#past minsung

[warsinmyhead]

Sharp Dressed and Very Impressed

CW: Implied 18+

@r3dblccd

[r3dblccd]

: ̗̀➛ @warsinmyhead, fast forwarded from here ❄️

Minsung was nervous. Very nervous. Why was he nervous again? Well, he never really met anyone from Hiro's family before. He's only heard a few things about them. He knew in reality there was nothing to be anxious about, he was an open book. But, obviously, he wanted to make a first good impression.

Earlier in the morning he baked some cookies so that there would be enough time for them to bake and cool down a little once they were done and for him to pack them up just in time for him to head out. He wanted to express his gratitude for being invited over somehow, and he figured that would be a good way to do it. So, here he was at the front door, with a box full of sweet treats in one hand and the other reaching up to knock on it.

When the door opened, he gave a polite bow to the figure before him and smiled. It was Hiro. "Hello. Thanks once again for inviting me here. I haven't come too early, right?" Minsung likes to be punctual, but he did head out a little earlier, just in case there was too much traffic around this hour.

[hansomeskz]

Invisible string

Everywhere Minho had been, Jisung was sure to go. The universe dragged him along until they stumbled into each other's lives.

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Warnings: Alc*hol, swearing, mention of d*ath (lighthearted,

Minho always takes his breath away. The way he effortlessly glides across the ice, the way he makes every jump and turn look like second nature. Jisung trails behind him, admiring the way the older boy lights up whenever they lock eyes. “Why won’t you dance with me, Jisung-ah?” “Oh my god, do you want me to eat shit?” Jisung runs his hands down his face in mock exasperation, and Minho grins at him. “It wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m so sure it won’t be the last.” He opens his mouth to argue but just lets out a dramatic huff as Minho stretches out his hand. “I’m not doing it.” It isn’t until Minho is pulling him close and spinning them both so fast that they topple to the ground that Jisung let himself laugh, dropping the feigned annoyance. “You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” Minho just cackles ---

Jisung pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders, but it does nothing to ease the chill running down his spine. Autumn always left him wishing the summer could’ve lasted a little longer, but he finds himself forgetting the breeze as slender fingers intertwine with his own.

“This park was my favourite when I was a kid” Minho sighs from beside him, bumping their shoulders together as he took in the damage time had done to his childhood oasis. The benches practically crumbling on either side of the disintegrating pathways, the garbage piling up around the long-forgotten trash cans. Jisung suddenly feels bad, wants to patch the holes in the concrete, wants to rebuild the world around them just the way it existed when Minho was younger “I wrote a lot of my songs here the past couple of years” Jisung pauses, glancing at Minho. The older man smiles softly, urging him to go on. “I wonder if they would’ve been better if things here weren’t so….”

“Your songs are good, Jisung-ah.” Minho is quick to interject, the fondest smile on his face. “But I think I like them more knowing you wrote them here.” Jisung feels the red creeping up his neck, rolling his eyes. “The good ones are the ones about you. Everything else is subpar at best.” Minho laughs at that, causing Jisung’s heart to skip a beat. They sit on one of the more intact benches along their path, pressing their thighs together to stay close. When Minho offers his pocket to Jisung to keep his hands warm, he happily accepts. The silence between them is light and comfortable as they watch the couples stroll down the twisting paths together, making up backstories for people they will never meet. 

It isn’t until the sun starts to set and the chill has leaked through to Jisung’s bones that they get up again, wandering a bit further into the park to find something warm to eat. They find somebody selling Dakkochi and Minho insists on paying. “I could’ve paid” Jisung huffs before he starts to eat. Minho shrugs and just smiles at him.

Jisung starts to shiver as the sun tucks itself below the horizon. Minho curls his arm around him and kisses his hair. “Let’s get you home, hm?”

“We can stay a little longer. The stars might come out if we’re lucky.” Jisung smiles at him and tucks himself into the older boy’s side. “Ah, I’ve already seen the brightest one today” Minho muses, eyes never leaving Jisung. “Tch, what has you feeling so cheesy today? Let’s swing for a bit before we go, the playground is never this empty.”

Minho hums thoughtfully before looking up to the sky “I’m always cheesy when I’m with you. Race you to the swings?”

The sun was warm beating down on Jisung’s back. Chan stretched out in the grass, beaming up at him as the two soaked up the last rays of sun before the leaves started to fall. “I’m glad we finally made the move.”

“Me too, hyung. I think this town might be good for us.” Jisung pulled his earbuds from his pocket, holding one out towards Chan. The older man took it, closing his eyes to try to immerse himself in the low-fi beats playing softly through it. “I think so too. It’ll be nice to get away from..” Chan trailed off, eyes flashing with worry. Jisung hated when Chan looked at him like that. “We don’t have to talk about him.” He sounded a little colder than he intended when he replied but Chan just nodded understandingly. 

“It’ll be nice to get a fresh start. This park’s kind of bumming me out, though.” Jisung snorted at that, shrugging before laying back. “I think it’s… charming. Or unsettling, whatever you prefer.” Chan barked out a laugh and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“I’m going with unsettling. Hey- Ji... I have a proposition for you.” He couldn’t help but notice the way Chan’s eyes nervously flitted between him and the people passing by. Sighing he propped himself up. “We can’t get a dog, Chan. The lease-“

“No-no, it isn’t that. But now that you mention it..” Jisung shoved him gently as he tried to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. “Seriously, bro. What’s up?” Chan took a deep breath before he sat up fully, scratching the back of his neck. “The label, they love my beats but.. but I think they’re starting to lose patience waiting for me to write up the lyrics. I think... I think I could use your help.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Chan squeezed his arm gently, the touch sending a shiver through the younger boy’s spine. “Listen- I know you don’t really share your writing but… Jisung-ah, you’re so talented. I think people deserve to hear what you have to say. My label would love you, and I want nothing more than to do all of this with my best friend. At least think about it?” Jisung frowned as he shook his head. “I only ever write about him anymore. It’s nothing that should see the light of day.”

“But that’s what I’m saying, Ji. I think you have a story to tell. And.. don’t you think it’d be therapeutic? To put all your feelings out there in a constructive way?” Chan’s gaze burned through him, now. Jisung floundered, searching for something to say. “Just think about it, Ji. I’m not asking you to say yes right now.” Chan smiled reassuringly, and Jisung couldn’t risk seeing disappointment on Chan’s face today. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask, Ji. Now, I have to get up before I go insane. Race you to the swings?”

*

The winter chill has settled into Jisung’s bones but to savour the smile on his boyfriend’s face he pretends he doesn’t feel a thing. Minho is smiling up at him, raven strands blowing in the wind as he finishes tying up the blond boy’s ice skates. “You’re so whipped, baby” Jisung teases, rising from the bench and following Minho out onto the pond. “I’m not the one coming out in the freezing cold because my boyfriend batted their eyelashes a little.” Jisung’s ears burn but he hopes they can just chalk it up to the icy wind. 

Minho always takes his breath away. The way he effortlessly glides across the ice, the way he makes every jump and turn look like second nature. Jisung trails behind him, admiring the way the older boy lights up whenever they lock eyes. “Why won’t you dance with me, Jisung-ah?”

“Oh my god, do you want me to eat shit?” Jisung runs his hands down his face in mock exasperation, and Minho grins at him. “It wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m so sure it won’t be the last.” He opens his mouth to argue but just lets out a dramatic huff as Minho stretches out his hand. “I’m not doing it.”

It isn’t until Minho is pulling him close and spinning them both so fast that they topple to the ground that Jisung let himself laugh, dropping the feigned annoyance. “You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” Minho just cackles.

Hyunjin was huffing and puffing beside him. “It’s fucking cold” he finally spat as he pulled his scarf farther up to shield his face from the wind. “It’s not my fault you agreed to come here, maybe next time you should pick a hobby that isn’t winter-based.” Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped out onto the frozen pond, joining the flow of the people around him. 

“It’s not a hobby,” Hyunjin whined, grabbing tightly onto Jisung’s arm. “I just can’t embarrass myself in front of Chan on Friday. I need the practice.” Jisung laughed at that, putting a hand over Hyunjin’s. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” 

The two skated laps around the pond, Jisung weaving them in between the dozens of people who had a similar idea of skating on what felt like the coldest day that winter. Hyunjin stayed on his feet, surprisingly, and the two spent the afternoon gossiping about their friend Felix’s last party. 

“I heard he won’t be having another any time soon.” Hyunjin laughed when Jisung looked at him with wide eyes. “I heard his roommate wasn’t stoked to come home to Changbin and Seungmin in his bed, completely flipped out on him.” Jisung grimaced, shaking his head. “Can you blame him? I already don’t like having them in my house, let alone desecrating my bed.” Hyunjin laughed and shrugged. “Well, isn’t there something kind of romantic about needing each other so much that you can’t wait until you get home?” Jisung’s stomach churned and he held a hand up. “Please, for the love of god, stop talking.” 

When he looked away, a dramatic scowl on his face, is when he saw him for the first time. The most beautiful man Jisung had ever seen. Raven black hair fell into his eyes, a nose hand sculpted by God himself. The man skated around the curve of the pond ahead of them, a peaceful look settled over his sharp features. The world seemed to stop when they lock eyes across the way, and Jisung felt like he couldn't breathe. The stranger smiles lightly at him, and- oh, fuck.

It’s like it happened in slow motion. The ground seemed to slip from beneath Jisung’s feet, and the stranger’s warm smile turned into gleeful laughter as the brunet hit the ground, groaning. Hyunjin let out a dramatic yell, falling as he tried to avoid tripping over Jisung. “You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” 

*

They sat quietly at a table near the window, basking in each other’s company and watching the rain fall. The cafe around them is quiet, with barely anyone sitting at the tables around them. Jisung curles his hands a little tighter around his iced americano and turns to the man across from him, smiling softly. Minho stared out the window, smiling to himself. The raindrops that have settled into his hair begin running down his face. Before he could absent-mindedly wipe them away, Jisung is reaching across the table and brushing them away with his thumb.

He smiles brightly, admiring the way Minho’s ears turned red as he turns to glare at him. 

“You’re so annoying” Minho huffs, waving Jisung’s hand away. He just laughs at his boyfriend’s annoyance, shaking his head. “Do you need a refill, jagiya?” Minho holds out his empty mug, the remnants of his hot chocolate lingering at the bottom. “I need something to help me cope with knowing you.” 

“They don’t serve rum here, but I’ll see what I can do.” Minho’s giggles follow Jisung to the counter. God, Jisung thinks as his chest swells, Minho’s laughter is his favourite sound in the world.

When he makes it back to the table, he slides into the chair next to Minho instead. The older boy is quick to curl his arm around Jisung’s waist and press a chaste kiss to lips before looking back outside. “The rain in the spring,” he pauses, glancing to make sure Jisung’s listening. He hums in acknowledgement, eyes never having left the older man’s face. Minho’s ears turn red again as he opens his mouth “It always reminds me of you.”

Jisung smiles shyly, heat creeping up his neck. “You can’t just say things like that, it’s gross.” Minho scoffs and sucks his teeth before looking back out the window. “I mean it. You know- the spring rain is what breathes life back into the world after the winter, right? It’s the reason the world continues after the suffocation of the snow.” If Jisung wasn’t blushing before he definitely is now. He reaches out and intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently. Minho keeps going, turning to smile at him. “You’re my spring. You breathed the life back into me.” Jisung doesn’t know what to say, so he presses their lips together instead. Minho laughs lightly into it and lets go of his hand in favour of resting a hand on his cheek. As Jisung places his hand over top he can’t help but think they fit so perfectly together, every curve of Minho being designed to be joined to Jisung. They don’t pull away until they’re both left breathless. 

“I love you, Jisung.” Minho is looking at him with a look Jisung knows is reserved just for him. He looks so soft, so genuine. It’s rare to see this look on his face, but Jisung soaks up every second of it. “Thank you for loving me..” he trails off, trying to find enough letters in the English language to express exactly how he’s feeling right now. He knows that no matter what he says, Minho will know exactly what he means. He knows that Minho feels it too, he can see it in everything he does. Words will never be enough, so he just sighs and says “You’re too good to me.”

Jisung was having maybe the worst day of his existence so far. He started that morning by spilling his coffee all over himself and his car seat. On his way into the studio, he hit a pothole head-on and destroyed one of his tires. Once he finally showed up, two hours later than he’d planned, most of the songs he’d submitted ended up getting rejected, the investors saying something about them being too depressing, and just not aligning with the angle the label was hoping to go (“We’re trying to appeal to younger people,” They said. “We would LOVE more love songs!” Jisung completely resents this.) It wasn’t even 11 am and he was ready to turn in for the day; to consider trying again tomorrow. Only to add insult to injury, it started pouring on his way to the coffee shop down the street from Chan’s apartment. By the time he made it inside, Jisung was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering. He thought about how much he hated the spring, it rained far too often and far too much. 

He approached the counter and was suddenly face to face with that gorgeous man from all those months ago. Jisung hoped he was imagining the flash of recognition in his eyes. His own eyes flickered down to the man’s name tag. Minho. “What can I get for you?” Minho asked, smiling warmly. “Can I just get a large iced Americano, please?” The raven-haired man nodded happily and punched in the order, telling Jisung his total. His heart dropped when he patted down his pockets to find them empty. “Fuck- seriously?” He sighed, taking a step back. “I forgot my wallet. Just.. forget it.”

As Jisung turned to leave he heard Minho clear his throat awkwardly before he spoke. “It’s uh... it’s alright. Your order will be ready at the end of the counter.” Jisung lookrf at him, wondering if he was imagining the tips of Minho’s ears turning bright red. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Minho flashed him another warm smile and walked off to make Jisung’s coffee. He watched Minho work, admiring the peaceful look on his face as he mixed the espresso into the water. Jisung was left alone when Minho briefly slipped into the back and eyed him curiously when he returned with a small to-go box. He pushed it, alongside the Americano, towards Jisung. “You look like you could use something sweet, too. I hope you like chocolate.” Jisung could’ve cried, and if he didn’t want to cling to the last shreds of dignity he had, he would have. “You don’t have to-“

“It’s alright, take it.” Minho smiled at him again and Jisung’s chest tightened. Beautiful inside and out, he thought. “Thank you. Seriously. You’ve been too good to me.” Jisung took them and left, no longer thinking about the chill left behind by the spring rain.

*

Minho has had a lot to drink tonight. Jisung tells him as much as he’s dragged to the middle of Felix’s living room where the rest of his friends are dancing. He’s not sure if Minho hasn’t heard him over the music, or maybe he’s just ignoring the voice of reason. Jisung melts into the older man’s touch when they start to dance, Minho giggling and twirling him around the room. Their laughter rivals the blaring bass before turning to cries of frustration and annoyance as Felix squeezes between the two. “Sorry, just wanted in on the fun.” Their friend smiles his most dazzling smile, and after batting his eyelashes he’s forgiven. “Hyung, can I borrow Jisungie?” Minho laughs and steps back, nodding “Only if you give him back, Yongbokie” He reaches out and pinches the blond’s cheek before giving them their space. “What’s up, Lix?” Jisung curls an arm around his friend’s waist, smiling. Felix curls his fingers into his shirt, leaning in close. “You and Minho… you’ve been together so long. How do you do it, Jisungie?”

“Did something happen between you and Jeongin?” Jisung pulls him closer, worry evident on his face. Felix shakes his head but the look on his face does nothing to ease his mind. “No, no... I’m just scared, you know? You and Minho… you make it look so easy. Why do I always feel like it’s so hard?” Felix looks like he’s seconds away from tears so Jisung pulls him off the dance floor and to a quieter corner of the apartment. 

They sit close together and Jisung rubs circles into his friend’s back. “It’s not easy, you know? It’s hard to just… let yourself trust somebody like that. To give yourself away. Minho and I… when we’re having a hard time we make sure to talk to each other. You can’t just expect everything to be good all the time, you know?” Felix nods weakly, looking up at him. “If you love Jeongin and he loves you… you can find a way around whatever you’re going through right now. But you have to do it together.” Jisung takes his fingers through Felix’s hair. “Thanks, Jisungie. Let’s.. let’s get you back to your man.” Felix stands and stretches his hand out. Jisung takes it gently and follows Felix back into the party, still in full swing. When they mind Minho again, he’s dancing with Hyunjin. Chan is only a few feet away, smiling fondly at his boyfriend. Jisung steps up beside him, bumping their shoulders together. Chan just ruffles his hair and pushes him gently towards the dance floor. 

When Minho spots Jisung he’s quick to abandon Hyunjin, curling his arms tightly around his waist instead. “I missed you so much, Jisung-ah.” He presses a few sloppy kisses to Jisung’s cheeks before just beaming at him. If Jisung feels disgustingly lovesick about it, nobody has to know. “We should get you home, baby.”

“Can’t we dance a little longer?” Jisung can’t say no to Minho. Not when he’s looking down at him with the stars in his eyes and a pout on his lips. “Just two more songs.” Jisung agrees, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Four songs later (there’s just no way to say no to Minho when he looks so happy) the music has slowed down. Jisung buries his face in Minho’s neck, closing his eyes. Minho rubs his back gently and kisses the top of his head as they sway to the music. Everything is perfect. There’s no place he’d rather be.

Not too long after that they head out onto the warm summer night and start the short walk home. Minho isn’t extraordinarily steady on his feet tonight, so Jisung all but carries him home. By the time they’re through in their apartment, it looks like Minho could sleep right where he stood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” Jisung manhandles the older boy into the bathroom, taking extra time to make sure he’s removed all of the makeup on both their faces. “I’m so lucky to have you, '' Minho mumbles, curling his fingers around Jisung’s arm. He smiles softly and brushes the raven strands off his forehead. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Getting Minho changed and into bed proves to be a challenge since he would much rather hang all over Jisung, but once they’re curled together under the blankets, Minho pulling him as close to his chest as he can, Jisung is happy. He feels happy. “Thank you for taking care of me” Minho has his face pressed into his hair, so it takes a second to make out what he says. Jisung laughs lightly, kissing his chest. “There’s nobody else I’d rather take care of.’

Jisung couldn’t quite remember how many shots he’d had. Changbin was cheering him on while he plucked the lime from Seungmin’s mouth. He felt victorious, everyone around him giggled and took videos of the act. “You’ve been insane tonight” Chan laughed as he clapped a hand on Jisung’s back. That’s when his stomach started to churn, so he forced a smile and patted Chan's back gently before excusing himself “to go piss”.  

He pushed open the first door he saw and, to his utter dismay, was not greeted by the sight of a bathroom. He stumbled into the room and locked eyes with none other than Minho. “Do you have a garbage bin?” Minho’s eyes blew wide and he was quick to hop up and bring it to him, patting his back while he unleashed the absurd amount of tequila he’d consumed throughout the night. 

Once he’d gotten it all out of his system he pushed his bangs back, coughing once before taking a step back. “Sorry” he choked out, embarrassed and swaying slightly. Minho put the garbage down, reaching out before Jisung could trip over his own feet. “Maybe you should sit down,” he said quietly, closing the door and ushering Jisung to his bed. If it had been any other person, Jisung would’ve argued he was fine and returned to the party, but something about how Minho watches him with so much concern convinced him to sit, watching Minho with wide eyes. “Let me get you some water.” the older boy said quietly, stroking Jisung’s hair gently before heading out into the still-raging party. 

When he returned a couple of minutes later, Jisung had made himself quite comfortable. He was curled under Minho’s blankets, looking like he could fall asleep any second. Minho barked out a laugh that startled Jisung enough for him to prop himself up. “I brought you some water and something to take to hopefully dull the hangover.” He handed Jisung a few pills and the water. “My parents always told me not to take pills from strangers” Jisung mused, but took them anyway. Minho laughed again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad you listen to them so carefully” 

“They also told me not to talk to strangers, but I wouldn’t be speaking to the prettiest man I’ve ever seen if I listened.” Jisung wasn’t sure where this bravery came from (though Jeongin would suggest it’s likely the endless shots of tequila) but he was proud to see a red flush creep up Minho’s neck to his ears. “I suppose you wouldn’t be, no.”

“I thought you banned Felix from having any more parties,” Jisung teased, raising his eyebrows. “It was to avoid finding strange men in my bed. I guess this party’s been a bust for that, too.”

“I’m not a strange man!”

“Agree to disagree. The first time I ever saw you, you almost broke your ribs. Then you stole goods from my store.” Jisung sputtered out some form of defense but Minho was too busy laughing to hear it. He brushed the hair off Jisung’s face, smiling fondly at him. “But I don’t mind this as much as I mind the other two.”

There was a moment of quiet between them, Jisung’s face burning under the intensity of Minho’s gaze. “You can stay here tonight. I don’t know if you could get home on your own.” Minho’s offer was sincere and sent Jisung spiralling. “Ah- no, I can just walk home with Chan, it’s really not that-“

“I don’t think you could make it home safely. Seriously, I’ll sleep on the floor if it makes you feel better. Just stay here.” Minho squeezed Jisung’s arm gently, and the touch set his skin on fire. “I’ll take the floor, at least. Or we can share, there’s more than enough room” Jisung could feel guilt pooling in his chest picturing Minho sleeping on the floor, imagining the way his body would ache after. “We can share” Minho smiled again and stood. “Let me get you something to change into.”

“I can sleep in these-“

“Don’t be stubborn.” Minho rooted through his drawers before tossing something more comfortable in Jisung’s direction. He sighed, offered a quiet thank you, and slipped out to find the bathroom and change. He came back a few minutes too soon, he realized, when he pushed the door open to see Minho’s bare chest. Minho simply smiled at him and pulled on the shirt he was holding. Jisung pretended to look away, embarrassed. “Sorry-“

“I change at the studio all the time, people see me all sorts of ways” Minho laughed, pulling Jisung back to the bed. “The studio?” He asked, sitting on the edge. “Yeah, Felix and I teach at the same studio.”

“Oh, you dance? That’s so cool. I’ve always been too clumsy to dance.” Jisung blushed as he said that, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “ I can teach you sometime.”

“I’d like that, but didn’t you used to work at a cafe?”

“I did for a bit while I finished up school, just to help bridge the gap, but..” Minho smiled at Jisung, shrugging lightly. “Now I’ve graduated, so I can focus more on what I love doing.” Jisung’s heart swelled at how honest Minho sounded. “That’s really great. You must be happier now.”

Minho nodded before he helped Jisung get comfortable. He placed the garbage can beside the bed. “Just in case,” he said softly, stroking Jisung’s hair.

Once they were both in bed Jisung just couldn’t seem to shut himself up, but Minho didn't seem to mind. They talked for hours about anything and everything. When they realized that they wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, they slipped out to Minho’s balcony to watch the sunrise. “Thanks for taking care of me tonight,” Jisung said, a little embarrassed. Minho bumped their shoulders together gently and watched him with a soft, sleepy smile. Minho blamed the sleep deprivation when he spilled out something silly and heartfelt. “There’s nobody else I’d rather take care of.”

*

When Jisung met Minho at that party, he never could’ve predicted this. The weeks turned into months turned into years of the two being attached at the hip. The people around them hustle and bustle in the wedding hall, trying to get everything ready. Jisung and Minho, though, they’re taking a moment for themselves. “You just… you look so handsome” Jisung breathes, curling his arm around Minho’s waist. The older boy laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “I could say the same about you. I really could.”

“But you won’t.” Jisung teases, pulling him even closer. Minho tucks a loose strand of hair behind Jisung’s ear and smiles. “Yeah, but I could.” Their moment is cut short when Jeongin comes running up to them. “Hyunjin says that it’s an emergency, and he needs somebody sensible. Minho, we need you.” Jisung feigns hurt that he isn’t considered the sensible one, but knows better than to actually argue. Minho has always been his calmer half. 

The three step into Hyunjin’s room in the event hall, admiring how beautiful he looks in his all-black suit. “I’m in crisis.” Hyunjin turns to face them, struggling with his cufflinks. “We can tell” Minho teases, stepping over to help him. “I don’t mean- you’re so annoying.” Hyunjin’s huffing and puffing seems more frantic than usual, and Jisung tells him as much. “What if Chan doesn’t show? What do I do if he’s just not there?” Minho laughs at the absurdity while Jisung and Jeongin look on in stunned silence. “Are you hearing yourself? You’ve been inseparable since before I even met you guys. You’re a fucking moron if you think he’d skip out on your literal wedding day” Minho is looking at Hyunjin in pure amusement, and despite the tone, his words seem to comfort Hyunjin.

“That’s why you called us in here?” Jisung asks in disbelief. “To ask if we think Chan is going to show?” Hyunjin seems embarrassed when he nods but it doesn’t stop Jisung from laughing at him. “You’re crazy, man. Chan’s obsessed with you.” Jeongin’s phone rings, and after a few short sounds of acknowledgement he hangs up. “Sounds like it’s time to go” Jeongin smiles at them. 

The ceremony goes off without a hitch. Chan, unsurprisingly, does show up. Minho quietly whispers jokes to Jisung when his eyes grow glossy at the sight of two of his best friends exclaiming their love in front of God and the government. Jisung blindly reaches back until Minho laces their fingers together, and they exchange gentle squeezes and loving glances until Hyunjin and Chan are heading back down the aisle. 

It’s not until the ceremony is in full swing and everyone’s had a few drinks that Minho and Jisung get a moment to themselves again. They sneak outside for some fresh air and sit against the wall, staring up at the sky. After a few beats of comfortable silence, Minho speaks up. “You actually cried during the ceremony, huh?” Jisung laughs lightly, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder. “I love weddings. There’s something so sweet about them. A day where everybody just… celebrates how much two people love each other. A day where you kinda lose all sense, it’s all just feeling how you feel and not being ashamed to put it on display.” Minho hums in acknowledgement, falling silent again. 

They watch the stars twinkle through the light pollution, not worried about anything except each other’s company. Minho breathes in as if he’s going to speak again, but closes his mouth after a few seconds. Jisung looks at him, squeezing his hand gently. “What’s on your mind?”

“Would… would you ever want to get married?” Minho looks nervous, eyes darting across Jisung’s face. He waits for a glimmer of amusement or playful mockery, but it never comes. Instead, Jisung just smiles and nods. “I’ve always dreamt of it. I just… never wanted to rush you. I’m happy with you. If we never got married, just… raised the cats and lived together, I would be perfectly content.” Minho furrows his brows “You’ve always dreamt of it… but you don’t want to if I don’t?”

“It never really seemed like your thing, you know? I don’t want you to think too much about it if you aren’t… if it’s not something you’d be ready for.” Jisung swallows thickly, only able to hold Minho’s gaze for a few seconds. “I’d like to get married, too.” Minho’s voice shakes, so Jisung squeezes his hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. To you.” He lets out a breathy laugh and Jisung’s heart skips a beat. “Obviously to you.”

 “When would you want to get married?” Jisung asks, unsure if he’d like the answer ahead. “I… as soon as we can.” When Jisung locks his wide eyes with Minho’s, the older man is smiling fondly at him. “That’s what you really want?”

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Jisung. The universe had us tied by a little string ever since we were born, you know? It brought you to my hometown. It brought you to my favourite place to skate in the winter, brought you to my cafe back when I was a barista... brought you to Felix so that we could meet. We’ve been pulled along by that string our whole lives. What’s the harm in tying the knot? Making it feel a little shorter?” Minho sounds so genuine. They tease each other a lot, but Jisung knows Minho would never joke about this. His eyes sting and his vision blurs. Minho can only laugh at him fondly and reach out to cup his cheek. “That’s a pretty thought, Minho.”

“Only the best for the love of my life.” Jisung sniffs, moving to sit in his lap so he can see him better. So he can get closer. Minho wipes away his tears, smiling so fondly that Jisung isn’t sure he can even breathe right now. “You’re my future, Ji. I want to spend the rest of my days with you.” Jisung can only nod, burying his face in Minho’s neck. He tries to catch his breath, to collect himself, but when Minho wraps his arms tightly around him he can’t seem to stop crying. “I love you” he chokes out, and he feels Minho tangle his fingers into his hair. Minho doesn’t say it back, but Jisung feels it all over. They don’t make it back to the reception.

Instead, Minho and Jisung call an Uber and head back to their hotel. They spend the night tangled in each other, whispering promises of their future. How pretty it is to think that all along, they were tied together by an invisible string. 

[nunap]

If I had a dollar for all the times chan sang about being in love with his best friend I'd have 2 dollars but that's enough for me to make a whole fbi personality profile about him and speculate

[jjmorelikeotp]

Rmb when jinyoung talked to jb informally and he didn't bat an eye? He would have beat the crap out of bambam or anyone else but not jinyoung?? And everyone was like "yea cuz they always talk without the formal stuff all the time off camera" just not on camera for the performance basically

Im not saying this is soulmate behavior but. This is soulmate behavior.

Jisung forgot Minho was older than him 😄

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[2baabbies]

🖤 Holding Back from You (hyunchanlix x reader part 3; stray kids x reader)

Crossposted under 2Babbies on Ao3 <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (WIP)

Pairings: established hyunchanlixreader, established background minsung, slight references to past hyunebini?

Words: 16220

Summary: Holding back from you is never easy for Chan. You and your boyfriends are aware of this fact when Chan suggests switching your dynamic and trying a new kink, hoping it might help him destress. You expect a challenge, but you, Felix, and Hyunjin are happy to try anything if it means helping your overworked boyfriend. (song quote and fic title are from Taylor Swift’s ‘Dress’)

Fluff + Smut + Humour + Slight Angst/Comfort

afab+fem!reader

CWs: nsfw, cringe jokes I’m sorry, insecure/burnt out chan, insults/swearing at each other (but with love), drinking alcohol (it’s wine babes; no dubcon they’re not even drunk), crying during sex, “tough love” treatment (might seem mean idk), gratuitous pet names, uhh this fic ended up being hyunchan focused but felix is loved too I promise 🫶🏻

Smut Tags: pegging, mommy/daddy kink (but like, not who you would expect?), discussing kink/kink exploration, dom/sub dynamics (sub!felix trying to dom, dom!chan trying to sub, soft and mean dom!reader, switch!hyunjin), communication during sex, color system for safewords, teasing, begging, praise, slight degradation, chan and felix are a little bratty, some dumbification, choking and breathplay (chan), virginity roleplay (hyunjin), rough sex/manhandling (chan), anal fingering, overstim, dacryphilia?? (no one’s really getting off on it, chan just needs to cry his feels out), chair sex, aftercare (including hyunlix in the background), cunnilingus, unsafe/unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be like these fools)

Taglist: @bookswillfindyouaway @rixenluv

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation or to train AI, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are always welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we’re both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you’

The coziness of Chan’s bedroom is unlike anything you have ever experienced. While not quiet, it brings you a certain tranquility that you have never quite been able to capture on your own. The downtime you spend in this room with your boyfriends has turned into little fragments of your own personal Heaven. You look forward to every second you can steal with them between their busy schedules. You are all together now, crammed into Chan’s bed with only the purple lights on the wall to illuminate you. Music is playing in the background, instrumental tracks Chan arranged himself. You recognize some of them as being released songs, and some are still only demos. Waiting for Chan to perfect them and release them to your beloved Stays.

Felix is closest to you, letting you use his chest as a pillow. His brow is furrowed as he reads something on his phone. You could turn your head and easily see his screen, but you are too tired to care. Chan is curled up on his other side, his nose brushing Felix’s shoulder as he mumbles tiredly. His cheek is smushed into the pillow and he is wearing his exhaustion, his face puffier from lack of sleep because of the upcoming album. Hyunjin is spooning him from behind, littering kisses onto his neck and shoulder as they chat drowsily. Their legs are tangled together, and Hyunjin is rubbing soothing circles over Chan’s stomach under his shirt. You are not fully listening to their whispered conversation, but you can see Chan’s playful smile and the slight quirk to Hyunjin’s pouty lips.

Felix speaks and rumbles your ear over his chest, “I don’t know how people only adopt one cat…”

“Stop looking at cats,” Hyunjin orders.

“But this one is named Sprinkle and she has a sister named Cupcake…”

“Baby,” You whisper, “You’re just gonna make yourself sad. You know you can’t adopt a kitten right now.”

“I could…”

Chan chuckles. You hear clattering and shouting in the kitchen as Jisung and Changbin begin to argue over something.

“I don’t think you should subject an animal to our chaos. It’s bad enough y/n has to deal with it.”

Hyunjin raises his head to frown at Chan.

“Are you comparing our girlfriend to a pet?”

“No,” Chan mutters.

“Meow,” You offer.

“She’s certainly as cute as a kitten,” Felix says.

“Am I?”

You flutter your eyelashes and Hyunjin sighs dreamily, nestling back into his spot with Chan.

“Yeah, my kitten,” Felix replies.

“I’ll be your kitten.”

“Discord kitten?”

Felix smirks at you and Hyunjin groans.

“Ugh, you ruined it.”

Chan snorts as you move to straddle Felix’s lap. Small hands come to rest on your back as you nuzzle your noses together.

“Anything for you, daddy.”

“No,” Hyunjin whines, “Don’t enable him.”

Felix tilts his head, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“Anything?”

Chan smacks your bottom, making you squeak and squirm in Felix’s lap.

“Be good, you two.”

“I didn’t do anything,” You whine, pouting at Felix.

Felix hums and squeezes your plush flesh where Chan had hit you.

“Poor kitten, he’s so mean to you.”

He, rather shamelessly, gropes your backside. You huff and reach back to grab his hands, halting his actions.

“Stop feeling me up.”

“You feel so good, though. I should make you my new stress ball.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst thing you’ve ever said!”

You move his hands up your back as they all laugh at your disappointment. You slump forward and Felix pulls you closer. He pecks a chaste kiss to the top of your head, a peace offering after his mischievous behavior. There is a long pause, a heavy silence that falls over the four of you. It is the kind of silence that usually melds into more silence, and leaves you feeling assured that there is nothing left unsaid. Today the silence does not carry on. You hear a sharp inhale from Chan before he quietly begins another conversation.

“I want to do something.”

“Like what?” Hyunjin replies.

“Like… a kink thing.”

“Right now?” Felix questions.

Chan is already flushed, but he quickly dissolves into a flustered mess at the bold assumption.

“N-Not now… Just… sometime soon, maybe…”

“What is it?” You ask.

The amount of kink exploration you and Chan had done together was not entirely extensive, but you thought you knew all of his preferences and aversions. The line for comfort was still vague in your relationships with Felix and Hyunjin though. Sure, you had established your boundaries at the start of sleeping together, but you were lovers now and were exploring uncharted territory. You can see Chan’s hesitation to continue, and his cautious glance at the bedroom door to ensure the others would not hear his soft confession.

“It’s, um… I’ve just been thinking of like… d-daddy kink stuff.”

You smile fondly at the nervous pitch in Chan’s tone. It is understandable why he would hesitate to bring it up; your group had only ever used ‘daddy’ as a joke. It was a bit of a joke to Chan himself, but you are suspecting now there was some truth behind his façade of mocking it.

“Oh?” Felix prompts, instantly intrigued by the suggestion.

Hyunjin nuzzles Chan’s neck and mumbles, “Oh, that’s not so bad. You’re so anxious, I thought you wanted to try something really extreme. Like, a car battery hooked to your nipples or something.”

You burst out laughing at Hyunjin’s chaotic remark and Felix stares at him, bewildered at what he just said. Chan is still in his own head, and still on course to ramble an explanation for himself.

“B-But not like the usual way. Like the opposite way.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asks.

“L-Like, you don’t call me daddy. I call you daddy… o-o-or m-mommy- whatever you prefer… I think i-it might help me destress. But if it sounds like too much it’s fine, I just want to talk about it a bit- we don’t have to do anything.”

There is a pause that makes Chan hide his face in the crook of Felix’s neck. Felix pecks the top of his head while you give him a patient pat on the arm.

“Chan, do you want to bottom?” Felix eventually asks.

You have to laugh at the abruptness of it, and try to stifle it with your hand when Chan nods shyly into his shoulder. Hyunjin tsks and leaves a butterfly kiss on Chan’s shoulder as he murmurs:

“That’s what you’re nervous about? What, you think Felix and I can’t top you?”

“N-No, I just… I’m always domming everyone, so like… I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Oh, Channie,” You coo.

“We wouldn’t be disappointed,” Felix assures, “And we’re happy to switch things up for you. Whoever you need, we want to make you feel good.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement.

“You always do it for us. Felix and I can manage to switch it up for you.”

You pout.

“What about me? Is pegging not on the table?”

Chan snickers and peeks up as you straighten in Felix’s lap and cross your arms. The youngest stares in confusion, only slightly less offended by your outburst than when Hyunjin brought up the car battery. Hyunjin in turn looks mildly perturbed.

“Since when do you peg us?” He asks.

“Since- whenever- I’ve pegged Channie before.”

“When?”

“I don’t know! A while ago!”

“You never peg me!”

“You never asked!”

“Alright, alright,” Felix interrupts, “Let’s put a pin in this. This is about Chan right now. We’ll come back to pegging later.”

Chan is laughing hysterically at you and Hyunjin as you throw your arms up in frustration. Your boyfriend glares softly in retaliation.

“We will be coming back to this,” Hyunjin asserts, “You were saying, Chan?”

Chan rolls onto his back, no longer hiding but still undeniably embarrassed by the conversation.

“Ah… I don’t like asking for what I want… I feel too… needy.”

“Do you know what you want?” You ask.

He shifts.

“Maybe…”

Hyunjin rests his head over Chan’s heart and lets one of his hands slip under the fabric covering his abs once again. Your mind gets sidetracked imagining Chan’s pattering heart, and how hot his flushed skin must be right now.

“You said you needed to destress,” Felix prompts, “Did you want us to treat it like a special occasion? Make it part of a selfcare day, or something?”

Chan strokes Hyunjin’s arm as he considers the option, then he nods hesitantly.

“Yeah, I think so… Um, it would be great if we were alone.”

“We can handle that,” Hyunjin assures, “We’ll make sure we have the house to ourselves.”

“Total privacy,” You reiterate, “No sneaking around. You’ll be able to fully let go.”

Chan swallows as he nods at the promise.

“Right.”

“Anything else, Channie?” Felix invites.

“No… I just want to make sure you’re all okay with it. If it’s too weird we don’t have to do it.”

“I’m into it,” You reply.

“Yeah, I’d be good with trying it,” Felix agrees.

“It’s not too weird, baby. We’re all comfortable, what’s important is that you’re ready to trust us,” Hyunjin says.

“I am… It’s just so hard for me to calm down lately. I-If there’s something you can do to make me relax before we try it, I think it would help a lot.”

“We’ll take care of you, Channie,” You purr, caressing his cheek, “We’ll be gentle with you. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Thank you…”

“Just let us take care of it,” Hyunjin adds, “You can just sit back and look pretty.”

“Ah… You know that’s not always one of my strengths…”

“You can do it,” Felix insists, “You’ve got the looking pretty part mastered already.”

Chan shakes his head, then whines when Hyunjin tucks his face into his neck and begins littering kisses there.

“Channie you’re so cute, what do you mean?”

“A-Ah, I dunno…”

He squirms from the attention Hyunjin is giving him. Your head perks up as Jisung enters the room.

“Yo, what are you guys doing?”

“Talking about pegging,” You answer nonchalantly.

Felix chokes while Hyunjin stops his assault on Chan’s neck to sit up and point at you.

“We will be talking about it. Prepare yourself.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

Jisung clicks his tongue.

“Well, alright. Supper is ready, you sexy freaks. Come get it before Bin eats it all.”

Hyunjin leaves one last kiss on Chan’s cheek before scooting off the bed. Chan makes a show of wiping his neck and face clean before the three of you follow your boyfriend out of the room.

It is later that same week that you, Felix, and Hyunjin put your plan into action. Chan is preoccupied in his bedroom, headphones on as he works away at his laptop. You peek in his doorway, noting his comfy sweats and the large black hoodie he threw on before resigning himself to editing his newest tracks. He does not notice you, too immersed in his work, so you find your other boyfriends in Hyunjin’s room and give them a thumbs up.

“He’s very stressed.”

Felix snorts.

“Why did that get a thumbs up?”

“Because this would be the perfect time to help him destress?”

Hyunjin throws a mocking thumbs up.

“Our boyfriend is having a bad time.”

Felix follows suit.

“Our boyfriend has anxiety!”

“Okay, dicks.”

You are still smiling despite their jokes. They meet you in the doorway, and Felix nods down the hall.

“I’ll take care of Han, if you two can get rid of Bin?”

“Can do,” Hyunjin whispers.

He follows your lead to the kitchen, where Changbin is making a snack. Hyunjin quietly leans against the counter, failing to look casual as he poses suavely. You roll your eyes at his shenanigans and clear your throat before speaking up.

“Hey, Bin.”

Changbin looks over his shoulder, assesses Hyunjin’s pose, then nods at you.

“Oh, hey.”

“What are you up to?”

“Just going to eat something then head to the gym for a bit. You?”

You smirk at Hyunjin as he tries to lounge against the counter, and instead accidentally knocks over a metal bowl that loudly clangs when it hits the floor. Changbin slowly turns, his brow gently furrowed as Hyunjin scrambles to tidy it up.

“We’re, uh,” Hyunjin clears his throat, “We’re just gonna hang out here.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?”

Changbin smiles innocently, but you see a knowing glint in his eyes when Hyunjin blushes at the question.

“You know. Doing something special together.”

“Something sexy?”

Hyunjin sputters.

“Maybe,” You tease.

“And you didn’t invite me?”

You cock your eyebrow up and look at Hyunjin, who falters before responding, “I didn’t know… You’d be into it…”

Changbin rolls his eyes.

“Well, you know, I’m open-minded?”

You giggle as Hyunjin covers his face and Changbin casually begins packing up his snack.

“Well, Bin, why don’t we talk about it sometime? Maybe then we’ll ask you to join us?” You offer.

Changbin keeps his back to you, but you can see the tips of his ears reddening.

“U-Um, it’s okay…”

Hyunjin tilts his head as Changbin finishes and steps past you swiftly, his head lowered to hide his flushed cheeks.

“I’ll, uh, spend some extra time at the gym. Stay out of your way.”

“You may want to catch a movie after that. Just to be safe,” You suggest playfully.

“Ah. Understood.”

Jisung leans in the doorway with his overnight bag as Changbin exits, and calls after him:

“Min’s on his way, if you want a drive. And, you know, somewhere to sleep for the night.”

“Yeah, I’ll be ready in a second.”

Jisung faces you and Hyunjin then shakes his head.

“Sexy freaks.”

“Takes one to know one,” Hyunjin shoots back.

Jisung grins and blows him a kiss before walking away.

Once Changbin and Jisung have left, you and Felix take on the task of separating Chan from his laptop while Hyunjin takes care of other matters. You enter Chan’s room carefully. He is on the floor now, back supported against his bed as he listens to his work. You can see him replaying the track on loop, brow furrowed as he searches for the missing piece. Felix kneels on the bed, drawing Chan’s attention as he feels the shift behind him. He looks over his shoulder and smiles, pulling down his headphones to hear you.

“Hey.”

“Hi, baby,” You greet as you sit beside him.

Felix sits behind him and dances his fingers over his shoulders before finding a troublesome knot and working at it. You caress Chan’s arm and offer him a sympathetic smile as he sighs and slumps in his spot.

“Tired?” Felix asks.

“No… just frustrated…”

You slide your hand over to rub his chest, your gaze softening as his eyebrows pinch.

“Ready for a break?” You suggest.

“Um… maybe a short one.”

He notes the silent agreement that happens when you and Felix lock eyes.

“Ah.”

“Channie,” Felix begins, as you slowly close his laptop and pull it from his lap, “This can wait until tomorrow, yeah?”

“U-Um, m’not sure…”

Felix is still working away his tension, humming softly to himself as he targets a particularly difficult spot. You feign disappointment, tsking in Chan’s ear before you gently catch his lobe between your teeth. He groans, lets you nip behind his jawline and tease his earrings with light flicks of your tongue.

“Please, Channie?”

“Mhm, well…”

You leave his side, hiding his laptop in his dresser drawer as Felix speaks in his ear.

“You deserve a break. Come on, let’s go.”

Chan offers little protest, he knows how futile it is at this point. When he stands you return to his side and take his hands, guiding him to follow you down the hall. Felix follows close behind. He loops his arms around Chan’s middle and pecks the back of his head with each step. You lead Chan to the bathroom, where Hyunjin has been hard at work.

A steamy bubble bath is waiting for Chan when you enter. Hyunjin is changing through playlists on his phone, stuck on making a decision when the three of you enter. He is wearing nothing but a pair of black silk pajama pants, giving you clear view of his muscled upper body and a not so subtle peek at the outline of his cock under the fabric. Chan pauses to drink him in before shyly looking away.

“You didn’t have to do all this… for me…”

“Oh trust, there’s more,” Felix sings.

You tug gently at the bottom of Chan’s sweater and kiss his shoulder.

“Strip down, baby. We have lots planned for you.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Hyunjin curses himself, “Hold on.”

He decides on a playlist and breezes out of the room while Chan pulls off his sweater. He chuckles when Felix snaps the band of his sweats.

“Don’t wait on him. Get to it, please.”

“Wow, bossy.”

“I said please.”

Chan obliges, strips himself down and eases himself into the tub with a giggle when you take his hand and help him in. You kiss the top of his head as Felix undresses, then comes to sit behind him in the water. They settle in and you perch on the edge of the tub to admire them when Hyunjin returns. He holds an open bottle of wine and two nice glasses between his fingers.

“Oh, Jin,” Chan protests, “Don’t waste your good stuff on me.”

Hyunjin gapes.

“It would not be a waste, and I decide what occasions are worth my wine.”

You roll your eyes.

“He means: this moment is special and we thought a glass might mellow you out. But if you don’t want it, or you don’t want us to drink, we can save it for another time.”

Chan chuckles.

“No, wine is good. I’ll have some. It, uh, still feels a bit excessive to bring it out just for me.”

“Just for you,” Felix breathes as he bunches his hair in one hand and reaches the other out to Hyunjin, “You’re adorably humble sometimes, you know, Chris?”

Hyunjin hands him a hair tie then gives you and Chan the two glasses of wine. Chan only blushes and takes a sip to avoid the compliment, while you inspect the maroon liquid sloshing around in your glass.

“Candles,” Hyunjin announces, speaking his thoughts, “It’s time for candles.”

Chan laughs as Hyunjin leaves the room again. You take a sip of your glass then hand it off to Felix, who takes a generous swig before smacking a wet kiss to Chan’s shoulder blade.

“Relax, babe. Lean back a bit. I’ve got you.”

Chan lets out a dramatic little sigh but obeys the order. He lets Felix pull him so his head is resting in his shoulder, and so he sinks more into the water. Felix’s arm wraps tight around his middle. Chan leaves his wine glass on the edge of the tub, and lets himself unwind a little more. You giggle when Felix tilts his head back to take another sip, then nuzzles his nose into Chan’s hair.

“You’re overdue for a good break.”

Chan sighs.

“Seems that way…”

Hyunjin enters the room again with a flourish, dropping a handful of pretty candles on the sink and brandishing a lighter. Chan pinches the bridge of his nose but stifles his complaints. You gather some bubbles from the water and teasingly blow them at Hyunjin. He whips around and flicks the lighter in your direction, three times, until it catches.

“Hey!”

“No,” Chan scolds, “Please, no.”

“We’re supposed to be helping Chan relax,” Felix adds, “What the hell guys?”

“Don’t bring bubbles to a lighter fight,” Hyunjin defends.

“Don’t light your girlfriend on fire,” You argue.

Hyunjin lights the candles and casts a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to get changed?”

“Oh, right. I just wore it under my pjs.”

Chan’s eyebrow lilts slightly.

“‘It?’”

You stand and pull off your top, revealing the bra of your lingerie set. You grin as you catch their attention, Hyunjin even pauses for a moment to give you an once over before continuing his candle lighting. You shimmy your bottoms off and fluff the skirt as it comes untucked. The black satin set is a one-piece, with lace details along the sides. The top is secured in the front with a large bow of ribbon, and tied around your waist is the silky skirt giving the illusion of a dress. You do a little spin and pose as Chan’s hungry eyes take you in.

“Baby, how long were you hiding that from us?”

“Wasn’t a secret for Jinnie or Lix. Look, we match,” You say, tugging at Hyunjin’s pants and gesturing to your own fabric.

“You do. You look lovely.”

“You like it, baby?”

“I do.”

“Good,” Hyunjin purrs as he sets some of the candles on the corner of the tub, “We got something for you as well.”

Felix interrupts Chan as he opens his mouth:

“Don’t say we shouldn’t have. You deserve it, and it’s a treat for us too.”

Chan smiles wryly and responds, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good answer,” Felix whispers.

“Now,” Hyunjin states when he finishes arranging the candles to his liking, “I have some things to finish setting up in my bedroom. I’ll leave you with our darlings to get nice and relaxed, and I’ll come get you when it’s ready. Deal?”

Hyunjin leans down to share a sweet kiss with Chan, who hums in agreement. Hyunjin rests one hand on his chest, then lets it wander up to his shoulder.

“Oh, Channie, you’re still so tense. Why don’t you let Lixie massage that out, hm?”

“Ah, o-okay.”

Hyunjin smiles and takes his leave, turning off the lights as he exits the room. The candles are all that remain to dimly illuminate the space. Felix takes another sip of his wine before handing the glass back to you. You take a seat on the edge of the tub and cross your legs, then prop yourself up with an arm behind you as you watch the two of them. Felix cracks his knuckles and hums in thought as his palms slide over Chan’s shoulders.

“Let’s see, where should I start? What’s sore, baby?”

“Honestly, everywhere is.”

Felix chuckles.

“Oh, well I’ll just start here… and then I’ll make my way everywhere else, hm? Sound good?”

Chan laughs breathlessly and nods.

“Yeah… Thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me.”

Felix begins his careful but firm massage of Chan’s muscles. He is diligent in the task, only pausing to peck kisses and murmur sweet praises with each knot he works through. Chan’s brow furrows a bit, and he cannot help the little moans and grunts that Felix draws with his deft hands. You leisurely sip your wine and watch them over the glass, locking eyes with Chan as he melts from the attention.

“Drink your wine, honey,” You instruct gently.

Chan’s eyelids flutter and he nods as he picks up the glass and shakily brings it to his lips. You can see his composure cracking as Felix successfully works out the weeks of stress that have literally been weighing on his shoulders. You tilt your head as Chan sighs softly and lets his head fall back on Felix’s shoulder. Felix takes the opportunity to kiss his neck, and smiles into it as Chan groans.

“Feel better?” You ask.

“M’yeah.”

Felix slides his hands around his middle and tentatively squeezes his chest. You giggle as one of his hands slips down to prod at his ribs, while the other cups over his heart.

“Felix.”

“Yes?”

“Stop grabbing me there.”

Felix slides his hands down, but still dances his fingers teasingly over Chan’s sides.

“You don’t like it? You have such pretty tits Chan.”

You wear a satisfied smile when Chan flushes, rosy from his face all the way down his torso where his lower half disappears into the soapy water. He goes to take another sip of his drink and squirms when Felix begins tracing the lines of his abdomen.

“So, so, pretty Channie.”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t you agree?”

Chan looks expectantly at you, but you only cock your eyebrow.

“Answer him, lovely.”

“Oh,” Chan stutters, “U-Uh, I guess. If you think so.”

“Tch, baby,” Felix sighs in Chan’s ear, “You’re so perfect. I just want to hear you say it.”

Felix’s hands begin roaming lower, under the water. Chan’s breath hitches and his legs part on instinct. You can see Felix teasing him, ghosting his touch over his thighs and expertly avoiding Chan’s arousal. Felix continues:

“I want you to say it, Chan. Tell me how pretty you are, then I’ll give you what you want.”

Chan swallows thickly and looks at you. You gaze at him through your eyelashes as you lazily drop one of your hands into the water. You do the same as Felix, groping and lightly scratching the inside of his thigh then doing nothing more. 

“Don’t you want us to touch you, Chan?” You prompt.

Chan inhales deeply and turns his face to the side, unable to look at either of you as he considers the task.

“You’ll… touch… I just have to say it?”

“Just say it,” Felix assures, “And be a good boy. We’ll do whatever you ask.”

“A-Ah, okay,” Chan whispers, “Mh-Mhm, m’pretty…”

You laugh softly.

“Again, baby. Tell us more.”

“Hah… I don’t… Can’t…”

“Sure you can,” Felix teases, “You always say it to us. Certainly, you can say it about yourself?”

Chan shakes his head.

“Mhm…”

“‘Channie is so, so, pretty,’” You purr, “Can you repeat that? Say it nice and loud for us?”

You pat his leg and retract your hand from the water. Chan whimpers and ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut when you grab his chin and tilt his head up again.

“Ch-Channie’s… S-So pret-ty…”

“Good boy,” You coo.

Chan huffs as Felix’s hands remain unmoving.

“Y-You’re not seriously going to make me say it again?”

Felix grins.

“Of course not, that was perfect.”

“Th-then why-”

“I told you, we’ll do what you ask. I haven’t heard you ask for it.”

“Felix, please, touch me.”

Chan jolts as Felix fulfills his request. His hips buck as Felix strokes his length, making him fill out in his hand. He groans as Felix grabs his hips and pulls him flush against him.

“You like that?”

“M-Mhm.”

You watch the smirk grow on Felix’s face before he whispers, “Yeah? Tell daddy how much you like it.”

“Oh, fuck,” Chan gasps.

His wine glass topples, and you catch it before it can shatter on the porcelain. This does not save the contents from spilling into the tub, red swirling in the soapy water. Chan shudders and watches it through his lashes as Felix kisses up his neck. You set the empty glass aside and sip your wine.

“I’m waiting,” Felix insists.

Chan groans.

“I like it, Lix. Feels good.”

“Hm? Again?”

Chan curses under his breath at the torturous rhythm enveloping his cock.

“Lix- d-daddy- I like it.”

His body quivers when you grab his chin and tilt his head up to face you.

“Spilled your wine, baby.”

“I-I know, m’sorry.”

“It’s okay, I can share.”

You lovingly brush away a stray hair curling against his forehead. You take a mouthful of wine then lean in to kiss Chan. He moans and returns it eagerly, allowing some of the drink to seep from the corner of his lips. You can feel it run down his chin, and catch his wrist when he reaches up to wipe it away. You draw back with a teasing smile as the red drips down his chest.

“You’re making a mess, honey.”

Chan is given no chance to consider his reply. Felix turns his head and licks his chin clean. Chan groans and watches Felix trail messy kisses down his chest to lap up the stray drops.

“Wow,” Hyunjin voices from the doorway, “Are you having fun?”

Chan whimpers as Felix paws at his chest. Hyunjin comes to stand behind you, leaning against the wall as he observes with you. You wordlessly hand him your glass to finish it off while you watch Chan’s reactions. He squirms when Felix laps at his nipple, then arches his back when Felix’s hands settle around his waist instead of jerking him off.

“Please… Pl-ease, Lix…”

Felix chuckles, a little meanly and looks up to study Chan’s fucked out expression.

“Learn some patience, baby.”

Felix threads his fingers in the dampened curls at the base of Chan’s neck and guides him into a kiss. Chan makes another pitiful sound and turns to meet him properly for it, caging Felix between his arms as he follows him up against the wall. For a second, you think he might try to take the lead, but Hyunjin spoils his plans by running a hand over his broad shoulders then pulling him away from Felix. Felix huffs and pinches his tongue between his teeth as he watches Hyunjin lean in to whisper in Chan’s ear.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, baby. It’s time to get out and see what else we have planned for you.”

Chan nods, sits back to give Felix space to get out of the bath. Hyunjin helps Felix out, giving you the opportunity to guide Chan closer to you. He rests his head against your side, then sinks down to nuzzle your thigh as you run your fingers through his hair. You loop your arm over his shoulder and give him a gentle pat.

“Good, baby?”

“Tired… and hard.”

You laugh and slide your hand to his chin to tilt his head up.

“We’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

Chan swallows and nods, eyes fluttering as you carefully close your grip around his throat. Felix smirks as he leaves in a towel, and Hyunjin begins the task of blowing out the candles.

“M’so lucky to have you,” Chan confesses, his eyes soft and searching as you gaze down at him in the dim light.

“We’re lucky to have you too, Chan. We wouldn’t have each other without you.”

He blinks slowly, his eyes glassy as your words settle in.

“It’s true,” Hyunjin agrees, “You’ve brought so much love into our lives. You’re amazing, Chan.”

You caress Chan’s cheek as he smiles bashfully.

“M’not… not that amazing…”

“Yes you are,” Hyunjin argues, “And we’re going to show you. Come here.”

Chan laughs as he extends his arms to Hyunjin, who guides him out of the water with a fond smile. He quickly hands him a fluffy towel and uses another to pat him dry. You ease up from your perch, setting Chan’s forgotten wine glass next to Hyunjin’s on the sink counter. When you turn back, Hyunjin and Chan are kissing. Chan’s arms are looped around his back, pulling him closer as their lips melt together. Hyunjin drops the towel he was holding then slides his hands up Chan’s front, before they settle on his broad shoulders. Slowly, they part and Hyunjin sighs. He takes Chan’s face in his hands and confirms his gaze before gently speaking.

“Are you okay? Still good?”

“Mhm, m’good.”

“We can stop whenever you need to, honey. Okay? We can just cuddle or take a break if you get tired.”

Chan nods.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

Hyunjin grins.

“Let’s go, Lix is waiting for us.”

Chan catches your attention before leaving. You meet him for a sweet kiss then pat his bottom gently to usher him into the hall.

Felix is waiting in the bedroom when the three of you enter, playing on his phone. He is lounging in the middle of the bed, wearing the silk button-up that matches Hyunjin’s pants and a pair of boxers. The shirt is big, just barely covers his firm thighs and gives the illusion of nothing underneath when Felix shifts to sit up. He sets his phone aside and smirks when Chan pauses to take him in. You hear his sharp inhale and watch his eyes drink in every sliver of Felix’s skin not covered in the black fabric. Felix has left the top buttons undone to tease you all with a peek at his chest.

You giggle and push Chan toward the bed. He stumbles forward with a grunt, and lets you spin him around before he falls on the edge of the bed. He blinks up at you when you cup his cheeks, then shudders under your gaze. Felix moves in behind him, wraps his arms around his middle and pulls his back to his chest. Felix winks at you then teasingly pecks Chan’s ear.

“Mhm, how are you feeling?”

Chan swallows and responds gruffly.

“G-Good…”

Felix chuckles and lets his hands roam over Chan’s chest. Chan sighs and leans back, fully relaxing into Felix’s embrace. His head falls back into the crook of his arm as Felix cradles him gently and gazes down at him.

“You took so long to come in here. Did ya miss me?”

Chan’s eyes twinkle. In moments like this he would usually grin and respond with a flirty quip that would disarm Felix’s cockiness. This time his lip trembles before he whispers his response.

“Yes…”

Felix smiles and offers a sympathetic hum before kissing Chan’s forehead. Chan’s eyebrows pinch gently and he melts at the gesture. His fingers curl in the silk shirt and he lets his eyes flutter shut, pouting gently as Felix presses more lingering kisses over his face. You watch Hyunjin observe them before retrieving a gift box from beside the bed. You ease onto the bed beside them and rest your hand on Chan’s warm chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. Chan whimpers when Felix finally kisses him deeply on his lips.

“Missed you too,” Felix murmurs, “My sweetheart.”

Chan takes a shuddery breath when Hyunjin straddles his lap. Felix leans back and lets Chan slump against him. Chan groans gently as Hyunjin leans forward and pecks his lips sweetly. Chan’s hazy eyes glance over the box when Hyunjin breaks away. You can see the protest forming in his mind before Hyunjin gently places his finger over his lips.

“My lovely boy,” Hyunjin purrs.

Chan moans softly and squeezes his eyes shut. He shivers and nods, encouraging Hyunjin to continue. Hyunjin smirks as Chan squirms beneath him in anticipation, and that delicious warmth creeps across his skin. Chan whines when you cup his chin and tease your thumb across his plush bottom lip.

“You’re such a good boy,” You whisper.

Hyunjin hums and grazes his hand against Chan’s cheek as he admires his embarrassed expression.

“Don’t you agree? Chan?”

Chan laughs softly as Felix’s hands begin roaming over his sides.

“Y-Yeah…”

Hyunjin slides his hand down to cup the back of Chan’s neck. His eyes finally flutter open, and his breath catches as your fingers slip through his hair.

“You’re going to be good for us?” Hyunjin continues.

Chan whimpers and jolts at the stimulation of all of your hands on him. He nods, exhaling a shaky breath as Hyunjin begins opening the box. Felix lovingly rubs his hand over Chan’s abs as Hyunjin pulls a black leather choker from the box. Chan shakily inhales as your hand caresses his flushed neck.

“Do you like it?” You ask softly.

Hyunjin takes his time unfastening the loop as Chan collects himself.

“I do…”

“It’s special, just for you,” Hyunjin murmurs.

Chan nods as Hyunjin gently fastens the choker around his neck. The leather connects at the front of the collar with a loose chain and a heart-shaped loop. Hyunjin hooks his finger into that loop with a soft smirk as Chan’s face burns from the attention.

“Suits you,” Felix whispers as he gently scratches his nails over Chan’s bare chest.

Chan makes a soft sound and looks up with loving eyes. Hyunjin pulls slowly, guiding Chan to straighten up as the collar tightens around his neck. Hyunjin teases him with a peck on the forehead and secures the chain between his fingers.

“You’re such a pretty boy,” Hyunjin praises, making Chan’s hips jump beneath him, “So pretty.”

“Yeah,” Chan breathes.

Hyunjin chuckles and keeps Chan in place as he tilts his head up to meet his gaze.

“Remember what I said?”

Chan blinks as he tries to form a response, a little dazed at the pressure around his neck.

“Mhn…”

“I promised to show you how amazing you are. Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Hyunjin coos as he pecks his lips, “So good for mommy.”

Chan hesitates as he registers Hyunjin’s words. You and Felix smirk and move off the bed as Hyunjin grabs Chan’s shoulders and kisses him, shoving him onto the mattress in the process. Chan moans and grabs Hyunjin’s hips as they roll against his. He returns the kiss eagerly and lets out a muffled groan as Hyunjin tugs on the chain. Chan tenses for a few seconds then relaxes, writhing slowly and desperately moaning underneath Hyunjin. Hyunjin pulls back with a sigh as Chan pants heavily. Hyunjin attempts to move in again but pauses when Chan puts his hand on his chest. Hyunjin’s eyes widen and he swallows thickly.

“Are you okay? Was that too much?”

Chan laughs breathlessly.

“N-No- yeah, but- j-just need a second…”

Hyunjin hesitantly brushes a curl out of Chan’s face, visibly worried when Chan grasps his wrist. Chan ducks his flushed face and huffs softly. Hyunjin watches patiently as Chan wipes his free hand over his face, then his face dawns with realization.

“Oh…”

Chan mumbles something, causing you and Felix to gently move in to hear him.

“What was that, Chris?” Felix whispers, voice careful and sweet.

“I… came…”

“Oh,” You echo, grinning at Hyunjin as he suppresses a humble smile.

Chan huffs out a laugh as Felix pats his chest.

“I guess you liked it?”

“I-I wasn’t expecting… him to call himself…”

Hyunjin eases off Chan’s lap and gingerly removes his towel, carefully wiping him clean.

“Mommy?”

Chan shudders and nods. You guide his head to rest on your thigh and run your thumb over the bridge of his nose as he catches his breath. Hyunjin tosses the towel on the bed carelessly and leans back with a sigh, tangling his legs with Chan’s as he looks him over. 

Hyunjin smirks softly and murmurs, “Sorry I’m so sexy.”

“M’sorry…”

Felix frowns and braces his arms on either side of Chan, forcing his gaze.

“Why are you sorry?”

Chan covers his face with his hand, interrupting your soothing touch.

“I don’t know, I’m embarrassed…”

You pull his hand away so Felix can peck his forehead before assuring him.

“Don’t be, baby… You didn’t do anything wrong…”

Hyunjin gently strokes Chan’s leg with a fond smile, watching as Felix pecks kisses down to Chan’s chest and you lovingly trace his jawline. Chan is still flushed from all the attention, and looks up at you with a heavy gaze. You give him a reassuring smile and pet his cheek.

“Why don’t you take a little break?”

“I think that would be best…”

Hyunjin hums in agreement.

“We haven’t been very fair to you, have we? Is it too much attention, baby?”

Chan hums softly, nuzzling his cheek against your lap as Felix sits up.

“He deserves it, though,” Felix assures, smirking as Chan shakes his head, “Don’t worry, Chan. You’re still our good boy.”

Chan laughs shyly.

“Stop…”

You giggle and let him turn to hide his face in your skirt. Felix rubs his back and snuggles closer to him.

“Mhm, but Chris…”

“N-No ‘but Chris’, be good…”

“Daddy doesn’t have to be good.”

“Oh my god…”

“Okay,” You cut in, playfully pushing Felix away, “Don’t overwhelm him. Come here, baby.”

You lead Chan to rest his head in the pillows and tuck him under the blanket, all the while glaring softly at Felix as he smiles smugly and rolls his eyes. You smirk and kiss Chan’s temple as you pat his chest.

“Just relax, baby.”

Chan laughs softly and rubs your arm drowsily.

“I’m very relaxed.”

You turn to face Hyunjin and Felix, noting the shudder that runs through the former when your eyes flick between them. Hyunjin is fidgeting now, anxiously avoiding your gaze. You snap your fingers then beckon Felix closer, which makes him blink in surprise.

“Lix, Hyune and I have something to take care of. Can you cuddle Channie- and be good?”

Hyunjin shudders and watches Felix begrudgingly crawl up beside your boyfriend.

“I’m always good…”

Chan snorts when Felix collapses in his arms and happily nuzzles his neck.

“You’re a little monster,” Chan mumbles, eyelashes fluttering as Felix settles in against him.

“Well, you’re gay.”

Chan wheezes.

“Real mature…”

You pat Felix’s bottom and quip, “Says the one dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

Chan and Hyunjin cackle as Felix bats you away, then pulls his shirt down to better cover his ass.

“Shut up and put your dick on.”

You giggle and step away from the bed, not without catching the perplexed look on Chan’s face and Hyunjin’s breathless chuckle.

“Oh, so… pegging?” Chan concludes.

Hyunjin flusters and falls forward on the bed, curling into a ball and hiding his face in the blanket.

“Don’t be so casual about it!”

Chan blinks slowly, obviously not expecting Hyunjin’s reaction. He then smirks as Hyunjin rises, cheeks flushed and lips pressed into an anxious frown.

“Are you nervous?”

“N-No…”

“You shouldn’t be, you’re used to taking it-”

“Christopher,” Hyunjin wheezes in warning.

Chan bites his lip to conceal his troublesome smirk. Felix chuckles and snuggles up to Chan, getting comfortable as he watches you retrieve your strap from beside the bed. Chan tucks his arm behind his head and relaxes as his other arm snakes around Felix’s waist. You note Hyunjin quietly gnawing on his lip, and his eyes widen as they meet yours. You raise your eyebrow as you equip your strap, letting your eyes travel shamelessly over Hyunjin’s flushed chest as you lift your skirt to adjust the toy. You smirk as Hyunjin covers his face and falls dramatically to the bed, his arousal very present beneath his pants.

“Baby…”

You hum in response, taking your time fishing lube out of the drawer as Hyunjin flusters.

“You’re so nervous, Hyunjinnie,” Chan coos.

“You’re acting like you’ve never had sex before,” Felix teases.

Hyunjin huffs as he meets their eyes.

“I know I’ve had sex before. I know I’ve bottomed before. But I haven’t done it like this before.”

“Like what?” Felix presses with a mischievous little glint in his eyes.

“Like… with her. It’s different.”

You ease beside Hyunjin on the bed. Slowly, as if sudden movements may startle him away. You lean close with a knowing smirk as he turns to face you with a pout.

“Do you feel like a virgin again, Hyune?”

Hyunjin shudders at your words and makes a mindless sound, something between a moan and a warble of embarrassment. Your lips widen into a grin as you stalk closer, following him as he slowly leans back on his elbows. His eyes flutter as you lean in, close enough that your breath washes over his faltering lips. He gapes for a moment and clears his throat before managing a husky reply.

“I don’t know…”

“I think you do, baby,” You whisper, just loud enough for Felix and Chan to hear as well, “Are you ready for daddy?”

Chan groans and throws his head back. It thunks against the headboard and he splutters curses, disrupting the tension between you and Hyunjin. You both pause to watch him whine, and Felix- while suppressing a laugh- cup Chan’s aching head to his chest. He eventually breaks when Chan dramatically wails and wipes away his tears. Felix kisses his forehead and gently rubs the back of his neck as he cackles.

“Are you okay, babe?” Hyunjin asks with a fond sigh.

Chan whimpers and shakes his head, then mumbles, “Hurts s’much…”

“Do we- should we take a break?” Felix asks.

Hyunjin shrugs and answers, “Chan’s call.”

Chan huffs and melts into Felix’s touch.

“God, my head…”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but yeah, it’s been pretty bad lately,” Felix murmurs.

Chan gasps and shoves him down to the bed, making Felix squeal as Chan jostles him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Nothing!”

Felix laughs and accepts the barrage of kisses Chan peppers over his face. Hyunjin sighs and throws his hand over his face as he sinks into the bedsheets. You smile patiently and watch him shift his hips.

“I’m embarrassed to still be hard after that joke…”

“Don’t worry,” You assure Hyunjin, “I’m hard too.”

Hyunjin laughs then swats your thigh.

“Yours isn’t real!”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not!”

You straddle his lap, making him lift his hand and blink at you with wide eyes.

“Let’s see what you think after trying it out. You can let me know if it feels real or not.”

Hyunjin lets out a breathy laugh as you brace your hands over his shoulders. His hands grip your hips while his eyes wander down to your chest; they follow the curves of your stomach until they land on the bulge of the toy beneath your skirt. His eyes flick back to yours again and he bites his lip as you tilt your head at him. You both glance up as Felix moans. He is sprawled out on the bed, shirt pulled open just enough so Chan can lap at his exposed nipple. Hyunjin huffs at the sight of Chan’s face buried in Felix’s chest.

“Chaaan,” Felix drawls, “You’re missing- mhmmm- them...”

Chan chuckles and licks along Felix’s sternum.

“I’m keeping an eye on them, don’t worry.”

“You really suck at domming, Lix,” You remark.

“Sh-hah-ut u-up,” Felix barely manages through an airy moan.

Chan meets your gaze as he nips at Felix’s shuddering chest.

“Enjoying the show?” He purrs.

Hyunjin scoffs.

“Stop being a distraction.”

Chan raises his head to stick his tongue out at Hyunjin and you giggle.

“Be good, Channie,” You warn, “It’s your turn after Hyunjin.”

Chan sighs and leans back, letting Felix gently push him off so they can both sit back and watch.

“Try not to concuss yourself this time,” Hyunjin demands.

Chan rolls his eyes and looks at Felix as his finger curls into the ring of his collar. Chan cocks his eyebrow and not so subtly eyes up Felix’s lips.

“Oh, you’re gonna keep me in line now?”

“I’m doing my best,” Felix whines.

“Both of you, behave,” You order.

Chan grumbles and shoves his face into Felix’s chest, who responds with a giggle as he plays with Chan’s collar. You hum softly, drawing Hyunjin’s attention back to you as you drink in the sight of his bulge under your lap. He swallows as you lean down, pressing him against the mattress.

“Still nervous, baby?”

“A little…”

“What’s making you nervous?”

You trace your fingers down his chest, over the lines of his abdomen. You can feel every stutter of his breath in this position. Hyunjin inhales shakily, his eyes lidded as he watches your hand go lower and lower.

“It’s different. New.”

“Scared you won’t like it?”

“N-No, of course not, I just…”

He trails off as your touch pauses at the hem of his pants and you meet his uncertain eyes.

“You can change your mind, I’ll stop.”

Hyunjin swallows and closes his eyes.

“I want this. I know that for sure so… don’t let me convince you otherwise.”

“Look at me, Hyunjin.”

He does. His eyes flutter open and meet your gaze, pupils blown wide as you lean in. You brush away the strands of hair clinging to his clammy skin, then cup his cheek as you lean in for a kiss. He returns it with a quiet moan, lets you press him into the sheets without protest as the kiss deepens. He inhales sharply when your tongue breaches his mouth and lets out a soft grunt as your fingers cup his chin. The kiss becomes messy and uncoordinated as you grind down in his lap, and you slowly part with a satisfied smirk. 

Hyunjin throws his arm over his face and groans. You do little to help him catch his breath as you press your hips down harder. You watch the perspiration collect on his temple and the heat rise in his cheeks as his body writhes beneath yours. He wipes his hand over his face and sobs into it softly as you rut your cocks together.

“Good?”

“Mhh.”

You giggle mischievously as he smiles at you, smitten and flustered.

“I meant it when I asked: do you feel like a virgin again?”

Hyunjin whimpers and shifts, failing to avoid your gaze as you cradle his face.

“Mhm…”

“Don’t go silent on me yet, baby,” You coo, “Answer me. Do you want daddy to fuck you like a virgin?”

Hyunjin releases a slow breath, his eyes rolling with the torturous motion of your hips.

“I want- fuck- yes.”

“Ah, Hyune. You’re so pretty like this.”

You glance up at Chan and Felix as they watch. Chan has Felix pulled into his lap, his nose is nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he observes. Felix fingers are pressed gently between his teeth, easing his anticipation as he watches intently. You return your attention to Hyunjin, carefully reading every reaction he has. You finally bring your hands to the hem of his pants, but not without teasing your touch down his front.

“So pretty. So delicate. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be gentle.”

Hyunjin chokes and nods, giving you an affirming hum as you lower his pants. You gasp softly when you find he has nothing underneath.

“Hyunjin. No wonder these didn’t hide your boner for shit.”

Hyunjin threads his fingers in his hair and keens when you rut your cocks together, now without a buffer. 

“Mhngh…”

You giggle and tug his bottoms off, leaving him bare beneath you. You slide between his legs then draw his thighs over your hips as he gazes at you with heavy eyes. Your eyes lock as you slide your hands over his hips and up to his sides. He grunts softly when you grasp his sides and frot your strap against his arousal. His back arches before he slumps with a huff.

“Like that?”

“Baby…”

“Yes?”

His head lulls to the side as he shudders.

“Mhh, s’good…”

You hum as you pop open the cap of the lube. Hyunjin gasps when you squeeze his thigh and push his legs open in your lap. You pause to take in the sight of his cock, hot and heavy against his abdomen. You take your time, pouring lube into your palm and warming it between your hands as he squirms and huffs beneath you.

“Still feeling good?” You ask gently.

He nods, watching your hands through his eyelashes as his eyes flutter shut. He lets out a relieved sound when you finally bring your hands to his cock. His hips jump ever so slightly as he chases your touch, and you tsk softly.

“So impatient, baby. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna take care of you. Wouldn’t want to ruin your first time.”

“More… You’re, hah,” Hyunjin moans then murmurs, “You’re mean…”

“I’m not mean,” You purr as your hands glide over his length, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, honey.”

Your hands roam to prop up his hips and tease the rim of his hole. He mumbles a curse and makes an animalistic sound as two of your fingers penetrate him. Your other hand sneaks back to his cock and he catches your wrist.

“Mhh, m’gonna come. Don’t.”

“Already? You’re really acting like a virgin…”

“Fuck you…”

Hyunjin whines as you withdraw your hands. You roll your eyes and hike your skirt up to expose your length as he kicks out in frustration. You lube the toy up carelessly, ignoring his hiss as some drips on his thighs. He yelps when you grab his wrists and push forward, pinning them above his head as you hover your face over his. He makes a desperate sound as you grind against him, his thighs twitching and his hands flailing at the rough contact.

“Is this what you want, Hyune? Or do you want me to be nice?”

“Mhh, nice,” He mumbles, pouting softly as you pry another moan from his throat.

You release his hands and lean back, sitting on your knees.

“Come here, baby.”

“H-Huh?”

He props himself up and you gesture him closer with two fingers. He hesitates and you huff quietly before cradling his sides and guiding him into your lap. He makes a soft sound of recognition and loops his arms around your shoulders as you help him sit in your lap. He blushes as he becomes more exposed, forced to spread his legs and let you loop your arms around his waist to accommodate the position. Still, he settles in with a soft moan as you gently peck his lips. He leans in eagerly, falling into a gentle rhythm of trading deep kisses until you murmur against his lips.

“Can you be a good boy for me? Hm? Wanna ride daddy?”

He groans and nods. You take the opportunity to return your slicked fingers back to his hole and slowly spread him open. His breath hitches and he silently moans as you prep him. Your lips ghost over his shoulder as his head falls forward to rest in the crook of your neck.

“Nhh…”

“You’re so fucking tight, Hyune…”

He nods, his hips jolting as you work him open.

“Good? Is this how you want it?”

“Hh?”

Hyunjin attempts to look at you, bumps his nose to your chin as you fuck your fingers deeper. You kiss his forehead and smile softly as he shudders.

“How do you want me, baby?”

“Oh,” He gasps, “I-I thought… Imagined we would… Just…”

You chuckle and he dreamily echoes the sound.

“Need to lay down?”

He nods and you gently ease him down on his back, giving him a break as you do so by retracting your hand. His soft pants fill the room as you line up your hips and give him a tender kiss.

“Is this okay?”

He hums and nods.

“I thought we were going to do that… face-down-ass-up thing.”

You snort.

“That’s not very romantic for your first time…”

He laughs.

“Oh right, I’m supposed to be a virgin. I’m having trouble getting into character, I think.”

You sigh wistfully.

“Yeah, you’re an awful virgin. I should’ve known better.”

Hyunjin giggles.

“No, no, I can be a virgin,” He insists playfully, toying with his hair as he continues, “Please be gentle with me?”

“Mhm, I’ll be gentle, sweetheart.”

You both smile into your next kiss, making it more teeth and tongue than a touch between your lips. He cups your cheeks and urges you closer so your chest is pressed against his. His hands absentmindedly trace the lace patterns of your lingerie as you press your cockhead against his entrance. He groans and relaxes with a muttered curse when you push in and bottom out. You tuck your face into his neck, nose at his pulse point as you feel his heart thrum in his chest. You reach down to pull your little silk skirt out of the way and take a moment to enjoy the intimacy. He wraps his arms around your waist and groans as you slowly begin your rhythm.

“Good? Not too much, baby?”

“No,” He murmurs, “S’perfect.”

You kiss his shoulder and caress his hips as you gently rock into him. He sighs and moans, lithe legs twitching each time you bottom out. He lets his head fall back, sweat dripping down his neck as you fuck him into the mattress. He lets out delicious restrained noises as your pace quickens. You draw back just enough to see his face, memorize the sight of him biting his lip and pinching his eyes shut in pleasure. His eyebrows arch and he eventually lets out a shameless moan, giving up on maintaining any composure.

“Fuck. That’s daddy’s boy,” You praise, feeling arousal and pride at the sight of Hyunjin choking out a moan.

“Ha-Hah, uhh, mhnn…”

You watch him with a devilish smile, dissecting every detail of his fucked out expression.

“Can’t talk, lovey?”

“Mh-hh-hard. H-Hard to, hhn, ngh…”

“Is daddy’s dick that good, baby,” You ask with faux sympathy, “Did I fuck my little boy stupid?”

“Yeah-hah…”

“Mhm, look at me.”

He huffs and manages to do as you ask. He moans as you press your forehead to his, then mumbles praise as you tilt your head and lock your lips together. The kiss is deceptively soft compared to the pace you’ve set with your hips, but you credit that to Hyunjin’s inability to focus at the moment. His mouth falls open and you move to pecking his chin and neck. His hips have not stopped moving, desperate to get you deeper. Your fingers clench in his flesh and his thighs tighten around your hips as he tries to meet you for each thrust. Any semblance of cohesive speech has been fucked away, now replaced with breathless pants and gasps.

After some time Hyunjin gives you a sort of warning, although the sound barely varies from his usual sounds of pleasure. You cup his face with one hand, watch it contort as his nails drag down your back, and murmur encouragement as your other hand slides down to his length. He finishes over your fist, making a mess between your fronts as he curses and whines. You giggle and kiss him sweetly as you help him through the lingering waves of pleasure, then you slowly pull out. You brace your hands on the bed and lean over him, staring intently as he heaves and melts into the sheets.

“My bad…”

“Hm?”

His hand clumsily wipes your stomach, smearing his cum over the silky fabric. You giggle, noticing that his bare chest is just as messy.

“It’s okay, baby. You did so well.”

Hyunjin hums.

“I love you so much…”

You share another kiss and you murmur back, “I love you too, Hyune…”

You trace your thumb lazily over Hyunjin’s hip as he lays back with a soft sigh. Your attention is drawn to Felix, sprawled in Chan’s lap and catching his own breath. Chan’s hand slips out of Felix’s boxers, and you snort.

“Felix, did you just-”

“Chan did it,” Felix sulks with a pout, “It’s his fault…”

“You always blame everything on me,” Chan coos, not-so-subtly wiping his hand on Felix’s shirt, “Take some responsibility, Lix…”

Felix whimpers and looks at you with pleading eyes. Hyunjin sighs and shakes his head with teasing disappointment.

“Yongbokkie…”

Chan kisses Felix’s neck as the younger whines and squirms.

“I tried…”

“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” You tease.

Hyunjin’s head lolls as he looks at your boyfriends. Felix shudders and turns, only managing to raise his hands before Chan catches his wrists and pushes him to the mattress. Felix huffs and makes a half-assed attempt at wrenching his wrists free before letting Chan hover over him.

“He’s picking on me…”

“Chan, be good,” You say sternly before letting your voice carry on with a honeyed tone, “Are you ready for your turn?”

Chan nods and shares a lingering kiss with Felix before leaving him to move next to you. You smile at Hyunjin, who drowsily blinks at the two of you as Chan fetches the used towel and swipes it over his chest. Hyunjin hums and his eyes fall shut as he gives you a blissed out smile. You giggle and reach up with pet his cheek.

“You’re so pretty, Hyune. So beautiful like this.”

Hyunjin mumbles a thank-you, either at your compliment or to Chan for trying to clean him. You notice Felix, curled up away from you at the head of the bed and call out to him softly.

“Lix, baby, everything okay?”

He gives you a thumbs up and huffs.

“Chan’s a fucking dick.”

Chan looks offended and throws his hands up with an eye roll.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to come! Silly me for doing you a favor.”

You laugh as Felix, without raising his head, points accusingly in Chan’s direction.

“Manipulator, mansplainer, manwhore. That’s all you are.”

“M’not a mansplainer…”

Hyunjin asks, “You’re not denying the other two?”

You redirect the conversation by giving Felix gentle instructions.

“Lix, can you help Hyune move?”

Felix whines and rolls over, looking exhausted.

“Babe, I’m fighting for my life right now.”

Chan shakes his head and moves instead, chiding Felix as he scoops his arms under Hyunjin’s limp body:

“You’re so dramatic, Felix.”

Felix sticks his tongue out and you smirk, shaking your head fondly.

“Okay, sweetheart. Can you at least throw me a pillow?”

Felix does manage to do this before he slowly rolls himself into a more comfortable position. Chan carries Hyunjin up beside him and helps him settle as you rise from the bed. You stand in the middle of the room, hands on your hips as you look around. You find what you are looking for, a chair, and are briefly distracted as you slide it over beside the bed. Felix whining draws your attention back to them, and you sigh softly as you take in the sight: Chan leaning over Hyunjin and kissing Felix as his hand roams over his lap. Felix squirms and whimpers as Chan cups him through his boxers, while Hyunjin observes them with an amused look. 

You sigh and pick up the pillow, then use it to smack Chan’s bare bottom. Hyunjin laughs as Chan yelps into the kiss with Felix, then turns to glare at you over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Stop torturing Felix and get over here.”

“Ooh,” Hyunjin teases.

Chan leaves Felix’s side and the younger hides his heated face in Hyunjin’s shoulder with a huff.

“I wasn’t torturing him,” Chan defends as he smirks at you, “You’re just jealous. You need my attention that badly, right, babygirl?”

You toss the pillow on the chair then cross your arms with a smirk as Chan comes to sit in front of you on the bed. His face and chest are still flushed, and the kisses left on his neck and lips have made his skin bloom a deep shade of red. You admire the marks as you lean closer to study his cocky smirk.

“Not jealous.”

Chan’s eyelashes flutter and he reaches out to pull you closer. His hands caress and squeeze your sides as you follow his lead and rest your hands on his shoulders. He draws you between his thighs as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, but you keep your feet firmly planted on the floor.

“No? We’ve barely touched you tonight, sweetheart. You must be getting restless. Let me take care of you.”

You shudder at the offer but bite your lip and shake your head.

“I told you to be good with Felix, and you didn’t listen. Now you’re trying to entice me? You’re not being a very good boy, Channie…”

His eyes flick down, drinking in the way your lingerie cups your breasts as you begin to crawl into his lap. One of his hands slides down to feel your backside and he meanly squeezes the back of your thigh.

“I could take care of you, baby…”

At the same time Chan attempts to guide your thighs around his sides you shove him to the bed. Your nimble fingers catch the heart-shaped loop of his collar and pull it towards you as your palm splays against his chest. Chan groans, his eyes shutting as he pushes against your hand on his chest. He peeks up at you with a smirk, fighting against the force of your hand with ease. He opens his mouth for some snarky quip, clearly intent on turning things around. When he goes to speak you rise up and drive your knee into his chest, knocking the air out of him and successfully pinning him to the bed.

Hyunjin gasps as the bed rocks and you pull the collar tight to restrict Chan’s breathing, more intense than the light play your lovers were experimenting with earlier. Chan’s eyes widen and he wheezes softly, and you notice Felix rising in your periphery. As Chan’s back arches you fall back, straddling his lap and loosening his collar. He takes a deep breath and relaxes with a sigh, blinking rapidly as he stares at the ceiling. You give Felix and Hyunjin a reassuring smile and they relax. Chan is rock hard beneath you, his length grazing the inside of your thigh as you lean forward to find his gaze.

“Channie,” He inhales sharply and looks at you in a daze, “We already promised to take care of you tonight. Be a good boy and listen… to… daddy…”

“Fuck…”

Chan swallows and nods as you slowly pull the collar tight again.

“Now… weren’t you saying something?”

Chan shakes his head and replies in a rough voice, “N-No… No…”

“Are you okay?”

He nods.

“Mhm. Stars.”

“Stars?”

“S-Saw stars for a second…”

You toy with the chain as he shakily pushes himself up.

“Okay… Deep breath, baby.”

He exhales then breathes in, capturing the air that you tore from him moments ago. Your hand rests on his cheek as your other hand slips beneath his collar, gingerly touching his skin.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” He pants, “No, baby, that was so good…”

“I just don’t want to be too rough with you.”

He laughs breathlessly and leans closer. You meet him for a kiss and smile against his lips as he guides your hand back to the chain. You secure it in your grip and cup the back of his neck as he murmurs against your lips:

“Please, keep going. Please, baby.”

You hum and kiss his forehead, then feel his shuddery breath wash over your neck before he plants a wet kiss to your collarbone. One of his hands comes to your waist, trying to keep you close as you lean back to look down at him. You are hovering over his lap now, having ended up there when you moved in to check on him. You kiss the top of his head as his hand creeps lower to the tie securing your skirt.

“Want me to fuck you now, Chan? Are you going to be a good boy?”

He moans and nods as he blearily looks up at you. You pull on the chain just a bit, and his eyes lose focus for a second.

“God, Chan, it didn’t take long to put you back in line… You are a manwhore, aren’t you?”

Your words make him fumble, fail to pull your skirt loose as he groans and nuzzles his face into your chest. He presses lazy open-mouth kisses to your breasts, and after a few attempts manages to pull the ribbon open on both the bra and the skirt. The skirt flutters to the floor as he tugs it away, and the fabric that was covering your breasts falls open. You moan softly and push him to lay down, without any resistance this time.

“Answer me.”

“Babe,” He sobs.

You sigh and feign annoyance as you kiss him again, silencing his complaints as you blindly find the lube in the bedsheets beside you. You sit up and tilt your head at him as he swipes his hand through his hair.

“Roll over. I need to prep you.”

Chan groans but listens, rolling onto his stomach after you ease off his lap. You slip your thigh under his, propping up his hips, and begin to wet your fingers. He whines and you roll your eyes before slipping one of your hands beneath him to grip his cock.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He whines again but nods, rutting into your fist as you begin spreading your fingers between his cheeks. You let him whimper and beg into the sheets, and offer him little acknowledgement as you carefully slip your fingers inside his hole. His fingers curl into fists and he buries his face with a broken groan.

“Talk to me, baby.”

His hips jolt as your fingers nudge a sensitive spot and he chokes on his words. You lean over to check his expression, noting the drool wetting the sheets and the way his eyebrows are pinched in desperation. He blinks away his tears as he nuzzles the bed pitifully and you coo softly.

“Give me a color, baby.”

“Gr-Green… Green, ohgodplease…”

You glance over at Felix and Hyunjin, both focused on Chan’s reactions the same as you. You giggle as you spread your fingers and work him gently with your hand.

“I think it’s been too long since we’ve done this, Channie. You can barely keep it together.”

Chan grunts and wipes his face, already a mess from the pleasure. 

“M’fine…”

You pull your hand away and Chan wheezes, not dissimilar to the sound you drew from him earlier.

“You’re on the verge of tears and I’m not even inside you yet.”

Chan just sobs and lets his front melt into the bed.

“Baby…”

“And to think you were making fun of Hyune… He took it much better than you…”

Hyunjin giggles at your comment. You stand from the bed and lightly slap Chan’s ass, making him jump and moan.

“Get up.”

You drip more lube over your fingers and shaft as Chan shakily pushes himself up. He looks at you over his shoulder, eyes lidded with tears gathered in his lashes. His nose is red and his lips are swollen as he again attempts to wipe his face clean. You move to lean against the chair as you watch his pitiful glare.

“Chan, if you can’t get up I’m not fucking you. Stand on your fucking feet and stop being a brat.”

He sniffles and nods as he slides himself to the edge of the bed. You extend your hand to him, giving him some support as he stands on his quivering legs. His cock is standing flush against his abdomen and beginning to weep, despite his orgasm from earlier. He bows his head as he stumbles into your arms and you accept him sweetly, taking your time to wipe away the tears that begin to pour down his cheeks and trickle from under his nose.

“Why are you crying, baby? Did I hurt your feelings?”

Your voice is soft, holding genuine care as you mildly taunt his emotional outburst. You tilt up his chin, forcing him to face you as your thumb continues swiping away his tears. He chokes out a sob and shakes his head.

“Ngh- n-need you- love you,” He mumbles, “M’sorry I’m such a me-ess…”

You shush him gently and guide him closer for a kiss, ignoring the salty taste on your tongue and the dampness that transfers to your face. You hold his cheeks as you trade kisses, give him breaks to sob against your lips before your tongue delves back in to explore his trembling mouth. After one particularly long kiss you pull him into a hug, letting him hide his face in the crook of your neck. His arms close tighter around you immediately, grasping onto you like a lifeline as you sway and rub his back.

“I love you so much, Chan,” He hiccups as you murmur to him sweetly, “So, so much… You work so hard and I’m so proud of you… You deserve everything, my sweet boy… I want to give you everything…”

Chan cries as he pulls back to face you.

“I-I just wa-ant you… I just want…”

You nod your head and watch him patiently as you tuck stray hairs out of his face. He fails to get his words out but you give him an understanding smile.

“I know, baby. It all feels like a lot now, doesn’t it?”

Felix catches your attention by waving a tissue within your reach until you take it. You gingerly dab Chan’s face dry and his hands move up to wipe your face clean. His lower lip trembles as he stares at you, hanging off your next words.

“You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. I just need you to keep doing what you’re doing, okay? Hm? Can you keep going for daddy, or do you need a break?”

“Keep going,” Chan croaks.

You smile.

“That’s my boy. We’re almost done, you know? I really want to see you let loose, alright? As soon as you come we’ll be all done. Is that what you want?”

Chan’s eyelashes flutter and for a moment he seems to have forgotten the situation he is in. He leans forward so his forehead touches yours and hums.

“I wanna come…”

“You will, baby,” You kiss him chastely and pet his cheeks, “Look at me. One last question: do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be mean?”

He nuzzles his nose against yours and takes a long time deciding, worrying you that he missed the question in his daze. Eventually he does choose, and seems certain in his answer.

“Mean, rough, please.”

You nod and kiss him again before reassuring, “I love you. Remember the colors, alright? Yellow to slow down, red to stop.”

He nods and replies, “I love you.”

You smile sweetly and gently guide him to turn, pressing your bare chest against his back as you bring him to the chair. You help him brace his hands on the back of it and he takes the hint when you slide your hands to his hips and push him to sit on the cushion. He shivers at your hot breath on the nape of his neck and groans weakly as you help him spread his legs over the sides of the chair. His hips roll slightly, chasing the friction of his cock brushing against the soft pillow. You reach around and slap his abdomen, making him squeal and tighten his thighs around the back of the seat.

“If I catch you doing that again it’ll be your dick, understand?”

He rests his forehead in his arms and whimpers.

“Ye-es…”

Your hand slides over his back, feeling his shoulder blades before you trace your finger down his spine. His breath shudders and you see his thighs squeeze tighter in an attempt to stop himself from thrusting. The chair creaks as you rest your knee on the edge of it and slide it under his thighs, guiding him to arch his back and raise his hips. You look at Felix and Hyunjin, both have sobered up from their orgasms and are watching you and Chan carefully. You lean forward to kiss his shoulder and whisper.

“Are you ready, love?”

“Yes, yea-”

As soon as Chan gives you the go ahead, you pull his hips up and sheath your strap inside him with one motion. He grunts and loses his footing for a second, struggling to adjust to the position as you begin thrusting steadily. He whines and closes his fists tight on the back of the chair as he drops his forehead against it. More desperate sounds of pleasure spill from his lips as you push to the hilt with each thrust.

Hyunjin smirks softly and Felix chuckles before rising from the bed. If Chan notices them begin to move around the room, he is too fucked out to acknowledge it. He just groans and leans over the back of the chair as he lets you set the pace. You grip his thighs tight and use the leverage of your knee on the chair to support your thrusts. His legs wobble, but eventually you feel your pace and his stance are secure enough for you to slide one of your hands up to his cock. He gasps and melts at the feeling, letting his cheek smush into the crook of his arm as his body sags beneath you. You think if your weight was not on the edge of the chair right now it would have tipped already with how limp Chan has become.

You are vaguely aware of your boyfriends, cleaning up the bed and each other, but you are more focused on Chan. His little breathy moans, his cock throbbing in your grasp, and the way his toes are curling against the floor. On one punctuated thrust one of his legs gives out and Chan cries out softly.

“Y-ellow-”

You forget your own rules for a moment and stop completely, making Chan whine and shake his head. You huff softly and pet his side as you lean in to kiss his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, baby? What do you need?”

“Can’t… Can’t stand like this any longer…”

“Okay, lovey,” You purr, “Turn around for me.”

Chan sighs and shakily does so. He leans back in the chair, his head falling back as he attempts to catch his breath. You meet Hyunjn’s gaze as he comes to stand behind Chan with a smile.

“You look so good, Channie.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and groans.

“Hyune,” You ask softly, “Keep the chair steady, please?”

Hyunjin tilts his head and rests his hand on the back of the chair behind Chan’s shoulders.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

You pull Chan up by his hips and resume your relentless pace, making him cry out in pleasure and grasp at the chair haphazardly. Hyunjin’s eyes widen and he reaffirms his grip to keep it steady. Chan whines and knocks his head back.

“Mhngh… Fuck…”

Hyunjin chuckles and sweetly kisses his forehead.

“You’re doing so well…”

Chan nods, his face contorting in pleasure as he gets closer to his release. It feels like only seconds have passed when Chan’s back arches and he lets out a desperate groan, tears prickling in his vision from the intensity of his orgasm ripping through him. He pants as his release paints his front, and he gazes at you with a wrecked expression. Your pace slows until you pull out, then you lean in to kiss him gently. He moans and weakly returns it between soft gasps for air. Hyunjin gently rubs Chan’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head.

“There you go…”

Chan’s hands shake as he reaches for you, and he pulls you in again. You laugh softly as he tucks his face into your chest and pulls your arms around his shoulders, before securing his arms around your middle. You oblige even though the position is awkward and smile softly at him.

“Tired, baby?”

He whines and nods, gently nuzzling your chest as you pat his head. Hyunjin steps away as you begin to straighten up and slowly guide Chan to stand. His legs are shaky, but you both make it to the bed. Chan collapses with a sigh, chest heaving as he attempts to recollect himself. You sit beside him, take your time removing his collar, then jump slightly when Felix comes to stand behind you. His hands quickly find the clips fastening your lingerie set and undo them swiftly. You make a little relieved noise as he strips the fabric, soiled with cum and sweat, off your body. Chan watches with a soft smile as you lay down beside him, prop your elbow on the pillow as you gaze sleepily down at him.

Hyunjin returns and makes a soft noise at the scene before him. He crawls onto the bed beside Chan and holds out a bottle of water.

“Drink.”

Chan groans but Hyunjin insists, holding the open bottle to his lips carefully until he is satisfied with the number of small sips Chan drowsily accepts. He passes the bottle to you so you can have a swig as he begins cleaning Chan’s face. Chan’s eyes flutter as Hyunjin dabs under them with a cool cloth, before laying that to cover his eyes and forehead.

“Mh?” Chan mumbles and reaches up to blindly touch the cooling fabric.

You begin stroking your fingers through his hair as Hyunjin moves down his body. He rests his hand on Chan’s chest and informs gently:

“I’m going to clean you up, baby. So if you feel anything, it’s just me.”

Chan murmurs some sort of affirmation and you giggle gently. You drink more water before holding it to his lips again. Chan grasps weakly at your wrist and half-takes it, tipping it slightly to get a drink then giving up and letting you guide the bottle to and from his lips. As you both begin to come down from the moment you notice Hyunjin has dressed himself in clean shorts. He wipes a wet cloth over Chan’s stomach and legs with gentle focus. You blink up dazedly as Felix leans down behind you.

“How do you feel, baby?” 

He brushes his thumb over your cheek dotingly as you begin to register that his question was aimed at you. You let out a long sigh before you reply.

“Being the top is exhausting.”

Hyunjin cackles and Felix smirks as you sink into the bed beside Chan. Chan chuckles softly and lets out a low hum, relaxing at the feeling of Hyunjin coasting the washcloth over his thighs. Felix kisses your temple and sits beside you.

“Now you know how we feel,” He jokes.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re a total pillow princess.”

Chan and Hyunjin both laugh at your quip, and when you peek up Felix is glaring down at you with his mouth completely gaped. He then shakes his head and lets the warm cloth he was holding slap unceremoniously on your bare stomach. You giggle mischievously as he begins begrudgingly wiping it over your body. Chan lets out an airy moan and you glance over, noticing that Hyunjin has propped up his legs to clean his behind.

“You okay?” Hyunjin asks.

“Sensitive…” Chan whines.

“I know, babe, but I can’t let you be filthy all night.”

Chan pouts and you lean over to gently peck his lips.

“We’ll only keep turning you into a mess if we’re allowed to clean you up again,” You remind him.

Chan grumbles and twitches slightly as Hyunjin finishes up. Hyunjin slides a clean pair of boxers onto Chan and kisses his stomach as the elastic band snaps against his skin. Chan jumps and groans, reaching down blindly to ruffle Hyunjin’s hair. Hyunjin continues mouthing up his body, giggling softly as Chan sleepily plays with his hair. You smirk at Felix, who is still pouting.

“What?”

“I’m mad at you.”

“Tch,” Hyunjin grins into Chan’s chest and glances at Felix.

“Why, because I speak the truth?”

“I’m not a pillow princess,” Felix whines.

“No,” Chan murmurs, “You’re worse.”

Felix blushes as you and Hyunjin laugh, then he shakes his head.

“And to think: I was going to be nice and go down on you.”

You cock up your eyebrow and lounge with a sleepy grin, watching as Felix straddles your leg.

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

“Aww,” You watch him lean down to brush his lips against your stomach, your breath stuttering as his tongue peeks out to trace over your dewy skin, “Mhm, y-you look like you’re still going to…”

“Mhm, I am,” He mumbles, “But m’not happy about it…”

“Liar,” Hyunjin bites, “You love eating her pussy, you’re getting exactly what you want.”

Felix smirks and sighs into your skin as he slowly kisses lower.

“You make me sound like such a selfish lover…”

You giggle as he presses lingering kisses to the crease of your thigh, then you moan as his tongue flicks gently over your clit. Felix guides your thighs over his shoulders and gently licks and kisses between your folds. You hiss gently and shift your hips, making him look up with wide eyes.

“M’kay?”

You nod and let out a slow breath.

“Hips are sore…”

Felix hums, distracting you with a pleasant vibration against your core as his hands come up to gently massage your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his nose pressed against your mound as his tongue delves deeper. You moan and let yourself relax, eyes falling on Hyunjin and Chan next to you. Hyunjin has taken the cloth from Chan’s face and is gently pressing it to his neck. Your gaze lingers on the hickies and faint marks left from the collar rubbing against his neck. When your eyes flick up to inspect Chan’s puffy face, he is gazing back at you. He lets out a soft sigh as Hyunjin brings some relief to his sensitive skin, and reaches out to take your hand. Your eyes soften as he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a light kiss to them.

Hyunjin smiles and continues his routine of caring for Chan. He applies a soothing lotion to his irritated skin and pecks gentle kisses over his forehead. Chan’s eyes fall shut, breaking your trance, and you throw your arm over your face as Felix laps diligently at your sex.

“Felix…”

Felix chuckles and raises his head to ask, “Who’s the pillow princess, now?”

“It’s still you,” Chan answers.

You giggle and Felix quietly resumes eating you out. Hyunjin gently raises your arm to meet your gaze and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Mhm, feels really good…”

Hyunjin chuckles.

“I’m glad. I was asking about your hips.”

Chan puffs out a laugh as you moan lowly.

“Mhn, m’just a little sore…”

“You should’ve stretched before we started. You probably strained yourself.”

You gasp and let out a little whine as you feel your climax approaching.

“Don’t, hah, scold me… M’trying to come…”

“Oh, sorry,” Hyunjin replies sarcastically, “I’m just trying to care for my girlfriend’s wellbeing. I won’t do that anymore.”

You whine again.

“Shut up…”

Chan giggles as Hyunjin gently drops your arm. You watch him through hazy eyes as he licks his fingers, then reaches down to rub your clit. Felix lets out a soft noise of surprise as you buck your hips and keen, suddenly finishing from Hyunjin’s touch. He says nothing as the pads of his fingers gently swirl over your nub, and Felix groans softly as he laps up your release. You gasp as Chan leans over to steal a kiss and your boyfriends gradually cease their actions. Hyunjin leans down to kiss you next, gently petting your stomach as you return his affection slowly.

“Thank you…”

“Oh, you’re welcome, baby,” Hyunjin purrs.

Felix scoffs.

“Stop that. I did all the work.”

Hyunjin smirks and winks at you.

“Feeling better?”

“Mhm…”

“Go away,” Felix whines as he lightly shoves Hyunjin to the other side of the bed.

You laugh as Hyunjin flops over Chan, who lets out a sleepy mumble as his only reaction. Felix braces his arms over you with a glare as you grin dazedly up at him.

“You’re all plotting against me.”

You hum and draw him closer for a messy kiss, which he submits to easily.

“Mhh, thank you, Felix…”

Felix smirks and pecks your nose before replying:

“You’re welcome, love.”

Hyunjin cuddles up next to Chan and nuzzles his neck happily as Felix steps away to grab your pajamas. You roll languidly into Chan’s side and sigh into his chest. His arm slides around your waist and he turns his face to nose gently at your hair. You lightly touch his neck, careful as you prod the marks you left on his skin. Chan exhales slowly then tilts his head to the side to give you better access.

“You did so well today, Chan,” You murmur as you pet his neck, “Good job, baby.”

“Mhh, I should be saying that to you… I didn’t even help you out, or do anything useful…”

“Don’t start,” Hyunjin groans.

He rises to glare softly at your boyfriend, who stares blankly in response.

“You don’t have to take care of us all the time, Chan. Let us take care of you too. And don’t feel guilty about it.”

“I feel selfish…”

“Guess what,” Hyunjin exasperates, “You should! You’re allowed to be selfish! We want you to be selfish. Take whatever you want from us, and let us take care of you.”

Chan falters as Felix silently returns to the bed and helps you get dressed in clean panties and one of Hyunjin’s shirts. You share a knowing look as Chan avoids Hyunjin’s gaze. Hyunjin gently tilts his head so he can face him again.

“Look at me… I’m sorry, but I mean it. We love you and you do so much for us. So, please, don’t talk yourself down.”

Chan swallows.

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, because you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you don’t deserve the whole world and more…”

Chan frowns as Hyunjin cups his cheeks, then laughs as Hyunjin begins squeezing his face.

“Just be quiet and let our wife peg you without complaining!”

Felix laughs and you grin, nodding in agreement. Chan whines as Hyunjin continues pinching his cheeks and cutely scolding him. You and Felix settle in, and you hesitate for a moment before speaking up.

“Did you just call me your wife?”

Hyunjin freezes, mid-face squeezing, as he tries to recall his words. He then looks at you, cheeks blazing as he answers.

“And what if I did?”

Your own face heats up and you scoff.

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous? That I’d want to marry you?”

Hyunjin catches the teasing lilt in your voice, meanwhile Chan attempts to remove his hands from his face. The two lightly wrestle their hands as Hyunjin smirks and replies:

“Well, you would obviously choose me. How couldn’t you?”

You gasp and look incredulously at Felix, who rolls his eyes with a grin.

“Yeah, sure- whose arms is she in right now?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Hyunjin quickly defends.

You smile at Chan as Hyunjin finally stops grabbing at him, and he gives you a tired smirk. He then winks, and you giggle as he pulls you closer again. Hyunjin settles on top of him with a small huff and mindlessly traces his fingers over Chan’s bicep. Chan lets out a long sigh and for once in what feels like forever, seems to relax. Felix voices this sentiment softly.

“You look tired, Chan.”

“M’tired,” Chan slurs, “Good tired… Gonna sleep for… a week…”

You giggle and catch his satisfied smile.

“Better make it a month… just to be safe.”

Chan hums and lightly squeezes your waist where his hand lays limply over it. Hyunjin gently massages Chan’s arm and props himself up just enough to meet his gaze again. Chan’s eyes have fallen shut as exhaustion finally takes him, but that does not deter Hyunjin from staring at him with the most doting expression.

“Was it good, baby? Did we help you relax?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you feel good?”

Chan swallows and nods gently, but you sense some hesitation. Felix reaches over and gently pats his chest, right over his heart.

“What’s buggin’ you, sweetheart?”

“Mhm…”

Chan pries his eyes open and he stares at Hyunjin, who is watching him with bated breath.

“I don’t know… how to say it…”

“Just say it,” Hyunjin breathes, “We’ll work it out, baby…”

Chan’s eyelids shut again and he grunts softly, clearly fighting sleep.

“Thank you… I love you all so much…”

“Oh, baby… We love you.”

Hyunjin leans in to kiss Chan gently, then watches him as he continues.

“I really… liked it…”

“Kissing?”

“No,” Chan giggles, “The kink stuff…”

“Oh,” Hyunjin laughs then replies, “Anytime. You give us the word and we’ll be there for you… Whenever you need us…”

Felix stretches and yawns then drowsily pats Chan’s arm.

“We’d be happy to visit this again… Whenever you need your daddy, or your mommy…”

Chan groans softly and smiles bashfully.

“Don’t tease…”

“I’m not teasing you! It was sexy…”

You kiss Chan’s shoulder and tell the others, “Let’s let Channie rest, and we can talk about it more later, okay?”

Felix hums in agreement while Hyunjin sweetly traces Chan’s jawline with his thumb. Chan peeks at him then murmurs:

“I liked the kisses too…”

Hyunjin giggles and asks, “Is that your way of asking for more?”

Chan nods and Hyunjin happily obliges, giving pecks to his lips and cheeks as he dozes off. You feel Felix’s arms tighten gently around you, his body molding closer around yours as he settles in to fall asleep. You sigh happily and turn your head to ask him gently.

“You good?”

“Mh-hm…”

You look at Hyunjin, who is still gazing at Chan. He notices your eyes on him and gives you a comforting smile.

“I’m good, too. Go to sleep, my love.”

Felix gingerly massages your hips, soothing the dull ache in your muscles. You let out a soft hum and quickly fall asleep tucked between your boys.

There is a steady thrum in the air when you wake up again, and for a moment you are disoriented. Waking up in Hyunjin’s room opposed to Chan’s throws you off in your sleep drunk state, and you sit up slowly as if your head is being weighed down by the pillow. You quickly find your bearings, feel Chan’s smooth chest when you reach out in the dark. His breathing stutters and he lets out a light snort from the pressure. Your hand slides across the landscape of his stomach until you feel Hyunjin, his body hot and pinned to Chan from the other side. By this point your eyes have adjusted to the dark, and it only takes a little searching of the bed to figure out Felix is not there with you. You huff, slide off the mattress until your feet hit the floor with a soft thud, and shuffle out of the room.

Once in the hall, you register that the ambient sound was someone playing music in the kitchen. It is quiet, so quiet you cannot make out the words until you wander your way to the source of it. Felix is there, chatting softly with Han who is playing music from his phone. Han’s head perks up and he pauses it, causing Felix to turn to you with his bright smile.

“You’re up. Everything alright, love?”

You run your hands over your face and into your hair, then blink slowly at the two boys.

“Mhm. What time is it?”

Han checks on his phone then softly answers, “It’s a little after four…”

“It’s so early…”

They laugh as you trudge in, and Felix quietly welcomes you into his arms as you walk to him. He runs his hand over your back and cups your head as you butt it into his shoulder, then sweetly kisses your temple.

“You should go back to bed, sweetheart.”

“Why are you up?”

“Just chatting… Han and Bin came home and I just happened to be up…”

“Uh, L-Lee Know’s here too,” Han mumbles.

You peek up at him and notice him looking away from you. Your brow furrows gently but you find no time to form a response, being gently led away by Felix as your exhaustion prevails. You walk together, your feet moving so slowly Felix has to pause to accommodate your speed. On the way back to Hyunjin’s room you pass Minho. You try to smile at him, but you can barely open your eyes. He just chuckles and ruffles your hair as you pass.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night…”

You yawn as Felix murmurs goodnight and helps you navigate the darkness. He helps you back into bed and tucks you in before giving you a sweet kiss.

“Do you need anything?”

You shake your head and smile as he presses another kiss to your forehead.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lix…”

You watch Felix stumble out of the room and shut the door most of the way behind him. The hallway light flicks on as you listen to him pad down the hall. You yawn and rub your eyes, then blink blearily at the warm light shining in through the crack in the door. For a moment you imagine a shadow lingering in the frame. It looks like it may be Han checking in- looking for Felix? Then, as quickly as your brain begins to register his unmistakable brown locks and wide puppy eyes, he is gone. You stare at the spot, willing the apparition to reappear and quell your curiosity. The light turns off and shortly after Felix returns.

The bed sinks as he sits beside you and you quietly mumble:

“Han…”

“Hm?”

“Han… m’think he wanted you…”

“No, Han’s gone to bed, sweetheart.”

Felix lays beside you and rests his head on your chest. Your hand rises and lands on his head so you can lazily play with his hair. You let your eyes flutter shut as you accept his answer and fall asleep.

[warsinmyhead]

OMG (for Minsung & Hiro)

x | meme status: accepting!

Instead of trying to impress Hiro by making coffee at home (and possibly not getting it exactly the way he wanted it), Minsung made a point of waking up early to grab coffees for the pair while Hiro slept in after staying over to avoid bad weather. (Due to a heavy snowfall in the forecast.)

The cafe in question wasn't too far of a walk from Minsung's place and he even saw some pastries that looked good and picked them up so he and Hiro could split them once the other woke up.

The dancer slipped inside his apartment quietly and placed the pastries on the counter, plus his own cup of coffee. He carried the second cup to the guest room where Hiro was currently sleeping and opened the door.

Hiro was lying on his stomach, the covers pulled up high where his closed eyes and messy head of hair were visible.

Minsung slowly approached the other boy with the cup of coffee in both hands and tilted his head as he noticed Hiro was moving in the bed, despite being asleep. His first though was Hiro was having a nightmare and he quickly put the coffee cup down on a dresser, before moving closer to comfort his boyfriend.

The dancer was a few steps from the bed and he blinked when he looked closer. Hiro wasn't shaking because of a nightmare – the bed moved back and forth and underneath the blankets, muffled moans were slipping from Hiro's lips. With a free hand, Minsung lightly lifted one of the covers and did a bit of a double take when he saw the movement was due to Hiro's hips rocking furiously into the mattress.

The other male carefully dropped the covers and backed away, before slipping out the door and turning to face the hallway.

Did Hiro realize he was masturbating in his sleep and it was not in the privacy of his own dorm room?

Minsung bit his lip and shook his head as a faint smile crossed his lips. For now, he wouldn't wake the barista. But he was definitely going to ask later why Hiro was so worked up this morning...

[warsinmyhead]

Hiro listened as Minsung shared his experience with hosting for events, only with the slight downfall that not all or most of the food would be consumed by the attendees. Nothing wrong with leftovers, but sometimes if there was too much food, it was a waste.

He continued to walk alongside the other boy, following the directions on Minsung's phone.

There was a point where sometimes he could escape into the party scene during his early days at college and thinking back on them, he wanted to be seen. He wanted to be liked and hell, he thought that someone wanting you, even for a night or a fling was good. But he's learned since that it doesn't fix the emptiness you're experiencing regularly.

Hiro decided to change the subject and he realized that break was coming up soon for those in school, like him.

"Any plans for the holidays? I'm kind of trying to get out of the ones with my family," he admitted. "My stepmom turns everything into a business trip or deal and usually it was just me, my sister, and my dad fending for ourselves. Once my sister got married, we added in her husband too and look, he's not bad, but he tries too hard to be cool around me. It's really cringey."

warsinmyhead​:​

Hiro watched as the other took a sip from his cup and he accepted it back. He swirled the contents around and looked around for a trash can to toss the rest in. His eyes fell on the one near the bathrooms and he pointed over at it, before quickly excusing himself to get rid of it. He walked over and tossed the cup in, before heading over to Minsung again. 

“I don’t get why these places don’t consider offering food or at least think about partnering with a food truck or two!” Hiro sighed as he exited the club. “You would think that would be smart and get people to spend more, but hey, I’m not in the business so what would I know?” He glanced at Minsung and asked the other how far the place was that the other male had in mind. 

Minsung let the other go and throw away his cup. As he waited for his return, he opened the app on his phone just to check to make sure if he was not mistaken for the 24/7 open shop. And yes, there was one nearby. Minsung knew he had seen it on his way here. Once Hiro came back to him, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at him as they left the party.

“Hmm, I don’t know either. I haven’t thrown any big and wild parties like that, but I have had some friends over to my home for my birthday a few times. I had prepared food then, and they did eat a little, but there were also quite a bit of leftovers left.” But for such a party, having a food truck right outside of the place where everyone who wanted some food could go to and get something. Everyone was going to be happy then and probably there wouldn’t be too much food wasted at the end. “The store is about 10-15 minutes away from here, we’ll be there in no time.”

[estellan0vella]

Hopelessly In Love: Y.J Yang Jeongin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 15.8K

CW: Jeongin being a flirt, Minsung content, Mentions of sexuality denial, Jeongin being hopeless, Felix, Jisung, Minho and Hyunjin wingmanning from behind the scenes

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The walk to the Alpha Phi house feels longer than it should, partly because you’ve been replaying every possible interaction in your head since Seungmin texted you the address. Your white tote bag swings at your side, the word “ugh” printed in bold brown lettering staring back at you as a perfect encapsulation of how out of place you feel. The thought of stepping into a frat house, this frat house, the infamous Alpha Phi, makes your palms sweat and your stomach twist.

But Seungmin’s your best friend. If he can handle living there, you can survive one visit for the sake of finishing your mechanical engineering project. Right?

The house looms large and imposing, its brick facade and dark shutters practically daring anyone who isn’t part of the frat to approach. It’s obnoxiously clean for a frat house, like it’s overcompensating for whatever chaos goes on inside.

You clutch your tote bag a little tighter, adjust your cropped white blouse, and tug at the waistband of your brown cargo trousers as you climb the front steps. Faint laughter and bass-heavy music filter through the thick wooden door. It feels like a warning.

Your hand hovers for a moment before you muster up the courage to knock.

It swings open almost immediately, and you’re greeted by a boy with sharp features and dark hair falling loosely over his forehead. He leans against the doorframe like he’s been practising the pose for years. His smirk is lazy, confident, the kind that makes you immediately wary.

“Oh, look at that,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock delight. “Fate drops a pretty girl right on my doorstep.”

Your brain stutters. “Uh…”

The smirk widens like he’s amused by your discomfort. “Name’s Jeongin. And you are?”

You fidget with the strap of your tote bag. “I’m here for Seungmin.”

“Seungmin?” He tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Didn’t know he liked shy girls. Cute.”

“I’m just here for a project.”

“Oh, so you’re single?” he shoots back, like it’s the most natural follow-up question in the world. His voice is laced with teasing, but his sharp eyes watch you closely, clearly enjoying the way you’re struggling to form a coherent response.

You blink at him, entirely caught off guard. “What? I- I don’t-”

“Jeongin, leave her the fuck alone!” The voice cuts through the tension, and you glance past Jeongin to see a man with cherry-red hair appearing at the base of the stairs. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that clings to his frame, and his arms are crossed in a way that screams both authority and exasperation. “You’re fucking scaring her, man.”

“I wasn’t scaring her,” Jeongin argues, though he steps aside to let you into the house. His voice drops into a mock whisper as you pass. “I was flirting.”

“Whatever the fuck you call that, stop,” the red-haired guy shoots back sharply before turning his attention to you. His gaze softens slightly. “You’re here for Seungmin?”

“Yeah,” you manage, relieved to have someone else to focus on. “We’re working on a project.”

“Of course you are,” Jeongin chimes in from his spot by the door. “What kind of project?”

“Mechanical engineering,” you mutter, trying not to meet his eyes.

Jeongin lets out a low whistle. “Smart and pretty? Fuck, Seungmin really hit the jackpot with this one.”

“Jeongin,” the red-haired guy groans, his tone bordering on murderous. “Shut the fuck up before you scare her into running away. I’m Minho, by the way.” He offers you a brief, almost apologetic smile. “Ignore him. He’s an absolute fucking idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Jeongin protests, grinning like he knows exactly how irritating he is. “I’m charming.”

“You’re a cunt,” Minho fires back, not missing a beat.

Before you can even process that exchange, a new voice cuts through the chaos. “What the fuck is going on down there?” You look up to see Seungmin standing at the top of the stairs, his orange hair sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it. He’s wearing a hoodie that looks two sizes too big and a scowl that looks permanent. “Jeongin, are you harassing my friend?”

“Harassing?” Jeongin repeats, his tone dripping with mock indignation. “I’m just processing the fact that you have a pretty little friend.”

“She’s nice, unlike you fucking hyenas,” Seungmin snaps as he descends the stairs, his arms crossed tight over his chest. “She doesn’t need you drooling all over her.”

“I’m more thinking about swapping spit than drooling,” Jeongin says casually, winking in your direction.

You freeze, your face heating up like someone just turned a spotlight on you. “I- I should probably…”

“Jeongin, shut the fuck up,” Minho barks, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. He grabs Jeongin by the collar of his shirt and yanks him back. “That’s it. I’m telling Chan.”

Jeongin whines like a child being sent to time-out. “What the fuck? Don’t do me like that!”

“Shut it, Innie,” Minho says flatly, dragging him deeper into the house. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

“I’m not a disaster,” Jeongin protests, his voice fading as they disappear around a corner. “I’m just-”

“Fucking insufferable,” Minho finishes for him.

Seungmin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose like this whole ordeal has already shaved years off his life. “I’m so fucking sorry about them. Let’s just go upstairs and get away from those fucking idiots.”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumble, more than ready to escape the chaos. You glance back toward the direction Minho dragged Jeongin and lower your voice. “Are they always like this?”

Seungmin pauses, hesitating for a beat before sighing. “Yes. Yes, they fucking are. But you get used to it.”

You doubt that. A lot.

As soon as you and Seungmin disappear up the stairs, Jeongin leans back with a theatrical groan, scrubbing a hand down his face. He watches the spot where you vanished, his expression a mix of longing and pure drama, before turning to Minho, who’s still standing nearby with his arms crossed and a look of sheer disbelief.

“That right there,” Jeongin announces, jabbing a thumb toward the stairs. “That’s my future fucking wife.”

Minho doesn’t even try to hide his emotions, raising an eyebrow so high it’s practically halfway up his forehead. “The socially anxious bundle of nerves in the brown cargo pants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeongin says without missing a beat. His voice is firm, his expression dead serious. “Did you see her ass in those cargos? Fucking poetry, Minho. Pure poetry. I’m gonna marry her.”

Minho blinks, slowly tilting his head like he can’t believe the words coming out of Jeongin’s mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ. You’re absolutely fucking hopeless.”

Jeongin shrugs, entirely unbothered by the insult. “Hopelessly in love.”

Minho rolls his eyes so hard you half expect him to sprain something. “Or just hopelessly fucking horny. Seriously, Innie, you’ve got the emotional depth of a fucking spoon.”

Jeongin smirks, leaning against the wall like the cocky little shit he is. “Hey, at least I know what I want.”

Minho snorts. “Oh yeah? What you want is to scare the poor girl so bad she never comes within a hundred fucking miles of you. Because that’s exactly what you’re doing with your smirking, ‘I’m a fuckboy, love me’ bullshit.”

Jeongin frowns, the smirk faltering just a little. “You think I scared her off?”

“Oh, I fucking know you scared her off,” Minho snaps. “She was practically vibrating with anxiety, and there you are, smirking and talking about swapping spit. Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeongin groans, running a hand through his hair as he paces a few steps back and forth. “Okay, okay. Fuck. Fine. What the fuck do I do, then? Help me out here, Minho. You’re supposed to be my hyung.”

Minho crosses his arms tighter, clearly enjoying watching Jeongin squirm. “Oh no, fuckface. This one’s all on you. You wanna fix this shit, you better find someone who knows how to act like a fucking human being.”

Jeongin stops pacing, his face lighting up like he’s just had the most brilliant idea in the history of ideas. “Felix.”

Minho raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re gonna drag Felix into this? The fuck’s he gonna do? Bake her a cake that says ‘I’m sorry for being a fucking creep’?”

“No, dumbass,” Jeongin snaps, already heading toward the kitchen. “Felix is the nicest motherfucker in this house. He’s practically oozing ‘soft boy’ vibes. He’s gonna teach me how to be sweet.”

“Sweet?” Minho repeats, his tone laced with disbelief as he follows Jeongin. “You? Sweet? That’s fucking rich. This I’ve gotta see.”

The kitchen smells faintly of spices, and Felix is at the counter, carefully slicing vegetables with the kind of precision that makes him look like a Michelin-star chef despite the fact that he’s wearing a hoodie that swallows his frame. His blonde hair glints under the overhead light, and his tongue pokes out slightly in concentration as he arranges the slices on a cutting board.

“Felix!” Jeongin bursts into the kitchen like a man on a mission, dragging a stool over and plopping down dramatically. “I need your help. It’s a fucking emergency.”

Felix looks up, his knife pausing mid-slice. He blinks at Jeongin, then at Minho, who leans against the doorway with an amused smirk. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” Jeongin protests, holding his hands up like he’s being wrongfully accused. “I met my future wife.”

Felix stares at him for a long, silent moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh, this is gonna be fucking good. Go on. What’s the problem?”

“She’s perfect,” Jeongin says, his tone reverent. “She’s smart, shy, sweet, and her ass in those cargo pants…” He trails off, gesturing wildly with both hands. “Breathtaking. Like, life-changing.”

Felix snorts, shaking his head as he resumes chopping. “And let me guess, you scared the absolute shit out of her.”

Jeongin groans, slumping forward to bang his head lightly against the counter. “Minho already fucking bullied me for that.”

“Because he’s not wrong,” Felix says, laughing. “What’d you say to her?”

Jeongin lifts his head, avoiding Felix’s gaze. “I might’ve asked if she was single.”

Felix freezes, the knife hovering mid-air. He stares at Jeongin like he’s trying to figure out if he’s serious. “Dude.”

“What?!” Jeongin exclaims, throwing his hands up defensively. “It’s a valid fucking question!”

“Not when you’ve just met her, you fucking idiot!” Felix says, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jeongin groans again, running both hands through his hair. “Fuck. I’m so fucked, aren’t I?”

Felix sighs, finally setting the knife down and leaning on the counter to face Jeongin directly. “Not necessarily. You just need to stop being, well, you.”

Minho barks out a laugh from the doorway. “Good luck with that.”

“Fuck off, Minho,” Jeongin snaps before turning back to Felix. “Okay, fine. What do I do?”

Felix shrugs, his tone calm and thoughtful. “Be genuine. Girls like that don’t fall for flashy, cocky shit. You’ve gotta show her you’re not just some loudmouth frat bro.”

“Genuine,” Jeongin repeats, frowning like he’s trying to solve a fucking physics equation. “How the fuck do I do that?”

“Start by not commenting on her ass again,” Felix says, deadpan.

Jeongin groans. “But it’s such a-”

“Jeongin,” Felix interrupts, throwing a dish towel at him. “For fuck’s sake, focus. Be sweet. Thoughtful. Maybe even a little vulnerable. Show her you’ve got layers or some shit.”

Jeongin catches the towel, muttering under his breath. “Sweet. Thoughtful. Vulnerable. No ass comments. Got it.”

Felix smirks, already turning back to his vegetables. “Good luck, loverboy. You’re gonna need it.”

Jeongin leans lazily against the counter, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face as he surveys Felix and Minho. “You two are now my official romance senseis. Help me bag the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

Felix doesn’t even bother looking up from the stove, where he’s stirring a simmering pot of something that smells obnoxiously good. “Met the girl today and you’re already planning the fucking wedding?”

Jeongin nods, dead serious, like Felix has just complimented his strategic brilliance. “Obviously. Did you see her? Smart, shy, beautiful and those brown cargos?” He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head like he’s in mourning. “Fucking breathtaking.”

Felix finally glances up, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and pity. “Brown cargos, huh? That’s the hill you’re dying on?”

“Dying, getting married, whatever,” Jeongin replies with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Same difference when you’re in love, Felix.”

Minho, perched on a barstool by the counter, nearly chokes on his laugh. “Love? You’re a fucking clown. You’ve known her for what, thirty seconds? And all you did was scare the shit out of her.”

“I didn’t scare her,” Jeongin argues, shooting Minho a glare. “I was—”

“Being a cocky little cunt,” Minho interrupts, his smirk widening. “Which, by the way, she did not look impressed by. You’ve got zero fucking game, Innie.”

Jeongin glares harder, but Felix interrupts by holding out a spoonful of sauce in Minho’s direction. “Here. Taste this. Too spicy? Too bland? It’s for my culinary course.”

Minho leans forward obligingly, taking the spoon into his mouth with the kind of practiced care that makes Jeongin groan in frustration. “What the fuck, guys? My entire love life is on the line, and you’re worried about sauce?”

Minho holds up a finger, ignoring Jeongin entirely as he chews thoughtfully. “Mmm. Pretty good. Needs more garlic, though.”

“More garlic?” Felix echoes, thoughtful, already reaching for the bulb. “Good call.”

“HELLO?” Jeongin’s voice rises to a near shout. “I’m pouring my fucking heart out over here, and you two are acting like fucking Gordon Ramsey and Julia Child!”

Felix chuckles, still focused on his cooking. “Calm your tits, Romeo. You’ll survive another minute.”

Jeongin groans, dragging both hands down his face in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m trusting my future happiness to two fucking culinary nerds.”

Finally, Felix sets the spoon down and turns to Jeongin, wiping his hands on a towel. “Alright, alright. Let’s get serious for a second. First piece of advice? Don't be a cocky shit around her.”

“Yeah,” Minho chimes in, leaning back against the counter. “You looked like you were auditioning for the role of Frat Boy Douchebag #1. That shit’s not gonna fly with someone like her.”

Jeongin narrows his eyes. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Felix says, shooting him a look, “that she’s not the type to fall for your usual bullshit. She’s shy. She’s reserved. You need to ease her in, not bulldoze her with your overconfident dickhead act.”

Jeongin frowns, considering this. “Alright, fine. What the fuck do I do instead?”

Felix leans against the counter, his tone calm but firm. “Be approachable. Genuine. Maybe even a little awkward, it’s endearing if you don’t overdo it.”

“Be awkward?” Jeongin repeats, his face twisting in confusion. “You’re telling me to be awkward on purpose?”

“Yes, dumbass,” Minho says with a smirk. “Girls like her don’t fall for the alpha-male crap. They want someone real. Someone relatable.”

“And don’t fucking comment on her ass again,” Felix adds pointedly. “Compliment her brain, her ideas, her sense of humour, literally anything else.”

Jeongin groans, throwing his head back. “No ass comments? But that’s, like, my signature move.”

“Then retire it,” Minho snaps. “Unless you wanna keep being single.”

Jeongin mutters something under his breath before straightening up, a spark of determination in his eyes. “Alright. What if I take something out of my car engine and ask her to fix it?”

Both Felix and Minho freeze, staring at him like he’s just suggested burning the house down for fun.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Felix asks, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Think about it,” Jeongin says, his voice picking up momentum like he’s just cracked the Da Vinci Code. “She’s a mechanical engineering major, right? If I pretend my car’s fucked, she’ll feel all smart and capable for fixing it for me. Bonding over machinery and shit. It’s genius.”

Minho groans, burying his face in his hands. “You’re a fucking moron.”

Felix sighs, looking genuinely exhausted. “Jeongin, no. Do not fuck with your car. That’s manipulative as shit.”

“It’s charming,” Jeongin counters, grinning like he’s won the argument. “I’m showing interest in her skills.”

“You’re using her skills to fake your way into her pants,” Minho corrects sharply. “There’s a difference, dumbass.”

Felix nods. “If you wanna impress her, ask about her work. Don’t make her do it for you.”

Jeongin waves them off, already halfway out the kitchen. “Nah, you guys don’t get it. This is gonna fucking work. Thanks for the advice, senseis.”

Felix watches him go, shaking his head. “We didn’t fucking agree to this.”

Minho snorts, grabbing another spoonful of sauce. “Should we stop him?”

Felix shrugs, smirking. “Nah. Let the dumbass burn. It’ll be entertaining as fuck.”

“You’re not wrong,” Minho says, grinning. “This is gonna be a fucking trainwreck.”

The Alpha Phi house looms just as fucking intimidating as the first time you stepped up to it. You fidget with the strap of your light blue tote bag, its shade perfectly matching your cargos and your scuffed Converse. The cream blouse you’re wearing feels just a little too cropped for comfort, you tug at the hem nervously, wishing you’d chosen literally anything else to wear. But here you are.

It’s just another fucking study session. With Seungmin. Not the chaos crew downstairs. Just focus on that.

You knock on the door, half hoping it’ll take forever for someone to answer. Instead, it swings open so quickly that you take a startled step back. And there he is, Jeongin. He leans against the doorframe like he owns the fucking place, dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead, lips curved into that smug smirk you remember all too well.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth but tinged with something that might actually be nerves. “You’re just the person I was hoping to see.”

You blink, thrown off immediately. “Uh, hi?”

“While I’ve got you here,” Jeongin continues, rubbing the back of his neck, “my car’s been acting like shit. Think you could take a look? You know, since you’re the resident engineering genius.”

“Your car?” you echo, your fingers tightening around your tote bag. “I mean, sure, but I thought Seungmin was-”

“He’s upstairs,” Jeongin interrupts quickly, already stepping outside and gesturing toward the driveway. “This’ll only take a minute, I promise. You’re an engineering major, right? This is totally your thing.”

You hesitate, nerves crawling up your spine, but eventually, you nod. “Okay, I guess.”

Jeongin’s grin widens as he leads the way, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The sleek black car parked in the driveway looks immaculate, which makes you immediately suspicious. He pops the hood with a theatrical flourish, stepping back to give you room.

“Yeah, so it just won’t fucking start,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the engine like it’s some unsolvable mystery. “No idea what the fuck’s wrong.”

You lean over the open hood, the faint smell of motor oil and metal hitting you as you scan the engine. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the glaring issue, and your brows furrow as confusion creeps into your voice. “Uh, your spark plug is gone.”

Jeongin leans in closer, peering over your shoulder like he has any clue what he’s looking at. “What? No way. How the fuck does that even happen?”

You glance at him. “Sometimes car thieves pull a spark plug. That way, the owner can’t drive it, and they can come back later to steal the whole thing.”

His jaw drops, eyes wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s a thing?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, poking around the engine for good measure. “It’s not super common, but yeah, it happens.”

Jeongin steps back, running a hand through his hair like he’s just learned some devastating truth about the world. “Fuck me. That’s so fucked up.”

You nod absently, fiddling with a loose wire. “I mean, I can fix some of these shitty connections you’ve got going on, but without a replacement spark plug, you’re kind of fucked.”

“Shit,” Jeongin mutters. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, glancing at you from under his lashes. “Hey, while we’re here, I just wanna say something.”

You pause, looking up at him. “What?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. There’s no smirk this time, no cocky bravado. “For last week. I was a fucking idiot.”

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Apologize? For what?”

“For being an obnoxious ass,” Jeongin says bluntly. “I made you uncomfortable, and that’s not fucking okay. I get that. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Oh,” you say softly, the unexpected sincerity in his tone making you shift awkwardly. “It’s… it’s fine.”

“It’s not fucking fine,” he insists, stepping closer. “I was trying to be funny, but I was just a dick. You didn’t deserve that.”

You hesitate, his unexpected earnestness throwing you for a loop. Finally, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate the apology.”

Jeongin exhales like he’s been holding his breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Because I mean it.”

The moment lingers, awkward but oddly genuine, until you turn back to the engine, desperate to shift the focus. “So, uh, like I said, your wiring’s kind of fucked, but I can fix that. You’ll just need to buy a new spark plug. Call an auto shop, tell them your car’s make and model, and they’ll get you sorted.”

Jeongin perks up slightly, his smirk making a cautious return. “If I buy one, would you help me put it in?”

You hesitate, then sigh. “It’s not hard, but sure. I can do that.”

His grin spreads wider, more relaxed now. “Fuck yeah. You’re the best.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, brushing your hands off on your cargos. “Don’t make it a habit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeongin replies smoothly, though the playful glint in his eye suggests otherwise. "Let's go!"

"Now?"

"Yes! Why not?!" Jeongin beams at you and you nod with a resigned shrug.

Jeongin practically skips down the sidewalk beside you, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, humming some off-key tune like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. He keeps sneaking glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth every time you adjust the strap of your light blue tote bag or glance nervously at the road ahead.

You grip your tote bag tighter, the bag of matching blue fabric almost a security blanket at this point. Your cargos and scuffed Converse feel comfortable enough, but the cropped cream blouse keeps riding up every time you shift, and it’s fucking impossible not to fidget.

Jeongin, of course, doesn’t notice your growing anxiety. Or if he does, he sure as fuck doesn’t show it.

“So,” he pipes up, still bouncing along like a golden retriever. “This Dewie guy, what’s his deal? He, like, your personal mechanic or some shit?”

You glance at him briefly, debating how much to say. “Something like that,” you mutter, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll see.”

Jeongin doesn’t push for more details, instead whistling tunelessly as the auto shop comes into view. The weathered sign above the door creaks in the faint breeze, and the smell of motor oil and grease hits you before you even step inside.

Jeongin slows his pace, squinting up at the building like he’s about to walk onto another planet. “Fuck, this place smells like a mechanic’s fever dream.”

“That’s because it is a mechanic’s fever dream,” you reply softly, shooting him a look. “Don’t insult it.”

His lips twitch in amusement. “Noted.”

The bell above the door jingles as you step inside, the sound instantly grounding you. The shop smells exactly the same as it always does—metal, grease, and faintly of shitty coffee that Dewie insists is “just fine.”

Behind the counter, Dewie is flipping through a massive parts catalogue, his greying hair sticking out in all directions like he’s been too busy to care. His work shirt is streaked with grease and old oil stains, a testament to the hours he spends buried under car hoods.

“Hey, Dewie,” you call out, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips.

Dewie’s head snaps up at your voice, and his lined face splits into a grin. “Hey, kiddo! What brings you in? Don’t tell me you’re tinkering with another piece of shit.”

You shake your head quickly, already feeling your cheeks flush. “Not me. It’s his car.” You gesture toward Jeongin, who stands just inside the doorway like he doesn’t know where to put himself. “He needs a new spark plug.”

Dewie’s sharp gaze shifts to Jeongin, his arms crossing as he leans on the counter. “What happened? Someone jack it?”

Jeongin stammers, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. That’s what she said, anyway.”

Dewie snorts. “Figures. These fuckers don’t miss a beat these days.” He jerks his chin toward Jeongin. “Make and model?”

“2018 Kia Stinger,” Jeongin replies quickly, trying to sound confident.

Dewie nods once, scrawling something onto a notepad. “Alright, hang tight. I’ll grab one from the back.”

As Dewie disappears through a side door, Jeongin leans down, lowering his voice. “You didn’t mention this guy’s basically your uncle.”

You blink, taken aback. “How’d you figure that?”

Jeongin tilts his head, his lips curving into a knowing smirk. “The way he called you ‘kiddo.’ That’s not just some mechanic shit.”

You hesitate, then shrug, looking down at your sneakers. “He’s not my uncle. But he raised me.”

Jeongin’s smirk fades into something softer, gentler. “Shit. Really?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, shifting awkwardly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Sounds like a big deal to me,” he replies, his voice unusually sincere. “That’s kinda badass.”

You glance at him, unsure what to say. Before you can come up with a response, Dewie reappears, a spark plug in hand. He slaps it onto the counter with a grin. “Here you go. Should do the trick.”

“Thanks,” Jeongin says, reaching into his pocket. “How much?”

“Twenty bucks,” Dewie replies, his sharp eyes flicking back to you for a moment. “How’s school, kiddo? Still kicking ass?”

You nod. “It’s fine. Just busy.”

“Bullshit,” Dewie says with a knowing chuckle. “You’re probably running circles around all those other nerds.”

You mumble something incoherent, fidgeting with the strap of your tote bag. Jeongin, sensing your discomfort, steps forward and slaps a twenty onto the counter. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

Dewie hands over the spark plug but doesn’t miss the chance to give Jeongin a critical once-over. “You sure you’re worth her time, kid?”

Your head snaps up. “We’re not- he’s not-”

Jeongin grins, cutting you off smoothly. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m working on it.”

Dewie barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Good luck with that. She’s a tough one.”

“Tell me about it,” Jeongin says with a wink, tossing the spark plug lightly in the air and catching it.

You groan, hiding your face behind your hand. “Can we just go?”

“Take care, kiddo!” Dewie calls as Jeongin holds the door open for you. “Don’t let this one get on your nerves too much!”

Jeongin laughs as you step outside, the cool air hitting your flushed face. “So he raised you, huh?”

You nod, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”

“That’s fucking cool,” he says, his tone softer than usual. He tosses the spark plug again, catching it effortlessly. “He seems like a good guy.”

“He is,” you reply quietly, clutching your tote bag tighter. “He’s done a lot for me.”

Jeongin bumps your shoulder lightly, his grin softer now. “You’re lucky to have him.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I am.”

The two of you fall into a companionable silence as you make your way back to the Alpha Phi house, the spark plug bouncing in Jeongin’s hand and a strange warmth blooming in your chest that you can’t quite shake.

Back at the Alpha Phi house, Jeongin practically bounces toward his car, spark plug clutched in one hand like it’s some kind of golden ticket. The afternoon sun glints off the car’s sleek black hood, making it look like it just rolled off a showroom floor. You trail behind him, your light blue tote bag swinging slightly at your side, the strap gripped tightly in your hand as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jeongin grins as he pops the hood, gesturing grandly like he’s unveiling some masterpiece. “Alright, genius. Work your magic.”

You roll your eyes lightly, setting your tote bag on the ground and stepping closer to inspect the engine. “It’s not magic. It’s just… basic mechanics.”

Jeongin leans against the side of the car, folding his arms as he watches you, his grin widening. “Basic mechanics to you. Black fucking sorcery to me.”

You bite back a small smile, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingers. Focusing on the engine, you twist the spark plug into place with practised precision, your fingers navigating the intricate components like it’s second nature. “Alright, this part’s easy. Shouldn’t take long.”

Jeongin tilts his head, watching you with open admiration. “Take all the time you need. It’s nice watching a genius do her thing.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, but you keep your eyes firmly on the engine. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Bullshit,” Jeongin says with a snort. “You could tell me this thing runs on unicorn jizz, and I’d believe you.”

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it, and you quickly cover your mouth with one hand. “Unicorn jizz? Really?”

“Hey, you’re the expert,” Jeongin says, his grin turning shameless. “I’m just along for the ride.”

Shaking your head, you finish securing the spark plug and step back to inspect the rest of the engine. Your brows knit together when you notice something out of place. “Your fuel line is disconnected.”

Jeongin straightens up, his grin faltering slightly. “Shit. Is that bad?”

“It’s not great,” you mutter, leaning in to get a closer look. “What the hell happened here?”

Jeongin scratches the back of his neck, his sheepish expression already giving him away. “Okay, so, that might’ve been me.”

You turn to him, crossing your arms as your lips press into a thin line. “Might’ve been you?”

“Alright, fine. It was me,” he admits, holding up his hands in surrender. “It wouldn’t start yesterday, and I didn’t know about the whole missing spark plug thing yet, so I may have fiddled with it.”

“You fiddled with it,” you repeat, incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging helplessly. “I thought I could figure it out. Turns out I couldn’t.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat before you can stop it, and you shake your head, a small smile breaking through. “You’re an idiot.”

“Guilty,” Jeongin replies, his grin returning, though it’s softer now. “Can you fix it?”

“I can fix it,” you reply, already crouching to rummage through your tote bag. You pull out a small, well-loved tool kit that Dewie insisted you carry everywhere. “Just promise me you won’t touch anything under the hood ever again.”

Jeongin presses a hand to his chest, his tone mock-serious. “Scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that lingers as you reconnect the fuel line with quick, efficient movements. Jeongin watches closely, leaning in just enough to make you nervous, though his expression isn’t teasing this time. There’s something genuine in the way he watches you, like he’s genuinely impressed.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” he says suddenly, his voice soft but firm.

Your hands falter slightly, and you glance up at him, your face already burning. “I- it’s just a fuel line. It’s not-”

“Nope,” he interrupts, holding up a finger. “None of that modest shit. What you’re doing right now? Badass as fuck. Own it.”

You duck your head, letting your hair fall into your face as you mumble, “It’s really not that special.”

Jeongin leans a little closer, his grin softening into something more sincere. “It is to me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, but you don’t let yourself dwell on it. Instead, you focus on finishing the repair, your hands moving with quiet confidence. Once you’re done, you step back, brushing your hands off on your cargos.

“There,” you say, closing the hood with a solid click. “That should do it. Try starting it now.”

Jeongin doesn’t hesitate, practically sprinting to the driver’s seat. He slides in, turns the key, and grins as the engine roars to life, smooth and steady. “Holy shit, you actually fixed it.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Did you think I couldn’t?”

“Never doubted you for a second,” Jeongin replies, hopping out of the car with a triumphant laugh. He walks back over to you, his grin wider than ever. “Seriously, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” you say, bending down to pick up your tote bag. “Just don’t touch your engine again, alright? If something’s wrong, take it to Dewie. Or call me.”

Jeongin perks up at that, his eyebrows raising. “Call you, huh? You offering to be my personal mechanic?”

“Only if you’re desperate,” you mumble, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Don’t make it a habit.”

“Got it,” he says, his tone warm and teasing. “No unnecessary car emergencies. But for real, thank you. You saved my ass.”

You nod quickly, keeping your gaze on the ground. “It’s fine. Really.”

Jeongin watches you for a moment, his usual cocky demeanour replaced by something softer, more thoughtful. “You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “you’re kind of hard to figure out.”

Your brows knit together as you glance up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “You’re all quiet and nervous, but then you do shit like this, and it’s like damn. You’re a total badass.”

You fumble for something to say, but Jeongin doesn’t seem to expect a response. Instead, he grins again and jerks his head toward the house.

“C’mon,” he says. “Seungmin’s probably wondering where the fuck you are.”

You nod, trailing after him, your mind spinning with his words and the warmth in his voice. You try to push it away, but it lingers, making it even harder to ignore the way he makes your heart race.

Jeongin bursts into Minho’s room without so much as a knock, throwing the door open so hard it bounces off the wall. Minho jerks upright from where he’s sprawled on his bed, phone clutched in one hand, his brows furrowing in annoyance.

“What the fuck, Jeongin?” Minho snaps, glaring at him. “I was busy!”

“You were doomscrolling,” Jeongin shoots back, marching straight to the bed and grabbing Minho’s wrist. “That’s not busy.”

“Excuse me,” Minho retorts, trying and failing to wrench his arm free. “It’s called research. Ever heard of it, dipshit?”

“Research later,” Jeongin grunts, dragging him out the door with surprising strength. “This is important.”

Minho stumbles into the hallway, still protesting. “You are so lucky I don’t punch people younger and weaker than me. What the fuck is this about?”

“You’ll see,” Jeongin says cryptically, tugging him toward Felix’s room. He doesn’t even knock before barging in, nearly tripping over Felix’s chair in the process.

Felix is sitting cross-legged on his bed, headphones around his neck and a laptop balanced on his knees. He looks up, startled. “What the fuck is going on?”

Jeongin lets go of Minho and drops dramatically onto the floor, spreading his arms like a martyr. “Emergency.”

Felix blinks, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "An actual emergency, or a Jeongin emergency?”

“Both,” Jeongin replies, his grin sharp as he leans back on his hands. “So, yesterday? I executed The Plan. Spoke to her. Met her uncle slash guardian. All because I jacked up my car on purpose, which, by the way, she doesn’t fucking know about.”

Minho groans, dropping into Felix’s chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. This is about her? Again?”

Felix raises a brow, intrigued despite himself. “Hold on. Back up. Your dumbass plan actually worked?”

“Fuck yeah, it did,” Jeongin says, his grin turning smug. “She was there, in blue cargos, God, that ass, fixing my car like an angel descended straight from car-heaven.”

“Dickhead,” Minho mutters, glaring at him. “Can you go five fucking seconds without talking about her ass?”

Felix smirks, leaning back against the headboard. “Doubt it. But hey, you talked to her? Like a full conversation?”

“Full fucking conversation,” Jeongin confirms, his chest puffing out. “She didn’t run away. She didn’t tell me to fuck off. Progress, right?”

Felix whistles low, impressed. “Alright, that’s something. What did you talk about?”

“She mostly talked about the car,” Jeongin admits. “But I told her she was amazing. And get this, she told me to call her if I needed help again.”

Minho leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “She actually said that? Or did you hallucinate it in one of your horny delusions?”

“She fucking said it,” Jeongin says, glaring back at him. “I’m not delusional. And now I need to figure out how to make her fall in love with me.”

Felix snorts, covering his face with one hand. “You’ve had one normal interaction and now you’re planning a wedding?”

“Felix,” Jeongin says seriously, sitting up. “This is destiny. Don’t laugh.”

Minho groans, slouching in his chair. “Destiny my ass. You’re obsessed with a girl who probably doesn’t even know how to take a compliment without spontaneously combusting.”

“Exactly!” Jeongin says, pointing at him. “She’s different. She’s shy, soft-spoken, and she’s so fucking smart. I’m not gonna screw this up.”

Felix exhales, his tone shifting to something more patient. “Alright, fine. Let’s workshop this. It's doable.”

Jeongin claps his hands together, grinning. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Jesus,” Minho mutters. “You’re lucky Felix has more patience than me.”

Felix sits up straighter, clasping his hands like he’s about to deliver a lecture. “First rule: You cannot go full Jeongin on her.”

Jeongin frowns. “Full Jeongin?”

“Yeah, like your usual loud, cocky bullshit,” Minho chimes in. “She’s not gonna respond to you strutting around like a frat-boy peacock.”

Felix nods. “She’s shy, right? You need to be approachable. Soft. Make her feel comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” Jeongin repeats, his expression serious. “Okay. How?”

“Patience,” Felix says, ticking off his fingers. “Be genuine. Talk to her, but don’t push. Ask about what she’s into. Show her you’re actually interested in her, not just her ass.”

Jeongin sighs dramatically. “Why does everyone keep attacking me over this?”

“Because you talk about her ass constantly,” Minho deadpans. “Compliment her brain, her personality, her work ethic, anything but her fucking cargo pants.”

“I did!” Jeongin protests. “I told her she was amazing while she was fixing my car.”

“Good,” Felix says with a small smile. “Do more of that. Make her feel seen.”

Jeongin fidgets, his confidence faltering slightly. “What if I mess it up? Say the wrong thing?”

“You will,” Minho says flatly, earning a glare from Jeongin. “But if you’re sincere, she’ll forgive you. Probably.”

Felix sighs, shooting Minho a look. “Ignore him. It’s okay to mess up as long as you’re making an effort. She’ll notice.”

Jeongin nods slowly, absorbing the advice. “What about hanging out? Like, casually?”

Felix brightens. “Yes! Somewhere low-pressure. Somewhere she feels comfortable.”

“A study date,” Jeongin says, his eyes lighting up. “That’s fucking genius.”

Felix shakes his head. “Not a date. Not yet. Just hang out. Be chill.”

Jeongin leans back, a determined grin spreading across his face. “Okay. Be patient. Be genuine. Compliment her brain. Hang out somewhere low-pressure. Got it.”

Minho chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You’re actually taking this seriously, huh?”

“Of course I am,” Jeongin says earnestly. “She’s not like anyone I’ve met before.”

Felix smiles softly. “Then don’t fuck it up, Innie.”

Jeongin grins, his usual cockiness tinged with real hope. “I won’t.”

The college mechanics' garage hums with the faint buzz of overhead fluorescent lights, their sterile glow casting long shadows on the polished concrete floor. The air is thick with the smell of motor oil, grease, and faint traces of burnt rubber. A comforting scent that’s come to feel like home.

You’re crouched over an engine mounted on a heavy metal workbench, black cargos streaked with grime and your cropped black blouse tugging higher every time you reach forward. A red bandana is knotted tightly around your head, though it does little to keep stray hairs from escaping, forcing you to constantly push them back with oil-stained fingers.

The engine looms in front of you, its tangled maze of components taunting you like some sadistic puzzle. Something’s wrong. Something you should be able to figure out, and yet the solution keeps fucking eluding you.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at the carburettor like it personally offended you. “What the fuck is your problem?”

The sharp squeak of sneakers on the concrete pulls your attention for half a second, but you don’t need to look up to know who it is. Jeongin. Of course. His footsteps are unhurried, confident, and that faint whiff of expensive cologne follows him like a calling card.

“Hey,” Jeongin calls out, his voice smooth but softer than usual, like he’s testing the waters. “Seungmin said you’d be here, working yourself to death over something you can’t let go.”

You glance at him briefly before going back to your work, wiping your hands on a rag tucked into your pocket. “Something in this stupid engine doesn’t work,” you mumble, the frustration clear in your tone. “And I can’t figure it out.”

Jeongin steps closer, his sneakers scuffing slightly against the floor. He stops a few feet away, tilting his head as he studies the scene in front of him: you, bent over the workbench, fingers deftly navigating the guts of the engine, black cargos clinging to your legs, streaks of oil smudged on your skin. He has to force himself to look away before his thoughts go to places he’ll regret voicing.

“Okay,” Jeongin says, clearing his throat and stepping closer. “Use me.”

You straighten up, turning to him with a confused look. “What?”

“Use me,” he repeats, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Explain the engine to me, like I’m five. Sometimes talking it out helps people figure shit out, right?”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. He steps forward, holding out a coffee cup. “Also, I brought you this. Vanilla chai latte. Took a guess, it seemed like your kind of thing.”

Your fingers hesitate before reaching for the cup, the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into your cold, grease-smeared hands. “Thanks,” you say softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the garage. The tension in your shoulders eases slightly as you take a sip, the sweet flavour grounding you.

Jeongin grins, leaning his hip against the workbench. “Alright. Walk me through it.”

You sigh, gesturing for him to come closer. “Fine. But you’ll need to actually look at the engine.”

Jeongin steps up beside you, close enough that you catch the faint warmth radiating from him. His cologne mingles with the metallic tang of the garage, creating an oddly intoxicating mix. He leans in as you start pointing to different components, his eyes following the movements of your hands.

“This is the carburettor,” you explain. “It mixes air and fuel for combustion. If it’s clogged or not working right, the engine’s fucked.”

Jeongin nods seriously, though the smirk playing on his lips betrays him. “Air, fuel, kaboom. Got it.”

You huff out a soft laugh despite yourself, glancing at him. “Basically.”

Encouraged by your reaction, Jeongin leans a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “And what’s this thing?” he asks, pointing vaguely at a random cluster of wires.

“That’s the distributor,” you say, nudging his hand away so you can show him properly. “It sends voltage to the spark plugs. If something’s wrong here, the engine misfires.”

Jeongin whistles low, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. “You weren’t kidding when you said this shit’s complicated.”

You shrug, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not that bad once you know what you’re doing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeongin teases, tilting his head to get a better look. “Says the fucking genius.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the engine. “I’m not a genius. It’s just practice.”

“Still impressive,” Jeongin says softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he forces himself to focus. “Alright, what else?”

As you continue explaining, something starts to click in your mind. You step back slightly, your brows furrowing. “Wait a second-”

“What?” Jeongin asks, watching your face light up with realization.

You lean in, carefully pulling at a small, almost hidden wire near the distributor. “This wire isn’t connected properly. It’s part of the ignition system. Without it, the spark plugs won’t fire right.”

Jeongin frowns, squinting at the tiny wire. “That tiny thing? Seriously? That’s the whole problem?”

“It’s not obvious,” you admit, reaching for a screwdriver from your kit. “That’s probably why I missed it the first ten fucking times.”

Jeongin watches as you secure the wire, his tone filled with awe. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

You pause for half a second, your cheeks flushing, but you quickly shake it off and finish tightening the connection. “It’s just an engine,” you mumble, ducking your head.

“It’s not just an engine,” Jeongin insists, his voice firm but warm. “You just solved a fucking mystery like Sherlock Holmes. That’s badass.”

You glance at him briefly, unsure how to respond, and instead focus on brushing your hands off on a rag. “Alright,” you say, stepping back. “That should do it.”

“You’re sure?” Jeongin asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Test it,” you reply, crossing your arms as you nod toward the ignition system.

Jeongin turns to the panel, flipping the switch. The engine rumbles to life, smooth and steady. His eyes widen, and a grin splits across his face as he lets out an excited laugh. “Holy shit, you actually fixed it!”

You nod, your lips twitching into a small smile. “Told you it wasn’t that hard.”

Jeongin shakes his head, his grin full of admiration. “You’re a fucking genius. I don’t care what you say.”

You shrug, the warmth in your chest spreading despite your best efforts to downplay it. “It’s just practice.”

Jeongin watches as you gather your tools, his grin softening. “Thanks for letting me help, even if all I did was stand here and look pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You weren’t that bad.”

Jeongin straightens up, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. “So coffee again? Maybe you can teach me more.”

You glance at him, his tone so sincere it catches you off guard. “Maybe,” you murmur, your cheeks warming as you adjust the strap of your tote bag.

Jeongin grins, his confidence returning full force. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jeongin bursts into the kitchen like a fucking tornado, the door slamming against the wall as his energy ricochets off every surface. Felix is at the stove, carefully arranging what looks like a chaotic cross between a gourmet dish and a culinary science experiment.

Minho sits on a stool nearby, fork poised mid-air as he waits impatiently to dig in. Both of them look up as Jeongin skips in, his grin so wide it practically splits his face in half.

“I fucking did it again!” Jeongin announces, throwing his hands up like he’s just won the lottery.

Felix raises an eyebrow, setting the pan down with a metallic clatter. “Did what again?”

“Worked my charm,” Jeongin says smugly, puffing out his chest like a victorious rooster. “I went to the college workshop, helped her figure out why an engine wasn’t working. You should’ve seen her. She was so fucking focused, explaining all the parts to me like an absolute badass.”

Minho snorts, shoving a forkful of Felix’s food into his mouth. “You know fuck-all about cars.”

“And that’s the beauty of it,” Jeongin says, pointing dramatically at Minho like he’s cracked some great universal truth. “I know jack shit, but I offered moral support. And guess what? It fucking worked.”

Felix sighs, shaking his head as he sets the plate down in front of Minho. “Alright, Romeo, what’s the problem this time?”

Jeongin hops onto the counter, his legs swinging like an overgrown child. “Felix, here’s the thing, I think we’re friends now. Or, like, something close to friends. But!” He leans forward, his voice dropping like he’s about to deliver the plot twist of a lifetime. “I do not want to get friendzoned.”

Felix opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Jisung and Hyunjin stroll into the kitchen. Jisung is mid-rant, his arms waving wildly as Hyunjin trails behind him with an amused smirk plastered on his face.

“…and that’s why vending machines are the fucking devil,” Jisung finishes with a flourish as they step inside.

Hyunjin chuckles. “You’re just mad it ate your dollar.”

“Not the point!” Jisung retorts, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite. “What’s going on in here?”

“Innie,” Minho says around a mouthful of food, pointing his fork at Jeongin, “is trying to woo a mechanics girl, but the problem is, she’s shy.”

Jeongin groans, dragging both hands down his face. “Why do you make me sound like a complete fucking moron?”

“Because you are,” Minho deadpans, smirking as he shovels more food into his mouth.

Jeongin waves him off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Anyway, listen to my great romance that would make Shakespeare weep”

He launches into a play-by-play of his interactions with you, pacing back and forth like he’s narrating some great epic. He describes the spark plug incident in painstaking detail, recounts the engine troubleshooting with theatrical flair, and even mentions the coffee he brought you- “because I’m thoughtful as fuck.”

Hyunjin leans against the counter, arms crossed as he listens with growing amusement. Jisung nods along, occasionally pausing to take another bite of his apple.

“So, basically,” Jeongin concludes, spinning on his heel to face them, “I’m making progress. But I don’t want to get stuck in the friend zone. I need strategies. Plans. Help me.”

Felix smirks, leaning back against the stove. “You’re really in deep, huh?”

“Like Mariana Trench deep,” Jeongin admits, running a hand through his hair, his confidence faltering for a split second. “She’s cool. And smart. And sweet. And she smells like parma violet candy.”

Jisung stops mid-bite, his eyebrows shooting up. “Parma violet? That’s a weirdly specific observation.”

“Not the fucking point!” Jeongin snaps, glaring at him.

Minho finally sets his fork down, resting his chin on his hand as he gives Jeongin his full attention. “Alright, let’s think this through. You’ve already somehow impressed her, don’t ask me how, so what’s next? You need something that keeps you close to her but shows you’re serious. No fuckboy antics.”

Jisung suddenly perks up, his eyes lighting up like a kid with a genius idea. “Oh, I’ve got it!” He tosses his half-eaten apple onto the counter and turns to Jeongin, gesturing wildly. “There’s this old car place on the edge of town. It’s basically a junkyard, but they sell old cars for dirt cheap because they’re considered scrap. What if you take her there, let her pick one out, and the two of you restore it together? Like a team project. Ultimate bonding shit.”

The room falls silent as everyone processes Jisung’s suggestion. Then Jeongin’s face lights up like he’s just been handed the fucking Holy Grail.

“Sungie,” Jeongin says, striding forward and grabbing Jisung by the shoulders, “I could kiss you right now.”

Jisung grins, puckering his lips dramatically. “Go ahead. I’m ready for it.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes but indulges him by pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand, which he then slaps over Jisung’s mouth. “There. That’s all you’re getting.”

Jisung pulls back with an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “You two are fucking idiots.”

“But the idea’s solid,” Felix says, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s personal, low-pressure, and shows that you’re genuinely interested in her hobbies.”

“And,” Minho adds, his smirk widening, “it keeps you around her without making her feel like you’re trying too hard. Smart move.”

Jeongin grins, practically vibrating with excitement as he pulls out his phone. “This is fucking perfect. I’ll text her right now, see if she’s down.”

Minho points at him, his tone sharp. “Don’t fuck it up, Innie.”

“I won’t,” Jeongin insists, already typing furiously on his phone. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Jisung smirks, leaning against the counter. “I know.”

Felix rolls his eyes, returning to the stove. “Alright, go plan your little restoration project. Let us know if it works or if it crashes and burns.”

Jeongin looks up briefly, his grin wide and confident. “It’s gonna be amazing. Just watch.”

Hyunjin watches him leave, shaking his head with a chuckle. “He’s gonna make such a fool of himself.”

“Probably,” Minho agrees, stealing another bite of Felix’s food. “But it’ll be entertaining as fuck.”

Jisung laughs, already planning how to take credit for the whole idea if it works. “He’ll owe me for life.”

The familiar bell above the door jingles as Jeongin steps into Dewie’s auto shop, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The place smells like grease, burnt oil, and metal. The kind of scent that clings to your clothes and hair, the kind of scent that feels oddly welcoming.

Somewhere in the back, the faint clank of a ratchet echoes, blending with the hum of a nearby air compressor. Dewie glances up from the counter, his weathered face splitting into a grin.

“Back again, huh?” Dewie says, setting down the car part he’s been inspecting. His sharp eyes flick toward the garage door behind him. “Kiddo’s in the back, like always. Thought you were just her spark plug guy. What’s the deal, kid?”

Jeongin grins, not missing a beat. “Might’ve upgraded to something more. Thanks, Dewie.”

He makes his way through the cluttered aisles of parts and tools, sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished concrete. When he reaches the back, he pauses for a moment, leaning against the doorframe as he takes in the sight of you.

You’re perched on a stool near a disassembled carburettor, hands streaked with grease as you carefully clean the delicate components. Your cropped white lace camisole looks almost absurdly out of place in the gritty garage, its delicate fabric contrasting sharply with the grime and chaos surrounding you.

Blue mom jeans sit high on your waist, snug but not too tight, cuffed at the ankles over scuffed Converse. A blue bandana ties your hair back, but a few loose strands cling to your cheeks, and Jeongin’s throat tightens at how effortlessly beautiful you look.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual but failing to hide the grin tugging at his lips.

You glance up, startled for half a second before relaxing when you realize it’s him. “Oh. Hi.”

“Busy?” Jeongin asks, nodding toward the carburetor as he takes a few steps closer.

“A little,” you admit, setting the part down and wiping your hands on an already-dirty rag. “Why?”

He pulls a slightly crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it, holding it out to you. “Found this place. Kind of a junkyard, but they sell old, beat-to-shit cars for almost nothing. Thought you might want to check it out.”

You take the paper, your brow furrowing as you scan the address and the details of the auction. Your fingers brush his for the briefest moment, and Jeongin’s heartbeat skips. Despite the grease smudges, your hands are soft, delicate in a way that doesn’t quite match the work he’s seen them do.

“What do you say?” he asks, his voice casual, though his eyes flicker with an unmistakable nervous energy.

Before you can answer, Dewie’s voice booms from the front of the shop. “She says yes! Off you go, kiddo! Take the clueless frat boy with you.”

“Dewie!” you exclaim. “I didn’t say anything yet!”

“No arguments,” Dewie calls back, his tone dripping with mischief. “You’ve been buried in this shop all day. Go out. Have some fun.”

Jeongin laughs, the sound warm and unbothered. “See? Even your uncle’s on my side.”

“He’s not my uncle,” you mutter, turning back around and handing the paper back to him. “Fine. But if this place sucks, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal,” Jeongin says instantly, his grin widening as he leads the way out. Dewie waves at the two of you, his smirk lingering as he watches Jeongin hold the door open for you like it’s second nature.

Jeongin’s car smells faintly of his cologne, a rich, woodsy scent that somehow manages not to clash with the faint lingering smell of fast food fries. The radio hums softly in the background, some indie rock song playing low enough to barely register.

You sit in the passenger seat, fidgeting with the strap of your bag, occasionally glancing out the window. Jeongin sneaks a look at you every few moments, but he doesn’t say much, letting the quiet settle comfortably between you.

When he pulls into the junkyard’s lot, your eyes widen slightly at the sheer scale of it. Rusted cars stretch out in long, chaotic rows, each one a monument to decades of neglect. The air smells of old rubber, engine oil, and faintly of wet dirt.

Some of the cars look like they’ve been there for years. Classic Mustangs with shattered windshields, a Cadillac with its hood missing, and even an ancient VW van so rusted it’s practically orange.

Jeongin parks the car, cutting the engine. “So?” he asks, stepping out and leaning casually against his door. “What do you think?”

You follow him out slowly, your gaze sweeping across the endless sea of potential. For a moment, he worries it might be overwhelming, but then he catches it. A flicker of excitement in your eyes. Your lips part slightly as you take it all in, and Jeongin can’t stop himself from smiling.

“This is…” you start, your voice soft, almost reverent. “This is fucking amazing.”

“Really?” Jeongin asks, his relief palpable. “I was half-convinced this was a dumb idea.”

You shake your head, your excitement bubbling over as you walk toward one of the cars. A battered blue Chevrolet Impala with peeling paint and a spiderweb of cracks in its windshield. “It’s not dumb at all. This place is incredible.”

He follows you as you weave between the rows of cars, watching the way your fingers lightly brush against the rusted metal. You pause at a faded red pickup truck, tilting your head as you examine its dented frame. Jeongin notices the way your eyes light up with every new discovery, and it makes his chest feel tight.

“See anything you like?” he asks, his tone teasing but genuine.

You glance at him over your shoulder, a small, soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re all beautiful in their own way.”

Jeongin leans against the nearest car, crossing his arms as he watches you. “Okay, genius. If you could pick one, which would it be?”

You hesitate, scanning the lot again before pointing toward a sleek but battered 1967 Ford Mustang. Its red paint is faded almost to pink, one of its tyres sits flat, and the chrome bumper is hanging on by sheer force of will. But even in its sorry state, there’s something undeniably regal about it.

“That one,” you say with quiet certainty.

Jeongin whistles low, genuinely impressed. “Damn. A Mustang? Bold choice. So, you wanna take it?”

Your head jerks toward him, startled. “What? No. I couldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” Jeongin counters, grinning. “It’s here, it’s cheap, and if anyone can bring it back to life, it’s you.”

You bite your lip, glancing back at the car. “It’s a lot of work.”

Jeongin shrugs. “So what? I’ll help.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “You don’t know shit about cars.”

“True,” Jeongin admits, laughing. “But I can hold tools. And I’m excellent at standing around and looking hot.”

A laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, and Jeongin’s grin widens at the sound. “Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. “But you’re not allowed to slack off.”

“Deal,” Jeongin says, sticking out his hand. You hesitate, then shake it, your grease-smudged fingers warm and soft against his.

He looks at the Mustang, his grin turning almost boyish. “Alright. Let’s make this beauty yours.”

The next month is a whirlwind of grease, sweat, and late nights spent hunched over the Mustang, and every single day, Jeongin shows up at Dewie’s auto shop with his sleeves rolled up and that goddamn grin plastered on his face.

The rhythm becomes natural. Him peppering you with endless questions about parts, tools, and processes while fumbling with wrenches like a clueless idiot and you, patiently showing him how to work through each repair, trying not to laugh at his complete lack of mechanical instincts. Jeongin is hopeless when it comes to precision, but his enthusiasm is undeniable.

By the time the sun sets, you’re both exhausted, covered in streaks of oil and grime, but there’s always a shared sense of accomplishment. And each night, when Jeongin stumbles back to the Alpha Phi house, he bursts into the kitchen or living room, rambling to his friends about every detail like a kid coming back from his first field trip.

The first week, Jeongin barrels into the kitchen, the faint smell of motor oil clinging to his hoodie. Felix is at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smells halfway decent, while Minho scrolls through his phone at the counter. From the living room, Jisung and Hyunjin’s voices carry through as they bicker over which shitty rom-com to stream.

“It’s happening!” Jeongin yells, throwing his bag onto a chair. “We’re fucking doing it!”

Minho doesn’t even look up. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Restoring the Mustang!” Jeongin says, grinning like an idiot. “We started on the engine today. You should’ve seen her. She’s so fucking smart. She was explaining all this technical shit, and I was just standing there like, ‘what the fuck?’”

“Not surprised,” Felix mutters, barely glancing away from the stove. “You’re an idiot.”

“Fuck off. Anyway, I held the flashlight like a goddamn pro. Didn’t drop it once. She even smiled at me.”

Jisung wanders into the kitchen. “You’re really out here bragging about holding a flashlight, huh?”

“Shut up,” Jeongin says, chucking a dish towel at him. “It’s progress.”

By the second week, Jeongin is full of even more stories. He bursts into Felix’s room one night, interrupting a casual gaming session. Felix is sprawled on the bed next to Minho, controller in hand, while Hyunjin sits on the floor beside Jisung, the four of them locked in a heated match of Mario Kart.

“Okay, okay, listen!” Jeongin says, plopping down onto the floor next to Hyunjin, his hair a wild mess and a streak of grease smudged across his cheek.

“Pause the game,” Minho mutters dryly, already guessing what’s coming.

“We replaced the carburettor today,” Jeongin says, breathless. “And get this, she let me tighten some bolts. Didn’t even double-check my work. Trust, you guys. That’s trust.”

“Or recklessness,” Minho deadpans, barely looking away from the screen.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongin says, though he’s grinning. “She even made me tea while we waited for a part to soak. It was kind of nice.”

Jisung snorts, not looking away from his kart. “Tea. How fucking romantic.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jeongin retorts, leaning back on his hands. “Bet no one’s ever made you tea while you fixed a carburettor.”

Hyunjin smirks, pausing the game and stretching his arms overhead. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re in simp mode.”

“I’m not fucking simping,” Jeongin snaps, his ears tinged red. “I’m just invested.”

“Sure,” Felix says, glancing up long enough to exchange a knowing look with Minho. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

At the end of week three, Jeongin stomps into the living room one evening, his hoodie streaked with grease and his expression sour. Jisung and Hyunjin are sprawled on the couch, while Minho sits nearby, his laptop open on his knees.

“Rough day, Romeo?” Minho asks, not even looking up.

“Fucking timing belt,” Jeongin mutters, throwing himself onto the couch between Jisung and Hyunjin. “We thought we had it, but the replacement part didn’t fit. She was so fucking pissed.”

Jisung perks up, his curiosity piqued. “Pissed at you?”

“No, dumbass. At the part,” Jeongin replies, throwing an arm over his face. “But honestly? It was kind of amazing. She gets all quiet and focused, and you can literally see her brain working overtime. It’s fucking unreal.”

Hyunjin nudges him with his elbow. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongin mumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

By the final week, the Mustang is nearly complete. You and Jeongin spend an entire day putting the finishing touches on it, working late into the evening. When the engine finally roars to life, the sound is deafening and so is Jeongin’s yell of triumph.

“Holy fuck!” he shouts, jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “We fucking did it!”

You grin, brushing your greasy hands off on your jeans. “Told you it’d work.”

Later that night, Jeongin practically kicks open the front door of the Alpha Phi house, his face flushed with excitement. The guys are all gathered in the living room, and they look up in surprise as he barrels in.

“It fucking works!” Jeongin yells, throwing his hands in the air. “The Mustang is alive!”

“No way,” Jisung says, sitting up straight. “You actually pulled it off?”

“We pulled it off,” Jeongin corrects, flopping onto the couch with a satisfied grin. “She did most of the work, obviously, but I was there. I tightened bolts. I replaced hoses. I got covered in grease. It was fucking awesome.”

Felix laughs from the armchair. “So, what now?”

Jeongin pauses, his excitement fading into something softer. “I don’t know. When the car started, she was so happy. Like, I’ve never seen her light up like that. It was kind of perfect.”

“Sounds like you’re ready for the next step,” Hyunjin says, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s the next step?” Jeongin asks, his voice quieter now.

“Ask her out, dumbass,” Minho says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been dancing around it for weeks.”

Jeongin hesitates, his grin faltering slightly. “What if she says no?”

“She won’t,” Felix says firmly. “She wouldn’t have spent all that time with you if she didn’t like you.”

Jisung claps Jeongin on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, lover boy.”

Jeongin exhales, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The next afternoon, Jeongin stands in front of the small flower shop on the corner of campus, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. The display window is bright and vibrant, blooms of every colour arranged in chaotic harmony. Despite the cheerful exterior, his nerves are wound tight as a fucking drum. He stares at the flowers like they might offer advice, but they’re as silent and smug as always.

“Okay, Jeongin, you can do this,” he mutters to himself, earning a strange look from a passing student. He ignores it, takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open. The bell above the door jingles, its soft chime making his nerves spike further.

The shop is cosy, filled with the earthy scent of fresh flowers, damp soil, and just a hint of something sweet. Behind the counter stands a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. She looks up from trimming stems as Jeongin steps inside.

“Hi there,” she greets, her voice bright and chipper. “Looking for anything in particular?”

Jeongin scratches the back of his neck, his usual cocky demeanour faltering under the weight of this new territory. “Uh, yeah. I need flowers for someone. Like, congratulations flowers but also romance flowers? Does that make any sense?”

The woman’s eyebrow quirks up, her smile tilting into something amused. “That makes perfect sense. Tell me a little about the person.”

“She’s-” Jeongin pauses, his voice softening as your image pops into his mind. “She’s amazing. She’s smart and shy, but when she’s working on something, she just lights up, you know? She’s been busting her ass on this project with me, and I want to celebrate her. But, uh, I also want her to know I like her.”

The woman chuckles, nodding as she steps out from behind the counter. “Sounds like someone special. Let’s see-” She pulls blooms from different buckets, her movements precise. “Pink roses, classic for admiration and love. And daisies for celebration. Thoughtful but not too overbearing. How does that sound?”

Jeongin grins, his confidence returning a little. “Sounds perfect. You’re a lifesaver.”

When Jeongin shows up at Dewie’s auto shop later that day, the bouquet feels fragile in his hands, like it might crumble under the weight of his nerves. He rehearses what he wants to say under his breath as he walks through the door, already sweating through his hoodie.

Dewie is at the counter, sipping what looks like a truly heinous cup of black coffee. He raises an eyebrow as Jeongin strides in, bouquet clutched like a goddamn lifeline.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Clueless Frat Boy,” Dewie says, smirking. “What’s with the flowers? You gonna apologize for breaking her wrench or something?”

Jeongin glares but doesn’t stop moving toward the back of the shop. “None of your business, old man.”

Dewie laughs, raising his coffee mug in mock salute. “Good luck, Romeo.”

When Jeongin steps into the garage, he finds you next to the Mustang, your focus entirely on sanding down the car’s exterior. You’re in black cargos again, snug and streaked with grime, paired with a fitted white tank top that clings to your frame.

Your trusty blue bandana keeps most of your hair out of your face, but a few strands escape, clinging to your cheeks from the sweat of the day. You don’t notice him at first, too engrossed in the repetitive motion of sanding, and Jeongin takes a moment to steady himself.

“Hey,” he says finally, his voice loud enough to carry over the faint whir of machines in the distance.

You glance up, startled, but your expression softens when you see him. “Oh. Hi.”

Jeongin steps closer, shifting awkwardly. “Busy?”

You set the sandpaper down, wiping your hands on a rag. “Kind of. Why?”

“These,” Jeongin says, holding up the bouquet like it’s a peace offering. “They’re for you. To celebrate the car. And, uh, just because.”

Your eyes widen, your movements faltering as you take the flowers gingerly. Your fingers brush his, and Jeongin swears his heart skips a beat. “They’re beautiful,” you whisper, glancing down at the delicate arrangement. “Thank you.”

Jeongin scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “You deserve it. You worked so fucking hard on this car.”

You look at him, a small smile creeping onto your face. “You helped.”

“Barely,” Jeongin laughs, shaking his head. “I mostly held tools and asked dumb questions. But thanks for pretending I contributed.”

You laugh softly, the sound making Jeongin’s chest swell with pride. Setting the bouquet carefully aside, you nod toward the car. “Ready to paint this thing?”

“Hell yeah,” Jeongin says, rolling up his sleeves like he’s about to walk into battle. “Let’s make this car look as badass as you.”

You quickly grab a can of spray paint, shoving it into his hands. “Just follow my lead,” you mumble, but the faint smile on your lips gives you away.

The next few hours pass in a blur of laughter, paint fumes, and meticulous work. You coach Jeongin through the process, showing him how to hold the can and keep the spray even.

At first, he’s all over the place, but he improves with your patient guidance. By the time the Mustang is coated in a sleek, gleaming red, your arms ache, and the garage smells like a paint factory exploded, but the sight of the car makes it all worth it.

Jeongin steps back, admiring the Mustang with wide eyes. “Holy shit. It looks fucking incredible.”

“It does,” you agree, a note of pride in your voice as you run a hand along the freshly painted hood.

Jeongin glances at you, his pulse quickening. He rubs his palms against his jeans, gathering his courage. “Hey?”

You turn to him, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?”

“So,” He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, his confidence wavering. “You’ve spent all this time teaching me about cars and making me look less like a total dumbass. And I kind of want to thank you properly.”

You blink, confusion flickering across your face. “You already brought me flowers.”

“No, I mean,” Jeongin takes a deep breath, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Would you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching for a moment. The garage feels deafeningly quiet, and Jeongin’s nerves spiral with each passing second of silence.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly, his voice softer. “I just thought-”

“I’d like that,” you interrupt as you smile shyly. “A date, I mean.”

Jeongin’s face lights up, his grin breaking into full force. “Really?”

You nod, fiddling with the edge of your tank top. “Yeah. I think it’d be nice.”

Jeongin pumps his fist in the air like a kid who just won his first carnival game. “Alright, it’s a date. I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow sounds good,” you say, your voice still quiet but warm.

As the two of you clean up the shop, Jeongin can’t stop grinning, his excitement radiating off him. When he leaves that night, he’s already planning every detail of the perfect first date, determined to make it just as memorable as the month you spent building something extraordinary together.

Jeongin practically kicks the front door open as he bursts into the Alpha Phi house, his energy crashing through the quiet like a fucking tidal wave. His grin stretches so wide it feels like it might tear his face in half, and the squeak of his sneakers on the hardwood floors only adds to the chaos of his arrival. He darts straight into the living room, barely noticing the half-empty beer bottles and the faint smell of stale popcorn.

The scene is the usual mess: Chan, Changbin, and Seungmin are sprawled across the couch with beers in hand, mid-debate over something that sounds suspiciously stupid. Meanwhile, Minho, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix are crowded around the coffee table, shouting over the remote as a dumb action movie plays on the TV, paused mid-explosion.

Chan’s the first to look up, raising an eyebrow at Jeongin’s theatrical entrance. “What the fuck’s got you so excited?”

Before Jeongin can say a word, Jisung perks up from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat. “Oh, you three poor, oblivious bastards. You’ve missed some big fucking moves lately. And by big, I mean colossal.”

Changbin snorts, tilting his beer can. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Jisung gestures dramatically toward Jeongin. “Let the man speak.”

All eyes turn to Jeongin, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. He doesn’t waste a second. “I’m going on a date!”

The room erupts like a bomb went off.

“HOLY SHIT!” Jisung yells, leaping off the couch and pumping his fists in the air like a lunatic. “FINALLY!"

Felix and Hyunjin immediately bolt upright, whooping as they grab Jeongin in a bone-crushing group hug. Minho’s laughing so hard he nearly falls off the arm of the chair he’s perched on, while Chan just shakes his head, bewildered by the chaos unfolding before him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, calm down,” Seungmin mutters, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his tone. “A date? With who?”

Felix pulls away from the hug just enough to shove Jeongin back toward the middle of the room. “Tell them! Tell them everything!”

Jeongin’s practically glowing as he recounts it, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I brought her flowers, pink roses and daisies, ‘cause that’s apparently a thing, and we painted the Mustang today, and when we were done, I just fucking asked. Like, straight up. And she said yes.”

Minho claps him on the back, smirking. “See? The long game works. I told you.”

“Don’t inflate your own ego,” Jeongin says, laughing. “But yeah, it fucking worked.”

From the couch, Changbin raises a hand, clearly confused. “Wait, hold the fuck up. A date with who?”

“Y/N,” Jisung blurts, his tone smug as fuck. He shoots Jeongin finger guns like this is somehow his victory. “You know, Seungmin’s shy mechanic friend?”

Seungmin bolts upright, his beer almost toppling over. “Y/N?! You’re going on a date with Y/N?!”

Jeongin grins like a proud idiot. “Yup. She even smiled at me when I asked. Like, a real smile.”

Seungmin looks like he’s been hit by a truck. “You mean my Y/N? The one who overthinks everything and literally panics trying to order coffee?”

“Same one,” Jeongin says, still grinning. “And I met Dewie, too. He’s intense, but he’s cool.”

Seungmin groans, running a hand through his hair like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Dewie? You met Dewie? That man will kneecap you if you so much as make her frown. I’m not exaggerating.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on fucking it up,” Jeongin says, shrugging. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

“Dewie aside,” Minho interjects, smirking, “this is cause for celebration. Do you even know how much fucking effort went into this? We’ve been working like the wheel dudes at the F1.”

“You mean the pit crew?” Seungmin deadpans, his tone flat.

“Yeah, that,” Minho snaps, rolling his eyes. “Point is, we made this happen.”

“You’ve been planning this for months?” Seungmin demands, glaring at Jeongin. “Without telling me?”

Jeongin shrugs, the picture of casual. “You’d have been mad.”

“I’m mad now!” Seungmin shouts, though there’s no real heat in his voice. “That’s my best fucking friend. If you hurt her-”

“I know the drill. Be nice. Don’t fuck it up,” Jeongin interrupts, grinning.

“You’d better,” Seungmin mutters, leaning back into the couch. “God help you if you don’t.”

Changbin leans forward, smirking. “So, what’s the plan for this date, Romeo? First dates set the tone, you know. You fuck this up, and it’s over.”

Jeongin’s grin softens, but his excitement doesn’t waver. “I’ve got ideas. I want to keep it low-pressure, something she’ll be comfortable with.”

Hyunjin whistles low. “Look at you. Planning shit out. I’m impressed.”

Felix claps Jeongin on the shoulder, grinning. “You’re gonna nail it. She wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t like you.”

“Exactly,” Jisung adds, slapping Jeongin’s back so hard he nearly stumbles. “This is your moment. Don’t fuck it up.”

Jeongin raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I hear you. No pressure or anything.”

The room erupts in laughter and cheers again, and Jeongin feels his chest swell with pride. He knows the guys are rooting for him, and despite their teasing, their confidence in him makes him feel like he can actually pull this off.

As he settles into the chaos of the Alpha Phi living room, the thought of seeing you again tomorrow fills him with a mix of nerves and excitement. This date isn’t just a step forward. It’s the beginning of something he’s been quietly hoping for since the day you first knocked on the frat house door.

The classic car event is alive with the thrum of engines, the chatter of enthusiasts, and the faint scent of fuel lingering in the warm afternoon air. Rows of pristine vintage cars stretch out across the lot like an automotive museum brought to life.

Chrome gleams under the sun, polished to perfection, while proud owners lounge nearby, ready to swap stories or flex their hard work to anyone who stops to look.

Jeongin stands just outside the entrance, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. He’s dressed in black jeans and a crisp white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows in a way that makes him look effortlessly put together. But the way he keeps fidgeting with his cuffs gives him away, his nerves are in overdrive. He tugs at the hem of his shirt for what feels like the hundredth time, scanning the crowd until he spots you weaving through the chaos.

When he sees you, it’s like the world slows down for a second.

You’re wearing lavender cargo pants that sit snugly on your hips, paired with a cropped black lace camisole that makes his heart stutter for just a moment. Black Converse complete the look, scuffed enough to suggest they’ve been with you through thick and thin. A lavender hair clip holds most of your hair back, though a few strands fall loose, framing your face in a way that Jeongin can’t stop staring at. Black sunglasses perch on your nose, and you adjust them as you walk, the motion so casual yet so captivating that Jeongin feels his nerves vanish in an instant.

“Wow,” he breathes as you approach, his grin widening naturally. “You look fucking incredible.”

You smile shyly, one hand fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Thanks. You look really good too.”

Jeongin chuckles, his fingers brushing through his hair in an unconscious attempt to play it cool. “Ready for this? It’s loud as hell and probably overwhelming as fuck.”

You glance at the crowd, taking in the swirling chaos of people and cars, and then back at him. “I’ll be fine,” you say softly, your voice a little unsure but determined.

“Good,” Jeongin says, his grin steady as he falls into step beside you. “I’ve got you if it gets too much.”

The two of you start making your way through the lot, the polished cars glinting in the sunlight. Jeongin’s eyes are half on the vehicles and half on you. As you stop in front of a sleek black 1967 Camaro SS, he notices the way your shy demeanour seems to melt away, replaced by something brighter and more confident.

“That’s a 1967 Camaro SS,” you say, your voice calm but laced with excitement. “It’s got a 6.5-litre V8 engine. Iconic in drag racing because it was built for speed.”

Jeongin whistles low, leaning slightly closer to get a better look. “Damn, you really know your shit.”

You laugh softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I grew up around this. Dewie used to drag me to events like this all the time when I was a kid. I guess it just stuck.”

“Lucky Dewie,” Jeongin says, his tone light but genuine. “Wish I had someone teaching me cool shit like this growing up. All I know about cars is, well, what you’ve told me.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching into a small smile. “You’re not a bad student.”

He grins at the compliment. “And you’re a damn good teacher.”

As the crowd grows thicker, the noise and press of bodies start to feel suffocating. Jeongin notices how your steps falter, your shoulders stiffening slightly. Without a word, he holds out his hand, palm open and steady.

You hesitate, glancing at his hand before slipping your own into it. His grip is firm but warm, and the way his fingers curl gently around yours sends a surprising wave of calm through you. He doesn’t comment, just squeezes your hand lightly, his silent reassurance louder than words.

The two of you stop in front of a low-slung beauty with gleaming chrome accents. A 1964 Chevy Impala.

“This one’s a 1964 Chevy Impala,” you say, your voice regaining its steady rhythm. “It’s iconic in lowrider culture. The hydraulics make it bounce, and it became a huge part of the aesthetic.”

Jeongin tilts his head, studying the car with a newfound appreciation. “So it’s not just about looking cool, it’s about the vibe, right?”

“Exactly,” you say, your face lighting up. “It’s like an art form. Every lowrider tells a story.”

Jeongin nods thoughtfully. “That’s fucking cool. See, this is why I brought you. If I’d come here alone, I’d just be walking around saying, ‘That one’s shiny,’ and calling it a day.”

You laugh, a soft sound that makes Jeongin’s chest feel warm. “You’re not that clueless.”

“Eh,” he says, smirking. “You give me too much credit.”

After a while, Jeongin steers you toward a quieter corner of the event, where a beautifully restored 1970 Dodge Charger gleams under the sun. He stops in front of the car, his grin turning mischievous.

“So,” he says casually, “after this, we’re hitting a drive-in.”

Your head snaps toward him, surprise flashing across your face. “A drive-in?”

“Yup,” Jeongin says, leaning against the Charger like he owns the thing. “We’re watching Transformers.”

You gasp softly, your sunglasses slipping down your nose as you stare at him. “You’re kidding. I love those movies.”

“I fucking knew it,” Jeongin says, his grin growing cocky. “Alien robots turning into cars? Totally your thing.”

“Shut up,” you say, laughing as you swat at his arm. “They’re amazing, okay? Don’t judge me.”

Jeongin holds his hands up in mock surrender, though he’s clearly enjoying himself. “No judgment. I’m a genius for guessing right.”

“Smartass,” you mutter, though you’re smiling.

“Alright, since I’m such a genius,” Jeongin says, nodding toward the Impala, “how about you teach me more about this lowrider thing? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, diving into an explanation of the car’s history and cultural significance. Jeongin listens intently, his hand still clasping yours as he alternates between watching your animated face and the cars you describe.

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, casting the event in shades of orange and gold, Jeongin feels like he’s learned more about cars, and about you, than he ever expected. As you both head toward the exit, your hand still in his, Jeongin can’t help but grin.

Jeongin pulls into the drive-in as the twilight sky gives way to the inky darkness of night. The massive outdoor screen flickers with pre-show ads, casting faint colours across the lot filled with cars. The smell of popcorn and sugary snacks drifts through the air, mingling with the low hum of idling engines and the buzz of voices from moviegoers settling in. Jeongin parks dead centre, a perfect spot, not too close to the screen but far enough from the busier clusters of cars.

He hops out of the car with the enthusiasm of someone who’s been planning this moment for weeks. Swinging open the trunk, he starts pulling out a carefully curated collection of pillows and blankets from the back.

There’s a plaid throw he stole from the frat house couch, a ridiculously soft fuzzy blanket he bought specifically for tonight, and a mismatched pile of pillows he’s swiped from his own bed and, maybe, Seungmin’s without asking.

Jeongin hums to himself as he arranges everything, fussing over the setup like he’s decorating a showroom. Every so often, he glances over his shoulder to check on you. You’re standing by the passenger door, fidgeting with the waistband of your lavender cargo pants. The black cropped lace camisole you’re wearing hugs you just right, but Jeongin can tell you’re overthinking the outfit from the way you keep tugging at the hem.

When he finally catches your gaze, he grins. “Oi, stop stressing and come over here. I went full Pinterest on this setup. Tell me it’s not amazing.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you walk toward him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously prepared,” he shoots back, stepping aside to reveal the setup in the trunk. The space looks like a cosy little nest, the blankets layered with precision and the pillows fluffed to an absurd degree. “I’ve outdone myself, haven’t I?”

You peer into the trunk, your lips twitching into a small smile. “It’s a lot. But it’s cute. I’ll give you that.”

“Cute is the vibe,” Jeongin says, crawling into the trunk with exaggerated care. He pats the spot beside him. “C’mon. This trunk isn’t gonna appreciate itself.”

You climb in, settling cross-legged on the blankets as Jeongin sprawls beside you, legs stretched out. From his hoodie pocket, he pulls out a plastic bag crammed with snacks.

“Alright, check this out. I raided the store like a fucking professional. I’ve got chips, candy, those overpriced mini ice cream tubs, and even gummy sharks. Your wish is my command.”

You blink at the array, clearly impressed. “You didn’t have to go all out, you know.”

Jeongin waves off your concern, tearing into a bag of sour candy. “What’s the point of a drive-in if you don’t go all out? Now, pick your poison. I got, like, three kinds of chocolate and enough sour shit to ruin your tongue for days.”

Smiling shyly, you grab a bar of chocolate from the bag. “Thanks. For all of this.”

Jeongin shrugs, popping a gummy shark into his mouth. “Easy. You're worth it.”

The opening scenes of Transformers begin to roll across the massive screen, and Jeongin leans back on his elbows, his attention half on the movie and half on you.

You sit cross-legged beside him, nibbling on the chocolate bar as you watch the screen, your face lit faintly by the shifting colours of the film and Jeongin can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at you.

At one point, you catch him staring. “What?”

Jeongin grins, his voice soft but teasing. “Nothing. You’re just really pretty.”

Your lips part but instead of deflecting, you lean forward, hesitating only a moment before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

For a second, Jeongin freezes, his brain short-circuiting. But then instinct takes over, and he kisses you back, his hand cupping your jaw gently as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

The kiss is slow at first, tentative, but it deepens naturally. The muffled sounds of the movie and the chatter from nearby cars fade into the background until it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other.

As his lips move against yours, Jeongin shifts slightly, reaching up to grab the trunk handle. With a soft tug, he pulls it closed, sealing you both in the cocoon of blankets and pillows. The dim light filtering through the tinted windows casts everything in a muted glow, and the sudden privacy thickens the air between you.

Jeongin rolls onto his side, balancing his weight on his elbows so he’s hovering just slightly over you. “What about your alien robots?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours as he grins.

You smile, your voice barely above a murmur. “I’ve seen it before.”

Jeongin laughs, a low, breathy sound that vibrates against your chest. “Fair point.”

He kisses you again, his movements slower but more deliberate this time. One of his hands skims down your side, resting lightly at your waist, while the other brushes back a strand of hair that’s come loose from your clip. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, and Jeongin lets out a quiet groan that sends shivers down your spine.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, his forehead pressing briefly to yours as he catches his breath. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Your shy smile returns, but there’s a newfound confidence in the way you pull him back down into another kiss, your hands threading deeper into his hair. The heat between you grows with every passing moment, your breaths mingling as the kisses become more urgent, more consuming.

The movie continues to play in the background, the flickering light of alien robots and explosions casting faint shadows across the trunk. But neither of you pays it any attention. In the small, cosy space you’ve carved out together, nothing else exists. Just the softness of the blankets, the warmth of Jeongin’s touch, and the electricity sparking between you with every kiss.

The muffled explosions and grinding metal of Transformers fill the car as Jeongin’s kisses deepen. His hands rest on your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing just under the hem of your camisole. His touch is firm but unhurried, like he’s savouring every second.

Your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging gently when he leans closer. The world outside the car, the other moviegoers, the faint sounds of laughter and popcorn rustling, is nothing more than a blur.

Then, with an obnoxiously loud clunk, the trunk pops open.

“Well, isn’t this cosy as fuck,” comes Jisung’s unmistakable voice, thick with amusement. “We thought we’d join you. Make sure Innie isn’t fucking this up.”

Jeongin groans audibly against your lips, pulling back just enough to glare over his shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

But Jisung, clearly having no intention of leaving, hops into the trunk with the agility of a hyperactive squirrel. He sprawls across the carefully arranged blankets and pillows, his shit-eating grin so wide it could light up the entire drive-in.

“Not kidding,” Jisung says cheerfully, adjusting a pillow behind his head. “Someone’s gotta supervise. You have a history of being a horny little shit.”

“Seriously?” Jeongin mutters, exasperated.

To make matters worse, Minho climbs in behind Jisung, moving with the nonchalance of someone who gives exactly zero fucks about personal space. He flops onto the blankets, crossing his arms as he stares at the screen.

“Nice setup,” Minho says, smirking. “Mind if we stay?”

Jeongin turns fully to glare at them, throwing his hands in the air. “Yes, I fucking mind! Get out!”

“Can’t,” Jisung says, shrugging. “It’s a free trunk. Movie law.”

Jeongin groans again, louder this time, and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like I hate my life. But instead of wasting more energy on them, he turns back to you, his expression softening as he leans in to kiss you again.

You’re caught between embarrassment and laughter as Jeongin’s lips meet yours once more. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face slightly to deepen the kiss. For a moment, it feels like the intruders aren’t even there.

“Aw, look at them go,” Jisung says loudly, his voice dripping with fake awe. “It’s like watching a rom-com but with more tongue.”

Jeongin pulls back just long enough to shoot Jisung a deadly glare. “Jisung, I swear to God, if you don’t shut the fuck up-”

Jisung grins, completely unfazed. “What? You’ll make out harder?”

Minho snorts, finally pulling his attention from the screen to deadpan, “Ji, stop being a noisy bitch for five minutes. Optimus Prime is talking.”

Jisung ignores him, sitting up and stretching his arms. “So,” he says, looking at Minho with exaggerated seriousness, “should we make out too? You know, balance the energy in here?”

Minho doesn’t even blink. “Shut the fuck up.”

“C’mon,” Jisung presses, leaning closer. “You know you want to. I see the way you look at me.”

Minho sighs like he’s carrying the weight of the world, finally turning to glare at Jisung. “If I kiss you, will you shut the fuck up?”

Jisung’s grin widens. “Probably.”

Without a word, Minho leans in, planting the world’s fastest, most unimpressed kiss on Jisung’s lips before pulling away and returning his attention to the screen. “There. Happy?”

Jisung pouts. “That was barely a kiss. Where’s the passion, Minho? Where’s the fire? The tongue! I need tongue!”

Jeongin, who’s been watching this unfold with equal parts horror and amusement, finally breaks. “Holy shit. I fucking knew it. You two are into each other.”

You stifle a laugh, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Honestly,” you say, your voice soft but amused, “I thought they were already together. My gay radar must be slightly off which is mildly embarrassing considering Megan Fox in this movie was my gay awakening”

Jisung gasps dramatically, turning to you with wide eyes. “Another queer! Oh my God!” Without warning, he scrambles across the trunk and into your lap, throwing his arms around you like a particularly clingy cat. “We’re besties now. Sorry, Jeongin. She’s mine.”

Your laughter bubbles over, bright and uncontrollable, as Jisung snuggles against you. “You’re ridiculous,” you manage between giggles.

Jeongin stares at Jisung, his jaw slack. “Are you fucking serious right now? Get off her!”

“No can do,” Jisung replies, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth like this is all perfectly normal. “I’m keeping her. She’s officially my emotional support gay.”

Jeongin throws his head back, groaning. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Minho, clearly done with the entire situation, mutters, “So do us straights just go fuck ourselves, or what?”

“Minho,” Jisung says sweetly, leaning his head against your shoulder, “you’re heteroflexible. Which means you live in the glorious denial glass closet where your gay thoughts stay nice and cosy.”

Minho deadpans. “I’m two seconds from throwing your ass out of this trunk.”

“Promises, promises,” Jisung replies with a wink.

You’re laughing so hard now that you’re practically crying, and Jeongin just shakes his head, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself.

“This is the weirdest fucking date I’ve ever been on,” he mutters, though there’s no missing the affection in his tone.

“Same,” you reply, resting your head against his shoulder. Jisung remains draped across your lap, happily munching popcorn, while Minho continues to glare at the screen, occasionally pelting Jisung with stray kernels.

Despite the chaos, there’s a warmth in the air that feels like belonging. It’s messy, loud, and a little ridiculous, but it’s perfect in its own fucked-up way.

general taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[charmercharm3r]

Phases

Phase One: Emotion Sickness

LMH, HJS

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

wc: 8.7k

Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (jisung chapter focus), dom!jisung x brat!reader, mxm, overcome angst, alcohol consumption, unprotected but clean piv, orgasm denial, a nice lil slap, lots of teasing and back talk, marking, talk of training reader, cream pie, stupid asses in love

Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟPhase Two

Being best friends with Jisung is like living in a sitcom every day of your life. Everything about him is comical and endearing and you love every bit of him and his huge personality. You’d been friends with him for so long that when he sat you down, worried look on his face, and told you he liked both boys and girls you raised an eyebrow at him, “am I supposed to act surprised?”

“You’re not?” His expression changed from worry to confusion.

“As if we’re not a pair of bisexual assholes.”

“Wait, you like girls too?!”

“How have you survived this long?” You stood from your seat and pressed a mockingly sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling him into a hug.

Nothing in your friendship had changed other than things were a lot more open between you and Jisung. The two of you shared love interests and swapped between them like clothes back and forth, generally no relationship going past anything other than a second date and maybe taking them home. You both even went to testing centers together to make sure neither of you contracted any of the nasty. Definitely fun, reckless things kids in college did. That was, until Jisung met Minho in your senior year.

Minho was a few years older than you both, had a permanent job and lived on his own. He was his own person that somehow wiggled his way into your duo to become a trio. You weren’t mad at it, by any means, Minho was one of the most attractive, intriguing, successful men you’d ever seen. For that reason, you questioned why he wanted to be friends with Jisung, and even more, friends with you.

It became evident early on that he wasn’t leaving either of you alone any time soon and you became used to his presence, eventually coming to the point where you wanted to be around him just as much as you did Jisung. The three of you were the pinnacle of friend groups. So bound at the hip, none of you ever realized how strange it looked on the outside.

But Jisung and Minho started spending more time together, without you. Sure it sucked and yeah, you were hurt that they never bothered to invite you, but Minho was always Jisung’s friend before he was yours. You always just thought the three of you were a package deal, not accessories to be mixed and matched.

They made up for it in time after you expressed your feelings and were gracious not to make it a bigger deal than you wanted it to be. There weren’t even any tears shed… by Minho. You and Jisung, on the other hand, were absolute jokes of a mess, faces red, covered in tears and snot running down your noses, weeping into each other’s arms because you’re both the most dramatic people any of you know. When you pulled Minho into the hug, squishing Jisung between your bodies, he thought he might’ve shed a tear with how tightly you held him. But as the two of you fell apart, Minho wouldn’t bring himself to unravel out of sheer need to protect his only two constants. So he wrapped himself around you and Jisung, blanketing you both until your breaths and heartbeats returned to normal.

“C’mon Min, it’s just a little get together. You don’t even need to bring anything other than your pretty, pretty face,” you smiled up at the brunette who was flowing about the kitchen while you sat on the counter.

“You’re in my way,” he murmured and reached around your body to grab whatever he needed.

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding. Just ignoring.” 

“Rude.”

Just as you spoke, the sound of the front door rang through the apartment, “who’s rude?” Jisung sounded. He kicked his shoes off and joined you and Minho, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.

“Your boyfriend. He doesn’t wanna go to Changbin’s party tomorrow.” Neither of the two reacted at the labeled nickname. They were used to you making jokes, even turning it around and saying they were your boyfriends, too.

Minho peaked his head out from around the refrigerator door to look at you, “you said it was a ‘little get together.’”

“Potatoe, potato.”

“Why don’t you wanna go to Changbin hyung’s thing? Didn’t you agree to give him some cookbooks as a housewarming gift or something?” Jisung snatched a crouton from the salad bowl Minho was preparing, earning him a sharp look from the older.

“I just don’t feel like socializing.” Minho groaned into the fridge, closing the door around his head, hiding.

Jisung stood and wrapped his arms around Minho to playfully shake him back and forth, “pleeease, hyung?”

“Pleeease, Min?” You copied Jisung’s tone, “it’ll be so much fun. We can drink and eat good food and–”

“Fine,” he pulled his head out of the fridge and pushed Jisung away, “but we’re leaving by 10.”

None of you left by 10, and the housewarming party was not little. It was like you were back in college with how many people you didn’t know crammed into one room. And like most college parties, everyone was wasted beyond belief, even Changbin who was meant to be hosting. You, Minho, and Jisung tried greeting him only to be met by his overly affectionate persona that showed face when he was drunk. He had slung his arm over your shoulder and slurred incoherent sentences in your ear that made you laugh.

Minho didn’t like that, he shoved Changbin off of you and let him fall to the couch to let someone else deal with.

As the three of you made your rounds to greet everyone that was sober enough to speak to, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t let your friends be shit faced without any supervision. You took it upon yourself to watch over them, keep their face out of toilet bowls so they don’t drown and put a pillow under their heads when they finally passed out. Chan was sort of helping, though only for a little because Jisung convinced him to take a few more shots knowing how much of a lightweight he is, and Chan was soon down for the count as well and taking up space on the hallway floor. Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found, you could only guess they either left early or occupied one of the bathrooms to share the toilet. Seungmin refused to let you help him make it to the couch, Minho had to throw him over his shoulder to cooperate, and Jeongin followed you like a lost puppy until you coerced him into Changbin’s bed beside him where they both fell asleep.

You were too absorbed in getting all the other strangers out of the house and making sure your friends didn’t die that you didn’t realize it had probably been hours since you’d spoken to Minho or Jisung. Even if you arrived with and planned to leave with them, you suddenly felt lonely.

Turning down the music and flicking on the lights, you picked up whatever trash you could to get ahead of cleaning when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. Surely, it was your best friends because they would never leave you behind. Without thinking, you headed for the garbage can in the kitchen and hoped to talk Minho into forgiving you for keeping them out so late. The voices fell silent, as did your footsteps when you tiptoed over a passed out Chan to step into the room. You laughed at his sleeping form, using his jacket as a blanket and one of the couch’s throw pillows tucked beneath his head. 

Just as you entered the kitchen’s doorway, your eyes fell upon what was both the most confusing and entrancing of scenes. Pinned between the countertop and Minho’s body was Jisung with his fingers carding through the brunette’s hair, tugging him closer while their lips moved in together in a delicate dance. The sound of their mouths colliding and lungs striving for air was the only thing you could hear, ringing in your ears like a siren song. Minho’s hands snaked around the younger’s waist and made him look small in his grasp. You particularly watched the way neither of them seemed to be in a hurry and how gently they held one another. Your hand moved on its own, coming up to your mouth to touch your lips like they were longing for the same warmth. The movement made the plastic red cups in your hold drop to the floor with a loud clatter, scaring you into dropping everything else, too.

The two boys pulled away from each other in the blink of an eye, immediately realizing that it was you. Their stares were wide and frantic and ears tinted red. Jisung scratched at the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt, Minho ran his fingers through his hair, and both their lips plump, glossy, kiss bitten. They looked between each other and back at you, then each other again before taking a step forward in unison towards you. You took a step back, still unsure of what to do. Neither of them pressed again, just watching your movements.

“I didn’t mean to intrude…” you laughed out of nervousness and embarrassment, moreso the latter hoping they couldn’t see the pink that covered your cheeks. “I’m… I’m gonna go home.”

“We’ll come with you,” Jisung was quick to speak, holding his hand out. You backed away another step, an anxious chuckle leaving you.

“That’s okay. I– I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” Jisung backed down, knowing that the sympathetic smile on your face was enough to show you weren’t mad or upset, just needing space.

However, Minho looked like a lost puppy that was just kicked to the ground, more than hurt. The sheen that covered his eyes were painful to look at, as though you’d been the one to hurt him. As far as that was from the truth, you still had to blink a few overwhelmed tears away while simultaneously feigning a smile so hard your cheeks hurt. His hands were less antsy, clutching one over his chest. As you looked between them, you swiped the stray moisture from your eyes and gave them a thumbs up, “I’ll see you guys… uh… soon… Bye.”

With that, you left, hoping the night air would make the fog in your brain dissipate.

Out of all the things you expected the night to bring, seeing your two best friends kissing definitely wasn’t one of them. By no means were you angry, not at them, at least. Confused, sure, but who wouldn’t be? More than anything, you were curious. They seemed so comfortable with each other, as though they’d been doing it for years.

If you hadn’t alarmed them, what would have happened next? If you hadn’t run away, what would they have said? If you hadn’t reacted so badly, would you be asleep next to them and not in your own bed alone?

As you laid facing the ceiling, your mind wandered back to the night before. The sounds of their wet lips smothering one another, the grip of Jisungs fingers pulling Minho’s hair so sweetly and Minho caressing Jisung like he was fine china. You wondered when the hell that had happened, when they happened. There wasn’t a day since you had expressed feeling left out that they had neglected inviting you, so how the fuck did you miss all the signs? And why was it bothering you that you did? You should be beyond the moon that your two most precious people in the world are seeing each other, because they’re perfect. They’re perfect together and you couldn’t have picked anyone better to make them happy. Right?

Right. They’re carbon copies in different fonts, strangely perfect and perfectly strange. Why does your chest feel so tight? Since when did your heart beat in your stomach? There’s no way you could be jealous, or else you’d be an even shittier person than you thought you already were.

In the two days you had been ignoring their texts and phone calls– mostly Jisungs’s– you ran through every possible explanation your smooth brain could come up with. There was that they were drunk and it was a spur of the moment thing. Though, that wouldn’t explain either of their reactions, if that was the case then they would’ve laughed it off. You also theorized that maybe Jisung had food on his face, it was a common enough occurrence that you couldn’t rule it out entirely. Yeah, that’s the one. Minho was helping him because Jisung would rather aimlessly lick his tongue around his lips than use a napkin, and it just so happened that they—

Knock, knock, knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone, and deliveries can never make it up the six flights of stairs to get to your front door. Haphazardly, you tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. Jisung was bouncing up and down in his spot, ashy blonde hair messy like he’d just wrestled with a bear. His head snapped straight up to the dark side of the peephole, “Y/N, c’mon. I heard you walk up to the door.”

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself before letting him in.

Jisung pushed his way through before you even had the opportunity to open the door all the way, kicking off his house slippers and pacing around your living room. Slowly shutting it behind you, you leaned your back against the door and clutched onto your elbows. He waved his hands around like he was having an internal battle with himself. In fact, Jisung looked like he’d been fighting that battle for the past two days. He was still dressed in his house shorts and a ratty old shirt you remember him buying years ago, there was a hole in his sock where his big toe was and it made you smile small at his never ending hardheadedness even after both you and Minho told him to throw the pair away.

“Ji,” you called, voice cracking slightly. He stopped his stride and eyes shot teary daggers into your soul. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“B– but I need to! Things are so much more complicated than it looked when you found us and you deserve answers because you’ve never once kept anything from us and–”

You took a few strong steps forward to catch him by the shoulders and came face to face. He was almost shaking in your hold, letting your hands warm the cold skin of his neck to sooth him. Jisung melted into your touch and you could feel him already beginning to calm, though his lip still trembled, so much he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. So you spoke first, “you two are my most favorite people in the entire world. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Jisung took your hands and guided them to his cheeks, keeping you from moving. He took a closer step into you, “you’re our favorite person. And the way you looked at us…” The way he referred to the pair of them made you feel just that much more sick in your gut. “I’d rather die than have you look at me like that again.” His hands held yours tighter, squishing your palms to his cheeks to the point of his lips puckering. 

You didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to calm down enough so that he could articulate himself the way he wanted. When he did, Jisung sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to tell you something but you need to promise me you won’t run.”

“You know I have a 14 minute walking mile time.” He laughed breathily and guided you both to sit on the floor, couch behind your backs with your hands still glued to his cheeks. “You can tell me anything.”

“Min wanted to wait, but I can’t stand not talking to you for so long–”

“It’s been two days.”

“Exactly. And I’m going crazy because I love you so much…” Jisung gritted his teeth as he said it, you filled the tense silence by whispering, “I love you, too.”

“No, no… Y/N. I love you,” his tone went higher the more he spoke, scared of the blank, expressionless look on your face. Your silence made him keep talking, “I’m in love with you and I’m in love with Minho and he’s in love with you, too. We’re in love with you and I can’t take another second without you knowing that.”

Either you felt everything at once or you felt nothing at all, though you doubted the latter was the issue. The problem was that you didn’t know what it was you were feeling, the two days of voluntary solitude wasn’t enough for you to understand the panging in your chest and how your heart was about to fall out of your ass or the way you wanted to jump Jisung’s bones and hug him until you molecularly phased into his body. All that, and all you could say was, “I love you, too,” again.

It seems he had the same thoughts you did because Jisung crashed his body into yours and sent you slamming into the floor with him keeping you in a bone crushing embrace. His head stayed buried in your neck and hand tangled in your hair, the way you remember him doing to Minho. The feeling of him pulling you in closer by the roots had you wrapping your legs around his torso so the two of you were shaped around one another like a vine. How long you stayed like this, you didn’t know, just that he left supple kisses along the junction of your shoulder that made your head spin with adoration. 

More than likely it was hours later that the two of you made your way into your bed with a laughable amount of snacks and coffee to keep you awake for another two days, snuggled beneath the covers. This was normal, in bed with him doing nothing but talking and sharing your thoughts was what you and Jisung did on a regular basis. Except now, he was on his side, head propped in his palm and looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Little to your knowledge, he always looked at you like that. It was only at this moment did you realize.

“When did you and Min… get together?” Your voice was soft, listening intently.

“The same time you got mad at us for leaving you out. That wasn’t intentional and I already knew how I felt about you. I was just… caught up in the moment for a little? God, I had never felt so shitty in my life, making you cry like that.” Jisung lifted his hand to thumb at your cheek as you smiled into his touch.

“Yeah, I didn’t really appreciate that either,” you joked. “So… you’ve known you liked me–”

“Love you,” he corrected.

“Loved me,” Jisung nodded in approval. “And you told Min before you told me?”

“I was scared! You don’t have the best track record with confrontation, babe.” You both giggled at the recall of the previous night, your head falling against his chest to hide the tinge of pink on your cheeks. His free hand held your cheek to his pec and soothingly massaged your scalp until you both relaxed.

It was silent again for a little as you readjusted to lay completely in his arms, engulfed in his scent and body heat. As you laid there, your mind went through all of the times where the three of you were together, you scanned the background of your memories for all the weird stares you’d get from passersby or comments your friends made, even the times where they’d call themselves your boyfriends and how easily it rolled off their tongues.

“Okay.”

Jisung looked down at you, humming with confusion, “okay?”

“Break it down for me.” You drew meaningless shapes into his skin through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pick up just a little. “I wanna know how this is… all gonna work.”

“Oh! O– okay, well,” Jisung took in a large breath before reaching for your fidgeting hand and intertwining your fingers. “We’ll go slow, step by step, take as much time as you need to feel comfortable. Phase one, we do everything we already do just with a few… more than friendly perks.”

You lingered on the way your hand fit in his so nicely, skin soft and his pretty fingers decorated with rings. “What about Minho? You said he didn’t want you to tell me yet.”

Jisung sighed at the mention of the older. “We let him bring it up at his own pace. He scares away like a cat, y’know.”

The longer Jisung played with your hand, the longer you yearned to touch him, more of him. Mentioning Minho made you remember the tight grip he had in the brunette’s hair, how sweet he sounded when kissing him. You bit your lip at the thought and was suddenly raging with confidence. “So,” you sat up and looked at him, now towering over his figure. “If I wanted to kiss you, would I have to wait to do it infront of him?”

“Y– you wanna kiss me?” Jisung’s eyes widened, pads of his fingers coming up to press against his lips.

Taking his hand away, you guided it to your neck the way he did to you earlier. “Since we’re being honest, I can’t stop thinking about that night, you and him.” His grip tightened just a little as your hand splayed over his chest and slowly rose up. “Can I? Kiss you?”

“Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you to as–”

Jisung pulled you into him before he could finish his thought, slotting against you with ambition. He felt just as you imagined him, eager but mindful in how to hold you, letting you set the tone with just closed mouth smooches as the sounds of your lips smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. Both his hands found their way into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer until your body fell onto him entirely. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, kissing your best friend until you were both breathless and needy, knowing better than to do anything more.

But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him everywhere, make him cower into the sheets and make him feel how much you loved him. There was just too much right now, too much to be figured out. A night of desire wasn’t worth a lifetime of friendship.

So as you pulled away, reluctant Jisung whining and chasing after you for more, you let your forehead rest against his and let out a satisfied laugh. “Slow,” you whispered, letting him pepper kisses to your cheeks.

“Can’t we just jump to phase three?” He breathed against your skin.

“What’s phase three?”

Jisung’s lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving wet streaks the further he descended. “You, me, Min, a big ass bed covered in rose petals and candle light. Maybe a kick ass playlist to set the mood–”

The sound of your phone ringing made the both of you jump as if you were being caught doing something illegal. You broke into another fit of giggles when you found out it was Minho calling you. “Hey, pretty boy,” you answer him with a grin, still looking down at Jisung who stared up at you fondly.

“Jesus, Y/N. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? Are you home? I– I’ve tried calling you for days–”

“Two days, Min.”

“Days. It’s been days.” Jisung could hear his voice booming through the phone, laughing and shrugging at how it’s the same thing he’d told you.

“I’m okay.” You eased his worries with two simple words, hearing him sigh on the other end of the call.

“You’re okay,” Minho repeated, relieved.

There was a pause in his breathing, probably unsure of what to say as he walked on eggshells. You knew this about him, he needed careful approaching, as Minho doesn’t like what he doesn’t already know. “I’m coming over tomorrow,” you stated.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

Chuckling lightly, you let Jisung bring your fingertips to his lips and press a kiss to them. As you smiled at the man beneath you, you spoke into the phone, “love you.”

“Whatever… Love you, too.”

“Love you, too!” Jisung yelled into the speaker before you hung up, hearing Minho let out a strangled call of the other boy’s full name and the line went dead.

Jisung immediately took your phone and tossed it aside so he could kiss you again. And again, and again, and again, until both your lips were raw and bruised and chapped.

He slept over and the two of you went over to Minho’s the next afternoon. You were dizzy with how quickly things were changing in your trio’s dynamic, but chose to embrace it rather than question it. Jisung assured you that everything will move as you chose, there was no pressure to do anything you didn’t want to— except talking to Minho. That was something the two men previously agreed that that was Minho’s conversation to have with you. It made you nervous, but if you know him like you think you do, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Nothing was out of any sorts. The topic of the housewarming party was nowhere in sight as you ate lunch, stayed for dinner and even dessert, deciding to call it a night a bit later.

Days went by like that. In front of Minho, everything was the same. But when you and Jisung were alone, things began to get more and more heated. Hands roamed further, kisses became more desperate, you had to force yourself off his lap out of guilt that Minho didn’t know what was happening.

“Baby, you think I wouldn’t tell him? He knows,” Jisung explained after what was probably the fourth or fifth time that week you’ve stopped before you could even get started.

“He knows?! For how long?!” You fully slammed on his crotch, Jisung wincing in pain and accidentally knocking his head back against his headboard. Crossing your arms over your chest, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the heavy contact.

“For a few days— can you not sit—“

You intentionally sat deeper, crushing him. “When exactly did you tell him?”

“Three days ago— Y/N, my balls, please—“

“We could’ve had sex three days ago without me feeling like a guilty piece of shit?!”

“There’ll be no dick to have sex with if you don’t get up!” You lifted your hips with a roll of your eyes, Jisung sighing with relief as the pressure alleviated. “I briefly mentioned it in passing that you were a little weary about moving forward without talking to him.”

“Oh… Well, what did he say?”

“That he’s getting there. He’s just really embarrassed,” he caught your hands fidgeting again, holding them tightly in his own before guiding your palms against his chest.

“Embarrassed? About what?”

“How you found out. Let him tell you the details, I think it’s better that way.” You nodded, exhaling deeply as your heart sank a little that Minho was too embarrassed about the whole thing to even speak to you.

“Is he… embarrassed of me?” The sting of hot tears wanted to swell in your waterline, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that you caused him to feel such a way. You know Minho, you know Jisung, and you know that there has never been a time where you didn’t think you couldn’t go to them for anything. You were sure that if you killed someone, they’d get rid of the body to keep you out of jail. Or better yet, help you plan the murder so none of you were even considered suspects.

Jisung sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso to bring you in for a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Baby, baby, no. That’s not it at all!” Your small sniffle had him squeezing you tighter, “I can’t explain it to you the way that he can, but just know we love you. And we want to be with you. You know how weird his mind works. He’ll talk to you about it soon.”

Nodding in agreement, taking Jisung’s words to heart and letting your mind drift away from the brunette and back to the ashy blonde beneath you.

Pulling away from your hiding spot, the aching between your legs was still painfully present, as was the straining in his pants. Pushing his hair from his face while your other hand thumbed at his mouth, your eyebrows raised, “I’m guessing you’re not big on cock stepping?”

Laughing, falling back and taking you with him, Jisung’s hands slipped just under the hem of your shirt to feel your warm skin. “Not particularly. I’d like to have kids someday.”

You smiled as he kissed you, a simple peck that multiplied down his neck and across his exposed collar bones. He liked that area, you noted in the way his hips kicked up into yours and the grip around your waist grew stronger. His hands slipped higher until you decided to discard the shirt entirely, your bra clad cleavage proudly in his face. It wasn’t anything special, but Jisung’s eyes blew wide as though your covered breasts were the key to his life’s questions.

“How can you go from crying about our boyfriend to having your tits in my face? Like a fucking angel,” he ogled your chest unabashedly.

“I’m not even naked yet,” you giggled, blushing.

“Oh god, you’re right.” Jisung dragged his hands down his face while letting his eyes roll back and dramatically whimpering.

Leaning down to kiss him, you shot back up just as quickly, “our boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend, my boyfriend. The broody, moody guy that cooks for us sometimes and smells really good—”

“Han Jisung,” you interrupted him once more. “Ask me the question.”

“Y’know, I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Did you, now?”

“I was waiting for the right time to say it.”

“Mhm.”

“I was! I practiced it in the bathroom mirror and I gotta say, I’d definitely date me.” Nodding your head some more, you tapped your forefinger against his cheek. “Fine, fine. Cliff notes version,” your approving hum made Jisung clear his throat. “Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your one of two boyfriends.”

“Only because you said please.”

You were flipped onto your back in the split second it took to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips when your head hit the pillows. The room was filled with giggles from you and Jisung, hands roaming where they never had before but feeling as though they should’ve been the whole time. He never stayed away for too long, when he took his hands away to strip off his shirt, Jisung grinded his hips deeply into you, fabric on fabric good but not nearly enough.

You’d seen him shirtless more than enough times and each time you’d wanted to run your tongue through the lines of his abs. How badly you wanted to do that now as Jisung towered over you, looking down at your body, his to devour. His eyes were dark, tiniest of glimmers when he smiled deviously. Thumb pressing against your lips, Jisung tilted his head and pouted, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, baby.

“If it gets too much for you, call yellow, we’ll slow down. Say red and we’ll stop completely. Okay?” You nodded, understanding what you were getting into with him. There have been enough vague yet pinpoint detailed stories shared, making you all the more excited to finally experience it for yourself.

He didn’t need to force his digit past your lips, you let him in without a fight, immediately sucking and teasing him with your tongue. Jisung tsked at your eagerness, “what happened to going slow, hm?”

Teasing. He was teasing you, using your words against you because Jisung knew that’s where his strength lied. He knew he could say the nastiest of things and get away with it, he did it before everything happened and now he could say it with all intents and purposes. Your hips rutted up from under him, but Jisung’s body weight kept you pinned to the mattress. The more you squirmed the bigger he smiled. His chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths was taunting you, your free hand reaching up to trace your nails down his skin from his pec down to the hem of his pants. Jisung shivered at the feeling and you had the honor of witnessing his cock twitching.

Plucking his thumb away, Jisung smeared your saliva over your lips and cheek until his fingers tangled in your hair again, this time yanking you somehow even further against the pillows. Your wince was followed by a menacing giggle, provoking him into gripping the roots tighter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, babe.”

“You’re so cute when you try to be scary,” you pouted up at him mockingly, laugh turning into a moan when he tugged your head up and leaned over to be centimeters away from each other.

“Is being intimidating only Min’s thing? You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Then teach me. How scared should I be of you, baby?”

Jisung huffed and threw you back down, climbing off your body entirely and stepping to the side of the bed. You laid on your side, looking up at him as his eyes raked up and down your figure, bra strap slipping off your shoulder and house shorts riding up to just barely show the outline of your aching cunt. Jisung’s mouth watered as you waited for his response, your face feigning innocence while your body was screaming for his touch.

His hand lingered over the button of his pants for a second before crouching to your eye level. “You want the beginner lesson?”

“Advanced.” Jisung pecked your lips once more before standing tall again, finally undoing his pants and relieving the pressure. His bulge fell over the zipper, covered only by his boxers and even those seemed too tight. You bit your lip, reaching out for him. Jisung slapped your hand away and scrunched his eyebrows together, “who gave you permission?”

“I did,” you answered immediately.

“You’re not the boss, baby. Not right now. I don’t have the patience to deal with your brattiness, you’ve kept me waiting for too long already.” He took his pants off and boxers along with it, length springing free in your face.

“Why’s that? You only let Min talk shit to you?”

“Nah, you’ll see. I’ve trained him real good, and I’m gonna do the same with you.”

Jisung manhandled you to hang your head over the edge of the bed, looking at him upside down. The way he threw you around like a ragdoll was painfully arousing, you knew he worked out, but not just how strong he was. “Oh, so you can use those muscles. Who knew?”

“You’re still making jokes? Aren’t you the one on your back?”

“Aren't you the one on a leash?”

“And who’s holding the lead? You?” Jisung scoffed, taking his cock in hand and slowly stroking. It wasn’t until you saw it in his grasp did you realize the extent of his size, you turned to get a better look but was shoved back into position instantly. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re too cock hungry to even control yourself. What ever made that pretty head think it could control me?”

Holding you down by the shoulder, your mouth opened and tongue fell out as Jisung gave a few soft slaps to your cheek with his dick. As degrading as it was, nothing was more humiliating than the fact that you couldn’t stop your legs from pressing together and your hands white knuckling the sheets to stop from shoving them down your pants. He chuckled and his own jaw went slack. “See? Just a slutty little puppy. Wanting to suck on anything and everything.”

You whined a little when he forced your mouth closed with his free hand and held you steady, smearing his precum covered tip around your lips. “Aw, you sound so cute. Cute pup.”

Hips kicking higher, you let them fall back down roughly and drawing his attention elsewhere. Jisung let your jaw go to shove his cock down your throat unexpectedly, making you gag and tears immediately flood. He didn’t give you room to even think, his balls pressing against your nose and leaning over your body to bury himself deeper. Just when you thought you were going to tap out, Jisung pulled away and had you gasping for air.

“Where’d you learn to take cock so well, pup? Mind if I help myself?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, propping himself up on either side of your torso and blindly entering your mouth again. Your throat constricted around it for a few seconds, letting himself succumb to the warm, wet walls. The muffled whimper made goosebumps rise along Jisung’s skin and pull out to the tip. You swirl your tongue around and around, suckling him like a lollipop and attempting to keep your hands to yourself. As if not touching yourself was torture enough, he took a handful of the front of your shorts and pulled, center seam rubbing against your clit easily with how wet you were.

“Didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he laughed darkly and practically holding your lower half in the air by your shorts, frantically searching for friction. “You were even easier to tame than Min, just had to tell him how cute he was and he was a goner. You? All you want is a good cock to pacify you, hm? Who woulda thought.”

The mumble of your attempted response was intelligible until he pulled away to let his dick fall from your mouth, “what was that, pup?”

“Need your cock,” you breathed heavily, finally able to now that your mouth was free.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Jisung dropped your lower half and stuck his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers swiping at youre core and spreading your arousal beneath the fabric. “Gonna make you crave me all the fucking time.”

Finally being touched had your jaw hanging open again, but he didn’t seem to notice, entranced by the lewd sound of your wetness. He wasn’t rough but not gentle either, massaging the perfect amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves and made you rub your hips into his palm. You’ve been worked up for days, desperate to come, desperate enough to grab his hand and still him, using him to your pleasure without care. Jisung let you for the time being, stuck in a trance watching the way you moved. How small your hand looked wrapped around his wrist, it’d look even prettier around his–

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fu–”

Jisung stole himself away just before you could finish, killing the impending high you so deeply wanted.

“No, no! Fucking hell, why?!” You whined loudly, legs spasming from denial.

He didn't answer you, not losing any adrenaline and still able to powerfully maneuver you away from the edge of the bed, strip away your remaining clothing, and have you sitting on top of him again in a moment’s notice. Jisung sat with his back against the headboard, though low enough that your head leveled higher than his, staring down at his sweaty, smug face.

“Fucking pillow princess,” you murmured out of spite, not thinking anything of it as you reached for his cock.

Grabbing your hand tightly, “the fuck did you call me, pup?” Jisung tilted his head back and dominatingly peered at you through sharp eyes, clearly not playing.

“Pillow. Princess.” You struggled to get out of his grasp. The denied orgasm had pissed you off, initially ready to let him have his way until he stripped you of the one thing he knew you’d been pining for. This was retaliation.

The light slap across your cheek sent you into a monetary daze, eyes going wide at the sting. Jisung was already looking at you when you peered down at him, clear in the way his chin tipped up at you that you had lost that battle.

“Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you, pup. Be my good fucking girl and ride.” Not like you were beaten into submission, moreso talked into it, you whimpered and lip involuntarily pouted. Jisung’s handle on your wrist loosened and allowed you to take his dick in hand, pressing the tip to your entrance. As a last desperate act, you circled it around the rim, gathering your essence and teasing the both of you. “Last warning,” he threatened, not bothering to look at you as the sight of him about to enter you was distracting enough.

When you sank down, slow, inch by inch, you melted into one another as you came to the hilt, shivering once your clit made contact with the warm skin of his pelvis. Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, his hands rubbing soothingly over the tops of your thighs and up your love handles. The two of you stayed like this for a while, his domineering act washing away a little as your lip continued to tremble. He smirked, cupping your cheek, “awe, too much for you, pup?”

His counterfeit sympathy was obvious, but you’d take what you could get, nuzzling into his palm and nails digging into his abdomen. Jisung nodded along with you, jutting his lower lip out while also reading your face for any sign of discomfort. He knew you had limits, just testing where they were knowing fully well you could stop if you wanted.

Though, you shook your head, no, brows scrunching together and eyes blinking away pleasureful tears. You were already breathless and overwhelmed, leaving red crescents into Jisung’s skin wherever you laid your claws, but he seemed to like the pain. He pushed your hands deeper into him and looked straight into your eyes, “ride.”

Experimentally, you leaned forward and lifted your hips, sinking back down almost uncoordinatedly with how excited and overwhelmed you were. Jisung could feel your thighs shaking as you sat down fully on him, he placed his hands on your love handles and gave an encouraging squeeze.

Raising again, you slammed down harder, repeating the action until you found a steady rhythm. Filling and emptying, again and again, you were dizzy with how good it felt. Heat flushed your body as you lost yourself in working against him, genuinely paying no mind to the man blushing beneath you. Jisung gazed at you in awe, adoration as you enjoyed yourself. He didn’t even feel the need to help you anymore, putting his hands behind his head and took in the sight of your tits bouncing with each motion. The longer you kept your pace, your knees and thighs burned and muscles began to grow tight. You changed the position slightly, propping one leg up and using that leverage to continue. But even that became tiresome, finding yourself growing much too emotionally saturated to bring yourself to orgasm.

Jisung could feel this, your frustration, and he felt somewhat bad that he hadn’t given you the first high. Only somewhat. Seeing you work yourself into a whining, moaning mess made him smile to himself and sit up to press his chest to yours. Jisung peppered kisses along your collarbone and softly worked you down to a slow grind. Your heart rate fell steady as he finally indulged you with a sweet kiss, stark comparison to the mean words he spat earlier.

He wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t leave you wanting more, pulling away prematurely and leaning back again, this time taking you with him. He guided your hands to hold onto the top of the head board and smother his face in your breasts. Marks he bit into your skin felt more pleasurable than painful, you wondered if the slap before truly hurt or if you were just shocked.

Your grip on the headboard tightened as his hands lifted you a bit more by your bottom and spread your knees wider. Jisung jutted up slightly, testing his and your patience. He did this again, shallowly thrusting just the tip into you, making you moan, “Ji, baby, pleeease.”

“Am I still a pillow princess, pup? You couldn’t even get yourself to cum, now I have to do all the work.” Even if it was mean, his tone of voice like mothering a toddler that was learning to eat on their own, gentle teaching.

“Hnghhh, nooo,” you mewled.

“No, what, pup?” Jisung continued his depthless ruts, egging you on.

“Can’t– need to– wanna cum–”

He could hear how fragile you were now, overall amazed by you to the point he wanted to ditch the entire facade and give you everything you wanted. Though, he needed to see it through till the end, more like to prove to himself that he could do it in the first place.

Adjusting his hands to grip your love handles firmly, Jisung kept you in place to thrust up into you. You were caught off guard at how quickly he gave into your needy pleas, knees almost giving out below you. But Jisung was quick to catch your weight, every thrust up as you fell down kept you bouncing once again, tits jiggling in his face delightfully smothering. The minor slap he left to your ass made your cunt clench and cry out louder, then repeating just to get a reaction. Jisung wasn’t sure what he loved more, how naturally your body responded to him or how you couldn’t seem to get enough.

Your hands moved from the head board to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to brace yourself on and to feel as close as possible. Here, you were coming undone quicker than expected, having him doing the work now let you fall victim to the euphoria of his cock nudging the sweet spot within you, stars behind your eyelids. Ripples of pain from Jisung teething at your skin meshed with the pleasure, you didn’t realize how loud you had gotten until you couldn’t hear him nor the skin on skin anymore.

Body shaking, coveting for the high and well on its way, you snuck your hands into his hair and hardly needed to tug to have Jisung’s head falling back and looking up at you through his lashes. His thrusts kept a steadier rhythm, digging his heels into the mattress and coercing you into meeting his lips in a jolty, electrifying kiss. Just as your lips met, the tip of his cock hit your soft spot right on target, shoving you face first into the feeling you’d been dying for. Your body tensed and clenched around him, fucking you through your orgasm until it eventually subsided.

A bit longer you let Jisung use your body to chase his own, he deserved it for putting up with your sharp tongue. Even that didn’t take very long, Jisung had been fending off his orgasm for over twenty minutes, from even before you took your shirt off.

And when the white light blinded him, Jisung let out a string of curses and your name, hints of whiney whimpers in between. He was exceptionally quick to recover, immediately noting your state of mind and body and helped you to lay down.

You winced as he pulled out and used his shirt to catch any spillage, holding it to your cunt before he airlifted you to the bathroom. You had forgotten whose house you were in, that’s how hazy you’d gotten.

Jisung let you finish your business, kissing your forehead and wiping your body down with a wet rag once you’d called his name to help you back to bed.

The bed in question was beyond messy, fitted sheet undone and comforter on the floor. Did Jisung always sleep with just one pillow? No, there were the other three strewn about the perimeter of the bed, one somehow ending up at the foot of it. Jisung, seeing where your head was at as he set you down to lay back, said, “got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”

“We?” You joked, voice horse. He gave you a wink and ran off to grab some water before retreating into the space next to you.

Neither of you bothered to get dressed, laying naked in one another’s arms as you decompressed together. “You’re not as rough as I thought you’d be,” you admitted, rolling over and throwing a leg over his torso.

“I’m not? Noted,” Jisung raised an eyebrow and kissed your forehead again. “If we’re giving feedback, I’d say Minho is gonna have a hell of a time with you. He’ll like the whole brat thing.”

“Did you?” You look up at him, genuinely just curious.

“That’s not even a question,” he waved it off, scoffing because how could you not tell that he was internally cursing himself for not confessing to you sooner if that was the outcome? “Everything I could ask for and more.”

“I liked the nickname a lot. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Yeah? It suits you. Cute puppy,” Jisung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly, knocking the air out of you. “But I’m curious,” his voice dropped just a little. “You think of us? Me and Minho?”

“Well— yeah. And honestly, I thought the roles would’ve been reversed.”

“You think he’s a top? Oh, sweet, sweet, baby.” Jisung pecked loving kisses to the top of your head, “he’s half a power bottom at best.”

“To be fair, I didn’t even know he liked girls,” the whisper in your tone softened along with Jisung’s touch, moving to gently run his fingers through your hair.

“He’s the real pillow princess, baby. You might have to knock some sense into him.”

Smirking up at him, “you’ll let me?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want to him.”

“Mmm, you wouldn’t mind if I mark him up?” Jisung’s eyebrow raised, intrigued, “let me cover him in pretty bruises?”

“I’d kill to see that, pup.” You were being smothered in kisses once more, closing your eyes and falling victim to his sweet touches. “But tell me what else you think about. You’ve piqued my interest.”

“You want me to tell you that I fantasized about my best friends making out?”

“Duh. Me, though, tell me what you think about me.” You could just tell he was wiggling his eyebrows with a sly smirk.

You groaned, “in the morning. Tired.”

Jisung took hold of your shoulders and shook you side to side, whining, “nooo, puppy, pleeease? Just a few compliments then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Protests went in one ear and out the other with him, not letting you lay still until you gave him what he wanted. “You’re so lucky I like you, fucking menace.”

“Just like?” His mouth fell open into an “O.”

“Love. I love you.”

It was a lot easier to say when you had your face buried in his chest, not having to look him in the eye as you did. You knew that if you had been looking at him, you might’ve broken into tears, which would’ve made Jisung cry, too. That still didn’t stop your face from heating up and being hit with another rush of emotions.

“How much?” He teased, thankfully not seeing your eyes glaze over.

“I love you a lot. Like, a monumental amount and… Min, too. It’s scary,” your voice falling short and nuzzling your cheek into his skin.

Jisung let you take your time to slow your breathing again before he spoke, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared if I look at you, I’ll cry like a baby.”

“I know you will. Just hold me?”

He did, tighter, if that was even possible. “I will, just like this. Except when Min’s here, he’ll be right behind you to keep your cute booty warm when you fall asleep. You won’t have any space to move ‘cus neither of can stand to not be touching in some way. You’ll probably overheat and be on the verge of death by heatstroke, we give off heat like fucking furnaces. I’ll have a little snack on my side table in case you get hungry in the middle of the night, or you can roll over and get a few cuddles from Min, I won’t be upset, cross my heart.” You giggled at that. “We can move into his place since we all know he has the biggest bedroom, or we can look for another place to fit all three of us and give you a nice, big closet. Every night, we can take turns cooking and let Min throw a fit when we both burn the food so he ends up cooking for us anyways…”

Your chest was filled, warm and sickeningly sweet with the words Jisung continued to whisper in your ear until you eventually fell asleep. The nauseating feeling of waiting, wondering was nowhere near now that there was a clear landing for where you stood in their established relationship, at least, for now.

-

A/N: YAYAYAYAY phase one!!! idea: 10/10, execution: 4/10...I've been having a hard time connecting ideas lately and I think it's just stress but I'm hoping this lived up to expectations ://

feedback!! feed me!! I love love love hearing what you all think! it really does help me improve as a writer, even if it's constructive!

reminder to drink water, eat three meals a day, give your loved ones a hug. < 3

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @angelica-erin-caelius @dazzlingligth @lvrmin @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten

story tags: @bookwyrm28 @ladylexis @blankdyean @sujurunaway @mal-lunar-28 @pussy-drunk @bangchxnnie @lyramundana @bumblebee-zone @bloopreads @propertyoftoru @ana-stasssiaaa @iheartjozzy @kurxxmi

[writingforstraykids]

hiya! i'm still pretty new to your blog but i really like your writing! english isn't my first language but i hope my request is still understandable ^^

m!reader (with they/them pronouns if possible 👉🏻👈🏻) is best friends with chan. chan praises the reader in some way and figures out that they have a praise kink so he just keeps praising them to make them flustered all the time (bonus points if he throws in the classic 'good boy')

oh and i wanted to ask if i could maybe be 🦖 anon?

thank you!

It's always been you

Pairing: Chan x m!reader with they/them pronouns (mention of Minsung)

Word Count: 4301

Summary: Chan and you have been best friends for what feels like forever. You long for more, not knowing that Chan feels the same. Minho and Jisung decide to lend you a hand the way Chan and you did for them.

Warnings/Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut, teasing, praise kink, dry humping

A/N: I know we've talked a while ago about this request but I hope I did your wishes for it justice, my dear🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You hum gently to yourself as you make your way back home, scrolling through your phone as you try to find a good song. A smile covers your lips as your best friend's voice rings through your ears and you can't help the warm feeling spreading through you. Chan invited you over for a movie night with the boys, and you couldn't wait to spend time with them…or him. Being around Chan made you feel things you never felt for anyone else ever before. Those soft brown eyes, beautiful smile, and warm hugs made you feel so loved. You know there's no chance he would ever love you back, but that didn't stop you from gazing after him. 

You reach their dorm, and Minho lets you in, pulling you into a short hug. “Hey, Min.”

“Hey,” he smiles and closes the door behind you. “Channie hyung will be there in a bit. He went out to grab some snacks with Ji,” he explains and pats your back, leading you inside. 

“Oh, okay,” you nod and glance around the living room, where they've already set everything up. “Can I still help with anything?”

“Nah, you're fine,” he tells you and gently shoves you toward the sofa. “Relax, okay? We got it.”

-

“Fuck, Ji, it's getting worse every time they're there,” Chan sighs and grabs some of your favorite cookies. 

“Worse?” Jisung frowns, and Chan nods weakly. 

“Yeah, they're so funny and adorable and so pretty,” he says and glances at his friend nervously. “I really want to be more than just friends.”

Jisung squints his eyes at him suspiciously. “Just sex or more?” he asks quietly. 

“Not just sex,” Chan shakes his head and awkwardly scratches his neck. “I wanna be there for them, make sure they're safe and loved.”

“Why don't you tell them?” he asks curiously. 

“I'm scared of ruining our friendship,” he admits. 

“You will, one way or the other, won't you?” he asks gently. “You'll regret it if you don't tell them, believe me. I could've saved myself a lot of pain if I told Minho hyung a lot earlier.” 

“Yeah, but…I told you Minho loves you. You had some clarity after that,” he sighs softly. 

“I can ask Y/nnie,” he shrugs, and Chan's eyes widen fearfully. “Then I'll tell you, and you can decide what to do with that information.”

“Yeah, okay,” he gives in after a moment. 

-

You look up as they return from the store and smile softly, spotting Chan and giving him a small wave. Chan smiles back, walks past you, and gently pats your head. “Hey, bestie.”

“Hey,” you smile gently, swallowing at the word that once brought you so much comfort but now is a simple reminder of what you didn't have. 

You see Minho greeting Jisung, pulling him into a hug, and gently rubbing his back. He asks him something you can't quite hear, but his eyes are so soft, his voice gentle, it makes your heartache. Minho giggles at Jisung’s answer and cups his face, kissing his forehead. You quickly look away, biting your lower lip. You still remember how happy you were when they got together, but over time it got hard to watch, wishing for something like this with Chan. “Y/nnie, can I talk to you for a second?” Jisung asks as he pulls back. “I need help with something.”

“You're okay?” Minho asks worriedly. 

“I'm okay,” he assures him softly and squeezes his hand. “Come on,” he waves you over. You get up, not noticing Chan's anxious glance as you leave the room. 

Minho glances at him suspiciously. “Oh…that?”

“Mhm,” Chan nods nervously and Minho flashes him an encouraging smile. 

“How could they not love you, huh?” he chuckles compassionately. “Relax, hyungie.”

-

Only a little later, you're back in the living room, trying not to look all too confused. There isn't much space left on the sofa, and Chan pulls you into his lap naturally. You sink back into him and bite your lower lip nervously. Why the hell did Jisung ask if you're in love? With Chan? Was it that obvious? 

You can barely focus on the movie playing and want nothing more but to leave and think this all through. It's over sooner than you thought, and you're all sitting in a circle on the carpet now. 

“Truth or dare anyone?” Seungmin asks, and you curse yourself quietly. Of course. 

“Not for me, I should get -” you start and see Chan's smile fading. 

“You're leaving already?” he asks worriedly, and you nod quickly.

“Oh, come on, Y/nnie,” Jeongin pouts at you. 

“You can't leave already,” Changing protests and places the cards into your circle. 

“Fine,” you give in weakly and sit down next to Chan, who lifts you into his lap rather quickly again. His arms wrap around your waist, and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Clingy,” you comment fondly. 

“Fuck off,” Chan gives back just as fondly. 

The game goes on, and luckily, you're getting easy tasks and questions that don't make you uncomfortable. Jisung is sleeping in Minho's lap by now as the latter plays with his hair, and Felix's head is resting on his shoulder. Seungmin and Innie keep on teasing each other, hoping for the most stupid questions for each other. Changbin is still reading the questions, and Hyunjin giggles every time he shows him beforehand. You're still comfortable in Chan's lap and giggle as Seungmin spins the bottle, and it points at the two of you. 

“That's pretty in the middle,” Changbin states and frowns softly. 

“I can go; I'll take truth,” Chan volunteers. Changbin glances down at the question before grinning. 

“Do you have a crush? If so, who?” he reads out loud, and Chan stiffens beneath you. 

“I do,” he nods, and your throat dries. 

“Who?” Hyunjin asks, pointing out the second part of the question. 

“Someone I know really well,” Chan says, and your heart drops. That could be everyone in this room, and looking at the others, you know it can't be you. There's no chance. You push yourself from his lap before you fully comprehend your thoughts, excusing yourself for the bathroom. Chan glances after you worriedly as you bump into the table on the way out and exchanges a worried look with Minho. 

“I got it,” Minho nods and gently plants a sleeping Jisung into Felix's lap. “You go on,” he tells the rest before making his way upstairs to the bathroom. Minho gently knocks at the door and fondly rolls his eyes as you don't answer. “Y/nnie, let me in,” he says and waits for another moment. “I'll go get Chan if you don't.” You quickly open the door and pull him inside, locking the door again. “Cozy,” he comments teasingly. 

“Why are you even here?” you sigh softly and sit down heavily at the edge of the bathtub. 

“Shouldn't I ask you that? This can't be more comfortable than Chan hyung’s lap,” he says and sits down next to you, shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

“Mhm, you should know, right?” you ask sarcastically, and Minho grins. 

“Oh, I do…I've seen…or felt…everything you dream about,” he chuckles and gently pats your thigh. “I'm with Ji. What's stopping you now, huh?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” you shake your head and sigh heavily. “There's no way on earth Chan would love me and - oh fuck, I sound just like you,” you groan. 

“You do,” he giggles. “And I remember you telling me to get myself together and finally realize how handsome I am.”

“Well, you are, you dumbass,” you roll your eyes at him. “That doesn't exactly apply to me.”

“I think…I know Chan thinks very differently about that,” he says and is quiet for a moment. “So do I, dumbass,” he says and gently smacks the back of your head. 

Minho's words hit you like a wave, washing away the stubborn layers of doubt that had clung to you all evening. Despite the sting of his playful smack, there's an undeniable warmth in his words, an affirmation that maybe, just maybe, Chan might feel the same way about you. 

"But, Min," you start, your voice trembling slightly from the mix of hope and uncertainty, "What if you're wrong? What if he doesn't... What if it's not me he's talking about?"

Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a look that screams exasperation mixed with fondness. "Y/nnie, when have I ever steered you wrong? Listen, Chan's not as good at hiding his feelings as he thinks. The way he looks at you? I've seen it. It's more than just friendship. This isn’t my talk to have, though, you know?"

You're about to respond, but there's a knock on the bathroom door that makes you both flinch. "It's me," a voice says, one that sends butterflies rampaging through your stomach. Chan.

Minho winks at you and stands up. He walks past Chan with a knowing look as he exits the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. You're frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly you're sure Chan can hear it.

Chan steps inside, closes the door behind him, and leans against it. His eyes search yours, filled with a nervous energy that matches your own. "Y/nnie, are you okay? I noticed you left suddenly..."

Taking a deep breath, you nod slowly, trying to muster the courage that Minho seemed to think you had in abundance. "I'm okay, Chan. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess."

Chan moves closer, his concern evident. "Anything you want to talk about? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

The sincerity in his voice nearly breaks you. With a shaky exhale, you decide it's now or never. "Chan, I... I need to ask you something. Earlier, when you said you have a crush... was that-"

Chan's face changes then, but before you can interpret it, he lets out a breath he seems to have been holding. "Yes, it's you. It's always been you, Y/nnie. I was just too scared to say anything because I didn't want to ruin what we had."

The words you had feared and hoped to hear tumble into the small space between you, and for a moment, the world stops. Tears prick your eyes, not from sadness but from an overwhelming relief that floods through you.

"Chan, I... I feel the same," you confess, the weight of your unspoken feelings lifting off your shoulders. "I was so afraid you'd never see me that way."

Chan steps forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hands cup your face gently, and he smiles - a real, soft smile that you've dreamed of being meant for you. "How could I not? You're amazing, Y/nnie. I've just been an idiot about it."

And then he kisses you, a soft, sweet kiss that promises more. As you melt into him, the fears and doubts of the past fade away, replaced by the excitement of what comes next.

Outside the bathroom, the sounds of the ongoing game and the laughter of your friends continue, a reminder of the world waiting for you both. But for now, in this small, shared space, nothing matters more than the two of you finally bridging the gap between friendship and something much deeper.

When you finally pull away, Chan's grin is as bright as the stars you imagine are shining outside. "Come on," he says, taking your hand. "Let's go back.”

The two of you sit down again, and you lean back against him comfortably. Your eyes meet Minho’s, and you can’t help but beam at him. Minho smiles gently and winks at you, focusing back on the game. Chan gently intertwines your hands in front of your stomach and rests his head on your shoulder. “Tired?” you ask him quietly enough for only him to hear.

“Starting to be, yeah,” he hums quietly. “You wanna stay tonight?” he asks so sweetly there was no chance you’d deny him. 

“I would love to,” you nod.

The evening goes on, but the atmosphere around you is subtly different now. The other guys seem to pick up on the shift; quick, knowing glances are exchanged, and an occasional smirk is poorly disguised as a cough. As the evening slowly comes to a stop, the games gradually transform into yawns and stretching limbs. One by one, the room starts to empty as everyone heads to their room. Changbin claps Chan on the back as he passes by, whispering something that makes Chan chuckle and squeeze your hand tighter.

Once the room is empty, Chan shifts slightly, turning to face you. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and warm. "We could start another movie, just the two of us, or maybe just talk?"

"The talking sounds nice," you reply, smiling at him

Chan nods in agreement and stands, leading you to his room. You’ve been here so often before, but you never fail to feel at home here. He shuts the door behind you and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him.

You join him, feeling a blend of excitement and nervousness. "I'm really glad you're here," Chan begins, turning to you with a beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. "I've wanted to talk like this for so long but didn't know how to start."

"Me too," you admit. "I always wondered what this would be like, talking to you like this, knowing we both feel the same way."

Chan reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I've been so scared of messing things up," he confesses. "I didn't want to lose you by taking a step that might have been too much, too soon."

You nod, understanding his fears because they mirror your own. "But we didn't mess it up, did we? We're here now, and it feels right."

"It does," he agrees, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and happiness. "It feels perfect."

"What do you think will happen with us?" you ask a small part of you needing reassurance that tonight's magic will extend beyond dawn.

Chan squeezes your hand, his gaze steady. "I think we're going to be great," he says. "We already know each other so well, and we care about each other. We just have to keep doing what we're doing."

"I love that," you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"I love you," Chan says softly, the words spoken so naturally, echoing through the quiet room.

"I love you too, Channie," you respond, turning to face him. Your eyes meet his in a look that feels like a promise. He smiles sweetly, dimples showing, and gives you another quick kiss.

Chan stands up and offers you a shirt to sleep in, his shy smile making you laugh. You change and slide under the covers beside him, his arm coming around to hold you close.

The comfort of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart soon draw you into slumber, the challenges of the day fading into the peace of the night.

Two weeks later

You’re at the kitchen table with Minho, whispering the details of Chan’s and your first kiss and talk to him. You haven’t really had time to before with Minho gone for a few days. Minho listens curiously, nodding along, and you can tell he’s happy for you. The rest slowly join you for breakfast, and then Chan comes back from his shower after his gym session. His curls are still damp, a bright smile covering his face as he sees you. He passes you, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Morning, pretty,” he says softly, and you can’t help but feel flustered. A quick kiss to your temple follows, and he’s gone again already, getting himself something to drink. 

Minho notices the blush settling on your cheeks and giggles. “That easily?” he asks, amused. 

You gently shove his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter. “I’m not used to it.”

“Mhm,” he hums, still giggling softly.

It gets worse as Chan slips into the chair next to you, flashing you a bright smile and casually resting his hand on your thigh. “You slept well, beautiful?” he asks, not noticing the blush on your cheeks deepening. 

What the hell? Why were his simple words causing such warmth to spread through your body? Why are you blushing so hard after a few kind words? His eyes meet yours, and your stomach tightens at the love in them. Fuck.

“Yeah, did you?” you ask shyly.

“Of course, you’ve always been amazing at cuddling,” he compliments you, and you subconsciously shift in your chair. 

You manage a small smile in response to Chan’s gaze, the affection evident in his eyes almost too much to process so early in the morning. He chuckles softly, his hand squeezing your thigh reassuringly, a simple gesture that somehow speeds up your fluttering heart.

“Sorry,” he whispers, leaning in so that only you can hear, “I didn’t mean to make you blush this much.” His voice is a blend of amusement and tenderness, sending a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural it all seems to him, this newfound closeness between you.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure, pretty boy?” he asks and your lips part softly, eyes widening a little. 

“Channie,” you whisper softly, shaking your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asks, a knowing smirk lacing his features. “I’m just saying what I see.”

Your teeth bury into your lower lip as you feel the earlier shyness shift into something much stronger. Chan was getting you all worked up over nothing, and you’re not even done with breakfast yet.

“Give them a break,” Minho leans over suddenly, rolling his eyes playfully at Chan. “You’re getting them all worked up at the breakfast table; behave,” he says quietly enough only for the pair of you to hear.

Chan’s eyes widen, lips parting in a silent ‘oh’ as he picks up on the effect his words have on you. He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your neck. “Didn’t know you had a thing for praise.”

“Me neither, now shut up,” you plead softly, shifting in your seat and pulling at your shirt to cover your lap. Chan’s low chuckle sends shivers down your spine, and you flinch as his hand moves up your thigh. You gaze at him nervously, but Chan doesn’t even glance in your direction, talking to Seungmin opposite him. By now, you can’t get up to escape the possibility of getting caught because you’re slowly growing hard.

Your breath hitches as you try to focus on anything but the warmth of Chan's hand, your body reacting despite the semi-public setting. It's a thrilling yet terrifying mix of emotions, the fear of being noticed wrestling with the pleasure of Chan's subtle touches.

"Hey, you okay?" Seungmin's voice cuts through your haze, and you snap your attention back to him, nodding quickly, too quickly.

"Yeah, just... thought I saw something outside," you stammer, hoping your voice doesn't betray the flush of heat crawling up your neck. Chan smirks slightly, his fingers pausing as if he's aware of your struggle to stay composed.

The rest of the breakfast passes with a sort of hushed intensity, your mind whirling with Chan's teasing and the palpable connection that seems to have everyone subtly glancing your way every so often. You're grateful when the meal finally ends, and there’s an opportunity to escape the intensity of the kitchen.

Chan stands and stretches, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of his abdomen. You have to force your gaze away, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. "Wanna go upstairs?" he asks, his voice low, meant only for your ears. You pull at the hem of your shirt, nodding shyly and biting your lower lip in anticipation. Chan giggles and pulls you into a tight hug, whispering to you as some of the boys are still here. “Didn’t know you’d be able to hide it so well,” he tells you, hand running down your back. “Think you deserved yourself a reward, pretty boy?”

“Please,” you whisper, burying your flushed face in his shoulder. 

“If you’re good and keep quiet, I’ll help you out,” he whispers, and you tense in his arms, biting your lower lip hard. 

Your body reacts with a shiver at the promise in his words, the idea alone enough to draw a deep, yearning ache from within you. You nod against his shoulder, unable to speak, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest.

Chan leads you quietly upstairs, his hand gripping yours with a reassuring firmness. You pass a couple of the guys lounging in the living area, completely oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you two. Once inside his room, Chan locks the door with a soft click, the sound echoing slightly in the stillness.

"Sit down," he directs gently, pointing to the edge of his bed. You obey, watching him with wide eyes as he kneels down in front of you. His hands rest on your knees, his touch light but sending waves of anticipation through your body.

"How quiet do you think you can be?" Chan asks, his voice low and teasing, his breath warm against your skin as he leans closer.

"I'll be quiet," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the effort of keeping your composure.

Chan smiles, that knowing, mischievous grin that always sets your heart racing. He slowly moves his hands up your thighs, his fingers brushing the fabric of your sweatpants tantalizingly slow. The touch is light, almost teasing, but it’s enough to make you gasp softly.

"Shh," he hushes, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. "Remember, you need to be quiet."

You nod, biting your lip hard to stifle any further sounds. Chan’s hands continue their exploration, now slipping under your shirt to trace the lines of your stomach up towards your chest. His touch is feather-light, yet every nerve in your body screams for more contact, more pressure.

Without warning, he presses down more firmly, his palm flat against your chest as he pushes you gently back onto the bed. You go willingly, your body already on fire from his touch, your breathing heavy but controlled as you try to keep your promise.

Chan climbs onto the bed, straddling one of your thighs as he leans over you, his face just inches from yours. “Still doing okay?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“More than okay,” you breathe out, the proximity of his body making it hard to think about anything but the feel of him against you.

Grinning, Chan shifts his weight, and you feel the firm pressure of his thigh between yours, exactly where you need him. He watches your face closely as he begins to rock gently, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands find his hips, gripping him, guiding him into a rhythm that has you biting down on your lip to keep silent.

The room is filled with the soft sound of fabric moving against fabric and Chan's steady, controlled breathing. You keep your eyes locked on him, getting lost in the intensity of his gaze as he moves against you. Each motion is deliberate, calculated to drive you closer to the edge without tipping you over too soon.

Chan’s hands are on your hips now, his fingers pressing into your skin, his grip firm and possessive. He leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, his lips moving against yours in a dance that mirrors the movement of your bodies. You respond eagerly, the kiss muffled enough to keep your moans contained.

As the pressure builds, Chan’s movements become more urgent, his body pressing harder against yours. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a tingling sensation that starts deep within and radiates outwards. Your grip on him tightens, and Chan breaks the kiss to look at you, his eyes intense.

“Shit, Channie,” you whisper, almost feeling dizzy at the intensity of finally being this close to Chan. 

“Shh, be a good boy, yeah?” he asks softly, biting back a moan himself as he rocks his hips.

“Close,” you manage to whisper, and he nods, his movements becoming even more focused. You arch into him, your mouth opening in a silent cry of release as waves of pleasure wash over you. Chan holds you through it, his body a steady presence as you tremble beneath him. Chan buries his face in your chest with a soft, punched-out sound as his body shivers, stumbling over the edge. 

When you finally relax back onto the bed, Chan’s face is flushed with his own exertion, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He kisses you softly, tenderly, a stark contrast to the urgency of moments before.

“Was that quiet enough for you?” you ask, a playful note in your voice despite your exhaustion.

“Perfect,” Chan confirms with a chuckle, his forehead resting against yours. “Absolutely perfect.” You both lie there for a moment, catching your breath, the only sound in the room now the quiet hum of the house around you. Then, with a gentle nudge, Chan encourages you to sit up. “Come on,” he says, his voice gentle. “Let’s clean up a bit, then we can go back down. They’ll wonder where we’ve vanished to.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggle softly, smiling into the loving kiss he gives you before slipping out of bed. Yeah, you could get used to this and so much more.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

[daydreams-after-dark]

PLS I NEED A FIC WHERE BIG DICK HAN IS TIED UP AND EDGED FOR HOURS BY M!READER UNTIL HE SHAKES AND WHINES 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

"h-hyung, p-please, I'm begging, I need to- ah-!" (Edged again) "Please h-hyung, it really hurts, it hurts" then he cries then you edge him for another hour 😩😩

Edge and ruin his damn orgasm atleast 20 times and he will literally cry and beg and shake just to cum

(in my Dom era, yes I like being both so I read both XDDDDDDDD)

So, after a little chat behind the scenes, @chuuchuu1224 is happy for me write this as a Minsung piece 😃 I don’t think I’ve ever written them by themselves before 🤔 … anyway we’re going classic Minsung with a needy Ji and a domming Min.

Hope you like it 😘 x. Sorsha

“M-min…p-please…” whined Jisung. “Need to cum… please…please let me…baby, please!”

“Shh! What did I say about your whining, Hmm?” Minho said coldly. “Just shut up and take your punishment.”

“I’m s-sorry, hyung!” He sobbed.

Jisung had been tied to bed for 3 hours now, and he was almost at breaking point. He looked a sight. He was completely naked, sweating, his big delicious cock swollen, angry and leaking, resting against his taut abs. Tears running down his cheeks.

Minho thought he looked perfect being this helpless. That’s why he has really taken his time to tease torment his lover. Just like he himself had been tortured all week by Jisung.

For the past six days he’d been teasing Minho, avoiding his touch and ignoring his glances, flirting with Hyunjin. Grr. It’d been driving him fucking crazy. Cock tease. “I promise you’re gonna pay for this.” He’d told him the other night. He was met with an attitude of “what are ya gonna do about it?”

Well, now Jisung knew exactly what Minho was doing about it.

“You can’t do this to me!!! Aahhh p-please.” He scrunched his eyes as he sobbed loudly.

Minho hovered over Jisung’s cock, taking it in his hand and squeezing it slightly.

“Fuuuccckkk!!! H-Hyung… stop teasing… I’m gonna die!”

Minho licked the dribbling pre-cum from the tip. It was probably the fifteenth time he’d done so today. Edging poor Ji until he was almost there, then simply licking the precum away and leaving him writhing on the bed.

His balls were so tight and painful looking too. Minho wondered how he’d react if he squeezed them?

“Hyung!!!!” He sobbed. Minho smirked.

“Sungie. You need to listen very carefully. I’m going to untie you now. But only so you can roll onto your stomach. Then you’re going to be tied again. No funny business.”

Jisung whined. “O-okay…”

Minho repositioned Jisung so he was lying on his stomach, arms stretched and tied above his head. He immediately started grinding against the bedspread.

“Ahh… fuck!”’ Jisung squealed as a hard slap landed on his ass.

“No grinding.” Growled Minho.

He bit his lower lip as he caressed the curve of Jisung’s back, causing the boy to shudder, then parting his cheeks and nestling his face between them to lick his hole.

A low groan came from Jisung as Minho ate him out. He knew it would drive him absolutely crazy. But there was something that he knew would really torture his poor boyfriend. He slipped a finger into his hole. Just to the first knuckle. He gently thrust into him one, two, three times, then removed his finger entirely.

“Fuck you, Minho! When I’m not tied up I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.” He growled, trying to look back at him.

So he was at the stage of throwing threats now? He’d already begged and bargained to no avail. Desperate, needy boy.

“I mean it. I’m gonna fuck you up—aaahhh. F-fuck.”

Minho couldn’t hold out any longer and laid himself on top of Jisung and pushed his cock into his tight ass.

“Min…fuck…fuck…I’m… fuck you’re deep. P-please…ngh…”

Three deep, precise thrusts from Minho, and Jisung came with his cock squished between his stomach and the mattress. He shook and convulsed underneath Minho, making him almost come too.

“Min….no…too… it’s too much!”

“Shut up. Don’t you fucking know how much I’ve wanted to be buried in your ass this week?” He panted as he snapped his hips.

“Hyung…I love you.” Whimpered Jisung into the matress.

Minho’s thrusts halted for just s moment as his heart burst inside his chest.

“I love you too, Sungie. But for now I need to be a good little cocksleeve for me and be quiet.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

[maknaeswrld]

a life eluded | l.mh, h.js

wc: 6.5k

genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader

cw: pov hopping; anxiety/panic attack mentions; food/eating mentions; Bee (I still feel like they need a warning); all soulmates are gn (they/them pronouns) for sake of future storytelling; past life memories in italics; please please let me know if I missed anything🫶

if you’re new here, start from the beginning: a life forgotten

Soulmates can be a painful thing. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop yourself from running away. 

Riley had left you with a hug, two phone numbers hastily written on a paper towel, and a promise to meet up soon. You and Lia counted off ten minutes before leaving as well, hopefully giving you enough time for Riley and any possible companions to be long gone.

You thought the idea of reaching out to them would scare you, but the more you looked at the numbers, the more you wanted to talk to them. You assumed Bee was the one that had yelled at your soulmates, drawing their attention off you long enough to make a break for it. 

They’ve been looking for you for a long time.

Riley’s words found themselves on repeat in your head, not letting up even slightly. How could they have been looking for you if they’d never met you? They couldn’t possibly have known you. But they still noticed your absence. Enough that it weighed on them, caused them to seek you out even without knowing who you were.

They’ve been searching for their ‘missing piece’ about as long as I’ve known them.

Their missing piece. Not a burden, not a hitch in all of their plans, not some unforeseen unfortunate circumstance. You were included in their future long before you even knew of your past, they’d been attempting to seek you out for far longer than you’ve been avoiding ever finding them. In their minds you were the final piece of an extensive puzzle. Their final piece.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were typing both numbers into your phone and creating a group chat. 

Y/n: you didn’t tell me which number belonged to who so i just made a gc, I hope that’s alright.

Unknown Number: Who are you and how’d you get these numbers?

Unknown Number: shut up Bee, I already warned you about this. sorry Y/n, I was rushing a bit, this is Riley and the other number is Bee’s :)

Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): WAIT!!! YOU’RE MINSUNGS THIRD?! THE ONE THAT RAN AWAY EARLIER?!

Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): Bee istg

Y/n: uhhhh yeah, I suppose that’s me

Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): I would’ve run away too, those idiots are so loud

Riley (Bang Chan’s soulmate): you are actually not allowed to talk, I think the only person in existence that can rival Bin’s loud ass is you. the both of you together are my eternal migraine

Bee (Changbin’s soulmate): SHUT UP WE AREN’T THAT BAD

You couldn’t help the laugh that wells up in you at their banter, after that you fall into an easy rhythm talking with them. They understand you in a way you’re not sure any of your friends ever have. 

It didn’t take even two days messaging back and forth for the three of you to make plans to meet for coffee, Bee going on about how unfair it is that you met Riley already. You thought you’d be nervous, you spent the whole morning getting ready waiting for the nerves to hit. These were the soulmates of not just two international idols, but close friends to your soulmates who were in the same group. Everything about the situation should be sending you into a spiral of anxious thoughts, but instead you felt more at ease than you do going to dinner with Lia. 

“You look hot, where are you off to?” Your neighbor asked as you were locking the door.

“Coffee with some friends.” It felt too natural, the way friends rolled off your tongue. You hadn’t even met Bee yet.

“Be safe babes.” Your neighbor smiled, entering her own apartment. You weren’t close with your neighbor, but you always looked out for one another. Living alone wasn’t always safe, so having someone who would notice your absence was always a comfort thing for you.

The coffee shop decided on was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, you spent the whole time thinking over everything. When you had found out about your soulmates, one of your biggest concerns was the fact that there were others like you, soulmates of idols who knew who they were supposed to be with and couldn’t get to them. Or worse, that there were friends of yours, people who were the soulmates of the people you knew you had some cosmic bond with, people important to you that you’d never get the chance to remember. 

Due to Stray Kids popularity, you got to have your memories with your soulmates members, the memories of how close you were to each of them as well in every lifetime, but knowing they had soulmates, that you likely were very close to their soulmates, that you couldn’t remember them, devastated you.

And now you were meeting two of them for coffee. The memories with Riley had already started to slowly trickle in after the short time you spent with them in the bathroom, you knew more would start engraving within your deepest memories after more time spent together. The two of you were close in every lifetime, it gave you hope that everything would work out in this one as well.

“Y/n!! Run!!’” Riley laughed, hand holding tightly on yours as the two of you sprinted away from the lady chasing the two of you with a broom. 

“Get out of here, street rats!” The lady called after you. 

After several twists and turns to make certain you were securely away from any possible danger, you both sat against a wall to catch your breath. You started giggling, causing Riley to look at you as if you’d grown two heads. 

“What are you-?” Riley trailed off as you produced two small pieces of bread you’d managed to snake while Riley distracted the mean lady. Riley’s eyes lit up before laughter filled the space coming from the both of you.

You each enjoyed your pieces of bread, savoring the taste and the feeling of something on your stomachs, just sitting in comfortable silence with one another. 

You’d shared your whole lives running the streets, keeping each other alive and moving, and you always thought it’d just be the two of you, until Riley found Chan and your lives got thrown upside down.

You stared at the sign of the tiny rustic looking cafe. It was the type of place you’d go to every day if you knew it existed. Now that you did, you couldn’t imagine not regularly spending time there. You knew deep down, if all went well today, you’d be spending a lot of time there with Bee and Riley.

A bell jingled above the door as you pushed it open.The whole place radiated comfort and you felt at ease instantly.

“Welcome in, I’ll be right with you!” A cheery voice called from what you assumed to be the kitchen.

“Y/n! We’re over here.” You found a table in a small nook surrounded by books where Riley and Bee were sitting, drinks already ordered. “We didn’t know what you might like and Sage already knows our usuals, but we were waiting for you to get food.”

Before you could take one of the open seats between the two, a short person with a bright smile, freckles, and long hair brushed to a shine seemed to dance toward you, hands wiping at their apron, they reached one out for you to shake. 

“I’m Sage, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their grip was firm despite the dainty tinkle of their voice.

“Y/n.” You smiled in return.

“What can I get ya, Y/n?” 

You order your drink, you, Riley, and Bee also putting in your orders for food, and just as fast as Sage had appeared, they’d disappeared back into the kitchen. Taking your seat at the little table, you took a deep breath before looking up, only to find Bee and Riley already staring at you.

“So like, when are you gonna finally meet your boys? OW! Fuck Riles, what was that for?!”

Riley pinned Bee with a pointed glare. 

“Are you avoiding your soulmates?” Sage asks, gently placing your cup in front of you and taking the last seat at the table.

You turn beat red at the accusation. “Not exactly.” You mumble.

“Totally is. They found each other young so they’ve had five years together already and now this one seems to think they’re going to ruin everything, even though Min and Ji already know about them and have been looking for them.” Bee stated, sipping out of their own cup. “OW! Fuck, why are you guys always attacking me!?” This time, Bee glared at Sage instead of Riley.

“Because you make yourself an easy target. Listen, Y/n, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while owning this shop and spending way too much time people watching, it’s that no matter how hard you try to fight it, you’re meant to be with who you’re meant to be with. That's just the reality. If you were going to ruin their lives just by them finding you, you wouldn’t be their soulmate. Simple as that. Min and Ji have been in here a few times with Chris and Bin, they’re good ones, I guarantee you could never regret letting them in.”

“Your parents made a good choice with your name.” 

Sage grinned, gently lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s a fun name to live up to.”

With that, Sage disappeared into the kitchen once again. 

“They’re right though. I don’t think you could ever regret letting them in.” Riley smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Sage doesn’t know the boys are idols, do they?”

The way they called all of them by names Riley or Bee would refer to them as instead of any full name or stage name struck you as odd. Either they didn’t know or they were the bands inner circle, that thought making a strange sense of insecurity rise up your throat.

“Nah, Sage doesn’t really do technology and only really listens to the radio their grandfather had is his restaurant. They know next to nothing about the idol world, which is why the boys like coming here so much, it’s peaceful and off the beaten path.”

You nodded, sipping your drink. You could understand that, especially with the boys being idols with soulmates, a quiet coffee shop with next to no attention on it is the perfect place to be able to have uninterrupted time together.

Shifting in your seat to look around the small shop more, you found yourself wondering what your soulmates thought of the cozy shop and its somewhat eccentric owner. What were their regular orders here? Did they like having a regular order or did they change it up? You found yourself wanting to know how they decorate their rooms, if they like to read, what they like to watch. You wanted to get to know your soulmates personally in this lifetime, not just what you know of them from every life passed.

A few weeks ago, a few days even perhaps, that would’ve terrified you. You would have found yourself thinking of Jisung and Minho, and these thoughts plenty, but you always shut it down knowing it was fruitless, you wouldn’t get the answers anyways. But now that was different, now they knew you, now they wanted to get to know you just like you wanted to get to know them. Now everything was different, and the two men you love of your memories have a chance to become the men of your present if you so chose. 

While losing yourself in the thoughts, zoning out the conversation happening between the shop owner and your fellow Stray Kids soulmates, your eyes landed on a gorgeous trellis made of wood and covered entirely of vines and flora, reminding you painfully of the arch and altar at your wedding to the two men in one of the very first lives you had a memory of.

“Do not fret, Y/n. No one is going to show up to ruin your marriage tonight, and even if one were to try I am almost positive Changbin and Bee would stop them before you even knew about it.” Sage smiled at you over your shoulder in the mirror, helping you lace up the back of your outfit. 

“My father disowned me because of this wedding, it isn’t entirely implausible for him to not try and put a stop to it.” You sighed, worrying your fingers.

Sage pulled the straps a notch tighter than they needed to go, causing you to yelp and stare at your friend incredulously. “None of that.” Was all that was muttered before you were released and spun around, Sage’s hands finding their way to your shoulders. “Now, you are going to get out there, you are going to marry both of your incredible soulmates, and you are going to let your very oafishly protective elders stop anyone who threatens a bond as beautiful as the one you share with Minho and Jisung. Do you understand me?”

All you could do was nod, tears already welling in your eyes, as you pulled Sage into a tight hug. “Thank you, my friend.” 

“Oh goodness, have the waterworks started already?” Bee teased, leaning casually on the doorframe. “You look great, Y/n. And if you’re ready, so is literally everyone else.”

Squeezing Sage one last time, you smoothed out the non-existent ruffles in your clothes before exiting the building, finding Chan holding a bouquet and waiting patiently leaning against the outside of the tiny cottage. When he looked at you, the emotions welling in his eyes were all you’d ever wanted to see from your father, and while a part of you wished he would have accepted your soulmates, you're more than grateful for Chan stepping up to such an important role.

“Are you ready?”

“More ready than I have ever been for anything.”

And with that, you were led out into the field, to the altar put together with wildflowers and plants, to your soulmates eagerly awaiting you to join them, to the life you’d never regret despite what your father anticipated. 

Because standing there under the floral arch, Jisung’s hand in one of yours and Minho’s in the other, you knew you could never regret them in anything for even a moment.

Minho watched as his lover paced incessantly back and forth in the cutie dorms living room. 

Bee and Riley had informed them that they were in touch with Y/n, their third soulmate, and that they were going out with you for lunch today. Riley refused to tell either boy where they were going, knowing Jisung would show up without hesitation and that Minho would just to avoid leaving Jisung alone in any way.

“What if they decide they don’t want us?” Jisung finally spoke the words that had been weighing on both boys since you disappeared a few nights prior, and even more so since finding out you’d been in touch with Changbin’s and Chan’s soulmates.

If you were in touch with the other soulmates, you could have found Minho and Jisung easily at any point. If you were in touch, one of them found you that night, which means you were likely mere feet from Jisung, as he had been with Riley. There were questions flying through Minho’s head at the same rate as he could see them in Jisungs eyes, but he had to remain calm for his lover, if they were to both spiral, no one would be able to calm Jisung.

“They’re not going to decide that, Sungie. They just found out they have two soulmates, you can’t tell me it didn’t take us a while to process that one too. They’ll find their way to us when they’re ready.” Minho pulled the smaller boy into his arms, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head.

“What if they’re never ready, Min?” The youngers voice was soft and shaky, Minho felt his heart break at the sound.

“We can’t think like that, Ji. Y/n is having lunch with two of our family at this very moment, if they were never going to be ready they wouldn’t have agreed to that.” Minho tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine at saying your name aloud for the first time in this lifetime, he tried to ignore the peace brought to him just by your name alone. His hold on Jisung tightening, his head burying in the youngers neck. “We’re going to be okay.” He promised, ignoring the persistent what ifs echoing in the back of his head.

What if Jisung was right? What if you were never ready? What if you never chose them because of who they are in this life? As much as Minho wanted to negate those thoughts, memories of lives that turned out exactly like that made him question if this would be one of them. 

His hand tightened around their wrist, trying to pull them back to him. “Why do you keep running away?!”

“Because I have to!” You cried, finally turning to Minho, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I have to.” Your voice breaking on every word.

“You don’t have to. You can stay with me, we can figure it out.”

“Figure what out? Minho, soulmates are not the end all be all. As much as I would love to just run to you, run away from everything but you, I have responsibilities. I can’t just do what I want, not in this lifetime. We’ve found each other, awesome, great, we’re still in two completely different worlds. You’d be better off trying to find the one missing from our memories, you’d have a chance to have a life with them, to be happy with them. Do that Minho. Find our third soulmate, forget about me, and be happy. Because I can never be, that’s just not how this life played out for me.”

“You’re telling me that despite everything, you’re not choosing me?”

“God why do you have such selective hearing?! I don’t get a choice Minho. I never did! I was born into the fucking mafia, people don’t get to just walk away from that simply because they found their soulmate. 

“Soulmates are a weakness just waiting to be exploited, you’ll live your whole life constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly in danger, because of me. Is that really what you want for yourself? For whoever we’re missing? Is that the life you’d choose for someone else? Because I wouldn’t choose this life for anyone and I am begging you to leave Minho. Get out while no one knows, get out while there’s no chance for them to know.”

“But I’ll know.” He hated how broken his voice sounded even to his own ears. “And you’ll know.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he would listen to you, that he’d walk away and never look back. But all you found was a horrifying sense of finality.

Minho wanted to take it away, let you be free of this world you were forced into. He wanted to take your hand in his and never let go, no matter the danger that came with it. 

He watched as your face morphed from the helpless near tears girl into a cold and emotionless woman, and it terrified him that you had been forced to learn to shed all resemblance of emotion within a blink. 

“I will not ever choose you over my family in this lifetime, Lee Minho. Your life isn’t of importance to me and if you’re so keen to get yourself murdered trying to talk me into leaving with you, then so be it. I won’t come to your rescue.” Saying the words felt like driving a knife right into your own heart and twisting, the look on his face as his grip loosened on your wrist only adding to the immense guilt. 

Ripping your arm away from his grasp, you turned on your heel, head held high, tears threatening your lashes, and left him standing there.

Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe. All he could do was pace around like a lunatic, and every now and again stop to stare at his hands. The hands that held you, the hands that let you go.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the way your eyes lit up, the way your smile outshines every star and sunrise he’d ever witnessed. He could hear the perfect harmony of you and Minho singing together, the way you didn’t miss a single syllable in any of his rap parts.

Jisung thought finding you would bring him peace, completeness, the sense of warmth he already knew with Minho, and for those few minutes he had you, you did. 

Now, Jisung figured just knowing you were nearby, knowing you were close enough that maybe he would run into you again would ease the pain in his chest at the memories flashing through his mind, but when Riley informed him that they were on their way to get lunch with Bee, and you, and refusing to tell him where they were going, he felt his heart shatter all over again. His breathing growing uneven at the idea of you being close enough to enjoy lunch with two of his closest friends, and yet nowhere near him. 

So Jisung paced. He walked back and forth and back again until he was dizzy, trying to rid his body of a pent up energy he had no idea what to do with. If he stopped, he assumed he’d collapse into a full blown panic attack, if that were to happen Minho would have to calm him down, and if Minho has to focus on keeping Jisung level headed, he won’t be able to grieve your absence too. 

Jisung knew he was spiraling, knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself out of it this time, but he had to pretend he was okay, he had to let Minho spiral if he needed to, which means he can’t. 

He tried to distract himself. He thought of Minho, of the way he curls into him in his sleep. How Minho nudges his hand, silently begging him to keep scratching his scalp when Jisung gets distracted and stops for any longer than five seconds. The memories of how the late afternoon light filters across Minho’s features, making him look like one of those beautiful paintings Hyunjin talks their ears off about. 

But within these thoughts of his incredible soulmate, flitters in you. The way you had a habit of playing with Jisungs hands, he wondered if you’d still do that in this lifetime. He fell into thinking of the way you would stick your tongue out and furrow your brows when you focused too hard on anything, from washing dishes to sewing up a stab wound. He wondered why he had memories of you sewing up stab wounds, and which lives those were from, what you were like in those lifetimes outside the flits of memories he was gifted from the short amount of time he got to be by your side in this one.  

No matter how hard he tried, everything kept coming back to you. Trying to distract himself by thinking of his other soulmate would lead to memories of him coming home to find both of you curled up together, fragments of time stilled in his mind of the two of you, smiling at each other, at him. He knew he would lose his mind if he were to be forced to remember you in every single way and never get to experience any of it outside of those few minutes he had on the street.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

Your voice was like a melody to his ears, despite the harsh words echoing from it. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here.” He countered.

Despite the racing of his heart, the familiarity of you, he had a job. One that required getting through you at any cost. 

“Whatever it is you were sent here for, think very hard, is it worth the cost of your life?”

Jisung didn’t really put a cost on his life. He was raised and trained for one thing only, to carry out orders by any means necessary. And, as if you could sense that in him, you shifted your relaxed stance just slightly, preparing for an attack, but softened your features. 

“There is more to life than what you know, little one.”

At the nickname, he lunged, but it was as if you knew exactly what to expect, perrying and gently placing your hand on his arm, sending the both of you headlong into forgotten memories and lives. 

Coming to, Jisungs guard flew up. He didn’t move, didn’t attempt to attack you, but he shut down every possible emotion you could try to gather from him.

“I can show you a better world. One where you’d be in control of your own life, where you’d have an answer to what is and isn’t worth the cost of it.” 

Your words were gentle, everything about you seemed to be gentle. You softened your stance, returning to the relaxed position, no longer planning to attack him or counter any attacks from him.

“If you give me a chance, I could give you the world.”

“I think I want to meet them.”

Riley shot up from their position sprawled across your couch, Bee’s mouth dropping open in shock. 

“Are you serious?” Riley asked, searching your face for any sense of unease or dishonesty.

You’d been spending endless hours with the two, they’d quickly become your closest friends, aside from Lia. You’d also come to spend a lot of time at Sage’s cafe, quickly learning they are very much a piece of your many lives as well. You were still unsure of how exactly Sage fit into the grand puzzle of lifetimes spent with the same friend group, but you knew they did. Your suspicions only confirmed with Riley and Bee’s agreeance of having Sage within their past lives memories as well.

“Y/n/n, I need you to be so for fucking real right now, do you actually want to meet them?”

You’d seen Bee get serious about stuff before, they weren’t all jokes all the time, but the way they were staring at you at that moment, you knew you had to give the complete honest truth. Bee was protective, and while that insane protective streak has since expanded to you as well, you knew without a shadow of a doubt they’d evescrate you before you had a chance to even think about hurting Minho or Jisung.

“I’m terrified of it, that hasn’t changed. But maybe you’re right, maybe it will work out.” You smile at your friends. “I think I’m ready to risk finding out.”

It didn’t take even twenty whole minutes to get a meeting set up, Riley and Bee dragging you to your room to get you dressed and ready. 

“Is it really a good idea to do this now? I mean, it’s really fast, don’t they want time to like, I don’t know, prepare or something?” You’d been rambling the whole time Bee sat on your lap to hold you in place while fixing your hair. 

“No. Because ‘giving them time’ only gives you time to back out and the last thing we need right now is Ji going into another spiral because he thinks you don’t want them.” You could practically hear the roll of Bee’s eyes as they finally got off you, surveying their handiwork. 

Huffing, you accept your fate as Riley forces an outfit into your arms and shoves you into your bathroom, pulling the door shut.

After getting changed and taking in your appearance, you had to admit, Bee and Riley were good. You’d looked hot, almost to the point of it feeling like it was too much. Taking a deep breath and hyping yourself up in the mirror, you open the door to find Bee and Riley lounging in the hallway, both looking up upon hearing the door open, Riley grinning and Bee letting out a piercing whistle as they take you in, high fiving.

“You’re gonna knock 'em dead, babe.” Bee winked.

You blushed, but couldn’t help the smile stretching across your lips.

“Alright then, let’s do this.”

Not every life went smoothly, not every meeting was practically gold and rainbows. But this one was. Childhood friends and also soulmates is nearly unheard of, most people couldn’t fathom growing up with the memories of every life before the current. But you had met Minho and Jisung at the ripe age of five, Jisung was the baker's son, your mom was looking for work, and you and Jisung were forced to spend hours upon hours every day together.

At first neither of you really understood the full depth of your shared connection, but when you both met Minho, and shared all the same memories with him as well, your young minds didn’t have it in them to care. 

Growing up, the three of you would learn the full extent of what happened, but you never had the disconnect from the memories, having your past lives almost completely integrated with your current. 

“I wish we could find each other young in every lifetime. It made everything so much easier.” Jisung muttered into your hair. You hummed in contented agreement, fingers massaging Minho’s scalp.

“Unfortunately, that’s not gonna be the case Sungie. Some lives will be easier, some will be harder, there may even be some we never meet at all. But at least in this one, we’ll get to love each other for far longer than we went without.” Despite his words, Minho’s voice was a purr and you knew without a doubt that all three of you, whilst scared of what future lives may entail, were perfectly at peace in that one. 

Riley and Bee had never spent so much time away from the boys. 

From the very moment Changbin found Bee, they were a permanent fixture within the group. Bee helped 3Racha write and produce, they were in the studio almost as much as the group, and if they weren’t there, they weren’t far.

Riley, from the moment of finally accepting Chan at least, was never far either. They would always be around, making sure all of the boys were eating, weren’t overworking themselves, taking in enough fluids. 

To put it lightly, the gap of their absences was almost painfully noticeable in the weeks they seemed to all but vanish. Ever since their lunch with Y/n, it’s been as if the two were ghosts in the skz household. 

Jisung knew they were still around, the lack of moping from either of his fellow producers was proof enough, but he hadn’t seen a glimpse of them for days, maybe even weeks. 

He felt as if his world was fracturing. Minho was working tirelessly on new choreography, Bee wasn’t around to help him with songs, Riley wasn’t around to make sure he was drinking water, all of his members were enjoying their break before the next comeback, and he was exhausted. Jisung didn’t know how to get out of his head, and he wasn’t sure who to ask for help from. 

He knew if he kept the pace he was at, he’d inevitably spiral, and that wouldn’t be any good for anyone. Jisung had decided to hide away in his room and sleep, it was the best answer he could come up with, but just as sleep was threatening to finally overtake him, his door burst open, a downright giddy Changbin standing in the threshold.

“I’m about to take a nap, tell me about it later.” Jisung groaned, turning his back to his friend before his friend could say anything.

Changbin, not having any of it, stomped over and ripped the blankets away from the smaller boy, lifting him out of bed, carrying Jisung to the bathroom, despite his protests, and threw him in the shower.

Before Jisung could complain, yell, or even get a thought in, Changbin turned the water on, drenching him in seconds. 

“Y/n wants to meet, get cleaned up and ready to go in ten.” The older boy said before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and leaving an absolutely dumbfounded Jisung to slowly register the words, excitement growing with his understanding. 

````

Weeks. Minho had been trying to get the choreography for the next comebacks title track down for weeks. Everything he came up with didn’t feel right, and when it did he didn’t think it looked right. 

Hyunjin and Yongbok had offered to help, they’d even stayed with him, learning new dances, so Minho could see how it looked with multiple people, for a fresh perspective. But nothing was right. No matter how much Yongbok would swear he thought it flowed well, no matter how easy Hyunjin picked it up, nothing was right. 

Minho knew, deep down, it wasn’t the dances that were off, it wasn’t his choreography at all. He knew it was nothing to do with anything related to music that was wrong, but the only thing he could translate the misconstrued emotions to was dance. 

He created new dances every day to give his body and mind something to do, something to take away the wandering thoughts and memories. He’d rather tire himself to exhaustion than remember how it felt to have you by his side. 

Minho had come to the conclusion that you were not going to choose them, and he couldn’t blame you for it at all. His hopes were up after he’d seen his only hyung work things out with his soulmate, but not everyone could find it in themselves to be with an idol. Being an idol was hard enough, dating one was a whole other demon of its own. 

Despite knowing he has Jisung, despite being overwhelmingly worried about his lover, Minho simply needed to mourn the lover they never had a chance with. He needed his time to accept the fates cruelty upon their lives this time around, and then he’d help Jisung accept it as well. 

So he kept dancing. For weeks.

Minho had always found solitude in an empty dance studio. The way the mirrors would be completely empty save for his figure, the silence filling a typically boisterous room, there was just something peaceful about a place meant to be filled being empty.

He was stretching, preparing for hours of working out kinks in his newest routine completely unbothered. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. They were on break, all of the boys were off doing who knows what, and they were supposed to be relaxing leading up to their busy season. Yet Minho was in the empty dance studio, all by himself. 

He was lost in thoughts, already hacking away at the parts he wanted to rework, mentally trying to decipher how to fix them, when the door to the studio was nudged open. His eyes shifted to the door in the mirror, finding his only hyung standing in the doorway, a small smile gracing his features. 

“You might want to put your plans for the day on hold.” Chan said without even greeting him. 

“Why’s that?” Minho asked, being unable to stop the quirk of his brow. 

“Because we have lunch plans. Are you sweaty?” 

Minho shook his head, “Just got here, I was stretching.”

“Great, put on street shoes and let’s get out of here, we’ve gotta meet Bin and Ji at the dorms.” Chan smiled, moving to grab Minho’s bag for him. 

“What’s the rush?” Jisung hadn’t mentioned any lunch plans with the other producers, but to be fair he and Jisung had been somewhat distant from one another lately.

“It’s a soulmate lunch. Me and Riles, Bin and Beebee, you and your soulmates.”

Minho nodded his agreement, very used to soulmate lunches, working on lacing his street shoes when he froze in realization. 

Him and his soulmates.

````

To say you were nervous would be a gross understatement. You were downright jittery.

Bee and Riley were positioned on either side of you, both steadfast pillars of comfort bringing an almost overwhelming sense of security. You would be okay, because how could you not be with them by your side?

You’d agreed to meet at Sage's cafe for lunch, it was mutual ground and low foot traffic. Perfect for essentially a first meeting with your two idol soulmates and, from your understanding, Bee and Riley’s idol soulmates as well. 

You were ready to bolt. Ready to full on leg it home and lock your door, never to come out again. Despite the peace of knowing three of your closest friends would be there, meeting them was still an absolutely terrifying concept.

The what ifs a plague playing on repeat. What if they don’t like you? What if you ruin everything for them? What if their fans find out? What if, what if, what if. 

But with every bad what if, there was also a good one. What if you fit in seamlessly? What if they don’t care about their fans finding out? What if they are as scared and excited to finally meet you as you are to meet them? What if, what if, what if.

You knew you could bolt. You knew that Bee and Riley talked big, but if push came to shove and you needed an out, they’d have your back and get you out. You knew you could turn on your heel and walk the opposite way and they’d text their soulmates an update, and that yours would more than likely be devastated.

It was the fact that you could that kept you from doing so. The idea of Jisung and Minho waiting for you, the mental image of them deflating after hearing you’d change your mind, the thought of them being upset due to your actions, pushed you forward, kept you walking, and you knew no matter what you walked in on, you wouldn’t be able to back out now. You wouldn’t be the one to break the loves of your every lifetime. 

Seeing the familiar shop, your heart was in your throat. There would be no turning back, no changing your mind. In choosing to meet them, you chose to give them the ball, everything would be up to them, and the closer you got to the cozy shop, the more you realized you were truly okay with that.

You were never actually nervous about meeting your soulmates, you were giddy about it. 

As you pushed the door open, letting the familiar sound of its little bell notify Sage of your arrival, your eyes found your soulmates in record time, both sat at the table under the trellis covered in flora and vines. Your breath caught at the smiles gracing both of their faces, and you knew.

Even though soulmates can be a painful thing, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to run away from yours again. 

a/n: ahhhhh it’s almost overrrr😭🥺🥺 this was gonna be a lot angstier and then it just, wasn’t. and idk what that’s all about but I like how it turned out lol. I dragged my feet on writing this part for actual weeks and then wrote like, 5k of it in two days, so I hope it was good haha! thank you so so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts!!🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @starlostastronaut @mariteez @tired-of-life-86 @skizmee @elisiexoxo @cutiespaghetti @httpswilloww @sundownimup-1 @lolareadsimagines @rockstrhanji @quokkampi @kayleefriedchicken @vivirantshere @ciellebys

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[thehandmaidenofcreativity]

So Patient

WC: 3.6k

Rating: 18+

Dom!Jisung plans a special scene for sub!Hyunjin, surprising him with another member.

꧁︵‿︵‿₊˚‧⊹

Jisung eyes the hook on the ceiling of the extra room of their new apartment. They agreed that it wouldn’t be a gym, but Minho did want to hang a punching bag now that he’s getting back into boxing regularly. Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, the fact that Minho installed the hook before even ordering the bag is giving him a great idea. And luckily his favorite hyung is reliable enough that he knows the hook was installed well and able to hold a fair amount of weight.

Lately the members have had more individual schedules, which can be a bummer, but is definitely working out in Jisung’s favor this week. He sets everything up and just waits for Hyunjin to arrive. He’s nearly vibrating with anticipation when there’s a knock at the door. It’s just for politeness’s sake, of course, and it gives him the moment he needs to school his features before Hyunjin walks through the door. 

Hyunjin walks past Jisung, eyes down, entering his room before he begins stripping. In no time, he’s fully nude and on his knees beside Jisung’s door, just waiting for instruction. 

“Good boy.” Jisung follows him in, grabbing the items from his desk before stepping behind Hyunjin’s kneeling form. “Are you plugged?”

“Yes, sir.” Hyunjin already sounds a bit breathy. They don’t always play this way, but when they do, he’s turned on before his knees hit the ground. 

Jisung smirks at the sharp intake of breath as he secures the collar around Hyunjin’s neck. Today is going to be fun. As he comes around to the front of the other man, he turns the collar and lets the attached chain drop some, ensuring Hyunjin feels the weight of it. Hyunjin’s eyes widen, but he keeps them downcast and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s used to the collar, but it’s rare that his dom uses a leash.

Jisung doesn’t give any warning before he’s walking away, forcing Hyunjin to scramble after him for fear of getting dragged. Once they’re outside the door of Minsung’s extra room, he’s instructed to stand. 

“Keep your eyes on me or the floor.” Jisung’s gaze is hard. “Any sounds will result in a punishment. Understood?”

“Yes sir. I’ll be quiet.”

Typically Hyunjin’s pretty good at following directions, so he’s not particularly concerned about the prospect of punishment. Plus, he loves when he’s allowed to look at Jisung early on. The gasp when they enter the room does tempt him, though. It clearly did not come from Jisung. He immediately turns his eyes downward again for fear of letting curiosity get the best of him. He knows for a fact that Minho is not here right now, but who else could it be? He and Jisung have never played with anyone else like this. 

Jisung smiles. He knew Hyunjin would be good, but he kind of hoped that he’d slip up. Jisung takes a few steps closer to the table he’d placed under the hook, giving the leash a little slack so that Hyunjin won’t move with him. He reaches out and rattles the chain hanging from the ceiling. His smile widens at Hyunjin’s reaction. It’s small. A little flinch before standing even straighter. He gives the leash a sharp tug, causing Hyunjin to stumble towards him. 

“Be a good boy and hold this while I check something.” He hands Hyunjin the leash and circles the table. The man on top of it squirms a bit under his stare. Jisung trails his fingers over a taut stomach before he steps around to take in his backside. Tiny and adorable. He gives it a decent slap, eyes on Hyunjin as he flinches at the sound again. One more slap and he gives it a squeeze before reaching to pull the plug out of him. Seungmin sighs again, more heavily this time. The plug had been vibrating for quite a while. 

The remote is just behind him on the table. Jisung could’ve turned it off before pulling it out, but he wants Hyunjin to hear it. He finishes his slow lap around the table, placing him in front of Hyunjin again. He doesn’t know what’s happening but he’s already hard and ready. Jisung wraps his hand around his chin and tips his head up so he can look him in the eye. He was sure Hyunjin would break and take a peek, but he’s pleasantly surprised. 

He rewards him with a kiss. He knows it’s hard for Hyunjin in this moment, feels the way he brings his hands up to his chest, aching to touch Jisung. When Jisung pulls back, he decides it’s time. He pulls Hyunjin by the leash again and sits him at the head of the table before detaching it from the collar and tossing it to the side. With his eyes downturned again, Hyunjin sees a pad of paper and a pencil in front of him. 

“You have three minutes.” Jisung fists his hand in Hyunjin’s hair this time, his grip just this side of painful, pulling his head up with a sharp jerk. “Draw him.”

Hyunjin takes in Seungmin before him, kneeling on the table, his arms suspended above his head, wrists locked together connected to a chain hanging down from Minho’s hook. Not a stitch of clothing on him. His cock is hard and Hyunjin can see the tip is glistening with precum. He gapes for just a second before picking up the pencil and beginning his sketch.

If given more time, Hyunjin would relish this opportunity. He’d take his time with the sketch, until he feels like he’s captured every detail perfectly. Then he would paint, because such beauty deserved to be captured as vividly as possible. But he only has three minutes. 

Jisung tries to focus on his watch instead of Hyunjin, but it’s hard. His lips pursed in concentration, his eyes focused, Hyunjin is exceptionally beautiful this way. Too soon the three minutes is over, and Jisung almost regrets setting such a short time limit. Almost. Hyunjin’s drawing is rough but lovely. Rather than telling him that his time is up, Jisung decides to yank on the collar again. Hyunjin nearly falls on the ground, but recovers quickly. Their eyes meet before nerves set in and Hyunjin looks down again. Jisung said he could look at him, but maybe he’s worried that he’ll somehow break a rule if he keeps his eyes up. Hyunjin is really a great sub. 

Jisung pulls him around to the other end of the table. “Up.”

Hyunjin crawls onto the table. He’s dying to look up and see the rest of Seungmin, but he doesn’t dare raise his eyes. He does not want to miss out on anything Jisung planned. 

Sensing his thoughts, Jisung offers a boon. “You can look at him now.”

Hyunjin’s gaze is hungry as he takes in those broad shoulders, that tiny waist. Stays love to talk about Jisung’s waist, but Seungmin’s is just as small. Just as biteable. Hyunjin’s eyes drift lower and he bites his lip. 

Before he can even form a coherent thought about Seungmin’s ass, Jisung’s hand is in his hair again. He shoves Hyunjin’s head down at the same time that he grabs Seungmin’s hip and pulls him back a bit, causing his back to arch. “Lick, Jinnie.”

Immediately, Hyunjin’s hands are on Seungmin’s cheeks, spreading him so that he can eat him out with abandon. 

When Jisung positioned Seungmin this way, he walked him through what he had planned. He also told him to react naturally, no sound restrictions like Hyunjin would have. The practiced tongue darting in and out, and exploring as much as it can reach, draws a groan from Seungmin’s lips. He’s been waiting for longer than he would’ve liked, and the anticipation had been killing him. He arches his back even more, pushing back onto Hyunjin’s tongue. 

Jisung is greatly enjoying the sight in front of him, but he’s getting a little impatient. He decides it won’t hurt to undress himself. He sets the key to Seungmin’s cuffs on the table before stripping. He palms himself, as he watches for just another few seconds before he grabs Hyunjin by the hair for a third time. He really loves the silky feel of it. He pulls Hyunjin back, tilting his head so that he looks up at him again. 

“Unlock Minnie’s hands and make sure his wrists are alright.”

“Yes sir.” Hyunjin grabs the key and scrambles around the table to get in front of Seungmin. He takes in the blush across his cheeks and preens just a little, knowing that he was the cause of it. Once he’s unlocked them, Hyunjin takes Seungmin’s wrists into his hands, rubbing at the slight red marks around them one at a time. They look just fine, but he knew they would. Jisung wouldn’t have left him like that if he thought there was a chance that he’d be too uncomfortable or end up losing circulation or something. “His wrists are good, sir.” 

Jisung smiles at the way Hyunjin unconsciously sinks back into his standard kneeling position and tears his eyes away from Seungmin to stare at his own hands. “Turn around, Jinnie. Ass up.”

A smile breaks across Hyunjin’s face as he follows the order. Seungmin looks to Jisung, his hands itching to reach forward and touch Hyunjin. 

“Minnie, remove his plug and make sure he’s stretched enough to take you.” 

Seungmin moves before he even finishes, just as eager as Hyunjin. As soon as the plug is out, one hand is on Hyunjin’s hip while he puts two fingers into his stretched hole. He pumps them a few times then adds a third. He presses against Hyunjin’s prostate and is just a little disappointed when a gasp is all he gets out of him. 

Jisung, on the other hand, is impressed. Hyunjin is really serious about the ‘no sounds’ order. While Seungmin plays with Hyunjin, Jisung grabs the lube and climbs up behind Seungmin, checking to ensure that he’s ready as well. 

“Okay, Minnie, you can stop.” Jisung can almost hear Hyunjin’s whimper. He squirts some lube into his hand and reaches around to stroke Seungmin’s length a couple times. The resulting moan brings a smile to his lips. He brings himself right up to Seungmin’s ear to whisper before addressing Hyunjin. “Fill him up for me. Jinnie, you can make whatever sounds you need to now, baby.”

Seungmin takes himself in hand and lines up with Hyunjin’s entrance. He does whimper this time, so ready for what’s to come. Seungmin enters him slowly, both hands gripping his hips now. Hyunjin’s breaths come harder; he still tries to hold back, but a drawn out moan escapes once Seungmin bottoms out. 

“Fuck.” Seungmin breathes before looking over his shoulder at Jisung. “Can I talk to him?”

Jisung considers for a moment. He pushes down between Seungmin’s shoulders, encouraging him to rest against Hyunjin’s back. “Go ahead.”

Seungmin trails kisses along Hyunjin’s shoulders before whispering. “What a good boy. Staying quiet even though I know you want to scream with my cock inside you. You’ve been so patient, so good, all night. I can’t –”

He cuts himself off with another groan as Jisung presses inside of him roughly. Jisung sinks in to the hilt, relishing the tight squeeze. Seungmin’s length twitches in response as he subsequently thrusts a bit more into Hyunjin, drawing a moan from the latter. 

Patient as he’s been, Hyunjin’s reaching his limit now, starting to push back to get some friction, backing Seungmin against Jisung in turn. Unable to access Hyunjin, Jisung lands a harsh slap to Seungmin’s right cheek. The resounding sound, doing nothing to deter him, if anything Hyunjin’s more turned on knowing that Seungmin is the one receiving his punishment. He rocks back again, and Jisung administers another slap to the other side this time. Seungmin lets out a small sigh but does nothing to correct Hyunjin’s behavior. 

Jisung is amused, curious to see how much Seungmin’s willing to take before he reacts, so he keeps quiet. Without any direct consequence aside from the pleasure he seeks, Hyunjin is emboldened. He continues to thrust himself back with increasing vigor, fucking himself on Seungmin’s cock. To his credit, Seungmin’s only apparent reactions are his ever tightening grip on Hyunjin’s hips and his panting breaths. His ass has taken on a pretty pink hue that Jisung can’t help but admire as he continues alternating his spanks every couple strokes. 

After a particularly hard slap, Seungmin can’t take it any more. “Fuck, Jinnie!” He sinks his teeth into Hyunjin’s shoulder then, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to hurt. 

Hyunjin yips and Jisung laughs before threading his fingers into Seungmin’s hair and yanking backwards. He’s got an edge to his voice, threatening and powerful. “Naughty puppy. You shouldn’t chew on things that aren’t yours.”

Seungmin gasps his apology when Jisung bites the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck. It’s not very hard, but the sting of disappointing Jisung and having to be reprimanded makes it feel much more harsh. 

“I was going to let you come first for being so accommodating to my bad lil Jinnie, but now I don’t know if you deserve to.”

“Please Hannie,” Seungmin is not above begging. “I won’t do it again. Thank you for letting me borrow your toy. Please, let me come.”

Jisung knows that Seungmin actually deserves a reward for withstanding so much stimulation, especially considering he’d been waiting for a reaction like that. But he relishes the power he has over the men beneath him. “What did you just call me?”

Seungmin whines, puppy eyes getting big. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to. Please, sir, I’ve tried so hard to be good. Please? You and Jinnie feel so good. I need it.”

While he talks, Hyunjin clenches around him periodically, causing him to stutter out his plea. Jisung shoves him forward to hide his smile. “You did put up with Jinnie’s misbehavior, so you can come when you’re ready.” He lowers his voice an octave. “Hyunjin shouldn’t come until I do.”

Hyunjin knows better than to argue, so he simply pouts and lets out a little whine. Jisung moves his hands to Seungmin’s hips and guides him forward. That’s all the encouragement Seungmin needs; he begins pumping into Hyunjin, forcing out soft ‘ahs’ with every stroke. Jisung is content to follow along with him at first, but his need for control soon takes over; he slips an arm between Seungmin and Hyunjin and presses his chest against Seungmin’s back. 

“Flatten out, Hyun.” 

It’s a bit awkward considering their position on the table, Hyunjin’s chest spilling over the edge of it. He keeps one hand on the ledge and reaches the other to the floor in front of him. Jisung knows this won’t last too much longer and the precariousness of his situation will help Hyunjin to focus on staving off his climax. He snaps his hips at a punishing pace, angling so that he hits Seungmin’s prostate with each thrust. 

Seungmin lets loose then, just taking it. His moans are loud and musical. The sound of them spurring Jisung on. Together they climb higher and higher. Hyunjin is barely hanging on by a thread between the friction of his cock now pressed to the table and the rebounding grind of Seungmin behind him. He tries to lift his hips to relieve a little of that pressure, but the new angle has Seungmin grazing his own sweet spot. 

With an emphatic groan, Seungmin finds his release, and Hyunijn sighs at the warm sensation spreading through him. Jisung renews his effort, increasing his pace yet again. He wants Seungmin to ride that wave as long as he can. Jisung soon falls over the edge himself, his movements becoming erratic. After a few moments, they both slump forward on top of Hyunjin, who nearly sobs. 

Not one to leave his job unfinished, Jisung pulls out and sits back on his heels. He guides Seungmin to do the same, and they both take a moment to watch Seungmin’s cum drip from Hyunjin’s stretched rim. 

Jisung tuts. “Can’t have that, can we. Jinnie, back on your knees, but you can keep your head down. Seungmin, clean up your mess.”

Seungmin pulls Hyunjin up by his hips, helping him to settle into position before dragging his tongue up and into Hyunjin’s hole before sucking on his rim, causing Hyunjin to shudder. In the meantime, Jisung uses two fingers to scoop his own dripping cum and press it back into Seungmin. This sets off a short chain reaction - Seungmin groans at the overstimulation, the sensation pulling another moan from Hyunjin. 

Jisung lets out his own sigh of contentment, watching as Seungmin switches from his tongue to his fingers and litters kisses along Hyunjin’s thighs, ass, lower back, anywhere he can reach. He can hear the soft murmurs of “you’re so pretty like this,” “that’s it, baby,” “let me hear how much you like it.” He can tell from the way Hyunjin squirms when Seungmin starts to massage his prostate. Hyunjin’s moans shift into one prolonged groan. Jisung climbs off the table, making his way around it. 

With the barest push on his elbow, Seungmin follows Jisung’s unvoiced order to take Hyunjin’s length in hand. He thumbs the precum on his tip, using it to ease the glide of his strokes before pulling his hand away, to Hyunjin’s dismay. Hyunjin whines and chokes back a sob when Seugnmin withdraws his other hand as well. 

Almost immediately, though, Seungmin’s hands trade places. Suddenly the hand coated in lube and his own cum is wrapped around Hyunjin jerking in time with the thrust of his fingers. Jisung admires the pure pleasure on Hyunjin’s face from his new vantage point at the head of the table. He sinks down to one knee, grabbing Hyunjin’s chin and tilting his head up for a sloppy kiss. Hyunjin’s eyes fly open at the contact, but fall shut again as he basically just pants into Jisung’s mouth. 

Jisung smirks as he brings his mouth up close to Hyunjin’s ear. “Alright, baby, let me hear how pretty you are when you come.”

Though he hadn’t been told he needed to wait for permission, he clearly had been. Nearly as soon as the words leave Jisung’s mouth, Hyunjin comes with a cry and a slew of garbled curses as well as his partners’ names. Jisung catches him as he slumps forward, and together he and Seungmin position Hyunjin so he can lay fully on the table, basking in his afterglow. 

꧁

After giving him a couple minutes to catch his breath, Jisung helps Hyunjin into a sitting position. He carefully removes the collar from around his neck, rubbing gently at the revealed skin. “Time to get cleaned up, baby.” 

They all get to their feet, and Jisung takes Hyunjin’s hand, hesitating before taking Seungmin’s as well. Seungmin doesn’t react beyond a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk of the right side of his lips. He’d told Jisung that he should just focus on Hyunjin’s aftercare, but that doesn’t mean he was going to listen to him. Besides, the hand holding is symbolic more than anything; he needs to let go to get through the door. He didn’t count on Seungmin then taking Hyunjin’s other hand. It’s cute. 

When they reach the bathroom, Jisung places his hands on Hyunjin’s hips, slowly guiding him into Seungmin. “Hold him for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Seungmin snarks, but he wraps his arms around Hyunjin, hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

Jisung smirks and pats his head. “Good puppy.”

Hyunjin giggles, hands framing Jisung’s face as he brings him in for a kiss. Then Jisung sets about getting things ready for their shower. Towels and clothes acquired, water bottles and snacks ready on his nightstand, and water warm, the three of them slip into the shower. The way they wash up mirrors how they were in the other room; Seungmin is gently sudsing Hyunjin up while Jisung does the same to him. 

They discuss the scene between lingering kisses, touching on their favorite aspects. They agree to play together more often, maybe even play around with the dynamics to see what would work best for them. Seungmin apologizes for the dark fingermarks on Hyunjin’s hips, making sure to press a kiss to each one. He doesn’t miss the heat in Hyunjin’s gaze when he takes the bruises in, though. 

As Jisung dries Hyunjin with the fluffiest towel he owns, the latter wonders aloud, “What are you going to do with my drawing?”

Seungmin’s head whips around to hear the answer as well. Jisung laughs. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I kinda just wanna keep it in my drawer.”

“In that case,” Hyunjin suddenly turning shy despite all they’ve done. “Minnie, would you sit for me again?”

Seungmin doesn’t quite succeed at hiding his smile. Even if he had, the blush painted across his cheeks and pinking up his ears would’ve given him away. “Sure, Jinnie. Whatever you want.”Once they’re all dressed in their comfies, they pile into Jisung’s bed with him in the middle. Hyunjin passes the snacks to the other two while Seungmin presses play on Howl’s Moving Castle. The conversation continues in fits and starts, interspersed with more sweet kisses and shushes to focus on good parts of the movie. By the time the movie ends, they’re just a sleeping pile of intertwined limbs and peaceful smiles.