: Imagine defending your favorite idol on Twitter and getting a supportive message from a user with a fake name. Little do you know, it's actually Minji. Can something more happen? Will you fall in Love with the Idol? Is Minji going to fall in love with you?

Warnings: strong language; kys/kms jokes; insults; kinda Catfishing? Denial; Trauma; Harsh world

Tags: Idol X non Idol; smau; Strangers to online friends to Lovers?

Status: Finished ✅

Taglist: Closed

a/n: I´ll often use an idol with shoulder lenght hair (Prob Ryujin or Chaewon)

Some Idols are "Normal" people.

Don’t look at timestamps

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

Profiles: Depressive students; Newjeans; Others

01. No risk no fun, right?

02. stranger danger?

03. sleep over

04. found her

05. Basic Infos

06. cooking loudly

07. maybe

08. first meeting? (Fully-written)

09. rude

10. ask her

11. number

12. more then Minji?

13. Roses

14. Apalogy (half-written)

15. hide

16. just a joke

17. oh….

18. arcane

19. awkward

20. a bomb

21. holy… fucking… shit

22. naughty…

23. we did it

24. WHAT?

———————————————————————————

Taglist: @saysirhc @sixflame438 @yuyuy90 @lvskimminji @illithharmony @yncoreee @minaripenguu @he------len @kaypanaq @jsufipaq @wonyoungssi @peranoo @pandafuriosa60

[pookieisdokyeom]

Dating Jake Sim/Sim Jaeyun includes...

he is literally obsessed with you, so prepare to have a clingy bf who follows you everywhere and is always ready to drop everything to hang out with you

changes his "this is her" photo all the time because of how beautiful you are (this does mean he loves to show you off)

PDA is a must, at this point it's like he forgets that other people are in the room with you and just touches you anywhere he can

his friends sometimes flirt with you to make fun of Jake cause they know how jealous he can get (then you have to deal with a pouty Jake who doesn't want to let you go)

you have to listen to his rambling whether it's random things that annoy him or things he loves, he likes to fill you up on his day (especially after his day full of interviews and performances) and tell you everything that happened to him (literally yapper x listens to them)

Jake is the type of boyfriend to ALWAYS sit next to you on dates instead of across so he can be close and hold your hand, and glare at the waiter/waitress that looks at you for "too long" (which is at all according to Jake's definition)

you are Layla's mother and other caregiver and you have no choice, you don't mind though especially since Layla loves you more than Jake (he says you spoil her so obviously she likes you more but he's just being salty)

Idol! Jake

he loves to tease engenes with bf photos, but it's really photos you took while put together

he'll look for you in the crowd at concerts and send flying kisses. Fans go wild, but only you and Jake and the rest of enhypen know it's just for you

sometimes, his en-log will be dates with you, so you guys have to be even more careful with what you do or say. The company would rather he didn't do this, but he doesn't really care what the company says

loves to rub his sweaty self all over you after concerts (which you secretly love) and tries to hug and kiss you while you're dodging away

any love song is with you in mind, especially Polaroid Love, and whenever he can, he will shower you with love songs

your online name is now "That lucky Engene" cause of how many interactions between you and Jake are caught online

at fan signs: constantly holding your hand, doesn't stop making love eyes, purposefully takes his time so you don't have to go to the next member, forgets you're in public so he tries to lean in for a kiss (twitter went wild that day), and overall can't get enough of you even though he knows he'll see at the end of the day

HATES when you have merch for any other member, especially if it's Ni-Ki (lucky for you, your bias is Jungwon) and will only sign your photocard if it's a Jake photocard

Overall, Jake Sim is utterly and complete in love with you and will make sure that you and everyone else knows that.

P.S. Sorry if it's too short T T

enhypen masterlist

[edenesth]

The Paradox of Us

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: Relationships are rarely as simple as they seem. It becomes heartbreakingly complicated when two souls, bound by a love that still burns bright, come to realise that sometimes, love alone may not be enough to keep them together.

A/N: Seonghwa's 踊り子 (odoriko) cover has been on repeat since the moment it came out. I couldn't get it out of my mind and just knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't write anything inspired by it.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"I don't love you."

Strangely, those words would have been easier to bear. But instead, you heard the ones that shattered you in ways you never thought possible: "I love you so much... but we can't go on like this anymore."

The ache was unbearable, as if your heart was tearing itself apart with every replay of his broken voice in your mind. You would have preferred if he had said his love had faded, that the spark was gone. At least then, you could grieve, accept, and move forward. But no—he still loved you. Deeply. And that cruel truth left you stuck in a purgatory of emotions, unable to let go.

Yet, you understood him. You always did. And perhaps that was the most painful part of all—knowing he was right. You had felt it too, this growing divide neither of you could bridge. But you hadn't been brave enough to say it aloud, to admit that love wasn't enough to hold together two people who simply weren't meant to be.

So, he said it for you. And now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been, and the love that would never quite fade.

"It'll be alright, sweetie. Time heals everything," your mother murmured, her hand gently rubbing your back as you blinked away tears and refused to meet her gaze. Her tone was soft, even comforting, but you couldn't stand it—not when she sat there pretending she hadn't played a pivotal role in this heartbreak. You could almost feel her satisfaction simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind her facade of concern. After all, hadn't she always believed he would never measure up? That he was never good enough for you?

You hated it—hated her.

Hated how she had turned your relationship with him into a battlefield, her disapproval so loud, so ever-present, that it became impossible for him to feel at home in your life. How dare she sit beside you now, feigning sorrow, when her constant criticisms had planted the seed of doubt that grew into the conclusion you dreaded? How dare she, of all people, offer comfort when she had made you believe that love—your greatest love—wasn't enough?

Her words echoed in your mind, the ones she'd repeated time and time again: "Love and compatibility aren't the same. Love is powerful, yes, but relationships are more than just feelings—they require shared values, aligned goals, and practical compatibility." She had said it so often that it became a mantra, one you tried to ignore until it became impossible.

And then there was him.

You hated him too—hated him for giving in, for not fighting harder, for agreeing with everyone else. For being too selfless, too considerate, too good. He'd always told you, "Family comes first. Everything else—including me—comes second." You hated that he meant it. Hated that he let you go because he believed it was the right thing to do, the thing that would hurt the least.

But most of all, you hated yourself.

Hated yourself for knowing, deep down, that they were all right. That maybe love really wasn't enough. You hated yourself for being too afraid to defy them, too afraid to risk it all for him. While he was brave enough to let you go, and your mother was relentless in her convictions, you had been the coward. You let everyone else make the choice for you because you couldn't bear to make it yourself.

And now, you were left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of what-ifs and the haunting ache of knowing you had lost not because you didn't love enough, but because you hadn't been brave enough to fight for that love.

"The right person will come along," she said softly. You pressed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. Without another word, you pushed yourself up from the dining chair, leaving your barely touched meal behind, and headed to your room.

Before you could step through the door, her voice followed you, cutting through the air like a knife. "You'll thank me one day when you meet a man who can give you all the things that boy never could."

Your fists clenched as you slammed the door shut behind you. Sliding down to the floor with your back against the wood, you let her words fester. Maybe she was right. You weren't getting any younger. Around you, friends and cousins were all settling down with partners your mother would call 'suitable.' And you hated it—hated that, in her eyes, Seonghwa could never be that person for you.

But then, the thought struck: you were your mother's daughter. How much of this was truly her fault? At some point, hadn't you begun to believe her? Slowly, insidiously, her words had taken root in your mind. You did this. To him, to yourself.

You remembered watching others build their perfect, storybook lives with partners who ticked every box society demanded. And you wondered—quietly at first, then louder—if you and Seonghwa could ever achieve the same. Could he be that for you? Could you be that for him?

It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to you. You hated yourself for the way doubt crept in, for how your mother's voice echoed in your head, pointing out the cracks and differences you had tried so hard to ignore. You hated yourself for wishing things could be different, for swallowing those thoughts because you loved him too much to ask him to change. He was who he was—his own person.

How could you ask him to mould himself into someone your mother would approve of? Someone society deemed 'right' for you? And if he did, would he even be the man you fell in love with?

It was those questions, those doubts, that began to live rent-free in your mind. Bit by bit, they widened the gap between you. And Seonghwa wasn't blind. He saw it. He felt it.

"You deserve someone better—someone who can give you so much more," he had said that final night, his voice breaking under the weight of goodbye.

It was your fault—your doubts, your actions, your silence. They had pushed him to that conclusion. And now, as the door behind you trembled with your suppressed sobs, you wondered: How dare you blame your mother for what you had done to him? To yourself?

How dare you?

"Gaming at San's place next, you coming?" Wooyoung asked, tossing a napkin onto the table as everyone scrambled to leave. The ridiculous game they'd invented—where the last one to leave had to pay the bill—had everyone laughing and darting for the exit.

Seonghwa's smile barely touched his lips as he shook his head and reached for his wallet. "Go on with them. I'll cover it."

The younger man hesitated, glancing at him before blurting out, "Dude, you can't always give in like this. Your poor financial planning skills are exactly why she left you."

The table fell silent, the air suddenly heavy. Wooyoung's grin faltered as he realised what he'd said, too late to take it back. Seonghwa didn't flinch outwardly, but the words sliced deep because they were true. Partly, at least.

It wasn't like he made much, not compared to the rest of his friends with their steady corporate jobs. And yet, he wasn't careful with what little he had. You had always been the one saving, planning, building a future he could barely contribute to. People his age were buying cars, investing in property, making strides toward a stable life. But he wasn't like them. He had chased his passion as a figurine crafter—a dream that didn't come with a steady paycheck—and he'd known the risks. Your mother was right: you deserved someone who could offer you the stability he never could.

"Hey, man," Wooyoung said quickly, guilt colouring his tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I got the bill already, so don't worry about it. Just come with us tonight, yeah? Relax a little."

But the eldest only gave a faint shake of his head. The apology didn't soften the truth of the remark. He was the reason things fell apart. Not because he didn't love you enough—he loved you too much—but because love wasn't enough.

He'd failed you. Failed to provide the kind of life you deserved. He couldn't believe you'd even agreed to be with him in the first place, so different were your worlds. Your family background, your education, your values, your ambitions—they all set you apart. He had nothing to offer someone like you. And yet, he had been selfish enough to hold on, to want you despite knowing he could never measure up.

He should have worked harder. Should have tried to step up and be the man you needed. But he hadn't, because deep down, he knew he couldn't. Perhaps he had always known it wouldn't last. That one day, you'd wake up and realise the same.

You didn't leave right away. You stayed longer than he deserved. And when you finally began pulling away, when the signs became impossible to ignore, he had to let go. It wasn't courage that made him end it—it was inevitability.

"Come with us, hyung," Wooyoung tried again, his voice gentler this time.

But Seonghwa shook his head once more. "You guys go ahead without me. I... I have somewhere to be."

It was a lie, and they all knew it. He had nowhere to be. Nowhere that mattered, at least. Just his empty apartment, where the echoes of your absence would greet him like old, familiar ghosts.

He didn't care if they saw through the lie. What mattered was that he deserved this—the loneliness, the self-pity, the regret. He had almost broken you apart from your family because he was selfish enough to believe his love was enough. He had almost stolen your future because he couldn't face the truth.

But now, it was over. You had given him the courage to do what was right in the end. He was grateful for that. Grateful you'd started pulling away. Grateful you'd given him the signs. Grateful you'd broken his heart with the words he couldn't bear to say himself.

It's time.

Time to stop pretending.

Time to let you go.

Time to let the misery end.

Yes, let it all go. Let the misery end.

He repeated the words in his head like a chant as he drove, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each mile. The familiar streets blurred past him, their lights shimmering in his tear-filled eyes. He swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming, warm and unrelenting. He hated himself for it. Hated that, even now, he could almost see you sitting beside him, your laughter echoing faintly in his memory.

These night drives had been your sanctuary. Just you and him, wrapped in the quiet of the world, as if nothing else mattered. Not the expectations, not the disapproving glances, not the relentless whispers about how you two didn't belong together. It had always been just you and him against everything.

But now, it was just him.

He didn't dare glance at the passenger seat. He couldn't bear the sight of its emptiness, couldn't face the truth of your absence. His mind played cruel tricks on him, filling the silence with phantom conversations, fleeting glimpses of your smile.

Everything around him reminded him of you. The way the streetlights hit the pavement, the faint smell of your favourite perfume lingering in his car, the songs on the radio you'd sing along to when you thought he wasn't paying attention. He wanted to escape it, but he knew going home would only make it worse.

Home.

The word felt hollow now. How could it be home when you weren't there? Every corner of that apartment held traces of you—the books you'd stacked neatly on the shelf, the coffee mug you always left on the counter, the sheets that still carried the faintest scent of your shampoo. He knew he should let those remnants go, pack them away, make it easier to move on. But the thought of erasing you felt like losing you all over again.

As the weight of it all pressed down on him, he slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. His hands trembled as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, the cool leather grounding him for just a moment.

Is this hurting you too?

He wondered if you were struggling as much as he was. Part of him selfishly hoped you were, that you missed him the way he missed you. But another part—the part that loved you more than he loved himself—hoped you were finding peace. Hoped you were happier without him, that his decision to let you go had given you the chance to find the stability, the life, you deserved.

Clutching a hand to his chest, he finally let the tears fall freely. The ache in his heart felt unbearable, like a piece of him had been ripped away and might never grow back. Would he ever be okay again? Would he ever know happiness without you?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he told himself, over and over, that this was the right thing to do. It didn't matter if he was happy. It didn't matter if he felt whole again. All that mattered was you. And as he sat there, broken and lost, he prayed you were finding the happiness he couldn't give you, even if it meant he would never find it again.

It's okay... she'll find the right person now.

The right person. Who even decided what that meant? Who had the authority to label someone as right or wrong for you?

Maybe it was the lingering ache for Park Seonghwa, the way his name still carried the weight of memories you hadn't yet learned to let go. Or maybe it was the frustration bubbling inside you, resentment toward your parents for tricking you into meeting this man—the son of your father's business partner—the one they couldn't stop praising.

Jung Yunho, the perfect man, as they called him. He was everything they'd ever wanted for you, a textbook example of stability, charm, and success. But the problem wasn't him. It was you. You weren't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever. Years had passed since the breakup, but the ghost of what you had with Seonghwa still clung to you, a shadow that even time couldn't chase away.

"Hey," Yunho's voice pulled you back from your spiralling thoughts. His gaze, warm and sincere, met yours as he leaned in slightly. "You feeling alright?"

Caught off guard, you glanced down at your untouched plate of steak and managed a small nod. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

But he didn't look convinced. Instead, his lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile—the kind that could probably disarm anyone, just not you. "How could I not, when such a pretty lady is sulking before me?" he teased gently. Before you could reply, he reached across the table, taking your plate without hesitation. "Here, let me help you."

With careful precision, he began cutting the steak into neat, bite-sized pieces. The gesture was so thoughtful, so kind, and yet it left you feeling hollow. It wasn't the act itself—it was the way it lacked the weight of familiarity.

Seonghwa used to do the same thing, but it had always been different with him. He'd grumble playfully about how you'd never learn to do it yourself, though he never minded doing it for you. His hands were smaller, more delicate, and you'd always find yourself staring at the faint scars from his crafts. Yunho's hands, while steady and practised, didn't hold the same history.

"All done," Yunho said cheerfully, sliding the plate back to you. "Now you have no excuse not to eat."

You forced a polite smile, murmuring a quiet "thank you" as you picked up your fork. Yunho didn't seem to notice the distant look in your eyes, or perhaps he was kind enough not to point it out.

He was wonderful. Thoughtful, patient, and sincere. By all accounts, he was the right person. But as you sat there, forcing yourself to chew, you couldn't help but wonder:

What if the right person wasn't the one who checked all the boxes? What if they were the one who didn't, but still felt like home?

The rest of the night crawled by like a snail, every passing second stretching unbearably long. You shifted in your seat, wishing you were anywhere but here. Yunho was a great guy—attentive, charming, and genuinely kind. But that only made it worse. He deserved someone who could meet his enthusiasm with equal fervour, someone who didn't have her mind wandering to someone else entirely.

You sighed quietly, pushing your barely touched drink to the side. What the hell was wrong with you? This was what you'd agreed to, wasn't it? This was what you'd sacrificed so much for. Years ago, you walked away from the love of your life because it felt like the right thing to do, to pursue the kind of stability and compatibility everyone insisted was more important than love alone. And now here it was, right in front of you.

The right person.

Yet, as you glanced at Jung Yunho's radiant smile, so effortlessly warm, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him felt less like the happy ending you'd envisioned and more like a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage that offered everything a woman could ever ask for—security, stability, admiration. Everything except the one thing your heart still longed for.

All you could ever find inside yourself was the same man you'd tried so hard to let go of.

Park Seonghwa.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him, your mind betraying you with memories you'd worked so hard to bury. You wondered how he was doing, though it wasn't as if you hadn't heard. Mutual friends kept you updated more than you cared to admit, their words painting glimpses of a life that no longer included you.

You'd heard he was finally making progress with his work, his passion—the very thing you'd once defended but later doubted. He'd opened a small store, modest but filled with so much of himself. It sold various collectable art pieces: action figures, miniatures for tabletop games, and custom character figurines crafted with meticulous care. Fans of Star Wars and Animal Crossing flocked to him, drawn to the detail and love that radiated from every piece he touched.

And you were proud of him. God, you were so proud of him.

He'd stayed true to himself, despite all the judgement, all the whispers about how he'd never make it, how he'd never be good enough. He'd proved them wrong. He'd built something meaningful, something entirely his own. You were happy for him, truly, but beneath that happiness lay an ache you couldn't ignore. You regretted not being there to witness it, to cheer for him when he finally achieved what he'd always dreamed of.

But maybe that wasn't what he wanted. For all you knew, he'd moved on, found someone who stayed by his side through all the highs and lows. Someone who loved him openly and without reservation, who didn't make him feel like he'd never measure up.

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd sworn off love entirely after the way things ended between you two.

Either way, you couldn't blame him. You wouldn't blame him. Not after the pain you'd both endured.

Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. "Is... everything okay? You've been quiet tonight." His concern was genuine, his eyes soft with worry, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

But deep down, you knew you weren't fine. And you didn't know if you ever would be.

"How much for that one?"

The tiny voice drew Seonghwa's attention, and he glanced down at the little girl standing on tiptoes, her small finger pointing eagerly at the figurine encased behind the counter. It was the only one displayed under glass, like a prized treasure—and in a way, it was.

He hummed, his eyes softening as he turned to look at the figure in question. The Kuromi figurine sat proudly on the top shelf, right next to the LED sign that glowed softly with his store's name: Star Mars. The design was intricate, every detail was carefully crafted with love and precision.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said gently, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "That one's not for sale. It's reserved for someone very special."

The little girl pouted, her lips forming a perfect curve of disappointment, and his heart melted a little. But no amount of adorable pouting—or even persuasive whining—could ever convince him to sell it.

That Kuromi figurine wasn't just a piece of art; it was a promise, a memory frozen in time. It was one of the first figurines he'd perfected, the culmination of years of practice and the relentless pursuit of his passion. He'd made it as a gift for you—his favourite girl.

It still is yours, if only you wanted it.

The child's father stepped forward, lifting her into his arms as he gave Seonghwa an apologetic bow. "Don't worry about her, Mr Park. I'll convince her to go with the Isabelle one instead."

Seonghwa chuckled softly, standing upright as he waved off the father's concern. "No problem at all. Isabelle's a great choice," he said, though his eyes lingered briefly on the Kuromi figurine.

As the father and daughter moved on to browse the other displays, Seonghwa found himself lost in thought. He didn't display that piece out of pride or for show—it was there because it reminded him of you. Of the nights you'd spend sitting cross-legged on the floor of his studio, playfully teasing him about his obsession with getting every detail just right.

"She looks like you," he'd said when he showed it to you for the first time. You'd laughed, brushing it off, but the glint of affection in your eyes told him you secretly loved the comparison.

He'd planned to give it to you on your birthday, but the timing never felt right. And then, before he knew it, you were gone.

The bell above the door jingled, the familiar sound slicing through the haze of his thoughts and yanking him back to the present. He straightened up, plastering on the polite smile he reserved for customers, though the weight in his chest never eased.

"Good evening! Welcome to…" His voice faltered mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat as his entire world screeched to a halt.

There you were.

It had been years, but time seemed to melt away the moment his eyes landed on you. You stood there in the soft glow of his store lights, more beautiful than he remembered—if that were even possible. Your silk dress shimmered gently with each subtle movement, an elegant coat draped effortlessly over your shoulders. The once long hair he used to run his fingers through was now cropped to your shoulders, framing your face in a way that made you look older, wiser—but still you.

Even after all this time, his heart betrayed him. It thundered in his chest, each beat screaming your name. He clenched his fist tightly at his side, willing himself to stay rooted where he stood. Every fibre of his being ached to run to you, to close the distance, but he couldn't. He shouldn't.

Slowly, shakily, he mustered a smile, though it felt like his heart might burst from the sheer force of its racing. Then, to his astonishment—and heartbreak—you returned it. A soft, familiar curve of your lips that nearly undid him.

But then, it fell apart.

The moment shattered as a tall, striking man stepped in behind you. He moved with easy confidence, his presence commanding attention as if the universe itself had tilted slightly to make room for him. Without hesitation, his hand found its way to your shoulder, resting there with an ease that spoke of familiarity.

"See anything you like?" the man asked, his deep voice carrying the warmth of intimacy as he looked down at you.

You blinked, startled, as if shaken from a dream. "Oh… I was just…" Your voice trailed off as your gaze flicked back to your ex-boyfriend, lingering for a moment longer than it should have.

Seonghwa's smile faltered, but he quickly schooled his expression, burying the ache that clawed at his chest. He nodded politely, forcing himself to focus on the customer standing in front of him—the both of you.

The Kuromi figurine sat silently on its shelf, bathed in soft light, waiting for a moment that might never come. The air inside the store suddenly felt stifling. Seonghwa stood behind the counter, his hands gripping its edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Welcome to Star Mars," he said, his voice steady but his smile trembling under the weight of emotions. He forced it wider, hoping it would mask the whirlwind within. "It's been a while. How have you been?" His heart clenched as the words left his mouth. He wanted to sound casual, as though you were just another customer, but he couldn't. You weren't just anyone. You never had been.

You gave him a hesitant smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I've been good. How about you?"

Before he could answer, the man beside you—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding warmth—stepped forward, his curiosity evident. "Oh, you two know each other? What a small world!" His voice was friendly, his smile sincere, and Seonghwa's chest tightened further.

He should feel relief. This man, presumably your boyfriend—or worse, your fiancé—seemed perfect for you. He was everything Seonghwa had wanted for you when he stepped away, believing he could never give you the life you deserved. And yet, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, this is Seonghwa. He's... an old friend of mine."

Old friend. The words landed like a punch to his stomach, but he kept his composure.

The man extended a hand toward him, his smile unwavering. "I'm Yunho. It's nice to meet you! Next time my nieces and nephews need new toys, I'll know who to come to."

Seonghwa took his hand, shaking it firmly while managing a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too." His gaze flickered back to you, catching the way you avoided meeting his eyes.

As if on cue, Yunho's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he excused himself, stepping outside to take the call. For the first time since you'd entered, the air felt heavy with unspoken words.

You turned back to your ex, your eyes meeting his briefly before dropping to the counter. "Congratulations... Seonghwa," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a fragile memory. "It's good to see how far you've come."

He nodded slowly, his smile softer now, though the ache in his eyes remained. "Thank you. And... congratulations to you as well," he said, glancing toward the window where Yunho stood. "He seems amazing."

The kindness in his tone made it hurt even more.

"No," you blurted, shaking your head. "He's not... we're just... friends. I don't..." Your words faltered, your voice trembling. "I'm not with anyone."

His brows lifted in surprise, but he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. You wished he'd say something, anything, but the way his eyes softened, brimming with a mix of emotions—relief, hesitation, and something deeper—was answer enough.

Your breath hitched when your gaze landed on the figurine behind him. Kuromi. Encased in glass, displayed on the highest shelf. You remembered the countless hours he'd spent perfecting it, the way he'd proudly shown you the finished piece.

He still kept it.

Before you could find the courage to ask why, Yunho reappeared, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. "Hey, sorry to cut your little catch-up session short, but something urgent came up at work, and I—"

Seonghwa straightened, his polite smile snapping back into place. "Of course, don't let me keep you."

Your heart sank as he turned to you, bowing slightly. "It was nice seeing you again."

You forced a smile, though your chest ached with everything left unsaid. "It was nice seeing you too."

As you followed Yunho out, you couldn't resist glancing back one last time. Your eyes met Seonghwa's, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though a thousand words passed between you.

Regret. Longing. Love.

The bell above the door jingled again as you stepped out, your heart heavy with the weight of the encounter. Yunho was quiet as he drove, his hands steady on the wheel. The silence between you felt thick, almost suffocating, but you didn't know what to say. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you without sounding selfish or ungrateful?

"It's him, isn't it?" Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, soft but resolute.

Your head snapped toward him, your heart pounding in panic. "What… what do you mean?" you stammered, the guilt already clawing its way to the surface.

He sighed, pulling the car to a gentle stop in front of your home. Turning to face you, he gave you a small, knowing smile. "The man from the store. Park Seonghwa, right? He's the one you've been thinking about all night. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Your breath caught, your hands fumbling with the seatbelt as you tried to come up with a response. But the look in his eyes told you that lying wasn't an option. "I…" You paused, finally managing to unfasten the seatbelt, but your words seemed caught in your throat. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean for this to happen."

He leaned back with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologise. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I knew from the beginning that you weren't exactly thrilled about this arrangement, but I still went along with it, hoping… I don't know, that maybe something would change."

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "You deserve better than this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Hey." He reached out, his hand covering yours with a comforting warmth. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you turned back to him, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You don't owe me anything," he said gently. "This… whatever this was supposed to be, it wouldn't have worked if both of us weren't fully in it. And that's okay. You know why?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

"Because this decision—choosing who you want to be with—it's for you, not for your parents, not for me, and certainly not for anyone else. It should never be about what people think or what they want. It's your life. Live it for yourself."

His words struck you like a bolt of lightning, unravelling years of self-doubt and regret. He was right. How had you allowed yourself to be swept up in everyone else's expectations, losing sight of what truly mattered to you?

You sat back in your seat, letting his words sink in, feeling a strange mix of guilt and liberation. After a long moment, you nodded, your voice steadier now. "Thank you, Yunho. For everything."

He smiled, his eyes kind and understanding. "Go on," he said, tilting his head toward your house. "And don't let fear hold you back this time."

As you stepped out of the car, his words echoed in your mind, igniting a spark of courage you hadn't felt in years.

You turned back, watching as Yunho drove away, his figure disappearing into the night. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sliver of clarity.

It wasn't too late. You still had a choice to make. And this time, you'd make it for yourself.

The shop was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of paper as Seonghwa meticulously wrapped the Isabelle and Grogu figurines the pair of father and daughter finally agreed on getting. His movements were precise, his focus seemingly sharp, but his mind was elsewhere—stuck on the brief yet piercing encounter that had just walked out of his life again.

"That Kuromi one… it's for the pretty lady earlier, isn't it?"

The father's voice broke through Seonghwa's haze, and his hands froze briefly before resuming their task. He didn't look up, focusing instead on folding the edges of the wrapping paper with unnecessary care. "You might be right," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than intended. "But it doesn't matter if it is."

The man tilted his head, a subtle frown forming as he cradled his daughter closer. "And why's that? It clearly still means a lot to you both."

Seonghwa finally glanced up, forcing a polite smile, though it faltered almost immediately. "You saw it yourself... she's with someone else. Someone better." The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, laced with a resignation he didn't quite believe in.

The man sighed, shifting the little girl in his arms so she could hold her new Grogu figurine. He regarded your ex with a look that felt far too knowing. "I also saw how she looked at you," he said softly. "And she didn't look like someone who's better off."

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard, but the customer wasn't finished. His gaze drifted toward the cute purple figurine that was not for sale, and for a moment, his expression softened into something fragile—something etched with pain.

"You know," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "my wife used to love Sanrio too. She had this little Cinnamoroll keychain she carried everywhere." He chuckled faintly, the sound bittersweet. "I always thought I'd have more time to make her smile, to give her the little things that made her happy. But time doesn't wait for anyone. One day, it was just… gone."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Seonghwa felt something tighten in his chest.

The man glanced at him then, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity that seemed to pierce through Seonghwa's carefully built walls. "I don't know what's between you and her, Mr Park. But I do know this: regret is a heavy thing to carry. Don't let it weigh you down, not if you can still do something about it."

He gave Seonghwa a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of lessons learned too late, before taking the bag of purchased items. "Sometimes, all it takes is one step in the right direction. Don't let the chance slip away."

And then he was gone, the bell above the door jingling faintly as father and daughter disappeared into the night.

Seonghwa stood motionless behind the counter, his gaze drifting back to the Kuromi figurine in its glass case. The light reflected off it, casting faint shadows on the shelf behind it. It was meant for you. It had always been for you.

The father's words replayed in his mind, unrelenting in their simplicity and truth. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the figurine made just for you, but his thoughts were elsewhere—back to you, back to all the moments that had led to this one.

Back then, he'd convinced himself he was doing the right thing, letting you go so you could find the happiness he didn't think he could give you. He thought he was being selfless, noble even, sacrificing his own heart so you could find someone better—someone who deserved you. But now, the cracks in that logic were glaringly obvious. What had any of this accomplished? Neither of you had found happiness in the way he'd hoped.

The truth was harsh: he hadn't even tried. He hadn't fought to be better for you, to grow into someone worthy of your love. Instead, he'd accepted the version of himself the world seemed to see—a man with dreams too small and ambitions too impractical. He'd let himself believe that you deserved someone like Yunho, someone who fit the mould of what your parents and society thought was 'right.'

But things were different now. He wasn't that man anymore. He'd worked hard, not for anyone else but for himself. Every step he'd taken to build his store, every figurine he'd crafted with his own hands, every small milestone he'd achieved—it was proof that he could create something meaningful. And if he could do that, maybe he could create a life with you.

His heart clenched at the thought of you with Yunho, not because he doubted the man's worth, but because he knew Yunho could never hold your heart the way he still did. Yunho was everything society said you should want—stable, charming, perfect on paper. But love wasn't about paper. Love was about the way you used to light up whenever he showed you his newest creation, about the quiet nights you'd spent talking about everything and nothing, about the way your hand had always felt right in his.

Suddenly, the idea of the 'right person' seemed so absurd. There was no such thing. The right person wasn't someone who ticked all the boxes. The right person was the one you chose to love, again and again, flaws and all.

And you had chosen him once.

The real question now was whether you still would.

He straightened, his resolve hardening like molten metal cooling into steel. What kind of love was it if he could stand by and watch you settle for less than what you deserved? Not less in status or wealth, but less in the kind of happiness that made life worth living. What kind of love let you spend the rest of your days with someone who could never truly make your heart race?

Seonghwa wouldn't let that happen—not if he could help it.

His gaze lingered on the Kuromi figurine one last time before he moved toward the back room. He needed to think, to plan, to figure out how to tell you everything he should have said years ago.

If there was even the slightest chance that you still felt the same way, he would take it. Because this time, he wasn't letting fear or pride or anyone else's expectations get in the way.

This time, he was going to fight for you.

"Well...? Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" you asked, your voice sharp, as you stepped into the house. Your mother flinched, bowing her head slightly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. She hesitated for a moment before coming up to you slowly, her eyes brimming with guilt.

"Yunho called," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said he wishes not to force you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humour. "Of course, it took an outsider's words for you to finally see how exhausting this has been for me," you said, your tone cutting. "All this talk about marriage, about finding the right man... who is it really for? Who am I doing this for, hm? Is it for my own happiness? Or... oh, right." You smiled grimly. "It never was about my happiness, was it? It was about keeping up appearances, about pleasing everyone but me."

Your mother's face crumpled as her gaze fell to the floor. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths.

Your father, who had been sitting silently at the dining table, let out a long, weary sigh. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as though trying to steady himself. "We thought we were doing what was best for you," he said, his voice low, burdened with regret. "We thought... if we guided you toward someone like Yunho, we were ensuring a future where you'd be safe, secure."

"Safe?" you repeated, your voice breaking. "From what? From being myself? From choosing the person who actually makes me happy? You never trusted me to make my own decisions. You never thought I was capable of knowing what I want, what I need."

Your mother reached for your hand, her touch tentative. "It wasn't like that," she said, though her voice wavered. "We were scared. Scared that you'd make a mistake, scared that you'd regret it later, scared that—"

"You mean you were scared," you interrupted, pulling your hand back. "Scared of what people would say. Scared of what the neighbours, the relatives, society would think. But you never stopped to ask me what I thought. What I felt."

Tears glistened in her eyes now, spilling over as she shook her head. "You're right," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're absolutely right. We were selfish. We thought we knew better, but we didn't. We never meant to hurt you, but we see now that we did. We hurt you by not listening, by not trusting you."

Your father stood, his movements deliberate, his face sombre. "If he's the one you want, if he's the one who makes you happy, then we'll support you. No more pushing, no more trying to control your life. It's your choice. It always should've been your choice."

For a moment, the room fell silent. The tension that had loomed for so long finally began to dissipate, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief.

You inhaled shakily, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. It wasn't a perfect resolution—there was still so much to work through—but this was a start. A start you'd been longing for. "Thank you," you said softly, the words fragile but sincere. "Thank you for finally understanding."

And as your mother pulled you into a trembling embrace, you allowed yourself to hope that things could finally change. She smiled softly, brushing a hand against your cheek as if to assure you it was okay now. Your father stood behind her, his expression a mixture of pride and something deeper—perhaps the weight of finally letting go.

They exchanged a glance before your father nodded toward the door. "Go," he said quietly, his voice firm but warm. "Go where your heart tells you to. We'll always be here."

You blinked, stunned by their words, and for a moment, you couldn't move. But then, the weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an urgency that made your pulse race. Without another word, you turned and rushed out, barely remembering to grab your keys on the way.

Your car roared to life as you sped through the streets, your destination clear as day in your mind. Star Mars. The silly name you'd suggested in passing all those years ago, never imagining he'd actually use it. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Would he still want you after all this time? Did it matter? Even if he didn't, you needed him to know. You needed to tell him how you felt—how you still felt.

Parking haphazardly in front of his store, you didn't waste a second before bolting toward it. But as you reached the doors, your heart sank. The store was dark, the lights off, the doors locked. "Closed" hung starkly on the door, though the shops around it buzzed with life.

You froze, staring through the glass, confusion and dread pooling in your stomach. It's not even closing time yet... Had seeing you earlier bothered him that much? Had you pushed him away again, without even realising it?

Slumping against the door, you bit back tears, the overwhelming sense of missed chances clawing at your chest. Sure, you could come back another day. But you'd already lost so much time, wasted so many years pretending you didn't want this, pretending you didn't love him. You didn't want to waste another second.

Your gaze drifted inside the store, scanning the shelves. Your breath caught when you noticed something was missing. The Kuromi figurine—the one you'd lingered on earlier—was gone. You frowned, stepping closer to the glass. It had been there before. Where had it gone?

"Looking for this?"

The familiar voice made you spin around so fast you nearly stumbled. There he was, standing just a few feet away, the Kuromi figurine clutched in his hand, still encased in its protective plastic.

Your breath hitched as tears filled your eyes. "You took her off the shelf?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you took a tentative step toward him. "Where were you planning to take her?"

He smiled softly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears of his own. "I was going to take her to her rightful owner," he murmured, his voice steady but tender.

Your heart stopped at his words, and you whispered shakily, "Was? So you're not taking her anymore?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Why not?"

He hesitated, the weight of years of longing and regret pressing against his chest. But then, the words of the customer from earlier echoed in his mind. Don't wait until it's too late. He looked at you—really looked at you—and knew, without a doubt, that this moment was the answer he'd been waiting for.

Taking a careful step forward, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing softly against yours. His breath hitched when your fingers instinctively curled around his, holding on as though letting go would shatter everything.

"Because you're already here," he murmured, his voice trembling with unspoken emotion.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your heart felt whole again. The ache of countless nights spent longing for him, convinced you'd never feel his love again, melted away. Here he was—right in front of you—just like all those years ago. Yet, it felt different now. It felt... right. Because this time, neither of you would let fear or doubt stand in the way. This time, you were both ready to fight for it, to grow, to compromise, and to hold on.

"Hwa, I... I need to tell you something," you began, your voice shaking, each word heavy with the weight of years spent in silence. Your eyes searched his, desperate to convey everything your heart had been screaming in his absence. But before you could say more, he smiled—a small, trembling curve of his lips that held every ounce of love and pain he'd been holding back.

His eyes glistened as he leaned in, his forehead gently meeting yours, grounding you, binding you in a way that no words ever could. The moment felt infinite, a pause in time where your souls met in unspoken understanding.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, raw and honest. Before you could process the words, his lips found yours, soft and warm, carrying all the unspoken promises, all the years of longing, all the love you thought you'd lost.

The world blurred and softened around you—the hum of the street and the glow of the city lights dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the steady warmth of his hands cradling your face, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect rhythm with yours.

In that kiss, you felt everything: the heartbreak, the yearning, the hope, and, most of all, the love that had endured time, separation, and pain. It was as if every broken piece of your heart was mending, every crack filled with the warmth of his love.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads remained pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet night. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen, his touch tender and sure.

"This time," he murmured, his voice steady but full of emotion, "I'm not letting you go."

And you knew—you both knew—that this time, nothing would keep you apart.

Istg, this wasn't meant to be so long. I wasn't even sure I wanted to give it a happy ending at first, but then I just kept getting carried away and voila. I swear I am working on Yunho's chapter of By Order of the Black Pirates bit by bit hehe just had to get this out of my system first.

As always, thank you for reading and hope y'all liked this one! Do let me know your thoughts! <3

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