#stray kids enemies to lovers

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Love Playlist #2: UGH! (Bang Chan)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» 

"Shut the fuck up."

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, forced proximity Warnings: swearing, mc has autism, misogynistic behavior (not Bang Chan), implications of ableism, bullying, short panic attack description Word Count: 11k

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It’s a truth universally acknowledged that you hate Christopher Bang’s guts. Everything about him, you hate. The utter laziness that he masks as nonchalance? The “happy-go-lucky” attitude that borders on bullheaded recklessness? The way every single time you text him about something important, he never replies? You hate it all. He’s irresponsible, aimless, completely unreliable, and you hate him.

Chris believes that the whole world revolves around him, and unfortunately, he would be correct. With dimples that rival Harry Styles’s and saccharinity biologically embedded in him, his good looks and charismatic personality blind everyone to the truth. Everyone except for you, of course.

Even if all of the supreme powers in the universe held you over an eternal chasm and forced you to find compromise, you still wouldn’t be able to stop hating him. And you hate heights— almost as much as him— so that’s saying something. Your hatred for him will never, ever waver. You hate Chris Bang, period. And you hate him even more now, as he stands next to you and accepts an honor that should solely be yours.

“Congratulations, Chris and Y/N!” 

You keep clapping and plaster on a fake smile to save face, trying to ignore the rage bubbling inside of you. In your peripheral vision, you sense Christopher laughing and shooting finger guns towards people in the audience, like some kind of corrupt politician. In a way, he is one, because you should have won this election. But you didn’t.

“In all of our history, never has there been an exact voting tie between two candidates.” The sickeningly cheerful announcer bounds closer to where you are standing on the stage, gesturing towards you both. “Everyone, please give another round of applause for our new Student Co-Presidents!”

Hearing it officially made you feel nauseated. For the three years you’ve been a college student, you have worked tirelessly, day and night, so this moment could come to fruition. All of those days filled with nonsense— schmoozing to all of the seniors in the Undergraduate Student Council, attending the endless number of tedious mixers to make connections, standing in the rain trying to raise funds for the organization— were going to be worth it, because in the end, you had one goal: to be student body president. 

But your dreams were dashed to the ground when he strolled in like a supermodel. While you were toiling since you were a freshman, Chris showed up at the final student council meeting at the end of last year, expressing his intentions to run for president in the following academic semester after the summer. Chris’s charm threw off the projectile of the election, compared to how although you carry yourself very well professionally, you still are very socially uncapable. Making engaging small talk about the weather or joking about frat parties on campus are unthinkable tasks for you, while that kind of conversation is exactly Chris’s forte. 

You know that you’re lucky that you at least get part of the title, because while on paper you are more qualified than Chris, the game was never in your favor. And seeing it all happen by the cursed will of the one person you’ve despised more than anyone else, since you were a kid, makes it hurt more than anything.

“Great job, partner.” 

You’re snapped out of your disturbed musings by the aforementioned person, who beams and stretches out his hand towards you. You’re wary of the gesture, but accept it anyway, making sure to squeeze his hand extra hard. 

“Same to you, Christopher,” you retort, adding an unmistakable bite to your words.

The smile doesn’t fade off of his face as he coolly shakes his aching hand off from your death grip. “I go by Chris, you know that.”

You nearly snort, but refrain from it, because people are watching. You do not need any negative publicity right now, especially next to your co-counsel who seems to do no wrong. But that won’t stop you from being discreetly petty. “Okay, Christopher.”

You hate Chris, and he knows it. But his elated expression doesn’t budge as he merely moves away from you to spark conversation with the announcer, who looks at Chris with literal hearts in her eyes. One more thing you hate: no matter how much you try to rile him up like he does to you, he never gives you a reaction. That satisfaction solely belongs to him. 

Rolling your eyes, you shove past him as gracefully as you can, eliciting a surprised grunt out of him. As Chris rubs his side behind you, you turn to the students coming closer to congratulate you, the smile on your face very much genuine now.

“He left me on read! AGAIN. Can you believe the audacity?” 

The smoky, herbaceous scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary fragrance of baking breakfast pastries does nothing to soothe your anger. Your unadulterated complaints ricochet off of the walls of Morningstar Coffee House, your go-to place when you need to feign study in order to hang out with your best friend, a devoted employee-in-training at the place. 

Soobin groans, dumping out the latest batch of long macchiato into the sink. “I keep messing it up.”

“Are you even listening, Soobin?” You lean against the counter that he’s behind, wiping up the small drops of milk that escaped the carton in his hasty panic to master the art of being a barista. 

“Yes, yes, I am, sorry. Please continue.” Soobin sets aside his blender and folds his hands on the granite, looking at you earnestly. 

You pick at the chipped dark purple polish on your nails. “I can work with him. I can. Because I’m a professional. But he makes it so hard when I’m trying to communicate with him.”

Soobin shrugs. “Maybe he’s just not using his phone right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, you shake your head. If only everyone could be as sweet and guileless as Soobin. He always sees the best in people, and while you’re not a pessimist, it’s hard for you to find the good in Chris’s character. 

“It’s not just the text thing, even though I really do need him to tell me if he’s finished the nominations for the ethics board. It’s like, he doesn’t give a crap about anything, especially when it comes from me.” 

Soobin nods slowly, wrinkling his nose in thought. “I know he’s difficult. But just keep rising above. Getting upset hurts you, not him.”

As always, Soobin remains the voice of reason behind your storms, your eternal complement. When you need to cry your emotions out, he welcomes you with open arms. When he’s too shy to ask for the dessert menu at restaurants, you will signal for the waiter. When you make your displeasure apparent, he induces a degree of rationality into your vexed mind. That said, fundamentally, both of you are introverts. At the end of the day, you love nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch knitting tutorials on Youtube with Soobin. Opposites or not, you fit each other like a glove. 

“I love you, cucumber,” you say, affectionately poking fun at your best friend’s towering height. 

Soobin’s cheeks turn light pink, and he swats your hands away. “You’re weird.”

You tip your head back and laugh, while Soobin grins and resumes his duties in trying to figure out how to work the cash register. You can feel the worries already lifting in your chest, because who cares about Chris, anyway? Certainly not you. 

But as if you had spoken of the devil, you hear the jingle of the shopkeeper’s doorbell, followed by that familiar boisterous guffaw. The sound makes you whirl around, the tension soaring back into your shoulders. And there he is, sauntering into the café with his trusty entourage trailing. 

Your narrowed eyes meet Chris’s, and he pauses in the middle of whatever obnoxious joke he must have been sharing. For a brief moment, a telepathic duel sparks between you both, a challenge to see which one of you will be the first to crack. You win, when he breaks eye contact to go and find a seat with his friends in the lounge area. But once more, it doesn’t feel that way, because while he’s resumed his own activities, you’re still thinking about him. So much for rising above. Damn it. 

“Soobin, you need to scan your employee ID first or else sales won’t be attributed to you. We already went over this.”

The voice of Seungmin, the son of Morningstar’s owners and your fellow university student, halts your deliberations and thankfully pulls your thoughts away from Chris. Seungmin is inside from his break and stands there besides Soobin, scolding him for making another mistake in his practice transaction before the evening rush. 

“Right! Sorry about that.” Soobin shakes his head and exhales, grabbing a towel to wipe his sweaty hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just keep at it.” Seungmin softens, patting Soobin on the back before making his way over to where Chris is sitting. Because of course, Chris is friends with every single person in existence.

Another person enters the building, prompting the telltale ring to go off. Soobin’s perpetual flush morphs into a crimson, and you immediately turn to see which newcomer has got your best friend so hot and bothered. You’re met by the sight of a very pretty girl who you recognize, but whose name escapes you. However, you know the boy she has walked into the coffee house with— her best friend, Han Jisung, who is unsurprisingly another member of Chris’s glorified posse. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” You raise your eyebrow at Soobin, who is still watching the girl with a lovelorn look in his eyes.

“What?”

“You can’t like her. She and Jisung have a thing.”

“They’re just friends,” Soobin says, frowning, but you can see the contradicting doubt written across his face. “Maybe I’ll talk to Seungmin and see what’s up.”

You take his hand and resign, because other times, both of you have to learn your lessons on your own. “You’ll make someone’s heart beat as fast as they do your own. Whether it’s her or not.”

Soobin swallows, fully directing his attention back to you. “The same to you as well. ”

You let out a playful snort, thinking of your one short-lived romance from freshman year. You haven’t dated since, deciding to set relationships aside so you can focus better on your studies. You cannot take the chance of losing precious time, time that can only be allotted to your favorite person, work, and nothing else. Besides, you’ve never been very good at flirting— let alone finding friends— anyway. 

“But I think Chris raises your pulse rate enough, so maybe you’ve got your plate full for now.”

“Don’t start,” you warn, the annoyance picking up again. Soobin sends you a cheeky smile, before he attends to his peckish customers. 

You take the opportunity to make your way back to your table in the front of the cafe, your favorite little spot that overlooks the lush campus lawn, and then past the historic buildings of your university, the faint city skyline. The trees have begun happily shedding their leaves like multicolored tears that dot the outdoor expanse, embracing Autumn like a long-lost lover. Today is gorgeous, a day that should feel like a blessing, and yet, you feel blue.

The reason for your melancholy approaches your carefully curated bubble and pops it, sitting down at the table, uninvited. 

“Hey, I didn’t see you at the election after-party the other day.”

Chris’s voice is calm, so you merely clench your jaw and keep from saying anything too unintelligible. “Hey, you read my text and didn’t reply today.”

He doesn’t let the sheepishness cross his features, but has the decency for it to manifest in a light red at the tips of his ears. “I was going to, sorry. I’ve been busy.”

You just can’t help the venom that laces your next words. “You always are.”

Chris shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t get why you always have a problem with me.”

You allow yourself a sharp intake of breath before divulging your current frustrations with him. “I really, really need you to answer me when I ask you something. We represent all of the students in our college. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Chris rolls his eyes at your words, which makes you even more irritated. “I know.”

“Great. Then we have nothing else to discuss.” You slip your laptop back into your carrier and zip up your backpack, grabbing your phone and pushing your chair in. You don’t spare Chris a glance as you walk towards the door. 

“Why can’t we just be friends like before?”

You tense at Chris calling out, but don’t look back to face him. “You should know the answer to that.”

“I really don’t.”

With a scoff, you leave him hanging, pushing open the door and finding somewhere you can actually study without distraction.

It’s only the second day of fourth grade and you already feel so out of place. You moved here  over a month and a half ago, in the middle of summer, so you had a lot of time to get used to the town and explore your new home. You enjoyed biking around the neighborhood cul-de-sac all day and discovered a clearing in the woods behind your house, immediately claiming it as your personal hideout. After your parents hosted some of your neighbors’ families for dinner, you even established friendly relations with Soobin, the impossibly shy son of the couple next door. 

But your expeditions in school haven’t been as successful. As soon as you stepped into the classroom, it seemed like everyone already had their own friend groups, less than willing to take on a newbie like you. Because all of the seemingly “cool” kids have claimed all of the seats in the back, you sit up front, the desk next to you empty. And although Soobin also attends the same school, he’s in a different homeroom than you, so your in-school interactions are limited to hallway waves and nothing else. To top it all off, your teacher is already talking about long division. What in the world is that?

“Would you like a pudding?”

You turn around to pinpoint the hushed voice that has interrupted the independent classwork time that your teacher allotted. The owner sits right behind you, this kid with dimples and mischievous eyes. You can’t recall his name from when your teacher took attendance in the morning, but you remember him singing a little rhyme to his friends during lunch yesterday. It was cheesy.

The boy holds out a small cup of what looks like Jell-O snack pudding towards you. You accept it, slightly confused at the random gesture. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He folds his hands on his desk, math practice discarded to the side. “You looked hungry.”

He’s watching you intently, waiting for you to eat the pudding. With a sigh, you open and try it, because you are kind of hungry. As soon as your lips gingerly close around the tiny spoon, you grin, because it’s chocolate— your favorite.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Chris,” he replies, obviously delighted by your reaction to the pudding. “Are you new?”

You smile, relieved to finally see a friendly face in your class. “Yeah, I am. Thanks for the pudding.”

“I don’t go anywhere without my trusty pudding cups.”

You don’t say anything, just quietly observing him while savoring the pudding. Chris is a little weird, and maybe too friendly. You're usually careful about this kind of socialization, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person. Chris takes your silence as an opportunity to keep chattering away.

“I notice you sit alone at lunch. You should eat with my friends and me today!” Chris exclaims, earning him a look from your teacher, but he doesn’t notice.

You pretend to contemplate his offer, although you’re secretly elated at the invitation. “Maybe if there’s more pudding.”

“Deal.”

“It looks like the faculty advising problem is sorted. Anything else?” 

The Dean of the college closes his laptop and pushes the pair of glasses perched on his nose for the hundredth time in the past hour. The lenses are huge, magnifying his eyes and making them look bugged-out, adding a comical element to his otherwise stony face.

“I was thinking—” You start, taking out your notepad, but the Dean cuts you off, looking at Chris.

“Chris, did you have anything you wanted to say?” 

Your cheeks as you avert your gaze shamefully, and all of the other students in the conference room awkwardly stare down at the table. The Dean doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, however, just intently staring at Chris. For the entire board meeting, you actively participated and made your voice heard, while taking into account others’ concerns and viewpoints. 

Meanwhile, Chris had done nothing but squint at the papers in front of him and pretend he knew what was happening. But you’ve always been underestimated just because you’re a woman, and the fact that you’re the only female student body president in the entire history of your university doesn’t help. Of course the Dean would value Chris’s thoughts more. Anyone would. 

“Actually, Y/N was saying something. We should let her finish,” Chris replies firmly, shocking you. You thought Chris would just take the opportunity to shine for himself, not hand it to you.

The Dean looks taken aback as well, but he nods slowly. “Very well then.” 

Everyone’s attention snaps to you, but you quickly recover and recollect yourself, turning on the professionalism you reserved for moments like this. “Yes. Thank you.”

You open your computer and quickly login, plugging it into the projector so everyone can view your screen. You had already pulled up your presentation and graphics, ready to present your idea. 

“What is all of this, Miss Y/L/N?”

You take a deep breath. “A prevailing issue that has come to the board’s attention is the food insecurity on campus. To solve this issue, I propose the University Food Pantry, to relieve hunger through the acquisition and distribution of food to those students who most need it. We need to lead our campus community in the fight against hunger.”

The rest of your audience looks intrigued, but the Dean doesn’t seem convinced. “And how does this concern me? I oversee educational affairs at the college, not what’s cooking for dinner.”

“Our university is, above everything else, a community. The difficulty of higher education is further compounded when hunger is a constant presence.” You try your best to keep your suave composure, ignoring the smug condescension in the Dean’s voice. “As a result, the Food Pantry will envision a campus in which every student, regardless of their socioeconomic status, has sufficient access to nutritious food. No one should have to make financial and dietary decisions in pursuit of a good education.”

“It all sounds expensive. Where would you even get the money from?”

You know that the Dean expects you to be thrown off by his question, but you’re ready. You switch through the slides of your presentation, showcasing the several charts and graphs you stayed up all night drawing. “The Dean’s Assistance Fund, through which the Pantry can provide flex allowances to undergrad recipients of Financial Aid.”

The Dean leans back in his chair, brooding silently while you wait for his answer with bated breath. But Chris speaks up instead.

“This is really good, Y/N,” Chris says, astonishing you even further. “The fund could finance other initiatives in collaboration with the pantry as well, like the university Meal Share app that my friend Jisung coded. He’s in the computer science department.”

“Thanks,” you say warily, still in disbelief that you have both his support and enthusiasm. The other students murmur in agreement, but it doesn’t feel real, getting along with Chris. 

Immediately, the Dean sits up, directing his gaze to match Chris’s. “A wonderful idea, Chris. We must talk further about this. Perhaps—”

It’s Chris’s turn to cut the Dean off. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Y/N’s, if you were listening to her at all, sir.”

The Dean looks embarrassed after being put into his place by the very student he was chatting up to, but you don’t give him time to say anything else, taking the chance to continue speaking. 

“Of course, we can’t be fully financed by the Dean’s fund, so I think the university board should put forth a collective effort to apply for the Park Grant, an international system that funds programs that address student reform.”

“You’ve put so much thought into this, Y/N,” Mina, one of the board members, says with a smile. 

You light up, forgetting the Dean’s less-than-enthused demeanor. “Thank you so much!”

The Dean sighs, staring up at the ceiling, but shrugs, inclining his head in reluctant approval. “The Park Grant deadline is in two days. You’ll have to write up the proposal and present it to the panel.”

You nod vigorously, already mentally adding it to your calendar. “Thank you sir, I know. I won’t disappoint you.”

The Dean points his pretentiously expensive fountain pen at Chris, directing your gaze to his. “But you’ll be presenting with Chris. You’ll oversee this endeavor together.”

Your soaring heart crashes, and you sit up in indignation, because of course there’s a catch. After undermining all of your efforts, the Dean would never trust you to do something like this on your own. And out of everyone, it has to be with Chris.

“Sir, I truly believe I can finish this on my own.” You can barely contain the anger quaking in your throat, but you give it one last attempt.

Chris glances at you and dips his head in accord. “I agree, sir. Y/N is perfectly capable. This is her project, after all.”

“Let’s not go near what our capabilities are. I am very well aware of what your abilities are.” The Dean’s words jab you in the chest one by one, making you wonder if he could go any lower. “You both are co-presidents. Do it together or don’t do it all.”

“Sir—”

“Please give me a chance—”

Both you and Chris are cut off by the Dean’s cold sneer. “That will be all.”

With the wave of his gnarled hands, the meeting is over, and the rest of the students exit as fast as they can to escape the tension, while you just sit there, staring at your black computer screen blankly. A moment later, you collect yourself, grab your belongings, cramming them into your arms, and run out of the room, trying not to cry all of your frustrations out, right then and there.

“Y/N, stop!” Chris calls out from behind you, and you groan inwardly. And of course he has to be there. You can’t even fall apart in peace.

“What do you want, Chris?” You sigh exasperatedly, turning to face him, even though all you really want to do is give him the finger and run back to your room.

The tension is palpable, and you see Chris’s concern. You don’t want it, though. You don’t want his concern, his sympathy, or his friendship. You just want to never see him again, but unfortunately, the universe will not let that happen. You should have accepted that when it put you through elementary, middle, and high school, and even college with him. 

“I’m sorry. I- I tried,” he says, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft, blond locks flop back into place on his forehead. He looks more beautiful than ever, the sorrow in his deep brown eyes and painted into the pout on his perfect lips. But God, you hate him.

You swallow, taking a step forward. Chris’s eyes widen in surprise, but he stays still as you proceed in an eerily calm voice. “Outside of work, don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even think about me. I hate you, Chris, and I wish you never existed.”

For the first time, Chris is speechless, but you walk away, feeling anything but triumphant. You don’t want to see the hurt splayed across his face. And you don’t want Chris to see your own pain, the ugly root that digs deep into your heart and surges through your fingertips, the pain that has been there since the moment he took something from you. You hate Chris, and that will never, ever change.

“Come on, Soobin, tell me,” you whine, lightly kicking your legs at Soobin’s, where they hang over the edge of the treehouse you both built with your dads a few summers ago. The June weather is hot and sticky, and on days like this, you both like to climb up here and try to catch the faintest breeze that may come your way, ice creams in your hands and stories to trade on your lips.

Soobin coughs awkwardly. “Absolutely not, Y/N.” 

Tomorrow is the last day of middle school, and you’re determined to guess Soobin’s crush. You smirk at him, elbowing him in the side. Today, you suck on a blueberry popsicle, deliberating while trying not to let the dessert drip down your arms. 

“It’s the girl in your history class, isn’t it?”

“Nope.” Soobin side eyes you curiously, biting down on his own fudge ice cream cone. “Well, maybe I’ll tell you if you tell me yours.”

You blush, your mind immediately going to Chris, the boy you’ve liked since forever. Although you’re best friends with Soobin, Chris is also one of your good friends at school. And not to mention, the cutest boy in your entire school. 

Besides Soobin, Chris is also the only other person you’ve told about your autism. You were always shy and awkward growing up, and Chris pulled you out of that shell. 

It’s also why you get so nervous before tests. Since the time you nearly dropped your computer before a science quiz in fifth grade, Chris always brings you pudding before class assessments. You were scared to tell him at first, because you have been bullied in the past about it, but he had been nothing but kind and understanding. He’s never forgotten to bring you a pudding cup, and he specifically brings chocolate-flavored ones only, because you once told him you liked them. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” you swallow the last chunk of your popsicle, crunching down on the sugary ice. 

“I promise.” Soobin sits forward eagerly, his melting ice cream cone forgotten.

“It’s Chris,” you say dreamily, a lovesick smile playing upon your lips. 

Soobin burst out laughing, elbowing you in the side teasingly. “I knew it!” 

You and Soobin start arguing about who was more obvious about their respective crushes, but the thought of Chris stays lingering in your mind and clouding your thoughts. His devilishly handsome looks but angelic personality. The way he brings you those damn chocolate puddings, unaware of how you got sick of the flavor a long time ago but keep eating them anyway, just to see the beaming smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow,” you exclaim randomly, right after Soobin finishes telling you about all of the teachers he will miss over the summer, the perfect student he is.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m going to tell Chris that I like him. Tomorrow,” you declare, trying to keep your voice strong and purposeful.

Soobin just stares at you with his jaw hanging open, because while you aren’t as soft-spoken as him, neither of you are particularly forward. Especially not in regard to your romantic lives. You both are the duo that watches your lost loves from afar, not confronting them up close. You’re surprised at your uncharacteristic behavior too, because you pledged to never give a teenage boy the satisfaction of knowing the power they have over you, especially not someone popular like Chris. But then again, Chris is different. You know it.

“Are you actually serious right now?” Soobin asks, still in shock. “Like, are you joking?”

“I’m serious, Soobin. I really like him.” You toy with your stained popsicle stick. “If he doesn’t feel the same, then I can just move on.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

He reaches over and gently pats you on the back, as if to comfort your nerves. “He’d be really dumb to not like you.”

You groan and flop onto your back, looking up at the dusty ceiling of the treehouse. Both of you just stay quiet for a moment, as you observe the soft cobwebs in the corners and the sunlight pouring through the cracks in the wooden rafters. You’re really going to do this.

“I’m still hungry.”

Soobin holds out his half-finished cone, little droplets of ice cream dripping onto the wood. “You can have the rest of this.”

“Thanks, Soob.” You accept his ice cream and both of you continue to reminisce about the school year and plan out everything you probably will never do during the summer, because both of you are master procrastinators.

But one thing you can’t put off is your revelation to Chris, and it’s going to happen. Which is why you find yourself trying to ignore the impending feeling of dread as you walk through the school hallways. Classes are over for both the day and the entire academic year itself, and there’s no better time to confess to your crush on the last day of school. That way, if something goes wrong, you can take the summer to recuperate and wallow in your humiliation. 

You weave through the students excited to trade their homework assignments for sunny days at the beach, with only one thought in your mind. Chris, Chris, Chris. You saw him in math class in the morning, and he looked so cute in his new Hawaiian-print shorts while he signed your yearbook for you. Now, you try to find him in the crowd, before he leaves and you’ll be unable to see him for another three months.

As you search, you’re momentarily snapped out of your Chris-induced daze when you bump into Jessi Ho in the congested hall. Knowing your luck, of course you would crash into the loser who constantly picks on Soobin for being shy. 

“Watch it, dumbass.” Jessi crosses her arms and flips her hair over her shoulder. Jay, her wannabe sidekick, gets up in your face, threateningly flashing the tattoos he got without his parents knowing. Although they look like a classic pair of bullies straight out of Mean Girls, you’re more irritated than intimidated right now. 

“I don’t have time for this.” You try to move past the terrible twosome, but Jay grasps your forearm roughly and pulls you back. You wrench your arm free and look at him in both disgust and confusion. “What the hell?”

“I’ll get to the point.” Jessi smirks, bringing her finger up to her head and pointing to her temple. “We know you’re impaired. Up here.”

Your blood freezes over like a river of ice, when Jessie emphasizes that specific word. Even though you’re not impaired, because autism isn’t an intellectual disability, you know what she means. She says it like an insult, like you’re the most useless of garbage, not worth a human being’s basic dignity. Jay bursts out laughing when he sees the horror on your face, slapping his distressed denim thigh like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in the fifteen miserable years of his life. You just stumble back, shock and panic rising like a tidal wave in your chest. 

“W-what?”

Jessi cackles, clinging onto Jay like he’s her own walking cane. “How cute. She looks so lost.”

You shake your head, the tears building and your throat seizing in alarm. “How…?”

“A little birdie told me.” Jessi steps closer to you, and while every other time you are able to stand up to her, you can barely look her in the eye right now. “It all makes so much sense. Why do you barely talk to anyone but your pathetic bestie? You’re too scared. Why can you never sit still in class? You're just stupid.”

“That- that’s not how it works.” 

You’re grasping at straws, at a loss for words. Any other time, you’d have a snappy comeback ready. You know you struggle with social interactions, but you never thought of yourself as someone disruptive, or weird. You’re one of the highest achievers in your entire school, because sometimes, books make more sense than people. But now? You do feel stupid, exactly like Jessi said. And not because you’re autistic, but because you weren’t careful enough. You’ve been underestimated your entire life because you’re a girl, but now, you know you’ll also be an autistic girl to everyone else. Not who you are. And that’s why you tried your best to keep it on the down low, not because you felt embarrassed, but because this was a part of yourself that was entitled to you. Not anyone else.

“Sure, okay.” Jessi looks bored already, her eyes unfocused roaming the hallway, looking for her next target. “Whatever, stupid.”

Jessi slinks off without a second glance, and Jay follows suit, but not before doing a disgustingly inaccurate impression of autists, speaking gibberish slowly and exaggeratedly. You actually speak faster than other people, because you always say whatever is on your mind. But you don’t give a crap about them right now. Bullies like them will always have the worst to talk about others, and you would rather die than have them be the cause of your tears, ever. What’s really bothering you is who told them about your autism, and how that mystery person found out.

Swallowing roughly, you run over to the bathrooms, forgetting anything else. The only thing on your mind is not losing it in front of everyone. You will not give any of these people the satisfaction. Trying to keep your breathing even, you’re about to enter the bathrooms and relieve your emotions when you hear someone say your name. It doesn’t sound deliberate however, like you weren’t supposed to hear it.

You turn slowly, searching through the swaths of people walking, when your gaze lands on a small group of people gathered at the end of the hallway, a few lockers away from where you’re standing. And his back facing you, but you immediately recognize the person speaking. After the previous year of sitting behind him in Geometry class, you would recognize his curly locks perpetually dyed a soft blond and preppy polo shirt anywhere. Your ears perk up in interest, and while you feel horrible, you know one of Chris’s dimpled smiles would immediately brighten your stormy day, as they always did.

“Tell us the truth Chris!” You hear someone screech like an eager toddler, and you stop in your tracks like a deer in a traffic jam. It can’t be. 

“Fine, Y/N is autistic...”

Everyone around Chris bursts into uproarious laughter, and while you can’t see his expression, Chris begins saying something else that’s drowned out by all of the noise. It was Chris. He told everyone about your autism. Chris, the sweetheart who brings you pudding. Chris, the pretty boy who you have a hopeless crush on. Chris, your friend.

You stumble back and are pushed back into the after-school hallway rush, losing sight of Chris. But you already saw everything you needed to. It would have hurt less if it was anyone but Chris. But it wasn’t. You liked him. You trusted him. And he took that trust and stomped on it, shattering it forever. He took something from you. 

Your heart hardens as you blink away your tears. You mindlessly make your way outside, just in time to catch your bus home. Looking out of the window, with your time and your spirit petrified, you resolve to never, ever make the same mistake again. You will never again put your faith in someone who does not deserve it. 

“You look hungry.” 

You momentarily glance away from your laptop screen to shoot Chris a withering look that could scare a bear. Things are back to normal since your emotional confrontation after the Dean’s meeting. Your rude remarks and his annoyingly cooperative advances are both back for good.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The blistering ice in your voice doesn’t stop Chris from unzipping his backpack and pulling out one of his damn puddings. With a scoff, you turn back to your spreadsheet, taking care to shoot disgusting looks at Chris periodically. Chris just takes his time savoring his pudding, innocently watching your reactions like you’re a goddamn television set.

The hours pass by quickly; you get a good amount of work done, while Chris tries to be helpful by asking useless questions and doing nothing else. Typical. After finishing up a final follow-up email to the Dean’s much more tolerable secretary, you stretch out your arms with a yawn. The library will be closing in a few minutes.

“Where are you going?” Chris’s voice is interrogative as you stand up, like you owe him an answer, which makes you see red. If anything, he is the one who should be giving you an explanation, perhaps why he has to be such a two-faced monstrosity who wants to pretend everything is fine and in the past.

Screw civility.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your royal dopiness. I didn’t know I needed your permission to go home.” Your words are filled with a sickening sarcasm, and fortunately, it’s enough to shut Chris up.

You grab your belongings and stalk out of the personal meeting room that you reserved, barely noticing that everyone else sitting at the previously crowded study spaces has already left. Once in the security of the library bathrooms, you exhale all of the tension you’ve held inside of you and splash cool water onto your heated face. 

You stare into the mirror, seeing the same girl you’ve been trying to leave behind all of this time. You feel like that lost little girl trying to clutch the thought of someone who should be forgotten. You hate that you still have hope in you, that you’ve had it all of these years, that things can be fixed. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve tried to leave the past behind you, to look forward and do exactly what needs to be done for your success. Here’s the truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because he sucks and you hate him. Here’s another truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because… you’re hurt. 

Especially because of your autism, you’ve had a more difficult run at making meaningful relationships. Your friendship with Chris meant that there was hope for you, and you truly believed that. But then he betrayed you, making you doubt yourself and your abilities. And following the incident, it felt like the world was working against you, and it still does. Maybe you could have healed with time, but the universe had other plans, taking care to put you through high school and college with Chris. And with your rotten luck, he’ll probably end up going to the same law school as you.

But you don’t have the time to worry about that right now. Your future depends on the present, and you’ll do your best to remember that. Your productivity mantra will keep you going, and nothing can stop you, from Christopher Bang to misogynistic old deans to… a locked bathroom door?

“What the hell?” You tug on the handle, but the door won’t budge. 

Fuck. 

You were so occupied with Chris that you forgot that after hours, all of the doors automatically lock to preserve campus security. Screw modern technology. You’re about to pull out your phone to try and call someone, but when your fingers meet an empty pocket, you realize you left it in your apartment. With an exasperated groan, you bang against the door as hard as you can and shout for help, even though you know it’s impossible for anyone to hear you and open the door from outside, the only way to free you. After a few minutes, you give up and slide down onto the floor, knowing you’ll have to spend the rest of this godforsaken night in this stuffy bathroom. Even if you somehow eventually gain the strength to bust this stupid door down, there was no getting past the padlocked main library doors. But seriously, which genius had the idea to lock the freaking bathroom doors? 

You close your eyes and place your hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself down. You’re perfectly safe. Alone in a big, empty library. Soon, the bathroom lights will shut down, probably. You wouldn’t know for sure, though. You’ve never been locked in the damn library bathroom before. Perhaps you’ll make friends with the old campus ghosts rumored to haunt this building. And maybe—

The click and turn of the door handle startles you, and you immediately jump out of the way, so your designated savior can let you out. And you’re not even surprised when your eyes meet Chris’s own confused ones. Because of course it’s Chris.

“Why are you still here?” You ask him in a slightly accusing tone, even though he literally has just helped you. You don’t even know why you feel the need to be so pointed, but you are nevertheless. 

“I was waiting for you to come back and didn’t realize the library was closed.” Chris lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead as if it aches. You hope it does. “I have a question about the proposal.”

“Did you try calling someone? I forgot my phone.”

“Well, my phone doesn’t have any service.”

“Awesome.”

You don’t say anything further as you both exit the cramped corridor outside of the bathroom. In your hurry, you hadn’t even noticed how the librarians had turned off the lights, shrouding the building in darkness. Shivering, you subconsciously move closer to Chris, before you realize yourself and make sure to maintain a six-feet distance between your body and his.

“You can come closer if you’re scared,” Chris teases, noticing your discomfort. “We’re both stuck in this library together.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’s scared of the dark.”

Both of you fall silent as the remembrance sinks in. The day you confided in Chris about your autism, he had shared a secret about himself in return, albeit a less serious one. He had an irrational fear of the dark since he was a small child, and you knew any other fourth grader would have made fun of him for it. You had felt happy, then, that he could confide in you. 

The inadvertent memory feels unwelcome, uncomfortable. Chris clears his throat and looks away. “Not anymore.”

You and Chris decide to make camp in the library common room, since although the main building lights wouldn’t work, there were a few soft table lamps you could turn on for some clarity. You set your backpack down on the carpeted ground and snuggle into the large armchair by one of the bigger lamps. You glance at the decorative grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and it’s just past midnight. At that moment, you really just want to go home, put on your favorite pajamas, and fall asleep while watching your list of comfort anime films. Definitely not being locked in the damn library with Chris Bang, of all people. Since when was your life an episode of Arthur?

“So, you wanted to ask me something?” 

Chris fiddles with his hands for a minute, before looking away. “Never mind.”

You don’t even have it in you to be annoyed at this point. You’re just exhausted. You fall back against the tough cushion of the chair. It feels like you’re sitting on a clothed bag of sawdust. But it’s better than being out there, in the dark. And you hate to admit it, but you’re glad that you have someone to share the company of an empty library with, even if it’s Chris. 

“God, I’m hungry.” You touch your stomach, feeling the gnawing emptiness there.

“Would you like a—”

“No, I would not like a pudding, Chris.”

The minutes eventually tick by, and you feel yourself nodding off. You had told yourself earlier that you would stay alert, but the drowsiness drapes over you like a blanket, lulling you into reluctant sleep.

The menacing roll of thunder snaps you out of your uneasy slumber like the sound of a car crash. Immediately, you double over and tuck your head into your arms, trying to breathe. Your hands, warmed from being pressed under your thighs, go clammy with a cold sweat, and you can feel the tears well, barely keeping them at bay. When your go-to breathing technique doesn’t work, you gasp for air, jerking in your seat at every new crack of thunder invading your perception. 

Immediately, Chris crosses the space between your chairs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hold. Sometimes, thunderstorms cause you to have a sensory overload, and you can’t cope. Chris knows this about you, after you got severely spooked after one particularly bad storm in the middle of class in sixth grade. Chris continues to rock your body slowly with his, whispering calming nothings into your ear. Your breathing slows and returns to a normal pace, but Chris just keeps rubbing slow, comforting circles on your back. 

Soon, the sound of the thunder dissipates, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s actually because the storm ended or if it’s because the overwhelming scent of Chris’s fresh, minty cologne has taken over your senses. 

You look up at Chris, the boy you hate more than anything, and whisper the very last thing that you ever thought you would say to him. “Thank you.”

Chris just nods his head slowly while you untangle yourself from his hold. He gets the hint and lets you scoot away from him, but it’s not far enough. Mere inches separate you from Chris, Chris who helped you without second thought because you were having a panic attack. Forget every ounce of hostility you have shown him, he hugged you like he was your lifeline, which he nearly could have been. 

He looks at you intently, his eyes glistening with emotion. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He’s asked this question multiple times before. The first time was back on the very first day of high school, when you both had English class together, and you staunchly ignored him. He continued to ask you the same thing over and over again, until your lack of acknowledgement made him finally stop and accept your new attitude towards him. But even though you’ve heard this question before, this time feels different. There is a certain vulnerability to his words, like he’s given up and is pleading for one last chance. 

A part of you still wants to try and maintain the animosity you use as a protective barrier, so people can’t tell what you’re really feeling. But you’re just tired of it all, and the question tugs at you too. Maybe you need to reply out loud for both of you to hear, not just him. Maybe you need to affirm your hatred for the dumb boy who waited for you to come back from the bathroom and then held you during a thunderstorm. Or maybe you need to affirm the fact that you may not hate him as much as you think, but you still do. You don’t know. You hate him the most because you don’t know. So, for the first time, you answer him.

“You broke my trust, Chris.”

“When?” Chris looks genuinely perplexed, like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

With a scoff, you glare up at the ceiling, unable to look him in the eye. “You told everyone about my autism. When I specifically said that I wanted to keep it a secret.”

He shakes his head in a vigorous panic. “I didn’t tell anyone. I promise I didn’t. I promise it wasn’t me.”

Then who was it? 

As if he hears your thoughts, Chris sighs and indulges them. “Jessi. She saw your aide and followed him to his office. She was telling everyone about it, I swear.”

And it makes sense. His explanation checks out, and this all could have been a grand misunderstanding on your part, because of course Jessi would have snooped into your business. You couldn’t save your privacy for long with someone like Jessi hovering. And the thing is, you’re not even surprised. You knew in your heart the entire time that you could have been mistaken, that it was strange that Chris would have violated you like that, but it was just easier to blame him for your pain instead of confronting it. Or so you thought.

“And when everyone found out, I tried defending you. I never, ever would want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

Chris’s eyes are shining with earnesty, and you know he’s telling the truth. But that doesn’t erase all of the years you were hurting. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“It didn’t even occur to me that it was the reason you stopped talking to me. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

You close your eyes and lean back. “Chris, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. This is on me.”

You feel your hatred towards Chris fade, and all there is left in you is a deflated pocket of sorrow. Your whole goal was to stay focused, but in reality, you’ve put so much time and energy into despising Chris. And that wasn’t the only way you hurt yourself. You also deprived yourself of what could have been a wonderful friendship.

“I do,” Chris insists, interrupting your thoughts. “I was stupid. I gave up so quickly. It hurt me too, not just you.”

You raise your head and tiredly gaze at him. Even in the dark, he looks beautiful. And it’s not merely his looks, but truly his character that shines through. You spent hours picking apart his personality, trying to find flaws and reasons to demonize him, not knowing that in the process, you were the monster yourself. You constantly complained about his lack of initiative and response, when in reality, you never let him actually do anything. You can’t even fathom why he’s being so understanding, or all of his attempts to work with you, even after your cold treatment of him.

“What do you mean, Chris?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Chris groans. “I used to like you. There.”

You perk up. Well, now you’re shocked. “Wait, really? I used to like you, too!”

There’s disbelief written all over Chris’s face. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Both of you burst into laughter, like you weren’t having a heart-to-heart five minutes ago about hating the other. It feels good to laugh, and for a second, you’re transported back into fourth grade, when you first met Chris. 

When you were a kid, you barely laughed, which worried the crap out of your parents. The doctors said it was common among individuals with autism, but it didn’t seem that way when you walked around, unsmiling and unfeeling. You weren’t completely socially inept, or exactly shy, but you preferred to keep to yourself. And then Chris had offered you a pudding. You felt like friendship was worth something, then. You felt seen. And maybe that scared you a little bit, being on the edge with someone who made you feel so deliciously raw. Maybe that’s why you didn’t fight back for Chris, because you would rather leave than be left. 

Chris rakes his fingers through his hair, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. “You know, I still like you.”

“Very funny.”

“I do.”

“You’re crazy. Stop that.”

“Maybe.” Chris throws his hands up and then lets them fall back down. “I like you and don’t want to stop.”

“After how I treated you for the past eight years?” You nearly laugh with how ridiculous he’s being. Hell, if you were in his place, you’d hate yourself.

“But you were hurt. A lot.” Chris shrugs. “You’ve become this amazing woman. You’re… incredible. Hardworking, talented, smart. Keeping in mind how you truly believed I was the cause for your pain, you excelled in spite of the fact that the universe kept pulling us together.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I’ll say it for you.” Chris looks down at his palms. “I like you, and that’s why I became co-president and faked having no service on my phone so we would be stuck in a library together.”

“Chris—”

“Please. Don’t say no. Not after eight years of me pining for you, knowing you’d never look at me again. Knowing I was falling deeper every time you cursed at me. Please, Y/N. I want to know you again, and you to know me. Please.” Chris’s expression is begging, and it pains you even more. 

You still hurt, but it’s a different kind of torture. It’s the kind of hurt that’s the result of yearning, the kind of yearning that stems from hatred, subjugated love, and uncertain acceptance. It’s the kind of hurt that tells you that you don’t deserve him. He deserves someone who isn’t a complete and utter coward. Someone who hasn’t been completely and utterly in love with him all this time, but too stubborn and too pained to admit it. Someone who isn’t completely and utterly awed by the magnificent man he is, but too bitter to say it. 

Chris reaches out his hand and places it on the side of your face, imploring you with his hesitant palm. You melt into his touch, when a mere few hours ago, you would have slapped it off of you. His skin is warm against yours, and the softness radiating from him pulls at you. You want to say yes. You want to open a blank page in the book. You want to start fresh with this beautiful boy in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” And you’re not just apologizing for pushing him away before, but now too. You don’t get to have him. 

“Just… why?”

“I can’t. I’m so sorry.” The repeated dialogue from you has a note of finality that even Chris’s insolence can’t break through. 

And just like that, all of the bridges you both repaired come crumbling down, but this time, it’s on purpose. You’ve always been quick to make decisions, never mulling over a choice for too long. You loved Chris. You hated Chris. You still love Chris. But you reject Chris. It’s easy to do, like one computer command after the other. But then Chris retracts his touch and wordlessly gets up from the armchair, curling up into his original position in the other chair. He’s facing away from you, you feel like you’ve struck an error message. The hours pass, and the softly snoring form of Chris reminds you of a blaring bad request, a pile of code that just won’t compile. Eventually, your computer shuts down too, and you share a temporary commonality with Chris when you fall asleep.

“Wake up dear.”

Your eyes fly open, and you sit up. Natural light pours in through the big windows, and you can feel your skin drinking in the sunshine. The librarian’s kind eyes are watching you with worry, but all you can think of is the night before. Perhaps it was all a dream. You were angry at Chris and then fell asleep after coming back from the bathroom. End of story. But then you feel that familiar ache in your heart, and you know you weren’t hallucinating everything that transpired between you both.

You turn to look at the librarian, who still seems immensely concerned, especially with your disoriented morning look. “I’m sorry, where is Chris?”

“He just left a few minutes ago, sweetheart. I was opening up for the day, when I saw him waiting to be let out at the front entrance. Nearly scared the life out of me.” The librarian places her hand on your shoulder. “He told me you were here.”

The librarian rushes off to her personal office to make you some tea, and you’re left alone in the common room. And no one else is here either, because today is Saturday and your university is supposed to be hosting a football game against a rival school. You look down at your body and notice a jacket wrapped around your body, one that definitely isn’t yours. You don’t have an expensive leather jacket that smells like Tom Ford cologne. It was freezing last night because the library doesn’t have heating, and Chris must have woken up in the middle of the night and draped it on you. You feel another pang in your heart as you think of Chris leaving without speaking to you. You deserve it, though.

As you sadly walk out of the library, you decide to skip the game even though as student body president, you should be there, representing the school. You reach your off-campus apartment, the one that you were so excited to finally lease a few months ago, and sprawl onto your couch, already feeling weary of the day. Nevertheless, you fish your phone out of the jumble of couch pillows and call Soobin, because he must be worried sick. You always text him goodnight before you sleep, and yesterday must have been the first time you didn’t.

“How could you?” He’s angry, a new color on him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. The library—” You start, but Soobin doesn’t let you finish.

“Forget the library! I’m talking about Chris. He’s stepping down from the president role because of you, Y/N!” Soobin screeches into the phone, making you shoot up in alarm.

“What?!”

“I overheard him tell everything to Jisung. Y/N, this is wrong.” Soobin sounds calmer, but nonetheless distressed. “I know you love him. You shouldn’t let this happen.”

Your face heats up in surprise. “How—”

You hear Soobin tsk, and you just know he’s shaking his head, disappointed. “I didn’t even have to hear him talk to know that. There’s a fine line between love and hate. You can never stop talking about him!”

There’s no denying it now. You shouldn’t have underestimated Soobin; no matter how silly he can be, he is your best friend in the whole world after all. And maybe all the time, the only one you were lying to was yourself. 

You grab a pillow and cradle it, just wanting to cry it all out. You always have more intense feelings than others, but right now, your heart hurts so much that you doubt you can blame being emotional on your autism. 

“Soobin, what do I do? I don’t want to hurt him, but…” You sniffle. “I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself. For eight years, I made my whole personality hate Chris. And now, he forgives me and I accept it? I’m so stupid, God.”

“I agree you’re stupid.”

“You’re not making me feel better!”

“Sorry.” Soobin sighs. “But you need to get over yourself and your drama. Stop making this harder for both of you, and just be grateful that you haven’t lost him. Yet.”

And with that, he cuts the call in a way very unlike Soobin, making you groan out loud in frustration. Now you want to punch your pillow, because your best friend is absolutely right.

It doesn’t take long for you to find Chris in the packed stadium. Through the throngs of students eager to trade their homework for a good home game, you see him standing with one of his friends in an upper corner of the stands. When you were younger, you were obsessed with Greek mythology and thought that Chris looked like Apollo, the god of the sun, with his golden curls and sunny disposition. Today, his light seems to have dimmed, as he watches the ongoing game with his hands shoved into his pockets and a forlorn look marking his gaze. 

“Chris!” You shout to try and get his attention, but it’s to no avail. The cheering crowd is ear-splitting, and you have no other choice but to climb up to the top.

Grunting, you hoist yourself up the steep stairs and try not to look behind you. If you do, you’ll fall off the stands with dizziness, which would be slightly undesirable compared to what you have to do next. Slightly. With the final step, you haul into Chris’s row, catching your breath and a first glimpse at how high up you really are. The players on the field look like tiny ants, and you feel your stomach drop. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. 

But it’s too late to turn back now, because Chris has already spotted you and hurries over. You tense and lose your footing, stumbling over someone as they kick their legs in anticipation. Great. 

“What are you doing here?” Chan places a toned arm around your shoulders and pulls you up, leading you to his seat. You clumsily collapse into the solid, curved plastic of the chair, and Chris follows next to you.

You then notice Chris’s friend, a heartbreakingly handsome man who you vaguely remember as Minho from your sophomore year literature class. He’s wistfully gazing at a very pretty girl who is chatting with Terry, Soobin’s old roommate, a few rows down. Minho then becomes aware of your presence and hurriedly excuses himself, rushing out of the aisle and disappearing into the crowd. You turn to Chris.

“Is he okay?”

Chris exhales, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft locks flop back into place on his forehead. “I… Minho’s just going through some stuff right now.”

“Seems like he’s not the only one.” You toy with your ring, twisting it around your finger. “I heard you’re resigning.”

“Who told you that?”

“Soobin. He was eavesdropping on you and Jisung today in Morningstar,” you respond. “Why are you leaving the role?”

Chris looks away from you and out at the field. Your university’s football team still hasn’t scored. “I’d just be in your way. This is for the best, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Please don’t. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine.”

This is what you thought you wanted all along, a world without Chris in it. Besides Student Council, neither of you share any classes or activities this year. If he left, you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him again. You could run the council well on your own, you know that. But you don't want to. You don’t ever want to imagine a world without Chris. He’s been by your side for so long now, and now when he’s about to step away do you truly realize how much you need him.

“Maybe. But I won’t be happy.” Against your better judgment, you reach over and grasp his hand, making Chris start in surprise.

Chris shakes his head, still skeptical. “All I’ve ever done is make you unhappy, Y/N. You don’t want me to be around.”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to come around, not without the right kind of persuasion. “I was dreading having to do this.”

“Do what?”

You reach into the small purse hanging off of your shoulder and pull what you had scoured the entire city for in the past few hours. “Would you like a pudding?”

Chris looks bemused, staring down at the small cup of chocolatey goodness in the delicate palm of your hand. 

“Or do you want a kiss?” You stare at Chris intently, trying to ignore the whammering beat of your heart. “What will it take for you to stay in your position?”

“W-what?”

“Or I could be your girlfriend. Because I really want to see where this goes.” You take a deep breath. “A bunny once told me that I just need to get out of the past. I’ve left it behind, and I’m looking forward, Chris.”

“Fine.” Chris swallows roughly and bites back the slow smile spreading on his features. “Can I have all three?”

“You never make it easy, do you, Chris?” 

Before he can quip back at you, you grasp the collar of his t-shirt and tug him to you, your lips meeting just as the home team finally scores a touchdown and the crowd erupts in applause. You couldn’t care less though, because although the preteen you is jumping up and down like the rest of the cheering fans, the adult you is smiling into the lips of the man you definitely do not hate. Actually, you love him. 

Chris slings his arms around your waist and pulls your body closer to his, sweetly laughing into your ear when you both come up for air. “Am I a good kisser, or what?”

“Shut up.” 

And you’re kissing him again. Warmth blossoms in your chest, sparks igniting as you lean into each other after years of loving, hating, and longing. Your arms roving over each other coax all and any remaining hesitation left in you both, and it feels so right. You treasure the soft sighs of pleasure and elation spilling from Chris’s lips, his sounds more deafening than any overzealous football fan’s rally cry. 

“So, do I not get the pudding, or…?” Dimples cut across Chris’s cheeks as he pulls away from your lips once more just to shoot you a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully and reach into your lap, tearing open the foil wrapper on top of the pudding cup before handing it to him. “You and your pudding.”

“You know you love it.”

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[christopherisfoive]

First post out tomorrow at 11:30 yay! Its only a short one shot like post or preview for a possibly series I could do if anyone is interested enough in it. :)

[sweatyracoon]

Can u pls do a story where like Hyunjin/Lee know is touching u during class? (Pls I’m desperate😭😭😭)

Casual Distractions

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I'm so sorry it took so long. Life has been kicking my ass. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: smut, public scenes, social anxiety, threesome? Mxm, bullying, language

You were new to this college, and it didn't help that the language was more than difficult to learn. You were nearly fluent, but knew nothing if the inside jokes or curse words, which was almost everyone your ages' dialogue.

You found it hard to make friends after the transfer, but one person was always kind to you.

His name was Han, and his English was perfect almost. He helped you out in certain course since you shared them, helping you with your pronunciation and all that jazz.

He eventually introduced you to his group of friends that had been together forever. Eight in total.

They were known as Strays. They couldn't be more different from one another. And to top it off, most of them knew English. Two were Australian, and one had lived in America for a short time.

Ironically near you, actually.

All of them were polite to you, but you kept your distance, not trying to force yourself in.

It had been months since you met them all, and it had become routine for you to sit with them in the cafeteria per Felix's request.

You still kept quiet, not confident on your Korean yet.

One day, you and Han were having a study session at your dorm, and got on the topic of crushes.

"If you had to pick between any of my friends, who would you want to fuck you?" He asked randomly, his face blank as if it were the most natural question.

You nearly choked on nothing, staring at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at you, confused.

"I said, if one of my friends-"

"I know what you said, Han! But why?" You scoffed, jabbing at his shoulder playfully.

He pretended it hurt, sticking his tongue to you.

"Who do you think is hot? That's what I meant, y/n! Gosh," He grinned, watching your ears turn pink.

"What makes you think I like any of them?" You ask, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your textbook.

"Girl. It's a hypothetical question.." His eyes squint at you in silent question, and smile playing on his face.

You pause to think, unsure if you should tell him, knowing he was a blabber mouth. But you could easily say it was hypothetical just as Han did.

"Uhh, maybe....Hyunjin? Or-"

"I knew it! I knew you like him- wait did you just say 'or'?" He paused his prediction, wanting to hear who else you were going to say.

"I was gonna say, or Minho, Han."

You both sat there, looking at one another. He blinked while you shifted uncomfortably, not used to long periods of eye contact.

"Why him? Have either of you even said a word to one another?" He flicked at his pencil, holding it as if he were going to write.

"Not really...he's just gorgeous, you know?" You mutter, turning your attention back to your notebook. You felt judged despite them being friends. It almost seemed as if he were disappointed.

"Your right," you could hear the smile behind his words, making you look back up, returning it brightly.

"To be fair, though, we're all gorgeous, girly," He pitched his voice, flashing his undone nails making you cackle.

He lightened the mood knowing you weren't feeling right with how it was going. It was the main reason he was your best friend. He understood.

You both continued to joke and study, getting ready for the upcoming class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the only class you don't have with Han is the class you have with Hyunjin and Minho, ironically.

Hyunjin always says hello, and Lee Know just nods at you with a smile, but today, neither of them did so.

You looked at them multiple times, noticing how they glanced at you some times. It made you nervous. You wondered if you did something wrong that offended them.

They never sat next to you, but today they seemed farther than usual.

Their shoulders raised higher than they should be, almost making it seem like they were out of breath.

You were about to text Han in question, but the teacher called you out.

"Y/n, please step outside for your phone call seeing as it is more important than class,"

You looked up, seeing everyone's head snap towards you. Your heart stopped, "No, I-" your words got caught in your throat as you cleared it loudly.

You felt your face flush.

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed your belongings and darted out the door, catching the way Lee Know and Hyunjin looked at you with what looked like pity.

You held your head low, sighing loudly when you reached the empty hallway.

You walked towards the girls restroom, stopping before the janitors closet, just hoping for some quiet.

It doesn't last long.

You heard a door snap from behind you, making you jump, turning to see if you were in anyone's way.

But it was just the two boys you had been worried about all day.

"You okay, y/ninnie? We saw you freeze in the back," Hyunjin observed, his hands in his pockets as he stood to your right, Minho on the other.

"Oh! Yeah, M'okay. Just want the world to swallow me right now," you chuckled, your shoulders deflating.

"Don't worry about that asshole, okay? Just giving you a hard time," Minho scoffed, staring at the door leading to his classroom.

"Why are you guys out here, though? He's going over the test on Monday." You wonder, not wanting them to fail because they were worried about you.

"We just wanted to see you," Hyunjin said, making you confused.

"See me? You see me every other day," you reply, tilting your head.

"We just have something on our minds I guess. You are the only person we can talk to about it though," Hyunjin grinned, nudging against Minho, who smiled wickedly next to him.

Your heart dropped.

"A little Birdy may have told us something you said from yesterday," Minho growled, bringing his arm to cage your left to the wall while Hyunjin did the same on the other side. You squeezed, making them chuckle.

"Hans a liar," you whispered, feeling your face warm up.

"Are you sure, baby? Cause we can give you what you want," Hyunjin groaned next to your ear, your body shivering in anticipation.

"I-I-" you stuttered, your breathing suddenly shallow as you try to clear your foggy mind.

"Relax," Minho whispered.

Thats when you heard a door handle turning behind you, the wall disappearing that held you, making you fall. But Hyunjin was behind you in seconds, gently bringing you to the tile floor in the closet, Minho closing and locking the door behind him.

You three had officially now moved out of the public eye, away from any onlookers.

"This okay, Princess?" Minho asks as he kneels next to you, your faces inches away.

You breathe out a shaky yes before he nods, looking at your lips then back to you.

He leans in, locking his lips with yours as he started gentle, quickly becoming more rough but the second.

You moaned into Minho as you felt another pair of hands fondling your clothes breasts.

Hyunjin took his time, not bothering to take of your shirt, hoping you wouldn't look like walking sex by the time they were done with you.

He wanted to feel your nipple between his teeth, but he told himself to wait. That they can have you properly after school.

Minho growled into the kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat as you panted into his mouth.

"Let me have a turn, hyung!" Hyunjin whined as he played with your clothes nubs.

Minho pulled himself off of you, grunting. You didn't like the loss if contact, grabbing at his forearms.

"Finally," Hyunjin chuckled, grabbing the back of your head to pull you into him.

His lips crashed against yours, the rhythm easy to control.

Lee Know took his chance to run his hand up your skirt, fisting the fabric of your underwear before pushing them aside.

He ran his fingers through your slick folds, moaning at the feeling of your excessive wetness.

He shoved his middle finger into your hole, pumping slowly as Hyunjin sucked the air from you.

You were both moaning, the kiss getting sloppier until it was just wet pecks.

"Feel good, baby?" Hyunjin asked as he listened to Minho add another finger, the slickness making a sinful sound in the quiet closet."S'good,"

Your head tilted back, Hyunjin takes his chance to nip at your collar bone, leaving a trail of marks. He tried keeping them close to your neckline, hoping you could hide them.

You grabbed at his hair with a moan, pulling it gently as Minho quickened his pace.

He groaned against your neck, teeth scraping against the purple spots now blossoming on your neck.

They both kept at it until you felt the knot forming in your stomach.

"There!" You plead, Lee Know hitting your g-spot roughly now with three fingers.

"Here, baby?" He teases, now hitting it harder.

You were writhing underneath them as you felt your wife snap, your high washing over you suddenly.

Your body shook from overstimulation, nearly crying as they pushed themselves from you after you came down.

"That felt so good," You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut.

They both smirked at one another.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Minho pushing his wet fingers into Hyunjins mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

The sight of them being intimate made your hole clench around nothing.

"Come over after school?" You asked them quietly, and try both nodded.

"we'll make you feel a lot more, I promise," Hyunjin smirked, pecking your lips gently. Minho did the same, helping you up.

All the way to class, you could feel your slick drip down lower on your thigh, making you both embarrassed and aroused as you thought about what they would do to you.

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~3,300 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, angst, enemies to lovers, hyunjin's a meanie, reader has anxiety, minho struggles with his feelings, cringy nickname use, yelling, swearing Summary -> The rest of the group members are over the silly rivalry between you and Minho. They decide to take matters into their own hands. However, their little game takes a turn for the worse when one of the members betrays your trust. Some may call it destiny…the way it leads you straight into the arms of the one you would never expect. Author's Note -> This is my first time posting on here, so hopefully this isn't too rough. Also, I swear I don’t hate Hyunjin. I love him to death. It was just necessary for the plot… anywaysss hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

“I swear to God if you guys don’t open this door right now!” You yell as you pound on the hotel room down the hall from yours. There hasn’t been a reply, but you know that Hyunjin and Felix are in there. The two of them are always locked in their hotel rooms the night before your shows. They try to get as much sleep as possible for the next day.

‘They are definitely laughing their asses off right now,’ you think to yourself. It was just a stupid prank to them. Something to get you and Minho to finally get along again, but they just don’t get it. You had tried for so long to make it work, but Minho was just too stubborn. For heaven’s sake, you guys used to be the best of friends. One day he just started being cruel. Ignoring your texts, saying snarky things under his breath, scoffing every time you accidentally messed a move up. It escalated to the point where you no longer talk anymore. Truly, it is not your fault and they don’t seem to get it. He refuses to say anything about what happened, completely disregarding the fact that you were ever close enough to share your deepest secrets.

You turn around to leave, realizing the two boys were probably never going to open the door. You hear the lock click and spin back to see the annoyingly beautiful face of Felix. Although he wasn’t outright laughing at you, he was putting little effort in trying to hide his smile.

“Hey, what are you so upset for? I didn’t notice anything wrong on the bus earlier?” Felix asks. You just stare back dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck would you ever put me in a room with him?” you spit pushing past Felix into his room, “Don’t you dare look at me like that, you know how he treats me.”

Hyunjin just looks at you from his spot on a queen bed closest to the window. He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually put up a fight against the sleeping arrangements.

"How is that our fault?" Hyunjin questions. He seems like he may be genuinely asking, but you know him better than that. You have always been closer to him than the other members, especially after all the things that went down with Minho. Hyunjin was always the one to comfort you. The first to step up when your anxiety got to be too much. So, it was obvious that the members did have something to do with it, and it wasn't just an unfortunate fluke.

"I saw the way you guys all ran to claim your rooms while I was still collecting my suitcase. Don't act stupid. I know you know what's going on," you say back in hopes to get him to at least explain what their plan was. Maybe you could reason with them and get one of the boys to switch. Heck, you'd even be willing to sleep on the couch in Hyunjin and Felix's room, but it's starting to seem like they don't even want you in their room in the first place.

You hear Felix close the door behind you, but it's all blocked out as you watch Hyunjin roll his eyes at you. While this may seem like a typical Hyunjin action, it just didn't feel right. He tries to be more gentle with you than the other boys. After confiding many of your secrets and insecurities in him, he knows to control his face around you. Yet, it's beginning to look like he's forgotten all about that tonight.

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one..." he mumbles under his breath. With every sentence exchanged, the tension in the room grows thicker. You almost feel bad putting the other poor boy in the room through this. You can practically feel him stiffen with every word spoken.

"Hyunjin-" Felix starts but is cut off by a sharp look from the man himself. You know it's starting to go too far if Felix is getting upset, but Hyunjin doesn't seem to care.

"Why are you so angry right now?" you ask him, praying the question doesn't fire him up more. Maybe he's just having a really bad day, or maybe he just wants to be alone and can't deal with your problems.

"I'm not angry," he starts, "you're just making a big deal out of absolutely nothing." By the end of it he begins to raise his voice, another thing he knows you aren't a fan of. You take a step back, a little confused at his ignorance. He's been with you through all the fights, why doesn't he understand how big of a deal this is to you?

As you're still trying to make sense of his previous statement, his voice quiets down, and he looks back down at his phone as he whispers, "Just like you always do."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you ask, scared for the response. He glances up sharply, making true eye contact for the first time tonight.

"You're always crying over stupid shit, and I really can't handle it anymore,” he states angrily, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. He finally breaks eye contact, and the tension explodes, painting the whole room red.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like a knife to your heart, or perhaps more accurately a stab in the back. You know exactly what he means by that. It's like he was aiming for your most sensitive spots. With your anxiety, you tend to panic over things that don't usually matter much in other people's minds. Every time you have an anxiety attack or are just freaking out about something, you usually try to hide it. You worry that your friends won't take you seriously or will make fun of you over something they consider 'not a big deal'. You've confided in Hyunjin over this topic before. He's helping you get over that and come to them when you need help. So why is he now turning on you? Was it all an act before?

You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you hold them back. He cannot see you cry.

"Fuck you," you say, attempting to put venom behind it, but all that comes out is your shaky voice.

"Y/n, wait," Felix says sympathetically as you go to leave the room. Normally, you would stop and let Felix comfort you, but suddenly everything is feeling just a little too heavy and you can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. You stride out of the room, keeping your shoulders straight without even glancing back. You just need to stay strong until you make it into the hallway. You slam the door behind you despite typically being the one to argue when the other members to it. Your eyes are blurring too fast at this point to even recognize the fact that you probably should've shut it a bit quieter. It is a hotel and noise complaints are a thing, but, honestly, that is the least of your worries at the moment. You just keep replaying back the fight in your head trying to figure out what you did wrong. It had to be something, right?

You start down the hallway, cursing when you realize your room is at the other end of the hall. You hope the other boys can't hear your sobs, especially the two you just departed from. As much as you want to be comforted, it feels like you're past the point of no return and just want to be alone. You try to stifle your cries a bit with your hand, but it doesn't do much. You're heads getting a little too light, you're breathing getting harder to control. Your hands are shaking, and it seems like the crying is just starting. Some may call you sensitive, but when the tears start you simply begin to spiral. There's very little that can calm you down at that point. Hyunjin usually has to take you somewhere and help you take deep breaths especially before your concerts. But he's the one who started this mess. So, what are you supposed to do now?

You finally make it to your hotel room, barely being able to read the numbers, and you start to dig around in your pockets. You start to panic as you struggle to find your key card, but eventually you grasp the small rectangular piece of plastic and open the door.

Once inside, you shut the door, a bit calmer this time, and fall back against it. The only thing on your mind being the fact that you are finally in your own room, alone. You put your hands over your face, trying to quiet some of your senses. In the haste to get out of the situation, you completely failed to remember the problem that had started it all.

Minho is sitting in one of the beds; he had plenty of time to choose considering you just dropped your suitcase off and stormed off upon realizing the two of you would be rooming together. He's all cozy in his sweat pants and t-shirt, obviously thankful for your abrupt disappearance. He looks up, shocked to see you re-entering the room. He plans to make a jab of some sort, but immediately pauses upon seeing your state. It seems like you haven't even noticed that he's in there yet. He's never really seen you like this before, or at least not since he started pushing you away. Putting that aside, he accepts defeat realizing that you need someone. You need him.

Your eyes are covered as you cry quietly into your hands, pushing your head back into the wood behind you. You flinch slightly upon feeling strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from the hard door. However, you soon relax into the arms, enjoying the feeling of safety flood your system. The man is warm and gentle as he presses you against him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

"Follow my breathing," he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps from your head to your toes. You try to listen to him, but all of your senses are so overwhelmed that you can't seem to focus on anything. Feeling like a fool, you begin to cry harder, immediately sending you back to the fight with Hyunjin.

"Honey," he starts, "you just have to take a deep breath. I don't want you to pass out on me." Hearing the quiet voice in your ear helps bring your mind back to the present. Trying to focus on the instructions, you begin to notice the chest rising and falling slowly against yours. You can even feel the man's calm heart beat against your racing one.

Following the normally simple order, you try to take a deeper inhale resulting in a few hiccups and more tears. One of the arms around your shoulder falls and his hand begins to rub your back gently. As you focus on the sensation, your breathing starts to even out, just as Minho had hoped.

Once you are in a slightly better state, he moves you over to the bed. Setting you down on the edge, he kneels in front of you and softly pulls your hands away from your face. You instinctively bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep from facing the man in front of you.

Minho reaches his hand out, bringing your face back up towards his. You slowly open your eyes at the gentle touch. He's looking right back at you, a soft expression covering his face. He hasn't looked at you like that in years. He practically lights up when your eyes meet his.

A smile grows on his face, as he quietly says, "There you go, kitten." Your face flushes at the nickname, and you hear Minho giggle softly at your blushing cheeks. He used to call you that all the time. A fan had once greeted the two of you at a fan meet saying how you both had the same energy as cats. So from that day on, he had called you that nickname constantly, earning well-deserved teasing from the other boys. Yet, it had all stopped out of nowhere.

'He doesn't care about you anymore,' you remind yourself. You pull away from him roughly and stand up from the bed. You take a few steps away from him, the comfort you had felt being ripped away in seconds. This was too confusing. He can't ignore you for years and suddenly act normal. That isn't how this works.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask him, just wanting some sort of explanation. He slowly stands up, his soft look from before transforming into a look of pure regret.

"What are you talking about? You're upset and I care about you," he calmly explains, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. But you can see it in his eyes; the nerves, the regret, and the sadness painting itself across his irises.

"You hate me,” you say, leaving no room for discussion. You were sick of being left in the dark and being turned on. You just want to know, what happened?

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asks as his body language changes. He reaches a hand up, pulling a little too roughly against his hair as he looks down at the ground.

"I mean-" you start to say but are cut off by a small sniffle coming from across you.

The culprit looks up at you again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Minho never cries. It's just one of those things. So he wipes them away and says the last words you would ever imagine him speaking to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers genuinely, "I never meant to make you feel that way, but I guess that's what it's come to, hasn't it?"

You stand stiffly, staring at him. You had never seen the man look so defeated. You are even more confused about where the two of you stand than you have ever been.

"But I don't get it, you're just so mean. I don't know how you couldn't hate me."

"I could never hate you,” he states staring at you. His eyes are so deep that you can see exactly what he's feeling, and you realize, this is it. He's an open book. This may be the one time you get to see under the surface of Lee Minho since those days of friendship all those years ago.

"Then why did you push me away?" you ask, taking advantage of his state.

"I was just so scared. I thought you would hate me if you found out..." he trails off. You simply wait for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. He just looks back at you in hopes that you understand what he's trying to say. A silence builds, and Minho takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I love you and I was just too scared in case it would ruin the group," he says, finally letting the truth escape after years of secrets. The shock of the statement leaves you speechless, simply staring at your old best friend.

After a few seconds of building tension, you can’t help but start to giggle, leading to near hysterics with more tears springing to your eyes. You had thought you had cried all of them out, but it looks like you were wrong. There's no way that's the reason. If only he had been honest with his feelings, then you would've never been in this situation in the first place.

He looks surprised at your laughing, and his whole body seems to deflate.

'Hopefully he doesn't think I'm laughing at him', you think. There's no way they had messed up communication that bad to let it get to this point.

"You should have said that, Minho. I was so in love with you," you state gently, trying not to bewilder the poor man. He looks up, and there's pure excitement on his face. It's beautiful to see compared to his earlier expressions, and you're reminded of all those little reasons you love him. All those reasons that have been buried down due to his obliviousness.

"Really?" he says, taking a step closer to you. Your cheeks heat up upon realizing that you really did just reveal one of your darkest secrets.

He takes another step closer, his face now only inches from yours. You feel his arms wrap sweetly around your waist. You glance down at his lips; they're slightly chapped, but honestly, it's just all part of what makes Minho, Minho. Your eyes go back up to meet his, and you can see the tension and nerves drawn upon his face. You quickly close the distance, making the decision you should have made all those years ago.

Minho doesn't pull away, instead immediately melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to delicately cup your cheek. This may be one of the softest moments you have ever witnessed from Minho, and man do you want more.

You don't kiss for long, it's short and sweet, but it means so much more. Within it is everything you had wished you could've said to each other since the beginning.

You both pull back, a laugh leaving both of your mouths as you take in how outrageous the situation is. He pulls you close again, his head falling on your shoulder.

"I promise, I will never ever treat you like that again. You mean so much to me," he whispers. You bring a hand up to pet the back of his hair, pulling back just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The two of you eventually pull away as your eyelids begin to droop. You realize how late it has gotten, neither of you noticing with all the drama that has unfolded. You quickly change into your pajamas and get ready to go to sleep.

You end up in the same bed with your head lying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair. Despite how sleepy you both feel, you know there is so much more to talk about and neither of you will be able to fall asleep.

Minho breaks the silence, asking you the dreaded question, "So, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Hyunjin and I fought. He said some very hurtful things." I reply sadly, the memories of the fight resurfacing.

"You two are so close, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how upset he gets when we’re on tour for so long. He gets aggravated having to be around us all the time, but it was still messed up for him to be so mean to you."

You laugh at his response, "Yeah, like you can talk."

"Hey!" he says dramatically. You both giggle, and despite the tough topic, the tension seems to melt away. It always used to be that way with Minho. It's as if the two of you were made for each other. Everything just felt so much better and easier around him. Suddenly, everything in life was a lot sweeter.

"But seriously, don't worry about it too much, kitten. Felix will take care of it, and Hyunjinnie will be running back to you by the morning."

Part 2 out now!

[hannie-roses]

Love in the line of fire

Pairing: Seungmin x fem¡reader

Synopsis: Y/N never expected her quiet, life to be turned upside down by Seungmin, the most frustrating guy she’s ever met. With his sharp tongue, annoying sarcasm, and habit of always being right, Seungmin seems determined to get under her skin.The two can’t seem to spend a moment in each other’s presence without clashing. But as circumstances force them to work together with a shared project. Y/N begins to see seungmin in a different light. Beneath his biting remarks are moments of surprising vulnerability and kindness that confuse her a weird kindness. And maybe, just maybe, the reason she can’t stop thinking about him isn’t because she hates him — but because her heart is starting to betray her.

Genre: Romance, Enemies-to-Lovers, smut, hardcore degradation¡

Etc: Emotional growth, misunderstandings, vulnerability, and the fine line between love and hate. MINORS DNI

Word count: 15k

Y/N tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, glancing toward the clock and praying for the lecture to end. Just as the professor launched into another tangent, the seat beside her creaked, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was. Seungmin. Of course. He always had a way of showing up when she least wanted him around. Without a word, he slid into the chair like he owned the place, tossing his bag to the floor with that same careless confidence she found maddening. “Still pretending to not care?” he muttered under his breath, barely glancing her way. Y/N exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen tighter. “Do you ever shut up?” she whispered sharply. Seungmin leaned back in his chair with a lazy shrug. “Not when you’re this fun to mess with.”

Seungmin’s grin didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened, sharp and unyielding. “Wow, someone’s feeling bold today,” he shot back smoothly. “Must be exhausting trying that hard to stay relevant when no one actually cares.” He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to sting. “If you spent half as much effort on your grades as you do on these weak comebacks, maybe you wouldn’t be clinging to a B-minus like it’s a lifeline.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, but the smug glint in Seungmin’s eyes told her he knew exactly how deep he’d cut and that he was enjoying every second of it.

The collective groan from the class did nothing to calm Y/N’s nerves. She tapped her pen nervously on the desk, praying—please, not Seungmin. But, of course, life wasn’t that kind.

“Y/N and Seungmin,” the professor read aloud.

Her heart sank like a stone.

“No way,” Y/N muttered under her breath, but the professor’s sharp glance silenced any further protest.

“You two will coordinate where and when you meet,” he continued, oblivious to the glares she and Seungmin exchanged. “And given the size of the project, you’ll need a consistent place to work. Off-campus is probably best.”

Seungmin leaned over, grinning like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you for the next two weeks. Your place works, right?”

“No,” Y/N hissed, her voice low and tense.

“Unless you plan on coming over to my place every day, I suggest you rethink that,” Seungmin said smugly. “I have roommates, remember? Way too loud for serious work.”

“And you think I want you at my house?” Y/N shot back, her pulse pounding.

“Not really,” he replied, flashing a smirk. “But it’s that or fail. Your call.”

She clenched her jaw so tight it hurt. Before she could snap back, the professor interrupted. “Enough. Either work together, or get comfortable with an F.”

As the bell rang, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, but Seungmin followed right on her heels. “This’ll be fun,” he said, far too cheerful for her liking.

“Fun?” she spat. “The only fun part will be when these two weeks are over.”

“Aw, come on. It’s not that bad,” he teased. “Two weeks, your place, no distractions. What could go wrong?”

“Everything,” Y/N muttered, marching ahead—but Seungmin’s voice trailed after her, smug and infuriating as ever.

“Careful, Y/N. I might grow on you.”

She whipped around, glaring at him. “In your dreams, Seungmin.”

“Plenty of room for that in two weeks,” he said with a wink, leaving her fuming as he strolled off, whistling like this was all a game.

Y/N stared after him, heart pounding with frustration—and something else she wasn’t ready to name. Two weeks of Seungmin in her house? This was going to be a nightmare.

That evening, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, hoping to find some miracle excuse to cancel this nightmare of a project. But just as she began to delude herself into thinking she could fake being sick for two weeks, her phone buzzed. A new message. From him.

Seungmin: Be there at 7. Try not to cry about it.

Her fingers twitched over the keyboard. She wanted to tell him to go to hell—or, better yet, to find a different partner—but the professor’s warning echoed in her mind: Failing. Forty percent. No excuses. With a growl of frustration, she threw her phone down and glared at the ceiling.

Her front door rang at exactly 7:00. Of course. Punctual and annoying, as always. She stomped to the door, wrenching it open to find Seungmin leaning against the frame, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a grin plastered on his stupidly perfect face.

“You’re right on time,” Y/N muttered, arms crossed.

“Impressed?” he asked, stepping inside like he owned the place. “I aim to please.”

“No, you aim to annoy,” she shot back, closing the door a little harder than necessary.

“Close enough,” he said, kicking off his shoes and scanning her living room. “Cozy. I like it. So, where’s the workspace?”

“In the dining room,” she muttered, leading him to the table she had already set up with books, notebooks, and a few pens. “And keep your stuff over there. Don’t touch anything else.”

Seungmin dropped his duffel onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh. “Bossy, bossy. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” Y/N said flatly, flipping open the book they had to analyze. “Let’s get this over with.”

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, leaning back with that smug expression she already hated. “So, what’s the plan, partner? Or are you just winging this?”

“We split it in half. I handle character analysis, you do themes,” she said without looking up.

“Yawn,” Seungmin responded, drumming his fingers on the table. “How about we both do everything? It’ll be easier if we bounce ideas off each other.”

“That’s your definition of ‘easier?’” she scoffed.

“Yup. I get to show off how much smarter I am. You get to keep up if you can.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I swear, Seungmin, if you make one more cocky comment—”

He leaned forward, cutting her off with that same infuriating grin. “Relax, Y/N. You’ll survive. Probably.”

“Oh my God, I already regret this,” she groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

Seungmin pulled the book toward him, skimming the first page. “What are we working on first, genius?”

Y/N shot him a glare but decided to pick her battles. “Fine. We’ll start with the protagonist’s flaws.”

“Perfect,” he said, smirking as he tapped the book. “Flaws are my specialty.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah. That, I believe.”

For the next hour, they bickered over every minor detail—whether the protagonist’s decision was reckless or necessary, whether the author’s message was subtle or obvious. Every suggestion Y/N made, Seungmin found a way to challenge. Every time she pushed back, his smug grin only grew.

“You like being difficult, don’t you?” Y/N snapped after another argument about a minor character’s importance.

“Not my fault you’re wrong,” Seungmin replied, effortlessly flipping the page.

“You are unbearable,” she muttered, scribbling in her notebook with enough force to rip through the paper.

“And yet,” Seungmin said, not missing a beat, “here we are. Stuck together. For two whole weeks.”

Y/N glared at him, determined to ignore the little flicker of heat that surged in her chest. She hated him. Absolutely hated him.

So why was she starting to think that two weeks might not be long enough?

Seungmins POV:

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his sharp gaze locked on Y/N. She was hunched over her notebook, scribbling furiously like the fate of the world depended on it. And honestly? Watching her spiral into frustration was the most entertaining part of his day.

He twirled his pen between his fingers, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. There was something almost addictive about pushing Y/N—like winding up a spring just to see how far it would snap. Most people couldn’t keep up with him, but she gave as good as she got. And that? That was rare.

“So,” he said slowly, voice laced with mock interest, “are we really going to sit here and act like your little analysis makes any sense?”

Her pen stopped mid-sentence. She lifted her head, fixing him with that deadly, narrowed stare that said she was two seconds away from throwing the book at his face.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, but the dangerous edge in her voice said otherwise.

He tilted his head, flashing her a grin that had irritated more people than he could count. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Y/N leaned back, arms crossed tightly over her chest, radiating annoyance. “If being insufferable were a career, you’d be CEO.”

He laughed, low and smug, as if her insult was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “If that’s the best you’ve got, these two weeks are going to drag.”

“They already are,” she shot back, the venom in her voice making his grin widen.

God, she made this too easy. The way she bristled at every word, as if her whole mission in life was to prove him wrong—it was almost impressive. Almost.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward just enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “We can sit here and argue all night if you want, but at the end of the day? I’m still going to be right. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

Her jaw clenched so hard he could practically hear her grinding her teeth. “The only thing worse than working with you is that you actually believe you’re always right.”

“Not always,” he said with a cocky shrug. “Just when it matters.”

She let out a frustrated groan, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult. He didn’t care—if anything, it only made his grin grow. He drummed his pen against the table, letting the rhythmic tap fill the tense silence. Two weeks. She’s stuck with me.

And the way she glared at him, as if every second spent in his presence was a personal offense? Yeah, this was going to be the most entertaining project of his life.

“Let’s just finish this,” she grumbled, flipping the book open with a huff.

“Oh no,” Seungmin said, settling into his chair with a lazy smirk. “This? We’re just getting started.”

Seungmin leaned his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hand, watching Y/N pretend he didn’t exist. Her pen scratched furiously across the page, her jaw tight with irritation. She was probably imagining setting him on fire. If looks could kill, he’d already be six feet under.

The thought made him grin.

This wasn’t just any school project—this was two weeks of uninterrupted, front-row tickets to every scowl, eye roll, and exasperated sigh she had in her arsenal. And for some reason, knowing he could irritate her with so little effort made the whole ordeal worth it.

But the silence between them was too tempting, too perfect to leave untouched. He tapped his pen on the edge of her notebook, just enough to make her pause. “So,” he said, voice light and teasing, “how long are you going to pretend that ignoring me will make me disappear?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and exhaustion. “If I concentrate hard enough, maybe the universe will do me a favor.”

He smirked, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. You, me, this project? We’re in it for the long haul.”

Seungmin could already feel the headache forming behind his eyes, and it had Y/N’s name written all over it. She sat across from him, muttering under her breath as she flipped through pages, acting like she could outwork him through sheer willpower. He watched her, amused, as she bit the inside of her cheek—her tell whenever she was pissed but trying to keep it together.

God, she’s so predictable. Every time she tried to ignore him, it was like dangling a challenge in front of him. And if there was one thing Seungmin didn’t do, it was let a challenge go unanswered. Two weeks. He had two whole weeks to get under her skin, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it.

She thinks she can just steamroll me? Cute.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the edge of the table, each little sound like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Y/N’s eyes flicked toward his hand, then away, as if acknowledging him would only make it worse.

“Come on,” he thought, watching her squirm. Take the bait, Y/N. You know you want to.

And right on cue, she slammed her pen down with just enough force to make it bounce. “Can you not?” she snapped, her voice strained with that particular kind of irritation reserved just for him.

He grinned, enjoying the way her frustration simmered right beneath the surface, begging to spill over. She makes this too easy.

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “Didn’t know focus was such a fragile thing for you.”

Y/N shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. And just like that, there it was—that fire he knew all too well. The one that made this project more than just an annoying grade—it made it entertainment.

Admit it, Y/N. You love this game as much as I do.

“Look,” she said, her voice tight and clipped, “the sooner we finish this, the sooner we don’t have yo be around eachother.”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, pretending to think it over. “Tempting,” he said lazily, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She let out a breath, long and heavy, like she was two seconds away from strangling him. And for a split second, he wondered what it would feel like to really push her past her limit—what it would take to see her lose that tightly controlled composure completely.

Careful, Seungmin. Too far, and she’ll actually murder you.

Still, the idea made him smirk. “Two weeks,” he reminded her, voice low and smooth. “Better get comfortable. We’re just getting started.”

Y/N let out a frustrated groan, rubbing her temples like dealing with him was a full-time job. And Seungmin? He was loving every second of it.

This is going to be fun.

Day 5

Y/n POV:

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, chewing the inside of her cheek as Seungmin lounged across the floor of her room, flipping through his notes like he owned the place. She hated how comfortable he looked, leaning back against her bed frame, one leg stretched out, the other bent just enough to tap his stupid pen against his knee. Every movement he made was irritatingly relaxed, as if this project wasn’t suffocating her sanity more with each passing day.

It had been five days. Five long days of Seungmin’s sarcasm, smug smirks, and infuriating comments. Five days of biting her tongue to keep from losing it completely. She should’ve been ready to scream by now. Should’ve been counting down the hours until they could submit the project and be done with each other. And yet…

Her heart did this weird little flutter every time he smirked at her. And that was new.

She clutched her notebook a little tighter, glaring at it as if the page was responsible for the uncomfortable sensation growing in her chest. It made no sense. None. She hated him—or at least, she thought she did. So why, in the middle of an otherwise perfectly normal afternoon, did her heart stutter when he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair? Why did the sound of him quietly clearing his throat make her stomach twist?

This was bad. Really bad.

“You know,” Seungmin said, breaking the silence without even glancing at her, “if you keep frowning like that, your face might get stuck.”

Her head snapped up, ready to fire back, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, all she could focus on was the way his lips curved—just slightly, like he knew exactly how close she was to throwing something at him.

But instead of the familiar anger bubbling to the surface, something else stirred inside her. Something softer. Something that made her feel unsteady, like the floor wasn’t quite where it should be.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, pretending to scribble down nonsense in her notebook. What the hell is wrong with me? This was Seungmin. Annoying, arrogant, thinks-he-knows-everything Seungmin. The same guy who had spent the last five days driving her to the edge of her patience. There was no logical reason for her chest to feel tight just because he was sitting a few feet away from her.

“Y/N?” His voice was smooth, with just the right amount of smugness to set her on edge. She hated how much she noticed that now. “You zoning out on me? Wow. Guess I’m more interesting than I thought.”

She clenched her jaw, willing the heat rising to her cheeks to go away. “In your dreams, Seungmin.”

He chuckled, and that stupid sound made her stomach flip. Oh my God. Get it together.

Forcing herself to stay composed, she scrawled something—anything—on the paper in front of her, just to avoid looking at him. But it didn’t help. She could still feel him there, his presence filling the room like he belonged.

And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her didn’t mind it.

Day 5 – Later That Night

By the time the sun set, the air between them felt heavier. Y/N could still hear Seungmin’s voice echoing in her head, every sarcastic comment, every smug laugh lingering far longer than it should. She hated that he lived rent-free in her mind, yet here she was, sitting across from him in her own room, pretending she wasn’t hyper-aware of every time he breathed.

Seungmin stretched his legs out further, toes brushing her ankle beneath the table, and she jolted at the unexpected contact. It wasn’t like he kicked her—just a graze. Nothing. But it sent sparks racing up her leg. What the hell was that? She tucked her feet beneath her chair, desperate to create some distance between them, but the damage was already done.

No. Nope. Don’t do this, Y/N. You do not catch feelings for Seungmin.

He glanced up from his laptop, one eyebrow raised. “You okay over there? Or is this the part where you malfunction?”

She shot him a withering look, trying to smother the warmth rising to her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But her voice lacked its usual bite, and Seungmin noticed. Of course, he noticed. That smug grin crept back onto his face, slow and deliberate, like he knew something she didn’t. And for the first time, she felt completely out of her depth.

“Relax,” he said, his voice low, almost playful. “I’m not that irresistible, you know.”

Her heart stuttered. The teasing in his voice was meant to annoy her—it was supposed to drive her crazy. But now, all it did was send her pulse racing. And the worst part? He could probably hear it.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the crack forming in her composure. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning back against her bedframe, “here we are.”

There was something dangerous about the way he looked at her then—like he wasn’t just trying to get under her skin anymore. No, this felt different. Like he was testing the waters, waiting to see what would happen if he pushed just a little further.

Y/N clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look anywhere but at him. But the silence between them had shifted. It wasn’t the usual battle of snarky comments and irritation—it felt thicker, heavier. Like tension wound too tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

And God help her, part of her wanted it to snap.

Seungmin cleared his throat, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. “We’re getting nowhere with this,” he said, closing his laptop with a soft click. “Let’s take a break.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What? Now?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.” He stood, stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin.

Her gaze flickered—just for a second—and she cursed herself internally for even noticing. Get it together, Y/N.

“Come on,” he said, smirking as if he caught her looking. “You’ve gotta eat, too. Or is brooding your new diet plan?”

“I don’t brood,” she muttered, standing reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t.” He grabbed his jacket, slinging it over one shoulder. “You coming, or are you just gonna sit here and think about me all night?”

Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, heat flooding her face.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shot her a wink—an actual wink—and headed for the door.

And against every ounce of logic and reason she had left, Y/N found herself following him.

What am I doing?

Later That Night – Y/N’s Thoughts

What the hell is wrong with me?

Y/N trailed a few steps behind Seungmin as they made their way down the dimly lit street. The cool night air kissed her skin, but it did nothing to chill the chaos swirling in her head. She was supposed to hate him—despise him with every fiber of her being. Yet here she was, walking next to the human equivalent of a headache, heart thumping against her ribs like it had no idea they were supposed to be enemies.

He’s a nightmare. A smug, know-it-all pain in the ass. I hate him. I do. I’ve always hated him. So why the hell do I keep looking at his stupid smile like it’s some kind of rare eclipse?

She risked a glance at him. He was walking easily beside her, hands stuffed into his pockets, his usual cocky energy radiating off him like he didn’t have a care in the world. The streetlights caught the angles of his jaw, and for one fleeting second, she wondered how someone so irritating could look so—

Nope. Nope. Abort mission. I did not just think that.

Her eyes shot forward again, face heating with the kind of embarrassment that felt physical. God, if there’s a hell, I deserve front-row seats for this.

Why did her heart do that annoying little flutter every time he so much as breathed in her direction? Why couldn’t she stop wondering what his hair would feel like if she ran her hands through it? And why—why—did it feel weirdly comfortable being next to him? Like maybe, if she wasn’t so busy hating him, she could—

No. No, no, no. This is Seungmin. Arrogant, rude, irritating Seungmin. You are not allowed to feel anything for him. You’re supposed to roll your eyes, not… not want to kiss him.

That thought hit her like a slap, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet. What the hell? No. No way. I did not just think that.

But now that the thought was there, it was impossible to unthink it. The idea of kissing him hovered at the edges of her mind, taunting her. And the worst part? Some small, deeply buried part of her didn’t hate it.

This can’t be happening. I’m losing it. It’s only been five days, and I’m already losing my damn mind.

Seungmin glanced back at her, his lips quirking up in a grin that made her stomach flip. “You good back there, or do I need to carry you?”

She shot him a glare that was half-hearted at best. There it is. That smug, cocky look that makes me want to throw him into traffic. So why does it also make my chest feel weird?

“Shut up,” she muttered, shoving her hands deeper into her jacket pockets.

He chuckled softly—just enough to make her pulse stutter—and turned back around, still leading the way.

Two weeks of this. Two whole weeks of being alone with him, stuck together in my room, breathing the same air. How am I supposed to survive that when five days already feel like this?

She bit the inside of her cheek, desperate to stop the thoughts before they spiraled further. But it was too late. They were there now, sitting in her mind like uninvited guests, whispering things she didn’t want to admit.

What if I don’t hate him as much as I thought?

And the scariest part? She wasn’t sure if she wanted the feelings to stop.

The quiet hum of the city filled the air around them, but all Y/N could focus on was the warmth radiating off Seungmin as they walked side by side. He’s infuriating, she thought, clenching her fists inside her pockets to keep from reaching out and shoving him—or worse, touching him. And yet, there’s something about him that’s so… captivating.

She could feel the weight of their proximity. With every step, the space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. Each time he laughed at something that wasn’t even funny, her heart responded in ways that left her unsettled. Why was her body betraying her? It made no sense! I should be focused on the project. I should be annoyed! But instead, I’m caught up in this stupid, stupid distraction.

As they reached a small café, Y/N hesitated at the entrance, suddenly questioning everything. Why am I even here? Seungmin had a way of breaking down her defenses, and it terrified her.

“Are you coming or what?” he called over his shoulder, his voice laced with amusement.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him inside, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him ordering. He moved with an ease that made it seem like he belonged anywhere he went, and part of her resented how much she admired that. Why can’t I be as effortlessly cool?

“Your usual?” he asked, turning to face her, that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah. I think I can manage to order for myself, thanks,” she shot back, crossing her arms defensively.

He shrugged, a playful smirk stretching across his lips. “Just checking. Wouldn’t want you to starve, especially since you seem to be so preoccupied with… whatever is going on in that head of yours.”

Ugh. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly perceptive?

The barista called their names, and they took their drinks to a small table outside, the cool breeze playing with her hair as she sat down. Seungmin leaned back, eyes scanning the street as if he owned it. He’s so casual, so sure of himself. What is it about him?

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked suddenly, snapping her from her reverie.

She was taken aback, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just bored.” His nonchalance was maddening. “And besides, it’s either that or watch you brood.”

Brood? She was not brooding! But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. She was on the verge of an emotional meltdown, and he was somehow the cause. How was that even fair?

“Fine,” she said, voice tight. “I was just wondering why you’re so annoyingly confident all the time.”

His eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face before he laughed. “Annoyingly confident? I like that. But seriously, why wouldn’t I be? Life’s too short to spend it pretending you don’t matter.”

His words hung in the air, and Y/N found herself searching his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. He looked genuine—almost earnest. It made her heart race again, this time with something she didn’t want to name.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, leaning forward. “How can you just… be so open? You act like everything’s a joke.”

“Because it is,” he said simply, a grin playing on his lips. “What’s the point of taking life too seriously? All it does is stress you out.”

So easy for you to say, she thought bitterly, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued. Maybe there was something to his carefree attitude. It was like he found joy in the chaos, while she was stuck in her own head, overthinking every little detail.

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy,” she said, a challenge lacing her voice. “What do you do when things get tough?”

Seungmin’s expression shifted, a brief flash of something deeper crossing his face. “You adapt. You find a way to make it work. Or you move on. It’s that simple.”

For a moment, Y/N felt her defenses wavering. There was something in his tone, a raw honesty that made her want to lean in closer. But before she could respond, he shifted topics, breaking the tension. “But enough about my wisdom—I need to know what’s going on in that frowning little head of yours.”

“Nothing,” she insisted, her heart racing as she tried to deflect. “I’m just thinking about the project.”

“Sure you are,” he said, teasingly rolling his eyes. “You know, I can see through your lies.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, frustration mixing with an unexpected thrill. “You really think you know me that well?”

“I’m getting there,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, that smug grin returning. “Just give it time.”

Why does that make my heart race?

With every teasing remark and playful jab, Y/N found herself drawn deeper into the tangled web of their strange relationship. This back-and-forth was exhausting, but exhilarating. She wanted to fight it. She wanted to shove it down, to pretend it didn’t exist. But the longer they spent together, the harder it became to ignore the spark that crackled between them.

What if he was right? What if life really was too short to overthink everything?

And just like that, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle overhead, Y/N realized she had a choice to make: keep pushing him away or lean into the storm brewing between them.

Day 7 – Seungmin’s POV

Seven days in and I was beginning to wonder if hell had frozen over. It was day seven of the project, and Y/N still acted like she wanted to rip my head off, but I could sense a shift in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the way her eyes lingered on me a fraction too long, or how her lips curved into an involuntary smile whenever I cracked one of my usual jokes. It was infuriating, really. The more I tried to get under her skin, the more she seemed to react in ways that made my heart race—and not just because she was a walking tornado of annoyance.

Today was supposed to be just another tedious afternoon spent holed up in her room, but there was something different in the air. She paced back and forth, hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, the tension in her body nearly palpable. Every step she took seemed to echo in my mind, pulling my focus back to her time and again.

I was supposed to be working on our project, but all I could think about was how those jeans hugged her hips just right. How her eyes sparkled with fire whenever I teased her, and how her laughter, despite all my efforts to annoy her, could cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was the one holding the match.

“Seungmin, can you focus for once?” she snapped, breaking through my thoughts.

I looked up, feigning innocence. “I am focused. Just contemplating the complexities of our groundbreaking project.”

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “Right. Because this is groundbreaking.”

And there it was—that irritation that ignited something primal in me. The way her eyebrows knitted together, the tilt of her head. It was infuriating how even when she was pissed, I found her captivating. I hated that I was starting to notice her like this. I hated that I wanted to tease her, push her buttons, and yet I felt drawn in, as if she were a magnet and I was the metal.

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to get something done?” She snapped, the sharpness in her voice only amplifying the warmth pooling in my gut.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” I shot back, leaning back in my chair, trying to keep my posture relaxed. But the truth was, I felt anything but relaxed. Her frustration was electric, and each moment she spent within my orbit pulled me in deeper.

But it wasn’t just the banter that got to me. No, it was the way my body betrayed me in her presence. The moment she turned to walk back to her desk, I caught a glimpse of the curve of her waist and—damn it—my thoughts spiraled into inappropriate territory. It was like flipping a switch. All of a sudden, my body responded without my permission, a heat rising that I couldn’t ignore.

What the hell?

“Seungmin?”

Her voice pulled me back to reality. I glanced up, trying to hide the evidence of my body’s traitorous response. Act normal. Act cool. “What?” I snapped, perhaps a bit too harshly, but I needed to redirect this energy before it became too obvious.

“I asked if you could stop daydreaming for five minutes and help me with this section,” she said, exasperation lacing her tone.

“Yeah, sure. Just give me a sec.” I leaned forward, attempting to distract myself with the notes sprawled on the table, but my mind was still clouded with thoughts of her. Just focus on the project, Seungmin. You can’t afford to think about her like that.

As she leaned over the table to highlight a point, my breath hitched. The way she focused, the determination in her eyes—it made my heart race for all the wrong reasons. I tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a knot lodged in my throat. I was painfully aware of how close she was, the faint scent of her shampoo weaving around me, intoxicating and maddening all at once.

“Did you hear a word I said?” she asked, her voice pulling me back to reality once more.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, feigning confidence. “You were talking about… um… that thing. The thing we need to figure out.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. “Right. Because that totally helps.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Hey, I’m just here for the moral support.”

“Your moral support is useless,” she shot back, the heat in her gaze making it harder to ignore the tension simmering beneath the surface.

And just like that, I felt it again. The pull, the longing, and the undeniable physical reaction that threatened to break through my facade. Damn it. I shifted in my seat, desperately trying to find a distraction.

“Maybe you should get your head out of the clouds,” she said, her voice tinged with that familiar frustration. But even as she scolded me, there was something else there—a hint of something softer that I couldn’t quite place.

What is this?

I leaned back, arms crossed, trying to maintain a façade of indifference. “I’m just saying, I’m here for you. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

“Grounded? Please,” she scoffed, but her eyes flickered with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “You’re just as much of a distraction.”

A cocky grin crept onto my face. “I prefer to think of myself as motivational.”

We stared at each other, the banter charged with a tension that buzzed between us, electric and full of unspoken words. I could feel the walls we’d built crumbling, piece by piece, and it terrified me. What was happening?

I cleared my throat, forcing my gaze to the notes sprawled on the table. “Let’s just finish this before I—”

“Before you what? Lose your mind?” she teased, and I caught a glimpse of that fierce spark I’d grown to love.

“Before I have to deal with whatever this is,” I muttered, motioning vaguely between us.

Y/N’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flashing across her features. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d have to admit that there was something building between us that felt dangerously close to something more than just a rivalry. And that was a risk I wasn’t ready to take.

“Just—let’s focus on the project,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

But the tension remained, lingering in the air, and I knew that as much as I tried to bury it, the line between hate and something deeper was getting blurrier with every moment spent together. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep it buried any longer.

Day 12 – Y/N's House

It had started off normal enough. They had found a rhythm by now-working through the project with sharp jabs, teasing remarks, and just enough cooperation to keep things civil. For once, it seemed like they might get through the day without an argument. Y/N sat cross- legged on her bed, flipping through their notes, while Seungmin leaned against her desk, scrolling on his laptop.

"Look, if we just divide this section evenly, we'll be done faster," Y/N said, not even looking up.

Seungmin gave a small snort, the corner of his mouth tugging into that familiar smirk. "You mean I do the real work while you fill in the blanks?"

She shot him a glare. "I'm contributing just as much as you."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?" he teased, closing his laptop with a soft click. "Because it looks to me like you're slacking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re impossible.”

He chuckled under his breath and took a step closer, that cocky gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t new—this back-and-forth had become their routine. But today, something about the air between them felt heavier, crackling with unspoken tension.

She stood to put the notes back on her desk, brushing past him without a second thought. That was her first mistake.

The second was not expecting the sudden shift.

Before she could react, Seungmin’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. In one fluid motion, he pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

The breath rushed out of her lungs as her back hit the cool surface. “What the hell, Seungmin?” she gasped, but her voice was shaky—betraying the strange rush of excitement blooming in her chest.

His gaze locked onto hers, darker than usual, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve had just about enough of you driving me crazy,” he muttered, voice low and rough, as if the words had been building inside him for days.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and suddenly, the small space between them felt too hot, too overwhelming. “You’re insane,” she whispered, but there was no bite to her words.

“Maybe.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, and for a moment, the world around them disappeared. It was just the two of them—this impossible tension pulling them closer, tighter.

She could feel his breath on her skin, the subtle graze of his fingers still wrapped around her wrist, and every nerve in her body screamed at her to push him away. But instead, she stayed frozen, trapped between the cold wall and the burning weight of him.

“Say you hate me,” he whispered, the words a challenge, a dare.

Y/N’s pulse thrummed wildly, her breath coming out shallow. “I—”

But the words never made it out.

Seungmin leaned in, closing the distance, his mouth brushing against hers—not quite a kiss, more like a warning. Her heart stuttered, and for a split second, she thought she might break apart from the sheer force of it.

And then, without thinking, she kissed him.

It was messy, urgent, like they were both trying to make sense of something they didn’t understand. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring himself. She grabbed at his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded—every argument, every insult, every bitter word exchanged over the past few weeks. None of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was the way he tasted—like something dangerous and addicting all at once.

He pressed her harder against the wall, a low growl escaping his throat as he tilted her head back, giving himself better access. His lips trailed along her jaw, down to the soft curve of her neck, and Y/N bit her lip to stifle the sound threatening to escape her.

“Seungmin…” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Say you hate me,” he murmured against her skin, the words more desperate this time.

“I hate you,” she breathed, but the way she clung to him told a different story entirely.

Seungmin’s laugh was low and breathless. “Liar.”

And then he kissed her again—harder, deeper, as if this was something they both knew they couldn’t take back.

Day 12 – Y/N’s House (Continued)

Y/N’s mind spun, and every rational thought slipped away as Seungmin kissed her like he’d been waiting years to do it. His hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. She gasped against his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair, and every time she tried to steady herself, his touch undid her all over again.

His lips dragged along her jaw, hot and relentless, down to the hollow of her throat. Her heart raced, each touch sending sparks through her, making it harder to tell where frustration ended and desire began. The words were already on the tip of her tongue—words that had been their lifeline, their defense against whatever this feeling was.

“I hate you,” she whispered, breathless, as his mouth brushed her collarbone.

Seungmin gave a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against her skin. “You’re really going to keep that up?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. His teeth grazed her neck, and she shivered.

“Yes,” she gasped, even as her hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips exploring the warm skin beneath. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he whispered, lips ghosting over hers again, teasingly light.

She hated how much she needed more—how her body leaned into him, desperate for the heat of his kiss, the weight of him pressing her against the wall. Every kiss, every touch felt like both a challenge and a surrender, and it was driving her insane.

He shifted, pinning her wrists above her head, and the action sent a dangerous thrill rushing through her. “You’re still so stubborn,” he said softly, his lips barely brushing her ear. “Even now, when you’re the one pulling me closer.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could feel every inch of him against her—his body firm and hot, his breath ragged as he struggled to maintain control. But it was slipping, fast.

She kissed him again, rough and desperate, biting his bottom lip as if to punish him for being right. He groaned into her mouth, and the sound shot through her, making her knees weak.

“I hate you,” she whispered again between kisses, the words shaky, betraying how untrue they were.

“Sure you do,” Seungmin murmured, and there was a cocky grin in his voice now. His grip tightened slightly, his hips pressing into hers, and the friction made her gasp. “Say it all you want, Y/N. But we both know you don’t mean it.”

His words made her feel unsteady, vulnerable, and that only made her kiss him harder. Seungmin laughed into her mouth, low and wicked, clearly enjoying her frustration as much as the way her body responded to him.

“You can keep lying,” he whispered against her lips, “but I’m going to make you admit the truth eventually.”

Y/N’s breath came in short, shallow bursts. This was dangerous—whatever this was between them, it felt like playing with fire. But she didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when everything about this felt so maddeningly, addictively right.

And Seungmin knew it too.

Seungmin’s breath was ragged, his self-control slipping by the second. The way Y/N kissed him—furious and needy—only made it worse. She wasn’t holding back, and neither was he. Every time she bit his lip or dragged her nails along his skin, it sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

This was bad. Very bad.

His hands slid down to her hips, gripping hard, as if holding on to her would somehow anchor him. But the moment her body shifted against his, brushing against him in just the right way, a curse slipped from his lips.

He tried to pull back—just an inch, just enough to breathe—but Y/N followed, pressing closer, as if daring him to lose control. Her scent, the soft warmth of her skin, the way she looked up at him with that defiant glint in her eye—it was all too much.

Focus. Don’t lose it. Don’t let her see.

But it was already happening. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his stomach, his pulse hammering as he became painfully aware of how close they were. And Y/N felt it too.

She stilled, her breath hitching, and her gaze flicked downward, the slightest hint of realization dawning in her eyes.

Seungmin clenched his jaw, a mix of frustration and desire tightening in his chest. He could already feel the smug comment forming on her tongue.

But she surprised him.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his, soft but deliberate.

It was infuriating how much those words—so empty, so obviously false—made him want her more. He leaned in, his voice low and rough. “Keep saying it,” he dared, his fingers digging into her hips. “See what happens.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, a wicked little smile playing on her lips. “I hate you,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, teasing, taunting.

Seungmin groaned, his forehead resting against hers as he fought to keep himself in check. The tension between them was unbearable, and every second he spent holding back only made him want to give in that much more.

She shifted again—just slightly, but enough to send another wave of heat through him—and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Y/N’s grin grew, sensing his struggle. “Good,” she whispered.

His hands gripped her tighter, his breath hot against her skin. He knew he should step away, cool off, regain control before things went too far. But the way she looked at him, daring him to do something about it, made it impossible to think straight.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice dark with unspoken intent. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And you’re losing,” she shot back, her lips brushing his again, just enough to drive him wild.

Seungmin’s grip on her hips faltered, and in that moment, all his walls came crashing down.

Seungmin’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling as his fingers curled into the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. For a moment, he hesitated, as if waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked at him with a mix of defiance and something softer—something she wouldn’t dare say out loud.

His lips brushed against hers again, slower this time, as his hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt. Her skin felt warm under his touch, and the way she shivered made his pulse race. He tugged the fabric upward, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. It hit the floor in a forgotten heap.

Y/N leaned back against the wall, her eyes dark with something dangerously close to surrender. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not entirely.

“Still hate me?” he whispered, his voice low and edged with amusement as his fingertips traced the curve of her waist.

“More than ever,” she shot back, though the breathlessness in her voice made it clear how thin her resolve had become.

Seungmin smirked, leaning in closer, his lips brushing the hollow of her throat. “Liar.” His hands wandered, slow and deliberate, as if teasing her—testing her patience.

Y/N clenched her jaw, determined not to give him the upper hand. But every touch, every kiss made it harder to think, harder to hold on to the walls she’d built between them.

When his fingers found the button of her jeans, her heart stuttered. He paused, giving her one last chance to stop this, to walk away. But instead of pushing him back, she reached up, her hands sliding through his hair, tugging him down into another kiss.

That was all the confirmation Seungmin needed. His lips curved into a grin against hers as he made quick work of the button and zipper, dragging the denim down her legs with a teasing slowness that made her squirm.

“You’re really bad at hating me,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, her hands tugging at his shirt in response. “And you talk way too much.”

He chuckled, the sound low and husky as he pulled off his own shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze swept over her, heated and unguarded, and for the first time, there was no hint of mockery in his expression. Just want. Raw and undeniable.

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where hatred ended and desire began—or if there had ever been a difference at all.

Seungmin pushed Y/N against the wall, his body pressed tightly against hers. "You're so stubborn," he growled, his eyes burning with desire. "But I know you can't resist me."

Seungmin held her firmly in place. He began to kiss her neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire on her skin.

"I hate you," she said, but her voice was shaky and breathless. Seungmin chuckled against her skin. "No, you don't," he said, his voice low and husky. "You hate that you want me so badly."

He began to run his hands over her body, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them gently, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N.

"You're so responsive," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. "I love the way your body reacts to me."

He continued to tease her, his fingers tracing the curves of her body and finding all the spots that made her shiver with desire. Y/N tried to hold back, but she couldn't help but arch into his touch, craving more of his attention.

"You're mine," Seungmin said, his voice filled with possessiveness. "And I'm going to make you feel so good."

He lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her against the wall once again. He looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with lust and determination.

"Admit it," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Admit that you want me as much as I want you."

“Fine I want you..” she said barley above a whisper.

Seungmin's hands roamed over Y/N's body as he held her against the wall, his touch becoming more and more intense. He captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily.

Y/N responded eagerly, her body pressed tightly against his as she surrendered to the moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened.

Seungmin's hands slid down to her hips, gripping them tightly as he began to grind against her. Y/N moaned into the kiss, the friction between them sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"You're so wet for me," Seungmin growled, breaking the kiss to nibble on her earlobe. "I can feel it."

Y/N blushed at his words, but she couldn't deny the truth. She was completely aroused by him, and she wanted more.

Seungmin began to kiss his way down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he went. He reached her breasts and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.

Y/N gasped and arched her back, her fingers tangling in Seungmin's hair as he continued to pleasure her. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice filled with need.

Seungmin continued to kiss and suck on Y/N's breasts, his hands roaming over her body as he did so. He could feel her growing more and more aroused, her body trembling with need.

He slid one hand down to her inner thigh, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her sensitive skin. Y/N gasped as he got closer and closer to her core, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"You're so wet," Seungmin said again, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to feel you."

He slid his hand between her legs, his fingers finding her slick folds. Y/N let out a low moan as he began to rub her clit in slow, teasing circles.

"Oh god, yes," she gasped, her head falling back against the wall. "More."

Seungmin grinned and began to move his fingers faster, applying more pressure to her clit.

I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I will try again.

Seungmin continued to tease Y/N's clit, bringing her to the edge but not quite letting her come. She was panting and writhing against him, desperate for release.

"Please," she gasped, her voice filled with need. "I need more."

Seungmin grinned and slid his fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her g-spot. Y/N cried out, her body arching off the wall as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her.

"You're so tight," he growled, his eyes locked on hers. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He continued to finger her, his thumb rubbing her clit in time with his movements. Y/N was completely lost in the pleasure, her body aching for more.

Finally, Seungmin pulled his fingers out of her and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock just barely touching her.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Seungmin looked into Y/N's eyes, his gaze filled with desire and dominance. "You're mine," he said again, his voice possessive. "And I'm going to take you now."

With that, he pushed into her, filling her completely in one smooth thrust. Y/N gasped, her body stretching to accommodate his size.

"Oh god, you're so big," she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Seungmin began to move, thrusting into her with a slow, steady rhythm. He was hitting all the right spots, and Y/N could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge again.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "I love the way you take my cock."

Y/N couldn't speak, she was too lost in the pleasure. All she could do was hold on to Seungmin as he fucked her against the wall, driving her wild with his powerful thrusts.

As Seungmin continued to thrust into Y/N, he couldn't help but notice the way she was looking at him. There was something different in her eyes, something he had never seen before.

It was a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and it made his heart skip a beat. He had always seen her as an enemy, someone he was constantly competing with and trying to one-up. But in this moment, as he held her in his arms and felt her body responding to his touch, he saw her in a new light.

He leaned in and kissed her, his lips claiming hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back.

For a moment, all the animosity between them was forgotten. In that moment, they were just two people lost in the heat of passion, driven by desire and a strange sense of connection.

Seungmin broke the kiss and looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and something else he couldn't quite name. "I hate you," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "But I also can't get enough of you."

Seungmin began to thrust into Y/N harder and faster, his hips snapping against hers with a bruising force. He could feel her body responding to his roughness, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he growled in her ear, his voice low and commanding. "You like it when I take control and use you like this."

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Yes," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love it when you're rough with me."

Seungmin chuckled and nipped at her earlobe. "You're such a little slut," he said, his words sending a shiver down her spine. "Begging for my cock like this. You're so pathetic."

Y/N moaned at his words, her body clenching around him. She loved it when he degraded her, it made her feel so dirty and used.

"Please," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I need more."

Seungmin smirked and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so that he could look into her eyes. "More what?" he asked, his voice dripping with dominance. "Tell me what you want."

Y/N looked up at Seungmin, her eyes filled with desire and submission. "I want you to use me," she said, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk. I want you to make me yours."

Seungmin's eyes darkened with lust at her words. He loved seeing her like this, so desperate and willing to submit to him.

"You're mine," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "And I'll do whatever I want with you. I'll use you until you're begging me to stop."

He began to pound into her harder than ever before, his hips slamming against hers with brutal force. Y/N cried out, her body shaking with pleasure as he fucked her mercilessly.

"You like that, don't you?" he panted, his breath hot against her ear. "You like it when I use your body like a toy. You're just a hole for me to fill, nothing more."

Seungmin continued to pound into Y/N, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he approached his own release. He could feel her body tensing up, signaling that she was close too.

"Come for me," he growled, his voice low and demanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

Y/N cried out as her orgasm washed over her, her body convulsing with pleasure. Seungmin followed shortly after, pulling out and spilling on her stomach.

They stayed like that for a moment, both panting and trembling from the intensity of their orgasms. Finally, Seungmin set her down on the ground, both of them still struggling to catch their breath.

He looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness.

Day 13 – Y/N’s House

The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. Y/N stirred, blinking against the brightness, and a flood of memories rushed back to her from the night before. She felt a rush of warmth at the thought of Seungmin, the way he had looked at her, the heat of his skin against hers. It was strange how everything felt different now, how a single night could shift the dynamics of their so-called “hate.”

Turning slightly, she found Seungmin still asleep beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment, she just watched him, a mixture of confusion and warmth swirling in her chest. There was something almost peaceful about him, and it made her smile despite the chaos of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

But they had a project to finish, and the reality of their situation hit her like a splash of cold water. They were supposed to be working together, and time was running out. With a reluctant sigh, she slid out of bed, careful not to wake him.

As she gathered her clothes from the floor, her heart raced. The memory of last night—the heated kisses, the way they had shed their defenses—was fresh and vivid. It felt surreal to have crossed that line with him, yet a part of her felt exhilarated.

After getting dressed, Y/N made her way to the kitchen, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the space, grounding her in the present. How were they supposed to go back to the project after what had happened?

A soft voice broke her thoughts. “You’re up early.”

She turned to see Seungmin leaning against the doorframe, tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He looked relaxed, and the sight of him sent another rush of warmth through her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, trying to sound casual. “We have a project to finish, remember?”

Seungmin smirked, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Right, the project. Not the best way to get things done, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her heart racing at his teasing tone. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“Touché,” he replied, stepping closer. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t have another ‘distraction’ if we want to actually get this done.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between them suddenly palpable again. “Agreed. Let’s focus on the project—no more distractions.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning against the counter, his gaze fixed on her. “But can you blame me? You’re hard to resist.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. This wasn’t just about the project anymore; they were navigating uncharted territory, and the stakes felt higher than ever.

“Fine,” she said, breaking the gaze to focus on the task at hand. “Let’s just get started.”

“Okay, but you have to admit this will be way more fun now,” he said, moving closer, his arm brushing against hers.

“Fun? You call this fun?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow but unable to suppress a smile.

Seungmin stepped back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I meant it. Working together now feels… different. Good different.”

The sincerity in his voice made her heart race again. Y/N swallowed hard, nodding as she felt the weight of his gaze. “Yeah, it does.”

With that unspoken agreement lingering in the air, they set to work, but the undercurrents of their new dynamic kept pulling them closer.

Day 15 – Y/N’s House final day working together

Two weeks had passed since their unexpected night together, and as they sat at Y/N’s dining table surrounded by textbooks, papers, and half-empty coffee mugs, something had shifted between them. The tension that once crackled in the air had begun to simmer down, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie that neither of them had anticipated.

“Okay, so if we present this section like this, it’ll really emphasize our main argument,” Y/N said, tapping her pen against the paper. She glanced up at Seungmin, who was leaning back in his chair with a contemplative look on his face.

“Yeah, that makes sense. But what if we add some visuals? You know, to make it more engaging?” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, a side of him that she was starting to appreciate more and more.

“Visuals?” She raised an eyebrow, pretending to be skeptical. “Look at you, getting all creative on me. Who knew you had it in you?”

“Don’t act surprised,” he shot back playfully. “I’m full of surprises.”

Y/N laughed, feeling the warmth of their easy banter wrap around them like a comforting blanket. The more they worked together, the more she found herself appreciating his sharp wit and unexpected insights. It was refreshing—almost intoxicating—in a way she hadn’t expected.

They spent the next hour flipping through articles and compiling their findings, the project taking shape as they built off each other’s ideas. The conversation flowed naturally, filled with light teasing and genuine laughter. It was a stark contrast to the arguments that had marked the beginning of their partnership.

“Okay, how about we meet up tomorrow to finalize everything?” Y/N suggested, leaning back in her chair. “I think we’re almost there.”

“Sure, but only if you promise to bring those cookies you made last week,” Seungmin replied, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Ugh, fine. But you have to promise not to eat them all before we even start working,” she shot back, shaking her head.

“I make no promises,” he teased, winking at her.

The playful banter felt effortless, and Y/N found herself savoring these moments more than she had anticipated. As they wrapped up their work for the day, Seungmin stood up, stretching his arms overhead.

“Wow, I didn’t think this project would actually turn out to be fun,” he admitted, looking at her with a genuine smile.

Y/N felt a flutter in her chest at the sight. “It’s not so bad when you stop being such a jerk.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming,” he replied, grinning as he leaned against the table, his proximity making her heart race.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Right, charming. Just don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said, leaning in slightly. “But seriously, I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made her pause. The weight of their history—the arguments, the hatred that had once defined them—felt lighter in that moment. Maybe they were finally crossing into something new, something better.

“Me too,” Y/N replied softly, meeting his gaze. The air around them thickened with an unspoken understanding, a connection that went beyond their project.

As they cleaned up, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could turn this partnership into something even more meaningful. As Seungmin gathered his things, she couldn’t help but wonder where this new path might lead them.

A Few Months Later – A Cozy Coffee Shop

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped Y/N as she stepped into the quaint coffee shop nestled on the corner of their college campus. It was a chilly autumn afternoon, and the café was warm and inviting, filled with the soft hum of chatter and the clinking of cups. Y/N loved this place; it had become a regular hangout for her and Seungmin since their relationship had blossomed from a bickering partnership into something much more tender.

Today, the café was adorned with twinkling fairy lights and seasonal decorations, giving it a cozy ambiance that felt perfect for what was about to unfold. Y/N spotted Seungmin at their usual table by the window, engrossed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration. A playful smile spread across her face as she approached him, his presence always stirring butterflies in her stomach.

“Hey, bookworm,” she teased, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the pages. “Found any good plots to steal for our own story?”

He looked up, his serious expression breaking into a grin. “Only the plot twist where I finally confess my undying love for you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, laughter bubbling up in her chest. “Is that so? You might need a little more practice with that line.”

“Maybe I just need the right moment,” he replied, his eyes locking onto hers with a depth that made her pulse quicken.

They shared a comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of their connection wrapping around them like a soft blanket. The weeks spent together had transformed their relationship from casual friends into something deeper, something thrilling. Y/N had come to cherish these moments—quiet, intimate, filled with laughter and lingering gazes.

As the barista approached with their drinks, Y/N could feel the electric tension hanging in the air, a palpable anticipation that hinted at something monumental about to happen. She took a sip of her caramel macchiato, savoring the sweet flavor as she watched Seungmin.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but edged with nervous energy. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.”

Her heart raced at the seriousness in his tone. “Yeah? What about us?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. “You know how we started off as rivals? Just two stubborn people who couldn’t stand each other?”

Y/N nodded, a soft chuckle escaping her lips at the memory of their fiery arguments. “I remember. You were insufferable.”

“True,” he admitted, smirking. “But it’s wild to think that after all the bickering, you became someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words settling over her like a warm embrace. “Seungmin…”

“I’ve fought it for so long, thinking it would complicate everything,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “But I can’t hide it anymore. I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I want to be more than just partners or friends. I want to be with you, all of you.”

Y/N’s heart soared, an exhilarating mix of relief and joy flooding her senses. “You really mean that?” she asked, searching his eyes for sincerity.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his voice soft but resolute. “You make me want to be a better person, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

The warmth blossoming in her chest felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “I feel the same way. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

A wide smile spread across his face, the relief in his expression contagious. “So we’re really doing this?”

“Definitely,” she said, feeling the corners of her mouth lift in a smile that matched his.

Seungmin leaned in closer, their breaths mingling as he whispered, “Then how about we celebrate with a kiss?”

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, the thrill of anticipation coursing through her. Their lips met softly at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly ignited into something deeper and more passionate. The world around them faded, the café’s warmth wrapping around them as they melted into each other, the kiss filled with everything they had held back until now.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and smiling, the connection between them felt stronger than ever. “Wow,” Y/N breathed, her heart racing.

“Wow, indeed,” he echoed, his voice low and filled with emotion. “This feels right, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she agreed, feeling a rush of warmth. “I can’t believe we waited this long.”

Seungmin chuckled, his fingers brushing against hers as he held her gaze. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m looking forward to all the moments we’re going to create together.”

As they sat in the cozy café, surrounded by the laughter of others, Y/N felt a sense of excitement for the future. The journey they had embarked on was just beginning, and the possibilities seemed endless.

“Let’s make a pact,” she said suddenly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “No more fighting, only adventures.”

“Deal,” he replied, a playful grin spreading across his face. “But I can’t promise I won’t challenge you to a debate or two.”

“Fine, but I’ll win every time,” Y/N countered, her heart light with laughter.

As the sun began to set outside, casting a warm glow through the café’s windows, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their story. With every laugh, every kiss, and every moment shared, they would write a tale that was uniquely theirs—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of many more memories to come.

[daengtokki]

Kim Seungmin/gn!reader

wc: ~2.7k

rating: mildly angsty cheesy fluff (idiot enemies to lovers)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ happy (belated) birthday to @thackery-blinks and our Seungmo ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“I don't wanna see him...I don't like him, I think I hate him”

you what?

If anyone were in the room with you, they definitely would have heard her booming voice coming through the phone. You have to pull it away from your ear for a moment, but that’s all she has to say. For now.

“I said…” you rub your ringing ear and turn the volume down. “I said I hate him.”

hate is a big word, I'm not sure he deserves that

“He’s arrogant, and he's rude to me. Don’t pretend you’ve suddenly forgotten.”

you’re hyper-fixating…and maybe a little jealous because he’s cute and funny around everyone else. and he’s not rude, he can’t be rude if he never says anything to you

You can hear her laugh even though she moves away from the phone.

“Are you trying to piss me off? I’ll stay home tonight, and you know that’s not just a threat.” You will. You hate going out at the last minute almost as much as you can’t stand Kim Seungmin. “...such an asshole.”

excuse me??

“Not you, shut up”

he has a weird sense of humor…c’mon, you know what this is, right?

“Yeah. A congrats slash going away party for our favorite touchy kissy couple. Is it awful that I’m relieved I won’t have to be subjected to any more of their over-the-top pda?”

no, I won’t miss it…but you’re also chronically angry and single, so you might be more relieved—but that’s not what I was I referring to

“I’m ready, are you on your way?”

yeah, this lights been red for ten minutes, I swear…what’s with the selective hearing tonight? I’m coming in to make sure you’re dressed right so don’t wait for me outside

“I hear you, I just don’t wanna listen to your ‘Seungmin actually likes you’ theory again”

my hypothesis…I need more evidence

/ / /

She’s quiet for the first ten minutes of the drive, only because a perfect string of songs pop up on the playlist, but as soon as it ends, she turns the volume down…

“Are you ready to hear this?”

“No”

“Alright, so there’s literally no reason…none at all for Seungmin to not like you, or be weird around you, or less talkative, or just walk away when you enter the room”

“But he does all of those things”

“Right. Do you not read romance novels? Fanfiction?”

“What kind of fanfiction are you reading?”

She’s already exhausted of your aloofness…or just your refusal to accept anything more than what’s already in your head. But you’ve known him, known of him, for a few months now. He doesn’t give you anything aside from what you catch when he’s with others. You’re invisible when he’s in the room, and the more you think about it, the shittier you feel.

“Hello, you good? You might not read fanfiction, but you’re staring out of that window like the protagonist in very sad story. No, antagonist. You’re my antagonist.”

“I am not,” you sigh. Everything suddenly feels very heavy, and maybe it’s because you know you’re almost there.

“There wasn’t much fight in that. You better perk up, we’re almost there.”

/ / /

The first thing you see is him, and it’s not because you’re looking. Seungmin is leaning against the staircase bannister, arms folded loosely over his sweatshirt. He’s less than ten feet away when the two of you walk in the door, but he doesn’t move, and he doesn’t turn his head out of curiosity. You’re surprised he doesn’t sense your presence and walk away.

“Sorry we’re late,” she says, making sure to gently shove you forward in his direction. “But we brought gifts!”

Now Seungmin looks at the two of you. First his eyes land on her, but they quickly dart in your direction, and they linger much longer than you expect. As much as you don’t want to scare him off, you take the rare moment to look at him from such a small distance—just his eyes, though.

“It’s us, we’re the gifts”

Seungmin clears his throat and takes his leave, just like you expect.

“Well, go after him”

“Why would I go after him? Please, give it a rest…I’m already tired.”

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry. Are you good?”

“No.” They’re angry tears, but nobody else knows that. "Not really." To the other eight people in the room, tears are tears, and you don’t want them seeing you, but it's too much to hold back. “I need a minute.”

You shove through her and the next arriving couple on your way outside, but you didn’t really think beyond this. It’s cold out, and you’re not really dressed to sit around by the water, but that’s where you head on instinct. It’s empty back here, which is what you need right now, and the cool air on your warm, red, tear-streaked face. Why are you even crying? Nothing has happened, not really. Seungmin looked at you, and his stupid brown eyes sparkled and grew as they watched you for far too long. Why did he have to look at you like that?

The gazebo is what you typically claim when you’re back here. That’s where you go. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s pretty, and it keeps you mostly hidden from anyone looking out from the house.

A text message buzzes, but you take your time pulling it out and checking. All it’s going to be is someone, your friend, looking for you.

come back inside

“I’ll think about it” …you reply.

he never came back in the room, if that makes you feel better

“It doesn’t”

You get a few more minutes of peace and quiet, but you’ll admit that you’re already getting cold sitting out here. The wind is coming off of the lake and right at you, and every time a stray tear falls, it feels like it might freeze. This won't accomplish anything, you know that, but hiding from everything is so much easier. You might hate yourself for it later, but right now you feel good in the chilly air.

And then there's a crunch of footsteps. You ignore it. Someone has found you, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting up and going with them that easily. You've already decided this is where you belong right now, and you'll stick to that until you're dragged back inside. The footsteps stop...whoever it is doesn’t speak, though. There's only the sound of something being dropped close to you ear, and the footsteps start to retreat almost immediately.

It’s a coat, draped neatly on the railing. A black cotton one that looks vaguely familiar, and when you turn a little more, you remember when you saw him wearing it last.

“Wait!”

You almost trip as you get to your feet, and you’re glad he hasn’t turned to see you yet. But he does—he stops and turns. He looks like he wants to keep walking, though, and he does…Seungmin takes a few more slow steps backward as he watches you grab the jacket and hold it against your chest. His scent reaches your nose. You’ve never been close enough to him to know it, but now you do.

There’s nothing to say, though. You have nothing to say to him, or you do and you just don’t know how to put the words together.

Seungmin stops, and then takes two steps toward you. Is he having fun? Is he just playing with you? Tears start to brim again, and luckily he’s not close enough to see it. If you don’t figure out your next move, he’ll turn and leave and you might not get this much attention from him again.

“Did she make you come out here?”

“Make me? No, nobody makes me do anything.”

You’re glad he’s not close enough to see you roll your eyes. “Then what’s this for?” You look at his jacket, and when you look back to him, he’s taking two more big steps toward you.

“It’s cold.” He says flatly, and maybe waits for your response that never comes. “I saw you walking out from the bathroom window. By yourself.”

“And?”

Are you making him uncomfortable? He looks like he doesn’t know how to answer for his actions, and maybe he doesn’t. He’s never concerned himself with your actions before, but you also never do anything to bring attention to yourself. This was an overreaction on your part.

“And…"

Uncomfortable, maybe. Confused…probably. Maybe you should kick him while he’s stumbling over himself. “Why are you concerned with how cold I am?”

Two more steps, and now he can definitely see your puffy face. “Sorry, I'll leave you alone."

He can’t be serious. Does he want you to explain this to him? The look on his face does seem a little helpless, and you’ve never seen him look anything but sure of himself.

“This is the second time you’ve spoken to me in months.” This is also the first time you’ve been alone with him for more than a few moments.

“That's because you always seem to be pissed off. You always look angry when I see you. You don't right now...you looked upset when you walked through the door a little bit ago.

Your eyes drop to the ground in front of him, and you have to work hard to relax the scowl on your face. “I’m not angry.”

"So I never tried talking to you. I assumed you didn't want to, since you never spoke to me, either."

The first time the two of you met, you exchanged a brief hello, and that was that. You remember it very well. Seungmin took your hand in his and squeezed it so softly. His eyes were intense, but warm, and now you’re wondering if you were wearing your scowl when you first looked at him. Why could you have?

“Put the coat on, please”

You’re shivering. So is he. Seungmin takes one more step and grabs the baluster, and you think he’s going to come up here with you, but he doesn’t. You let go of the coat and finally swing it around your shoulders. The scent coming from it makes your knees weak.

“Thank you”

This time he steps up, and he’s at your level. Above it, actually. He’s looking down on you, and every bit of space closed between you makes you feel even weaker. Stupid, so stupid. Nothing is even happening. He’s just standing there, looking at you drowning in his warm jacket. You could curl up on the ground and fall asleep in all this warmth, but his stare is making you anxious.

“You look mad again”

“I’m not,” you pounce, and you force yourself to relax again. “I’m not mad. I…I’m just...”

“I have witnessed you smiling and laughing…not with me, but I always wondered why I couldn’t do it. I can never get anything from you.”

The conversation doesn’t feel real, but it’s real enough for the party guests—a few of them peer out through the kitchen window, thinking they’re being discreet.

Seungmin has made you laugh before, but only in your head. And he’s made you smile, too…as you’re drifting to sleep and thinking of him doing exactly what he’s doing right now.

“You do make me laugh”

“I do?”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone I said that”

You make him laugh—Seungmin actually laughs, genuinely, and it sounds so much nicer than any laugh you’ve heard from him before.

“That’s not fair. They see you making me laugh right now.”

They do. Three people are by the patio door, probably wondering why he isn’t in there charming everyone. You managed to steal him away, and you wonder how long you can keep him out here with you despite your numb face.

“We should go back in, it’s cold. You’re cold.”

“I’m fine. I really didn’t wanna come tonight anyway, so being out here is better.”

“You’d rather stand out in the cold by yourself than hang out with everyone?”

“I’m not by myself”

He laughs under his breath, but his smile is a little bit wider. “So you’d rather stand out here with me than enjoy the party?”

Yes, you don’t say it out loud. How could you? The way you’ve played up your hatred for him to others, and your indifference to his face since you’ve met. It’s a little embarrassing. But it’s painful being around Seungmin…pretending you’re not upset every time you’re dragged to group outing is exhausting.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes unless you say otherwise”

Perfect. Saying nothing should be easy, but this time you open your mouth. “I can’t pretend I’m happy when I’m not.”

“You don’t have to”

“But I put on a mask when you’re around and make everyone think I’m unhappy, even when I’m not”

“You’re not?”

“I mean…I am, because you leave the room every time I walk in. But I’m not, because you’re still around, somewhere…and maybe I still have a chance.”

“A chance. So you don’t hate me?”

“No, but I don't want to get my heart broken," why are you spilling your guts to him? "So we should just go back to how things were before.” The words are just falling out of you, and looking at him like this and being with him, finally alone, makes you want to keep going until there's nothing left.

“No, we shouldn't. And I don't want mine broken, either.”

Seungmin is in front of you now, blocking you from everyone still hanging around the window. They seemed to be getting bored watching the two of you talk and do nothing else, so you at least feel like you’re alone with him again.

He reaches toward you, and you jump.

“Sorry,” he whispers and pulls at the collar of the jacket, “but if you’re not going inside,” and bends to connect and pull the zipper until it’s closed up to your chin.

You’re sure you look ridiculous in it—it’s already a little bit big on him. And no, you don’t want to go back in, because the thought of everyone staring at the two of you as you finally return…

“No, I’d rather go home”

“I can take you home”

“Everyone is in there waiting for you”

“The party will still be here when I get back”

“I don’t know you very well.” You pull the zipper down a few inches. “At all, actually.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to take you home?” He smirks. “That’s very smart and safe of you. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“I mean I don’t know enough about you to…ya know, like you as much as I do”

He laughs again…just a sweet, maybe a little embarrassed giggle. “So you do?”

“What?”

Seungmin is blushing. You’ve seen him do this before; the blush, the giggle, and the smile so big you thought his face would crack every time a someone flirted with him. It was hard to hide then—that horrible sinking feeling in your gut when you thought he might leave with one of them. But now he’s blushing for you, and nobody else.

“You've been skirting around the words the entire conversation, and you have to spell things out for me sometimes. I didn’t wanna make a move until you said it."

“Said what, that I want you?"

“Wow…yeah, if you wanna put it like that. You want me,” he laughs again, “I guess I want you, too.”

“Make a move, please.” You whisper through your chattering teeth, and turn your head as your heart threatens to jump right out of your chest.

“Please?” Seungmin smirks pulls the zipper down a bit more, enough that you catch the cold breeze on your neck and chest. And then he’s there, lips an inch from yours, and he stares. “Please.”

You close the space between you, cautiously press your lips to his. His return is just as hesitant, and you’re surprised at his shyness. The zipper comes down even more, and Seungmin doesn’t stop until the coat falls open again—now he has somewhere to put his arms. They disappear inside, and he squeezes tight and deepens the kiss. He kisses like you expected him to, mouth open, tongue gently asking to be let in, and you let him in. You’re finally warm again, and you’d like to be even warmer.

“Seungmin?” You touch his neck, and his skin is hot against your cold hands, but it doesn’t faze him. His mouth quiets you when you think of speaking again, and it pains you to pull him off of you.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want an audience”

He turns and sees the group of guests gathered near patio doors; his friends, yours…all either watching or pretending not to watch the show you two are putting on.

“You just want me, yeah?" His eyes sparkle as if he can do it on command.

“Just you.” Your teeth chatter again, no matter how hard you try to stop it.

“I don’t mind ditching them for a few hours”

“You don't?”

“Not if you wanna get warmed up"

[channiesdelululand]

Game Night

NSFW Lee Minho x Reader 2,951k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral, cursing, overstimulation, competing screams with you best friend in another room (idk i this is a warning but just dont want anyone uncomfy)

Imagine hating your best friend's boyfriend's best friend... Or do you?

Best to pick your Chan bias friend!

______________________________________________________________

“YOU LIKE WHO?!” 

Your best friend about drops the wine glass in her hand as you both are cleaning up in the kitchen after another successful game night. A pretty common occurrence at the Bahng residence. The two of you catching up on the week while Chris and his best friend in the other room talking about their next record release. You looked forward to this all week every week. The ONLY thing that could make it better is if the man you hated wasn’t Chris’s best friend and roomate. 

“Jesus Christ bsf/n, lower you voice! Chris and Min are literally in the living room…” 

“Sorry, sorry! But like babe I thought you hated Minho? Just yesterday you said you hoped he walked into a vat of gasoline and then tripped on a match.”

“I can’t stand him! But he just, everything! It’s infuriating why does he need to be so god damn sexy with everything?”

“Why do you even hate him again?”

Bsf/n asked as you started to walk out of the kitchen to go grab your phone you left on the coffee table.

You cant even remember honestly when it all started. Maybe it was the cocky way he carried himself? Always so cold to everyone not really even giving anyone an opportunity to see a different side of him. But it wasn’t just you, he hated you too. Always acting like a school boy pulling at the things he knew would get to you. But after today, you were just confused. The looks he kept throwing your way. You caught him staring multiple times. His eyes following every little thing you would did, every slight move you would make. Which lead you to the conversation confessing that you may have breathed in every moment of him staring a little too much. That maybe, just maybe you wanted more.

Getting so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t have time to react to the tall figure colliding into, drenching you both in leftover punch. 

“Fuck Minho, Im so sorry!” You waited a few seconds to be called a dumb ass or some rude remark, but it never came. He set down the punch bowl he had been holding down on the table you left your phone at. And within seconds had your wrist in his hand leading you to his room. 

“Come on you can change into one of my shirts.” Thats all you heard before the door opened and you found yourself where you had never been before. But here you were back pressed up against the door, Minho inches from your face with an expression you just couldn’t read.

“The shirt Min?” Trying to break what ever tension was happening.

“Oh I’ll get to that, don’t worry. But first tell my how much I infuriate you. Go ahead kitten, if you can talk shit about me to bsf/n you can do it to my face.” Leaning with one hand above your head and the free hand brushing the little bit of hair falling in front of your face softly behind your ear.   

“I….”

Before you could even form a sentence his lips were already crashing into yours, pressing your whole body further against the door. Your hands holding his face in an instant pulling him closer into the kiss, if  that was even possible. It was painfully obvious as your tongues danced together the craving you both had for each other had reached its breaking point. 

“Can I?” Minho gestures to your button down blouse. You quickly nod in approval. As he starts to unbutton half way down he pauses and takes in every inch of what’s in front of him. Making a mental picture of the way the black lace popping out from your bra perfectly accents the curves of your breast.  

“Minnnnnn” You very impatiently whine out as he takes his time lightly peppering your collarbone with kisses, trailing his way done as he finishes taking off your shirt completely. 

“Oh y/n, kitten relax youll get what you want but im about to take my time with you. Tell you what though I'll share a little of what i have planned. After im done getting my hands and lips on every inch of this gorgeous body, im going to have you on your knees so I can see if those pretty lips are good for more then just talking shit, and then im going to fuck you into tomorrow. Sound like a plan?”

Before you could even think of a response you felt his hands quickly lifting you up under your thighs wrapping your legs around his torso pressing you up against him, feeling how painfully hard you had already made him. With you safely in his arms, your hands behind his head pulling him into kiss after passionate kiss he made his way with you over to his nicely made bed. 

Slowly setting you down on your back, lips never leaving your body but instead trailing down your neck right in the creek  that made you fold as he gave little bites, blowing on each fresh red mark he created. Little squeaks and whimpers leaving your mouth was like some kind of overwhelming drug to Minho. Like a song he wanted on repeat in his ears forever. Trailing down your body further licking, biting, marking every free spot available. But he needed to hear more. He needed to know just want kind of noises he could pull from you.  Finding your waist band he began toying with the elastic while looking up at you with the deepest brown eyes. You couldnt tell what exactly you were seeing as part of him was filled with such a dark lust that washed over his appearance but somehow he also was looking at you so softly something youve never seen him do. 

“You know ive really wanted this for so long y/n but I never thought i had the chance. I want to make this body of yours mine.”

“Please, need you Min.”

“You need what sweet girl? Come on use your words.” His hand still running along the areas of your waist, using the top of his hand to softly brush up against you feeling just how wet you already were through your thin leggings. Your hips moving and wiggling slightly trying to feel more. His face so close you could swear the pressure of even his breath was about to set you off. 

“I need you, I need you to touch me” the most pathetic sounds starting to pour from your mouth as you start to beg this man you thought you hated to finally fuck you. 

“Please fuck me, do what you want to me, i need to feel you in me minnie please.”

“What a good girl finally being honest with me for once. Lucky for you im a man of my word.”

With that he pulled down your leggings to reveal matching panties to your bra. You hear a harsh hiss come through Mins teeth. 

“Fuck you wear these fuck for me?” Minho was really taking in everything just like he said because with every step he took you in like a painting. Memorizing every detail to its fullest before continuing. 

“You are so fucking perfect y/n” taking his hands and harshly grabbing your thighs, he truly thought every part of you deserved attention. While his hands massaged up and down your thighs his head was situated in perfect view giving your inner thighs the same licking, biting, kisses he was to the rest of your body. Kissing so close to where you needed him most causing you to cry out for more. With a a smirk and a slight evil giggle he flicked the side of your black lace to the side very eager to get a taste of you. With the first swipe of his tongue he looked up at you with a low moan.

“My god you taste incredible kitten.”

Pulling your panties fully off he went back down licking and sucking every part of you, holding your hips down while you squirmed. 

“Now sweet girl you were making such pretty noises earlier why are you covering your mouth now?” He noticed once he inserted 2 fingers while continuing to give your clit the full attention of his mouth. 

“bsf/n and Chris are outside I dont want them to hear”

“Oh but kitten i want them to hear, i want them to hear exactly what we are doing in here. I want you to scream so loud the whole city knows who owns you tonight”

“Fuck yes please” you more confidently moan out. 

“There we go, thats my girl. Plus i guarantee they are playing the same game so why dont we play a little game back, called whos louder. Its only fair since it is still game night. Now baby grind on my face i can feel how close you are lets win the first round”

Obeying his orders you tighten your grip in his hair and grind against his perfectly sculpted face. Everything was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, the pace of his fingers, the way they were curling repeatedly i to the perfect spot, him sucking and licking perfectly. It was all going straight to your head making you dizzy. You could feel your high coming and listening to him loudly enjoying himself was exactly what you need to push you over the edge. 

With a scream of his name, your legs tightening around him, your body broke through your high. But that didnt stop Minhos pace. 

“Min, its too much, i cant. Please” 

You couldnt tell what you were feeling but you felt like your body was about to snap. He didnt respond to your pleas with any words just a low growl between breathes. You felt a new high climbing but a different high. Something yould never before this and as your cried out his name for the second time in less then a minute you felt everything below you became soaked. 

“God, fuck that was so perfect kitten.” Minho raising his dripping face up with the most shit eating grin. He threw in a few licks to cause your body to twitch at the over sensitivity. 

“I dont know what just happened but im so sor..”

You were immediately cut off with him on top of you mouth back on yours.

“Sorry? Oh god for what?  That was so fucking sexy i need that from you over and over again. I want to taste you  like that every night. Fuck i need you even more. Did it feel good?” He was looking so deeply in your eyes.

“It felt incredible, ive never felt that good. Can i have more please. I want to feel you in me. Need to feel you in me now.” You beg as he removes his shirt still hovering over you giving your hands free roam all over his body. Every part of him is so stunningly perfect. How have you had the strength to go on this long not getting to touch every inch of him. 

Using your nails a little to graze over his skin, watching goosebumps appear along his strong arms currently one on either side of your body holding himself up. Watching your movements, the look in your eyes silently begging for more.  You reach down to begin unbuttoning his pants and he helps you by removing them fully letting himself bounce up against his lower stomach. Your hand reaching immediately to grab him, smearing his precum over the beautiful caramel tip.  A little groan falling from his lips. And a shiver through his body finally feeling your touch. He had thought about it for so long, after a long day late at night. Alone in room with his thoughts. Thoughts about you, touching him, playing with him, how your mouth would feel around him, how good yould feel taking all of him thrust after thrust. Knowing this was finally happening was enough to make this once stern strong man to melt into a puddle. He was quickly taken out of his thoughts as you pushed him forward and switching him to the bed so you could bend down in front of him. 

Now on your knees you take a moment to look up at the god like man in front of you. Perfectly chiseled body, and holding him so beautifully in your hand… it was enough to bring out a few pathetic whimpers from you. You were waiting to hear some type of overly cocky bullshit come from his lips but all that you heard were small moans as you rubbed your hand up and down slowly. It was a dangerously gorgeous sight. 

Taking your tongue in replacement of my hand going up along the middle, bottom to glorious tip top. Taking in the feeling of every vein before circling around his tip and back down again. Stopping every few cms to give small kisses. 

Starting to see impatience grow on the man groaning before you, you decide to give in and fully take him into your mouth swirling your tongue around and sucking when needed. He felt so fucking good as he slid towards the back of your throat, starting to buck his hips needing fuck your throat deeper. 

“God fuck 자기야” groaning in between words louder and louder as he takes a fist full of your hair pushing your head as far as yould go. 

“You are so fucking pretty like this. So fucking perfect. My perfect toy.” Drool dripping everywhere, running down your chin as let out the most pathetic noises. This was a vision of heaven for Min. 

In between the sounds your mouth was making and Mins delicious moaning you could hear your friends in the other room playing the exact same game. The echoing of it all was making you dizzy. You need this man deep inside you now. 

“Please Min, please fuck me”

Looking up at him with begging eyes, pleading for him to finally take you. 

“Sweet girl i thought yould never ask.” His strong arms picking you up from the floor bringing you back to laying on the bed, him hovering over you. Something so animalistic about the look in his eyes while he brought his face closer to your so he could kiss you. More passionately then youve ever been kissed, his hands exploring every inch of you. Wanted to simply devour you in every way he can. While kissing and sucking at your neck he was perfect aligned to rub himself up and down your folds. Teasing you, causing you to gasp everytime he was close enough to enter. Little hip movements trying to get him inside you. 

“My impatient little bunny” he let out a giggle as he slowly sank into you. With a slow pace back and forth, kissing at your face, and leaning into your ear.

“You are truly so beautiful. Absolutely made for me. I need you.”

You giggled as his statement.

“You feel so good, you have me right now”

“No, no y/n i need YOU. I need all of you. I need this every night. I need to wake up to you every morning. I need YOU.”

Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper inside he rushed his pace.

“You can have me, i want you. Please take me and make me yours Minho.”

Nails digging into his back as he abused the perfect spot. You felt your body close to snapping at the incredible rush of feeling. 

Loudly sputtering out syllables of his name. 

“Yes come on tell me whos making you feel this good, scream for me.” 

Your moans were pathetic loud but so were your friends. It was like a match between you and bfs/n to see whose man was making the other feel better. It was clear both men had the same idea on how tonights game night was going to go. 

“I told you they would play too”

“Fuck Min, i cant take it please”

“Cant take what pretty girl? Come on tell me what you want. Tell our friends what you want. Go on scream for me.”

“Please i want to cum, i want to cum for you.” Moaning in a way you dont think youve ever moaned for anyone. Feeling your mind slip away into a state of pure bliss. 

“Yes!” The only word coming out of your mouth over and over and over again. Holding on as long as you could because it felt so good. 

“Go ahead 자기야 i want you to make another mess” 

Min wanted it to continue but with as good as you felt clenching around  him he knew he needed to let go with you right then. 

As wave after wave rushed over you Minho grabbed your hand in his as he let his orgasm go with yours both bodys twitching while the most beautiful melody of moans from the both of you came together.  

He stayed hovered above you for a bit his head in the crock of your neck. You could feel the smile on his face. Bringing his face up to yours giving him a gentle kiss on the nose.

“That was perfect Minho”

“No you're perfect y/n.” 

The gentle kisses continuing into something more passionate. You could feel Min on your thigh harding all over again. 

“It doesnt sound like bsf/n and Chris are quite done. And by the feel of it I dont think your done either I might have a little left in me.” Letting out an innocent giggle. 

“Fuck it ill go all night with you.” 

[minminbunny]

Enemies to Lovers AU - Biker! Lee Minho/Bookworm Gender Neutral! Reader

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

A loud rumble buzzed under your feet when he pulled up. "What you do what, Lee?" you asked, crossing your arms. Minho chuckled, taking off his helmet, "Well it's day three hundred of waiting for you to get on," he teased, leaning forward. You rolled your eyes, "Nope, never," you said, walking away. Minho waddled his bike, "Pretty please?" he teased, following you. "I said no, Lee," you said, hoping he didn't see your red ears. Minho smirked, "Worth a shot. I'll be back tomorrow, pretty," he said, putting his helmet back on and rode away. You squatted down and covered your face, "That stupid asshole," you scoffed, trying to compose yourself. Minho noticed you through his side mirror, "One day, pretty. You'll give in soon," he said, focusing on the road.

Your headphones distracted you from the busy cross walk. You looked up and noticed green, not knowing you only had two seconds left. As you took the first few steps, someone tugged you back. You gasped, your back hitting against their chest. A car drives past you in rage, flipping you off as they went. You gulped and removed your headphones, "Ha hah, sorry about that," you said, getting off the person nervously. Minho took off his helmet and glared at you, "Are you trying to die?" he asked, squinting at your headphones. You subconsciously puffed your cheeks, "No," you murmured, fidgeting with your rings. Minho sighed and dragged your arm. Your eyes widened, "Wait, Lee! Where are we going?" you asked, helplessly letting him pull you along.

Your breath hitched when Minho pinned you against an alley wall, "You should be punished for worrying me," he muttered, almost to himself. You furrowed your eyebrows, "I said I'm sorry," you said, trying to tug your wrist back. Minho looked down at your lips, and back to your eyes, "Sorry doesn't cut it, pretty. You just made my stupid heart drop so you're going to pay for it," he said, stroking your cheek with his bare hair. "What do you me-," you said, when he cut you off with a passionate kiss. His lips slotted perfectly with yours. You couldn't help yourself but to melt into his ministrations. Minho smirked against your lips and lifted you up by the hips.

NSFW BELOW CUT

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Minho licked your bottom lip, seeking permission. "Mhm," you moaned when he slid his tongue against yours. Minho deepened the kiss, his hands bracing behind your head so you don't smack it to the wall. You pulled away for air, "Need you, Lee," you whispered, lust coating your senses. Minho quickly tugged his sweats down, his throbbing cock slapping against his leather jacket. An audible gulp escaped you. "Like what you see, pretty?" he asked, tugging down your cargo pants. You stared up at him, "I fucked myself early. So please just ruin me," you pleaded, choosing to dwell on the consequences after. Minho groaned at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, "Dirty. So fucking filthy," he chuckled, slicking up his cock with your leaking arousal. Minho aligned his girthy cock head against your hole, "Breathe in," he said, easing his cock in one smooth thrust. "And out," Minho guided before, picking up a relentless pace as he pounded your fluttering hole against the public wall.

[joyusunn]

[hoes4lino]

Late nights 🌃 | LMH

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains suggestive content, minor injuries, swearing as well as slut shaming (fluff?); minors please don’t interact, please beware of what you consume online.

Genre: Enemies to lovers

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Who would say that after years of despising his existence he would end up in your bed.

Authors note: I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. (Also I was lazy to spell check srry T-T)

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 3am on a Saturday morning, the dim lights of the city illuminating your room, the light sound of the rain hitting your window, it was the perfect set up to cuddle with your cat while you watched kdramas on your bed.

Your eyes felt heavy, your body was comfortable in the coziness of your bed, slowly closing them you felt how you drifted to a slumber sleep.

Maybe it was the loud thunder or the cries of you cat, but you jumped out of your bed, annoyed and scared as you heard your doorbell ringing nonstop. You walked towards the door slowly trying to make no sound.

Stumbling through the darkness you grabbed an umbrella, just in case you had to defend yourself— your mouth was slightly parted as you spotted the brun haired boy standing in front of your apartment door. His face had few bruises and scratches, seems like he got into a fight. He kept ringing the doorbell, you brain trying to decide whether you should open it or not.

You met Minho at a club about two years ago, he was a mutual friend— however, you two never seemed to click, always getting on each others neck; you didn’t really considered him a friend but he was always around cause he was part of your friend group.

The sudden silence that echoed your apartment made you snap out of your thoughts, peeping again through the peephole you spotted him with a concerned face as he stared to his side, panic filling his eyes.

In that moment you knew he was in desperate need of help, you snatched open your door and pulled him in, locking your door and hoping whatever was after him didn’t notice he went inside your apartment.

“Took you long enough” He scoffed, carefully touching his busted lips. You looked at him up and down annoyed, some of his wounds were dripping blood and his cloth were dirty “Don’t make me snitch on you” He smirked as he leaned forward “I know you are an asshole but you would never” He said with his raspy voice— You simply rolled your eyes at him, looking at him from head to toes once again.

“Why are you here?” You questioned him, arms wrapping in front of you chest— you looked pissed “None of your business” he spat, making you scoff once again “It is when you come to my house beaten up at 3am” You said in disbelief.

A small smile adorned his face as he looked at you mischievously, he always loved pushing your buttons, it gave him some sort of satisfaction “You won’t like the real reason of why I’m here. So lets pretend am being chased by a thief” Your eyes widen in disbelief “A thief chasing you?!? And you brought him to my apartment building? You want to get me killed or something? He shrugged and looked at you “maybe? It was the first place that came to mind”

You seriously couldn’t stand him, how dare he come to your apartment this late all beaten up and with a criminal chasing after him. It was also the audacity he had to talk about it like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You are seriously going to kill me someday” You sighed as you grabbed his arm and walked him to your bathroom “What are you doing” You signaled him to sat on the toilet “Isn’t it obvious?” You said annoyed as you searched for a first aid kit in the bathroom drawer.

He looked at you as you grabbed a towel and poured some hydrogen peroxide. You were wearing your silk pijama dress, it looked as delicate as you, your puffy eyes and messy hair gave him a hint that you were probably sleeping before he came to interrupt.

You walked towards him and kneeled in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts once you carefully tapped the towel on his face. He hissed at the contact, the hydrogen peroxide burning his skin “Fuck” he yelp “Don’t be a bitch be gentle” he spat as he grabbed the counter besides him.

You laughed at his squirming “Stop being a baby” You teased— He straighten his body and looked deeply into your eyes “Im not a baby” He scoffed, swallowing his pain. It was quiet for a second, his heartbeat and breathing being audible, for some reason it brought you some kind of comfort.

“You need to stop staying too late at clubs” you mumbled while continuing to clean his wounds. He rolled his eyes “Aweee you care about me??” He said in a playful tone while tilting his head, a smug adorning his face.

You shook your head “Don’t make this about yourself, I’m just saying so you never come back to my house at this hours” He doesn’t know why but your words sting his heart, He doesn’t want to admit it but it does.

He scoffed “Says the slut that always passes out at the clubs” You stop cleaning him and looked at him, anger filling your eyes “What did you say?” He leaned closer to your face “I’m pretty sure you heard me loud and clear” He gave you a thin smile.

You never knew why Minho was like this, always defensive. No matter the situation— he always had something to say about you “I don’t get why you are being so defensive right now” You say softly as your gaze moves back to his scratches, this time pressing the towel hard on his wounds. He hisses and throws his head back.

“You did that on purpose” He groans, his eyes tight shut “Did I? I’m sorry” You proceed to press even harder, liquid dripping from the towel to his wounds. He moves one of his hands to grabs yours, both of you forcing against each other.

“Let go” You hissed, trying to remove your hand from his strong grip, however, he wouldn’t budge “I’m tired of you” He said out of nowhere, you stop forcing and looked at him confused. “Excuse me? You tired of me? You are the one interrupting my sleep” At this point you thought Minho was a social experiment to test how long it would take for you to reach your limit.

It was quiet for a minute until he started talking “You are always batting your pretty lashes at anyone who walks your way” He probably noticed by your face that you were confused as hell in that moment, he scoffed “Now you are pretending you don’t know” You tilted your head to lock eyes with his “I know what you mean, I’m aware of my actions, however I don’t get how that involves you” He took a deep breath and mumbled something you didn’t quite catch.

“Oh c’mon, let’s be for real” He doesn’t really know why this conversation is frustrating him so much, its not like he cared or at least thats what he told himself “I was at our usual club making out with this hot chick when I heard the people besides us talking about you” He stopped his words, his hands turning into fists

“They were talking some nasty shit about you” He scoffed leaning his face closer to yours “Now don’t get me wrong, It’s not like I care about you, but the way they see you as a dirty little slut pissed me off” Minho didn’t realize he was still holding your arm until you squirmed at his grip, he let you go and gave you apologetic eyes before continuing “I stood up and next thing I know I was fighting against 5 guys, funny thing is not the first time I defend you like that”

You were aware of your flirty persona, always giving men false hopes in exchange of free drinks, however, you never expected for people to gather around and slut shame you. You have never slept with someone after a clubbing night, you were disgusted and uncomfortable, you didn’t like the image that was going on around about you.

Your gaze moved back to Minho’s he had a face of disgust, you were unsure if his expression was like that because of you or because of what those guys were doing, either way it didn’t feel nice.

Seeing that no words were coming out of your mouth he continued talking “Im so tired of protecting you behind your back” He sighed “I’m always getting in trouble because you can’t keep your cunt dry” Although you appreciate his gesture of protecting you— it pisses you off the way he is talking to you, personally you believe theres better ways to say this type of things.

“Well I never asked for your help did I?” You threw the towel to the side and stood up, his body mimicking yours and following you to the kitchen. You grabbed a cup of water and took a sip of it “So what? Should I just sit there and hear how they treat you like a slut?” He scoffed. Those words marked you limit, your body automatically throwing the cup of water to his face, your face was red in anger.

His laugh echoed in your head like an annoying fly, he tried drying his face as you stood up there looking how he laugh uncontrollably. You hated the way he could make you feel like nothing in matter of seconds, tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you refused to let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry” he chuckled “Im aware I crossed the line, however…” He walked closer to you, making you stumble as you take few steps back until your back hit the counter “You seriously need to stop giving me troubles, I just know they banned me from that club” He sighed frustrated, you look at him for a second noticing a drop of blood rolling down his chin from his lip.

Gently you swiped the blood away with your finger “Let me get you a band aid” The atmosphere felt dense, it was awkward. He genuinely felt bad for crossing the line, however, he wasn’t good with words so he had no clue how to apologize.

You took him again to the bathroom finishing to clean his wounds, as you finished up by putting a band aid on the corner of his lip you spoke “You should stay for the night” You spoke softly looking at his eyes “But… I took my couch to the dry clean so… you can stay on my bed” His initial answer was to reject the offer and walk home, however, he felt like he was under a spell as you spoke to him so softly so… caring.

He cursed under his breath, eyes looking at you unsure “Are you sure you are comfortable with that?” He questioned afraid this was some type of prank— You slightly nodded “Knowing the type of crybaby you are I can’t make you walk home covered in wounds, I just know you will accuse me with Jisung” You scoff, cleaning up the area. He chuckled “You have a good point right there”

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It was around 6am you could feel the light sunlight creeping in your curtains, you groan your eyes slowly opening. You tried to move, however, you couldn’t— you look down to see what was stopping you, your breath hitching as you see Minho’s arm wrapped around your waist. That’s when it hit you. The soft breath hitting your neck, he was cuddling you in his sleep.

You tried to ignore it, his arm around your waist, his warm breath hitting your neck, the way your pajama dress rolled up to your mid ass. But there was one thing you couldn’t ignore. His morning wood, the way it was pressed against your almost bare ass.

You closed your eyes shut trying to think on other things, get some distraction. You hated to admit you were getting turned on by the second. Your body froze as you felt him shifting on the bed, his body only pressing closer towards yours, he snuggled his head on the crook of your neck.

He mumbled softly “Are you awake?” His words tickled your neck, slightly squirming under him. You nodded, you couldn’t dare and use your words, afraid your voice might sound shaky or unstable. He hummed at your response “Im sorry…” He lightly rubbed your belly with his thumb “I can’t control it” He said embarrassed, slowly moving away from your body.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” He asked his eyes wide open looking at the ceiling “Sure” You said nonchalantly, slightly disappointed at the lack of his body warmth. He stood up and left to the shower, after that you two shared breakfast. It was rather silent as you both drank your coffee, no one knew what to say or what to do…

The moment he left your apartment you felt a weight leaving your shoulders— you could finally breathe in peace, you look down to stare at the kitty rubbing against your legs, “What am I going to do” You squirmed running to your bedroom. Once there you threw yourself on your bed, kicking your feet and screaming on the pillow replaying the moment in your head. You grabbed your phone to call your best friend asap.

You hoped she would kick some sense into you… however, she left you feeling even more confused about Minho, her words being “Maybe you too should have sex to break the tension” The thought of having sex with Minho made you wanna puke, not in a bad way but in a way you can’t really describe.

. • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓ . • °⛓✧༺ ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Literally what the hell is wrong with you” You snatched your arm from his grip. You where at a frat party with your friends, you were hooking up with someone when Minho basically dragged you to an empty room.

“What’s wrong with me? More like whats wrong with you” He snarked back, his eyes looking like big dark orbs. “Well I was having some fun until you came” You said at him annoyed, you have no idea what his business was here but it was pissing you off.

He chuckled, his laugh echoing in the whole room “If by having fun you mean sleeping with anyone, then go ahead” He gesture his hands towards the exit. His attitude make you confused and mad, your eyes rolling as he kept his gaze focus on yours.

“Look Minho” You took a deep breath trying to keep yourself well collected “I don’t know what your business is right now but maybe and Yeji was right when she said to fuck you to break the tension” You spat at him, your body straightened and arms crossed over your chest. He took a moment to process your words, his mouth slightly parting to say something when you spoke again.

“You are literally so annoying, always treating me like a god damn child, also picking up a fight with me, like get a damn lif-” Your words were interrupted as his lips crashed on yours, his body pushing you towards the door.

His lips felt soft and smooth against yours, his gentle touch on your face felt angelical. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue touching the bottom of your lip as for asking permission to enter. The more passionate the kiss got the wetter and messy it got. Whimpers and kissing sounds lingered around the room, the back ground music from the party adding to the vibe.

The whole situation was a mess, two people that didn’t like each other craving for each other touch— its funny how unexpected life is… isn’t it?

He sat you on his lap, your hips grinding on his thigh begging for friction. He caressed your body so gently, god damn he was driving you insane. He was trying to engrave every sensation into his brain, taking in your scent, your vanilla perfumed combined with the intoxicating smell of tequila. He gasped in delight, slowly pecking your neck and nibbling your ear.

“I hate you” He groaned as you moved your hand down to touch his boner, you chuckled “Always had an impact on me like you put me on some type of smell” He whispered against your ear as he placed his hands on yours hips to help you get some friction.

You threw your head back and moaned slightly “I hate that you are not mine” He said softly, his words making you stop to look at him. His look. In that moment you felt like you were the most gorgeous woman in this earth.

The way he looked softly at you with his eyes. Minho was bad with feelings but his eyes never lie. You took a moment to process the situation, your neck felt sore, probably adorned with a couple hickeys. Your lips were plumped. The man you were sitting on had a lipstick trail from his face to his chest. His white shirt was unbuttoned, his hair was messy.

Was this a dream? You confirmed it wasn’t when he kissed you again this time, slowly more passionate… it felt intimate yet slutty. That kiss unveiled a thousand feelings that were trapped in a jar of hate. “God damn I can’t let go” He said in between kisses while groaning.

You were both getting drunk on each other, it was a passionate feeling you have never experienced before, the fact he was someone you thought you hated with your whole soul made it more intriguing… more risky.

You two were so captive by the moment that the laugh echoing behind you was ignored by your brain until a bright light illuminated the room. Both of you jumping off each other to stare as Jisung and Yeji who were laughing their asses off.

Yeji stopped laughing to groan at Jisung “Guess I owe you $50 now” She rolled her eyes handing the money to Jisung, who kissed the money and placed it on his pocket. Jisung giggled, slowly walking out with Yeji “You too keep doing your lovers thing” He teased before closing the door.

Minho and you shared an embarrassed look before laughing “Why don’t we move this matter to my house?” You said in a mischievous tone “I don’t know what you are talking about” He teased, while buttoning his shirt “But I would love to” He smiled at you genuinely before reaching to grab your hand and walk out of the party.

[skzdust]

can i request academic rival! felix × afab reader ?? theyre super competitive ( enemies to lovers) and felix just has to fuck it into reader that he is BETTER

I LOVE this idea! And now I kind of want to turn it into something longer lol

Thanks for the request!!

---

You're Better

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You and Felix are rivals, but you've been placed on a project together. Felix proposes a challenge to see which of you gets to lead the project.

Pairing: Academic rival!Felix x afab reader

Includes: rivalry, penetrative sex, rivals with feelings, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex (please use condoms and pee after sex!)

Word count: 1.4k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!! Thank you for reading!!

Requests are OPEN!

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

-----

The library study rooms were supposed to stay peaceful and quiet, and when you were working alone or with almost anyone else, they were.

But not with Felix.

“You’re impossible.” You scoffed. “You know, yours doesn’t make sense either.”

You knew the piece of the project he’d put together was brilliant, maybe better than yours, although you’d never admit it. But after he’d torn your piece to shreds, nitpicking every subpar word choice and questionable rhetorical decision, you had some anger towards him.

“It’s great, you know that.” He crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat, wearing a cocky grin. “Just because you’re not as good at this as I am doesn’t mean you have to be bitter.”

“I’m not being bitter. And you are not better than me at this, stop acting all superior.”

“I am better than you.” He laughed, a sound that sent butterflies though your whole body. “I’m gonna get you to admit it one day.”

“Never.” You said firmly.

It was quiet for a moment.

“I have a proposition.” Felix said abruptly.

“Oh?”

“If I can get you to admit I’m better by the time we leave this room, I get complete control over the project. And if you don’t, you get complete control over the project.”

You laughed. “Done.”

He leaned over the table to you. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

His hand found yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “I bet I can.”

Your eyes stayed on the motion of his fingers, the sensation of his skin on yours electric. “And what methods do you plan to use?”

His hand stilled. “Can I kiss you?”

You almost fell out of your chair. “Kiss me? I mean, yes, absolutely, please, but you want to kiss me?” You babbled.

“I mean… I’d be lying if I said no.”

“That is the definition of ‘yes’.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Says you.”

In lieu of a response, Felix’s fingers laced with yours, and he pushed you into a kiss.

You hadn’t kissed many people, but you knew this was different. Felix kissed you like he hated you, pushing you, his teeth scraping at your lower lip. He pulled sounds out of you that were, quite frankly, embarrassing, but you didn’t care, lost in him. Your spark of animosity was transforming into a smoldering flame, and you were dry wood, ready to burn.

Except you were wet; you were very wet.

Felix abruptly pulled away from you, and you whined in confusion. “Where are you going?”

He stood up, pulling you up by your hand, and pushed you up against the wall. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He whispered in your ear before kissing you again, his body pressing against yours, still holding your hand.

You could feel him growing hard against your leg as he kissed you. His other hand captured your other hand, pinning it to the wall by your head.

“Fuck.” He panted as he pulled away. “This is a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” You whispered back. “But don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop.” His lips met yours again, and you moaned into his mouth. His hips pushed into you, and you got a little louder, fighting the urge to ask him—beg him, if need be—to fuck you.

His hands found their way down to your waist. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm.” You whimpered. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging so pretty.” His hands moved across your lower stomach and back under your shirt.

“God, Felix. Can you go lower?”

“Lower?” His hands cautiously found your hips. You involuntarily pushed into him, and he let out a low moan. “Fuck.”

“More.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“More?” Felix’s fingers traced patterns on your thighs, and you let your legs open a bit, sliding down on the wall.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, barely audibly.

“You want me to fuck you?” Felix asked softly.

“Yeah.” You opened your eyes, looking into his. “If you’re… I don’t want to push you.”

“God, I’ve wanted to for… since I met you.” He whispered, and was that… affection in his eyes?

“Then do it.” You swallowed. “I really want you to do it.”

Your biggest rival fucking you in a library study room… it was objectively a very bad idea. But you didn’t care. You wanted him.

He looked at you intently. “Okay. I will. But let me know if you want me to stop, and I will, no questions asked.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He checked that the blinds to the room’s windows were shut and that the door was locked, and walked back over to you, still leaning against the wall.

“Okay, baby, take off your pants, and we’ll start.” His voice was low, dripping with desire.

You couldn’t get them off fast enough.

He let out a low whistle looking at you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

Another thrill went through you. “I’m ready for you, Felix.”

He smirked. “I’ll fuck you if you admit I’m better.”

“Oh, that’s cheating. My pants are already off.”

“We didn’t discuss this when we made our deal, therefore, it’s fair game.”

“Dick.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “You’re better.”

His smirk grew. “I’ll take it, for now.” He unzipped his own pants and pulled out his cock, already hard. You swallowed, eyes glued to it.

He spread your legs a little wider, lining up with your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You breathed.

He slowly pushed into you. It felt like the breath was pushed from your lungs with each motion of his hips. The stretch was slightly painful, but the pleasure was enough that you didn’t even care.

Once he was fully inside you, Felix groaned. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. So good.” He pushed you a bit tighter against the wall and picked up your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Godddddd.” You drew out the sound, feeling him move inside you as you as he adjusted your position. “Fuck me, Felix.”

“Admit I’m better, like you mean it this time.”

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes.

Felix thrust into you harshly, and your eyes rolled back as you let out a noise. “Like I said, like you mean it.”

“You’re better,” You moaned, and he began to fuck you, slowly.

“More.”

“You’re the better student, you’re smarter than me, you’re gonna fuck me dumb, Felix.”

He picked up the pace as you spoke, so you kept talking, trying to provoke him into going faster and faster.

“You’re better, you’re better, you’re fucking all the thoughts out of my head, Felix, you feel so good inside me,” You panted. “Fuck, Felix, keep going.”

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna do exactly that, I’m gonna fuck all the thoughts out of that pretty head.” He suddenly kissed you with the same harshness with which he fucked you. As he pulled away, he murmured against your lips, “I’d fuck the words outta your mouth, too, if you’ll let me.”

You moaned. “Fuck. Next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

“Fuck, baby.” He whispered, fucking you faster. “Maybe I should fuck you against the window, make you scream that I’m better. Make sure everyone hears, everyone knows.”

“You have some kind of god complex.”

“Yep.”

He kept fucking you and you kept mumbling his praises so he’d keep going quickly, and it didn’t take long for you to know you were approaching your climax.

“Felix, I’m gonna come.” You panted.

His hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come, too.”

You drew closer and closer to the cliff’s edge, and as he pushed up into you in a hard thrust, you fell over, your eyelids fluttering as you came.

And then you were full, you were so full, as Felix came, too, grunting as he kept himself to the hilt inside you.

A few moments later, he lowered your legs to the floor and gently pulled out. Your knees buckled almost immediately, and he caught you, helping you to one of the chairs in the room.

“God, Felix, that was… good.” You pushed your hair out of your flushed face, looking up at him.

“You admitted it.” He smiled, zipping up his pants. “That I’m better.”

“Was that all it meant to you?” You grinned, mostly joking.

“No.” He said softly.

“Oh.” You tilted your head.

He suddenly looked away. “Y/n… do you want to go on a date?”

“A date?” Your smile softened. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He looked back at you. “But I still get to be in charge of the project.”

You sighed. “We did make a deal.”

[patrixjia]

Heat of The Moment

Plot Overview

You’re an independent songwriter tasked with writing a collaborative track for Stray Kids. What should have been your dream gig turns into a nightmare thanks to last-minute deadlines and your strained creative energy. You clash immediately with Bang Chan—too confident for his own good and infuriatingly talented. He insists on late-night studio sessions, constantly pushes back on your ideas, and doesn’t seem to know how to take no for an answer.

One night, when tension reaches its peak, an explosive argument in the recording studio leads to unexpected sparks. With tempers flaring and boundaries slipping, the heat between you boils over into something far more primal. The lines between frustration and desire blur, leaving you both vulnerable to feelings that neither of you wanted—or planned for.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only. I do not own or claim any affiliation with Bang Chan, Stray Kids, or their management. The events and characters depicted in this story are entirely fictional and do not reflect real-life personalities, actions, or relationships.

This story contains mature themes and is intended for audiences 18 and older. Reader discretion is advised.

━━━━━━━━━━━☾✧✦✧☽━━━━━━━━━━━

The studio air was thick with frustration. It wasn't the equipment, the hours, or even the looming deadline - it was him.

Bang Chan sat sprawled in his chair like a king, his dark eyes fixed on you with infuriating calmness. You could practically feel the smugness radiating off him as he leaned back, one arm lazily draped over the chair's edge, his lips twitching upward in what could only be described as a challenge.

"Again", he said, his voice low and maddeningly smooth.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling with restrained fury. "We've already gone over this again five times! The hook works, the track flows, and it's done. You just want me to sit here all night because you've decided sleep is optional."

He didn't even flinch. If anything, that smirk grew sharper. "It's not about sleep. It's about getting it right. This?" He gesture at the speakers like he was dismissing a bad meal. "This isn't right."

You turned, fully intending to argue, but the look on his face stopped you. It wasn't disdain or boredom - it was focus. Relentless, unshakable focus.

You hated that he looked good while being such a pain. His hair was a little messy, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that you were doing your best not to notice, and he had that maddening way of looking at you like he was already one step ahead.

But this wasn't about how good he looked. It was about the fact that he was driving you insane.

"Why don't you just write it yourself?" you snapped.

Chan shrugged, the movement deliberate. "Because i want to see what you've got. You're suppose to be the best, right? Prove it."

The arrogance in his voice set something off in you. Your hands slammed against the desk, the sound echoing in the studio. "You don't think I'm good enough?!"

"I think," he said, standing and crossing the room toward you, his footsteps slow and deliberate, "you're holding back. And I'm not interested in 'good enough'. I want something that hits harder."

By the time he stopped in front of you, the air felt charged. He wasn't touching you, but he didn't need to. His presence was overwhelming, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that send your pulse racing.

"Well," you said, refusing to back down, "maybe you should stop breathing down my neck and let me work."

Chan tilted his head, his smirk turning into something more dangerous. "Maybe you like it."

Your breath hitched, but you didn't flinch. "Don't flatter yourself."

The hours stretched on, the tension between you crackling like static. You were at the piano, furiously reworking the melody, while Chan sat behind you, watching. Always watching.

"Play the last part again," he said, his voice softer now but no less insistent.

You obeyed - if only to avoid another argument. Your fingers stumbled lightly, the fatigue of the night finally catching up with you.

"That's not it," he murmured, standing and moving to your side. "Here, let me."

You bristled but scooted over just enough for him to sit. His hands brushed against yours as he reached for the keys, and the warmth of his skin sent a jolt up your arm.

"That's not-"

"Relax," he said, his voice so close that you felt it more than heard it. His hands moved confidently over the keys, the melody shifting under his touch, morphing into something richer, heavier. "See?"

You hated that it sounded better. You hated him. And yet, you couldn't pull your eyes away.

"Show-off," you muttered, hoping to break the spell.

Chan laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. "You're cute when you're mad."

Your head whipped toward him. "What did you just said?"

He turned to face you fully, his face so close that your noses almost brushed. His smile was infuriatingly calm. "I said, you're cute when you're mad. What are you gonna do about it?"

Your jaw tightened, but before you could retort, his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering just enough to set your skin on fire.

It happened all at once. One second, you were glaring at him, and the next, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was fire and frustration, a tangle of heat and tension that exploded in the small studio. Your back hit the piano as he leaned into you, his hands framing your face, tilting it up to deepen the kiss.

You gasped, and his tongue slid against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“This,” you managed to gasp between kisses, “is a terrible idea.”

“Probably,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with want. “But you started it.”

You shoved at his chest, though your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “You kissed me!”

His laugh was low and wicked as he nipped at your jawline, his hands slipping under your shirt to skim along your sides. “And you didn’t stop me.”

Chan’s mouth was on yours again, hot and demanding, as he pressed you back against the piano. The weight of him, the way his hands gripped your waist, sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“You’re infuriating,” you gasped, your fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him closer.

“And you’re impossible,” he shot back, his voice rough, lips brushing against your jaw before moving lower.

His mouth left a scorching trail along your neck, and you felt yourself arch into him as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there.

Your hands slipped under his shirt, fingers tracing along the ridges of his muscles, eliciting a low sound from him that made heat pool in your stomach.

“Touchy,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

His response was a low chuckle, muffled as his mouth moved lower, his hands now sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, though his fingers lingered teasingly along the edge of your waistband.

You didn’t answer—didn’t want him to stop—so instead, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head.

The sight of him—flushed skin, wild hair, and that insufferable grin—shouldn’t have made your knees weak, but it did.

“You’re staring,” he said, voice teasing, though his eyes were anything but playful.

“You’re in my way,” you shot back, pulling him to you again, crashing your mouth against his.

This time, it was frantic, all pretense stripped away as hands wandered and clothes were pulled at—shirts discarded onto the studio floor, his jeans pressing into your thighs as he lifted you onto the piano bench.

The sound of the piano keys clanging beneath you should have been comical, but it only fueled the tension as his mouth found yours again, his hands sliding to grip your hips and pull you closer—until there was nothing between you but thin fabric and the weight of all the things you couldn’t say aloud.

With a swift motion, Chan flipped you back, his body now hovering over you, the heat radiating off him almost overwhelming. “You think you can just take charge?” he challenged, his voice low and teasing.

You smirked, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Maybe I can show you how it’s done.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really?”

You leaned in, capturing his mouth again, your bodies pressed together, the warmth between you palpable. His hands slid up your thighs, fingers brushing the edge of your shorts, teasing but not crossing the line.

“Is this what you wanted?” you breathed against his lips, your own pulse racing with the thrill of being in control. “Something that hits harder?”

He chuckled, the sound low and inviting, “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

With a swift motion, he flipped you back again, his body now solidly over yours, the weight of him deliciously grounding. “But I’m going to show you.”

His mouth found yours again, but this time, it was urgent, a claim that sent shivers down your spine. You gasped as his hands explored further, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shorts, teasingly inching toward the waistband.

"Chan,” you breathed, the thrill of anticipation mixing with the heat of his touch. “You’re insatiable.”

“And you love it,” he replied, voice thick with desire, as he pressed his body against yours, the piano creaking beneath the weight of your shared urgency.

“Maybe,” you admitted, a grin breaking through as he captured your mouth again, the world around you fading into a blur.

His hands slipped under your shorts, fingers brushing against your skin, and you moaned softly, arching into his touch. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, igniting a fire deep within you.

“I want you,” you gasped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I want all of you.”

His eyes darkened with desire, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back. He kissed you fiercely, and as the world around you faded, you surrendered to the overwhelming need that had built between you.

Chan's lips were relentless against yours, each kiss igniting a fire that spread through your entire body. His hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of you as if memorizing your shape. The world outside the studio faded into nothingness; it was just you and him, lost in the heat of the moment.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and searching. “I don’t want to rush you.”

You felt your heart race at the sincerity in his voice, but the urgency of the moment drowned out any hesitation. “I’m sure,” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. “I want this.”

His smirk returned, a mixture of satisfaction and wickedness, and he leaned in again, capturing your mouth as if sealing the promise of what was to come. You could feel the muscles in his arms flex as he held you against the piano, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you.

With a swift motion, he pulled you closer, his hands gripping your thighs as he shifted, positioning you to straddle him fully. The sensation sent another wave of heat through you, the feel of him beneath you amplifying the tension that had been building all night.

"Chan,” you gasped, feeling the rush of exhilaration mixed with a hint of nervousness. “Please...”

“Just wait,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m just getting started.”

As if to prove his point, his hands moved back to your waist, guiding you as you began to grind against him. The friction was intoxicating, and you let out a soft moan, the sound echoing in the dimly lit studio.

“Like that?” he teased, watching you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn.

“More,” you urged, craving the connection, the way he made you feel alive and desired.

He obliged, his grip tightening as he helped you find a rhythm, the two of you moving together in a way that felt both primal and electrifying. You lost yourself in the sensation, every touch, every kiss igniting something deeper within you.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. The praise sent a thrill through you, pushing you to go faster, to feel more.

You leaned forward, locking eyes with him as you whispered, “Show me how incredible I can be.”

His response was a low growl, and in an instant, he flipped you back, pinning you beneath him once more. The shift was exhilarating, and you reveled in the feeling of being completely at his mercy. He leaned down, capturing your mouth again, and the kiss was fierce and demanding, filled with all the pent-up frustration and heat that had been building between you.

His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of your body, his fingers igniting fire wherever they touched. You gasped as he slipped a hand beneath your shorts again, teasingly brushing against your most sensitive spots, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Chan, please,” you pleaded, the urgency in your voice echoing the frantic beating of your heart.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he responded, his voice low and gravelly, the promise laced within it making your breath hitch.

You could hardly think straight, the need for him overwhelming. “I want you inside me,” you confessed, the words spilling out with a desperation you couldn’t hide.

His eyes darkened with desire at your admission, and he nodded, his expression turning serious. “Okay. But we’re doing this right.”

He took a moment to rummage through his bag, pulling out a small packet. You watched, breathless and eager, as he prepared, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.

"Strip for me, sweet girl," he said as he returned to you, helping you take off your clothes, taking a second to admire you. "Even more beautiful than i imagined."

You looked at him, with big, vulnerable eyes. "You imagine this?"

His gaze soften for a moment, "From the day you walked in this studio from the first time."

His hands found your waist again, fingers digging in as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“More than ready,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, and with that, he pushed inside you.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fullness that made you arch against him, gasping at the intensity of it all. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that left you breathless.

“Just like that,” he urged, his voice thick with desire as he began to move, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. You felt every inch of him, the way he filled you up, and it was almost too much to bear.

“Chan,” you moaned, your body responding instinctively to his rhythm, the heat between you growing with every movement.

He leaned down, capturing your lips again, the kiss deepening as he lost himself in you. You could feel the way he filled you, the way your bodies moved together, and it felt absolutely electric.

“Faster,” you urged, urging him on, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

He obliged, his pace quickening, the sounds of your bodies moving together filling the studio as you both succumbed to the pleasure building between you. Each thrust sent you spiraling closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might burst.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with need. “I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Neither am I,” you gasped, the pleasure reaching a crescendo. “Just a little more.”

With a few more powerful thrusts, the tension snapped, and you came undone, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you as your body quaked beneath him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he breathed, his own release following closely behind, the feeling of him filling you driving you to new heights as you clung to each other, lost in the moment.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you both collapsed against each other, breaths mingling in the stillness of the studio. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared passion.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint hum of the studio equipment. You sat slumped against Chan, your heart still pounding as you tried to collect yourself.

“Well,” he finally said, his voice a low rasp, “that was… productive.”

You swatted weakly at his chest, though you couldn’t stop the small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Shut up.”

He tilted his head back with a quiet laugh, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your skin. “You’re not gonna fight me on the hook anymore, are you?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you muttered, though the bite in your voice was gone.

Chan looked down at you, his expression softer now. “Guess I finally got your best work out of you, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but when his hand slid back to your waist, tugging you closer, you didn’t resist.

“Maybe you’re not entirely useless after all,” you teased, brushing your lips against his again.

His laugh rumbled against your mouth as he kissed you back, slow and unhurried this time—like you had all the time in the world.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re starting to like me.”

You pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bang Chan.”

But the smirk on his face told you it was already too late.

[milkteabinniechan]

｡⁠*⁠♡.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡Desperate - Han Jisung

pairing: Han Jisung x afab reader , enemies to lovers

warnings: smoking, unprotected sex, angst, smut

ko-fi if you like what I do 💕 comments and reblogs are always appreciated

"what are you doing here?"

Han's expression was bored and impatient. He asked you a question, but he was looking around the room like he could not care less what your answer was.

Your parents had been neighbors and close friends with Han's parents since the two of you were small. And because of this you two were forced to become close friends as well. Only you didn't like him and he didn't like you. It had always been that way.

Now you were both graduating college. Albeit your university was slightly more prestigious than his, and he knew it. And although you would never admit it, it brought you the smallest incline of joy whenever you one-uped him at something. The party tonight was for Han, though. His parents had put all of this together, with all of their friends and colleagues, to brag about their latest accomplishment: Han Jisung.

You watched as Han's eyes scanned the crowded room. You didn't recognize anyone here, and you had a feeling it was the same for him. You wanted to ask him if he was okay. But your brain could already predict the snyde remark that would follow. Instead you said,

"This is lame. You want to get out of here?"

Han looked at you, his brow furrowed. His mouth agape.

"I can't just leave my own party, genius." He rolled his eyes and huffed. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you. growing up together, you knew each other's houses like the back of your hand. You made a b-line through the crowd toward the stairs.

Han must've understood your plan because he pushed his way ahead and lead you to his room. Warm evening light bathed the white walls and fresh linen draped the bed. Han was clean. He was organized. When you were children, you used to tease him about never being able to make a mess.

Han sighed and pressed his back against the closed door. He hung his head low in exhaustion. You made yourself comfortable on his bed, leisurely resting back on your elbows, letting your head fall back towards the ceiling. Silence dangled in the air between you for a moment. Finally you raised your head up.

"I got you a graduation present, loser." You said with a smirk. The insult now becoming a playful nickname. Han lifted himself from the door frame. His curiosity peaked. He sauntered to the bed next to you, plopping down obnoxiously, making you bounce in response.

"Well...?" Han lingered toward you. You reach in your purse and pull out a joint. Slightly bent. You were starting to second guess your storage methods. You turn and face Han, joint on display between your thumb and first finger.

You had smoked with Han before. Mostly to get back at your parents. The both of you being forced to "hang out" while they drink and mingled downstairs. The two of you barely coughed anymore. It was a time the two of you could float somewhere else, just for a little while.

You let your eyes roll back, your back sinking into the mattress. Your skin kissing the perfectly soft fabric of his bed sheets. Han fell next to you, the two of you staring at the off-white ceiling.

"You smell good." Han spoke in a low voice.

"I smell like weed." You snapped back.

"Sorry, forget it..." Han's voice began to trail off.

You rolled over to face him. His eyes were glossy, his pupils dilated. So large and dark. Like if you looked long enough, you could see the whole universe in those eyes. You moved close to his face. Han's eyes were watching your mouth. You craned your neck back and pressed your lips into his. Something got filled your insides, touched your core.

His lips were so soft. So soft. You let your tongue snake into his mouth and pry it open wider. He let out a small whimper as he placed a hand on the nape of your neck. You grabbed at his shirt, willing him to set down on top of you. He followed suit and quickly made his way on top, his hips already grinding and rutting into you.

You let him grind as you began to unbuckle his belt unbutton his slacks. He was already so hard. The thought of his so desperate to touch you was making you throb. You placed both your hands on his backside as you push his hips further into you.

"Please..." He whispers into your neck. You grab one of his hands and lead him down your body to your panties, dampening by the second. Han groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt slipping between his fingers. You bite your lip, remembering the large party downstairs. Groups of your parents friends, while you let your childhood friend stretch your hole.

Han slipped inside you slowly. His tip lingering at your entrance, holding his cock there with one hand, while he watched your face. A moment of hesitation, maybe. He had never admitted it, but you knew him better than anyone. What if he went too far? What if he came undone? What if he couldn't be out back together again?

Your cunt swallowed his tip and pulled him in. Your warm, tight walls hugging his cock fully and completely. His thrusts were wild and yearning. You held his face in your head while he pushed and pressed himself into you. The bed began to squeak and creak as you hooks your legs around his waist.

Han lovingly rubbed his thumb against your swollen clit. The bundle of nerves full and prodding out, begging for attention, pleading for release. The sloshing of your cunt was making a mess in Han's bed sheets. He watched as you dropped and splashed onto his white, clean linen.

"I guess you can make a mess." You smirked.

[kidrauhlschik]

Let The World Burn. - I.N.

The nation of Rexerum was a country of power, respected and feared by all nations surrounding it.

The golden nation’s shine was dulled by the blood that had been spilled due to the King’s corrupt rule and ambition.

Yang Jeongin was to take the throne in the far future, but after his fathers unexpected passing, the burden of the crown was bestowed upon him a lot sooner than he anticipated.

He finds out the hard way that even a king lacks absolute control. His desires paled in the shadow of the responsibilities of the crown.

The only thing he has the rights to is his own heart.

In this cruel world his fate had been sealed before he was born. What he chooses to do with the power that had been bestowed upon him would determine the fate of the nation.

In the end, he managed to forget that a king is nothing without his queen.

~

Warnings: ANGST, implied smut, war, aggression, anxiety, depression, death, please let me know if i miss anything...

~

Chapters:

The New King and Queen

Cold Hearted

Frustrations

Drunk in Love

....

~

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You (Part |||)

Pairing -> ninthmember!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~2,700 words Includes -> Reader has anxiety, fluff, and maybe some angst due to the beef with Hyunjin Summary -> You prepare for the day trying not to let your nerves for the concert later take over. This should be easy with Minho by your side but the grudge is still being held strong between you and Hyunjin. They say time heals, but can time heal this? Author's note -> Hi everyone! Welcome to part three of this little mini series. I didn't expect for this to be even more than one part but now I'm thinking it's gonna be around 4 or 5 parts to completely finish it off. I was gonna try and make this the final part but I realized writing short chapters feels much less overwhelming to me so I decided to break it down a little bit. I hope you like it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3

♡ Masterlist // Previous // Next ♡

"You have got to be joking right now..." you mutter to yourself as you frantically look around the bathroom. You had completely forgot to bring clothes to get dressed in after you showered. Hyunjin left a while ago and after a few laughs with your new love, you had decided to actually get ready for the day, realizing you can't spend the whole morning alone with Minho, no matter how much you want to. There's too many things to do today.

So, you had left Minho to go take a shower without too much thought. Well obviously not much thought considering you forgot your clothes. You could easily slip your pajamas back on and go get your clothes, but they were dirty and you were clean. You hate having to wear dirty clothes after a morning shower. It was supposed to be the start to a fresh day. With a concert later tonight, you are already anxious enough as it is. The shower did help a little, but this situation, although a bit silly, is souring your mood a bit. On days like these, you just want everything to go right, so it can get frustrating when little things happen. You take a deep breath, not wanting to let your thoughts go any further.

'Hyunjin would understand' you think, saddened by the events of last night. Normally, he would be the first one you would go to when you got nervous

You sigh, annoyed with your thoughts, and grab the wrinkled sweatpants and t-shirt. It'll have to do. You guys just started dating the day before, you don't wanna scare the poor man away by immediately walking out nearly naked with just a towel to cover.

Just as you're about to slip the shirt back on, your nose wrinkled in disgust, you notice a piece of black cloth resting on the counter next to the sink. Your mood instantly shifts as an idea pops into your head.

You swiftly grab it from the sink, unfolding it so that it is no longer inside out, and just like you thought a familiar design appears on the front. It's one of Minho's favorite shirts. He must of left in here last night when he changed into his pajamas. You smile, admiring the stupid drawings on the front. They are just so fitting to Minho.

Without a second thought, you slip the shirt on, getting a whiff of Minho's cologne as it passes over your face. Looking in the mirror, you notice that it covers just enough to not be too scandalous, especially with your underwear on. Minho wasn't too much bigger than you, but the couple inch height difference and his wider frame made for the perfectly oversized shirt.

It was the perfect solution; you got to wear Minho's shirt, you didn't have to walk out in a towel, and you didn't have to put all your clothes back on from last night. And hopefully, Minho's reaction will be an added bonus.

You open the door and venture out into the room, immediately seeing Minho. He's now fully dressed since he took a shower the night before when you were busy having an argument. He's on his phone patiently waiting for you while sitting in the chair Hyunjin had vacated just about an hour earlier.

He looks up upon hearing the bathroom door open, and you make eye contact. As he does so, his soft brown hair falls in front of his eyes. He uses a hand to brush it away, lightly threading through his hair. You see his eyes widen a bit at your choice of outfit and you send him a shy smile back before walking softly over to your suitcase. You bend over, making sure everything is still covered, and grab the casual clothes you had planned for today. You always dressed as comfy as possible before you had to get into the extravagant outfits the stylists prepared for the concerts. They weren't too bothersome, but sometimes the tight clothes weren't your preferred choice for all the dancing that comes with going on stage. But hey, at least you looked hot.

You stand back up after gathering the soft cotton into your hands. You're a little surprised upon feeling arms wrap around your waist. You smile as the scent of Minho's cologne yet again fills your senses; It's one of the many things you love about him.

He pulls you closer so you’re pushed against his front, his head resting on your shoulder. Your heart starts to best faster and you realize just how comforting his hugs are. You could really get addicted to this fast.

"You look so beautiful," he says softly. His breath hits your neck, sending goosebumps down the rest of your body. He doesn't say anything, but you know he had to have noticed. You're glad he doesn't make a remark, but you know just how caring and observant Minho can be. You can't help but think he's already stored that bit of information away for another time.

"My hair's wet, and I'm not even dressed yet," you say with a giggle.

"I know, I just can't believe I missed out on this for so long," he says as his grip around you tightens slightly. You can practically feel him start to recall memories from the past few years, of the way he used to treat you. It's a wonder how this is the same man who was ignoring you just days ago. But you wouldn't trade it for the world, you would stay in his arms forever if you could. He's the same Minho you used to know all those years ago, before all the insecurities got between you two.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door pulling the two of you out of your daydream.

"God, why can't they just leave us alone," he says, rolling his eyes. You just laugh at the remark, aware of just how much Minho really loves those guys. Sure, they can be annoying sometimes, but you grow to love it.

He brings his head off of your shoulder, pecking your cheek as he moves away. Heat floods your face, despite already having a more intimate kiss with Minho the night before. Your confident that no matter how long your relationship manages to last, his affect will never wear off. Minho is just the type of person you can't help but be in love with.

He shuffles away from you and you move to go back into the bathroom, excited to finally finish getting ready for the day. Minho opens the door, not thoroughly thinking through his actions, eager to get the conversation with whoever knocked over with.

You freeze in your spot halfway to the bathroom when you hear the hotel door open. You look up, seeing Chan on the other side just as you had expected. You're not too uncomfortable since practically all the boys have seen you in this state of dress before. After years of being in the same group, it's difficult not to walk in on each other. You don't mind too much anyway.

However, this may be one of the instances where a quick glance may be your downfall. Minho's shirt and no pants may be a bit too much for Chan to not question anything. Chan can be very scary when it comes to stuff that could affect the group as a whole, and a relationship could definitely do just that. Let's just say confessing to Chan was not one of your goals for the day.

"Hey Minho, we're having breakfast downstairs before we head out for the concert venue. So once you guys are ready just meet us down there," he tells your boyfriend. You can see a small smirk form on his lips as he says the last sentence. You know he's probably thinking about the plan the boys had formed last night to make you and Minho stay in the same room. If Chan was in on it, then everyone was in on it.

While waiting for Minho's response, Chan raises his head to see around him. You assume he's looking for you to ensure the other man will actually pass the news on. The two of you make eye contact, and it's unsurprising as you watch his eyes widen upon taking in your outfit. Your blush deepens, instantly ducking away into the bathroom, not wanting to be under his scrutiny any longer.

You finish getting ready, trying to block out the conversation from right outside the door. You honestly don't even want to know what Chan said after that whole fiasco.

When you go back into the main room, Chan is gone thankfully. He must of still had a few more of the boys to wake up.

Minho and you make your way downstairs to get breakfast together with the guys before it's time to head out for the busy day. Typically, hotel food isn't all that exciting for you. You much prefer to stop at a cafe or some other restaurant on the way, but today, waffles in the middle of a hotel lobby don't sound half bad.

On the way, you walk side by side, your heart skipping a beat whenever Minho looks your way. You glance down as he subtly touches his pinky to yours. You haven't had many relationships before, falling victim to the lack of romance related to the industry you’re in, so you can't help but wish to have the typical teenage romance you hear about in movies. You've dreamed of it for years and the fact that it's finally happening makes excitement bloom in your chest.

Minho takes the hint, clasping your hand in his, sending a smile your way. Emotion floods your body, making you feel as if you could take on the whole world with just his hand in yours.

When the two of you enter into the breakfast area, you subconsciously drop his hand, suddenly aware of how many people are around, fans and members alike. Felix looks up, noticing your presence and waves you over. There's two seats available, one at the end of the table next to Jeongin and the other next to Felix, which also happens to be directly across from Hyunjin, who all of a sudden looks a little too interested in his food.

Without a second thought you go to take a seat next to Jeongin, but Minho beats you to it. He flops down in the seat smiling cheekily.

'Asshole' you think, falling back into the habit of calling Minho names. He may not hate you anymore, but that doesn't diminish his love for annoying the absolute shit out of you. However, instead of making you roll your eyes in annoyance, it makes your hands twitch by your side, nerves flooding your body head to toe. You know it was his plan, but it really is not helpful at all right now.

Felix smiles up at you, yet if you take all the tension into account it could arguably be a grimace. He pulls the chair out, and you take a seat; your back is a little too straight and fingers are still picking at your cuticles. You don’t want to raise any questions, but sometimes you really can’t help your nervous habits.

There had been plenty of chatter when walking up to the table but it had stopped suddenly upon Felix waving you over. It hasn’t resumed since, and the looks your members are giving each other are not subtle in the slightest. It’s obvious they know something.

Just like you had thought, word must have gotten around fast. It’s just a question of who spilled the beans and what it is they all think they know. Is it about the fight with Hyunjin? The fact that you and Minho had slept in the same bed? Or perhaps it was because you were seen wearing his shirt this morning?

But who knows? Before you even have time to fully ponder the questions or for anyone to break the uncomfortable silence, there’s a loud noise gathering everyone’s attention.

Hyunjin had sent one final look of panic to Felix before abruptly pushing his chair back and storming out. Everyone looked up in shock and suddenly it’s very clear that they were not aware of the fight. How are you gonna be able to explain this one? You don't even understand what happened. I mean sure, Hyunjin and you had fought and you didn't make up yet so it was uncomfortable, but you don't know why he would feel the need to make a scene like that. You guys had interacted just fine this morning. Maybe he was just uncomfortable with the idea of having to pretend everything was fine. You aren't exactly hiding the fact that you aren't happy with him right now. Due to basically being two peas in a pod, Hyunjin can usually read you like a book.

You glance over at Felix in hopes that he knows what that was all about. It's not much help when all he sends back is a shrug and an apologetic smile.

Unsurprisingly, there were few words spoken after this; the majority of the silence only being filled with concerned looks.

So breakfast was a bit awkward to say the least...

Unfortunately, that is extremely worrisome considering the schedule for the rest of the day. You guys don't have time for awkwardness and unsettled fights. Yet, you also don't have time to resolve anything. A never ending cycle of tension, how exciting. It's one of the not so fun parts of being an idol; the fakeness of everything. You just have to hope your groups acting is going to be on point enough today to not draw any attention. Fans were nitpicky and it was always best to avoid as many rumors as possible. With how close you and Hyunjin are, there's bound to be questions if you don't act all buddy buddy like you usually do.

The group takes two separate cars to the venue, and you can't help but notice the members are a little different than normal. More specifically, Minho has taken the seat next to you which is typically occupied by Hyunjin. In fact, Hyunjin isn't even in the car anymore.

This isn't the first time the cars were specifically divided out. Years ago, they had to switch which car Minho was in to keep the chaos under control. Previously, Minho had been in the same car as you, but once tensions started running high between the two of you, he had immediately been switched in hopes to keep the peace. It seems that was exactly the goal of today. God, you need to stop making so many issues within the group.

It seems that as the day progresses things are just getting more stressful. Hyunjin is avoiding you, and you can't help but feel as if you're messing up the group's dynamics. Suddenly, you're reminded of the awkward encounter with Chan this morning. If he figures out everything that has happened, is he going to be frustrated with you? Maybe you just never really fit in the group to begin with.

With every mile closer to the venue, you feel like you're approaching your doom. This is not the right mental state to go on stage, but that wasn't exactly an option, now was it?

So for now, you simply grip Minho's hand tighter, hoping to quell the growing anxiety inside you. You just have to make it through the concert and then you can resolve all the issues happening.

But it's never that easy is it?

Taglist: @armystay89 @thisisnotjacinta @silentreadersthings @seungminsapuppy @linos-kitten @hafrenstay @redstayrosie

[weareapackofstrays]

A New Kind of Love: Chapter I

Genre: Non-Idol college au, slight enemies to lovers (more like they annoy e/o at the start), angst, romance, drama

Pairing: Minho x F!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Cigarette Smoking, Mention of Weed, Cussing, Spanking, Rough Sex, Reader is a bit of a brat. Let me know if I forgot anything! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 1,958

Summary: You didn't grow up with great examples of love. Your parents were always at each other's throats. As a result, you have struggled with expressing your true feelings and can come off cold or defensive. After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you during freshman year with your childhood best friend, you decide to swear off love for good. Now in your second year of college, you move into the basement apartment of a house full of college boys. Inevitably crossing paths with one of them, Minho quickly gets under your skin in more ways than one. Despite your differences, you can't stay away from him.

A/N: This is my first fic ever to be posted and will likely not be great, but gotta start somewhere, right? I would love any feedback or thoughts (but please be nice or I might cry).

Song that was on repeat while I wrote this and thus became the title

Chapter I: Introduction Next

“Fuck, right there!” you shout as your nails dig into the hand gripping your waist.

“Like that?” Kyle, your usual drunken mistake, confirms.

“Yes! Ahhh,” you can feel your high fast-approaching. 

“God, you look so filthy like this, sweetheart! Gonna fill you up.” Your dress is pushed up to your waist while your breasts spill over the top exposing them to the cool air. Kyle admires your bare ass jiggling with each of his thrusts. 

You roll your eyes at your partner’s words and do your best to focus on your orgasm. It’s not that you hate the guy, you just couldn’t really stand him either. He was a frat boy and far from your type, but you were both drunk, horny, and he always happened to be conveniently around when you needed some attention. So fast forward to now, where you are currently shoved against the door of the upstairs bathroom of whoever’s house this was getting your guts rearranged. 

“I’m gonna come!” you announce.

“Yeah, come for me, baby! Come all over my big fat cock,” he preens as he slams into you.

“Kyle, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” He laughs while his tip kisses your sweet spot perfectly. You moan at the blissful sensation. His free hand grabs hold of your hair and yanks your head back suddenly. The unexpected force causes a groan to escape from your throat. Kyle begins to pick up the pace and gives your right ass cheek a loud smack. Just as the searing pain registers, you finally come with a gasp. He shoves your face further into the door as he works towards his own high. After a few more ruts, he empties himself into the condom and finally pulls out. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this, sweetheart.” Kyle smirks as he buttons his jeans and adjusts his belt. 

You pull up your panties and face him, “This is the last time, Kyle.”

“Sure it is, babe.” He gives you a wink and an air kiss as he turns to the sink to wash his hands. Even you could hear the lack of confidence in your voice. Ignoring his comment, you fix your makeup and hair, tug at the base of your dress one last time, and exit the bathroom. The two of you descend the stairs back into the chaos of the party. The music is thumping in your skull and the five hunch punches you threw back earlier are starting to get to you. You want to leave.

Kyle leans, more like stumbles, into your side and shouts, “Hey, I’m gonna get another drink. You want one?” You instinctually cringe away from his close proximity and loud voice.  

“Sure,” you say with a nod. After Kyle disappears into the crowd, you push your way through the partygoers and find the front door. 

Finally outside, your ears take a moment to adjust to the silence. It was dead quiet outside with scarcely anyone around, save for a few people huddled together enjoying a smoke. You take a deep breath and let the cold air sting your lungs. A breeze cuts through you and you immediately regret your choice in outfit tonight. Luckily, your house was a short walk away. You step onto the paved sidewalk and can feel your legs wobble slightly. Your heels were also not the best choice for a walk. Okay, Y/n, focus, you think to yourself. Taking a few more tentative steps, you find your stride and head home.

You moved into the basement apartment of an old brick house from the 30’s at the start of the semester. The main floors above belonged to some guys who you rarely ever saw and, honestly, probably couldn’t pick them out of a crowd if your life depended on it. You had only had a few conversations with one of the guys, Jisung was his name…you think. He introduced himself a few days after you moved in while you were checking the mail on the front porch. 

-

“You must be our new neighbor,” you jump, taken aback by the sudden announcement. Turning to face the source of the voice, you see a brunette boy with round cheeks looking at you with doe eyes. He reaches his hand out to greet you. 

“Yeah…hi,” you say shyly as you take hold of his hand.

“I’m Jisung.” He flashes you a gummy smile.

“Y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” he says as he releases your hand.

“You too.”

“If you ever need a cup of sugar or a good weed guy-” Jisung waggles his eyebrows mischievously. “We’re just a few steps and a knock away.” He gives you a salute before going back inside the house. Well, he was adorable, you thought. You only ever saw his roommates in passing and had only exchanged a few words with Jisung since, but he was always kind to you. 

-

As you finally approach the house, you reach inside your pocketbook to grab a cigarette and lighter. Hands shaking, you repeatedly click the lighter, but it refuses to work.

“Shit,” you quietly say to yourself. You were about to give up when a figure steps out from the shadows and alights a bright flame before your eyes. After a moment of adjusting to the darkness you see a man standing beside you, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. You look at him bewildered, before you dip your head down. He holds his hand in front of you to protect the flame from the breeze. You take a drag of the cigarette and slowly exhale the smoke from the side of your mouth to avoid blowing in his face.

“Thanks.” He simply nods in response. You take a moment to look him over while he tries to light his own cigarette. He was broad, but lean with dark brown hair. He was also handsome, like super handsome. What the hell? Have you seen him around before? Surely you wouldn’t forget a face like his, right? He furrows his brows as he leans in closer to his flame. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms revealing a few large tattoos. You take note of his protruding veins and involuntarily gulp at the sight. He finally lights the cigarette and takes a puff before facing you. You peel your eyes from his toned arms to meet his. The man quietly smirks as he catches your roaming eyes. 

“I’m Lee Minho, by the way. I don’t think we ever officially met.” He gives you a lazy wave rather than a handshake. 

“Y/n,” you wave back and internally cringe at yourself. “You’re a roommate of Jisung’s?”

“Yeah, I live,” he turns around and points to the top window on the right. “Right there.”

“Nice,” was all you could think to say. You look away and take another puff of your cigarette while rubbing your temple. The consequences of tonight’s actions were swiftly starting to catch up. 

Minho stirs you from your thoughts. “I didn’t know you smoked.” You’re taken aback by his assumption. He notices your confusion and clears his throat. “I just mean I never see you out here,” he says awkwardly. “And I assume you wouldn’t in that tiny basement.”

You consider momentarily whether or not he was insulting your apartment before speaking. “I..I don’t usually. Honestly, just socially or when I’m drunk.”

He slowly raises his eyebrows as he exhales some smoke. “Are you drunk right now?” His face furrows again. You wonder if that is his natural state.

“Maybe just a smidge,” you make a pinching gesture with your fingers and lightly giggle.

His face turns serious. “You shouldn’t be walking around this late at night by yourself, especially if you’re intoxicated. Something could happen to you.” You’re amused by his interest in your safety. 

“Yes, daddy,” you say back a little too sarcastically. 

Something shifts in his eyes though you can’t quite make out his expression. You feel his eyes bore into you despite part of his face being hidden by shadow. You, on the other hand, are at a disadvantage as the beams from the street lamp illuminate your face. Minho can see the pink rapidly forming on your cheeks. Trying not to cower at his intense stare, you hold his gaze for a minute before he finally breaks the tension.

“Do you normally dress like this in the middle of November?” He gestures to your tight, short black dress.

“I was coming from a party.”

“I gathered.” You scoff at his attitude. “Still, seems a bit reckless walking around without a coat.”

“What are you? The weather police?” You stand up a bit straighter and cross your arms.

“No-” You cut him off before he can continue.

“Does the way I dress bother you?” Officially annoyed, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Maybe you are more drunk than you originally realized.

“No.” Minho’s expression remains emotionless as he can see the anger rise in you. Taking a few wobbly steps towards him, you point your finger into his chest and ignore how solid he feels beneath to continue your beration.

“I can dress however I want regardless of the weather. I can also casually smoke a cigarette or drink a few drinks whenever I want and I don’t need anyone judging my actions, let alone a man I just met 5 minutes ago.” You slightly sway as you retreat from him. Minho gently places a hand on your right shoulder to steady you. The warmth from his touch sends a shiver down your spine through to your core.

“Okay, princess. Whatever you say.” You wrinkle your nose at the pet name and he notices your disapproval. 

“Okay, princess,” you say back in a mimicking tone.

“Do I need to help you get to your apartment?”

“I’m fine,” you brush his hand off your shoulder with your own and feel your stomach flutter at the touch. You curse yourself internally for being so affected by this annoying handsome man.

“There are stairs and you’re in,” he looks down at your 4 inch heels and points. “Those.”

The audacity of this man right now. “Now he judges my choice in shoes!” You tsk and throw your hands in the air. “I can see myself all of 10 feet to my front door just fine without you. Thank you very much.” You take one last drag of your cigarette before throwing it to the ground. Your front heel presses firmly into the bud to snuff out the embers. Once out, you bend down to pick up the extinguished bud. Minho takes a moment to admire your bent figure in front of him before you stand up again. 

“Wow, a feminist and she doesn’t litter.” You walk past him ignoring his comment. “Good night, Y/n. It was nice meeting you,” he says with sarcastic cheer.

Still walking away, you lift your hand up and flip him off as you head to your door. He shakes his head laughing as he watches you arrive safely. He takes one more drag from his cigarette before turning in for the night.

Holding the knob you pause before entering. You listen for his steps as he walks up the porch to his door. You try to clandestinely peek around the corner to get one last look at him. Minho is about to twist the handle when he feels your gaze. He looks over and catches your eye. Before you can see his reaction, you quickly look away and open your door. Slamming it shut you lean against the cold metal and exhale. Your heart starts fluttering in your chest.

Fuck.

MASTERLIST

Let me know what you think!

I will try to post Chapter II tomorrow.

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