#tbzwritersnet

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

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Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

[mae-gi-writes]

hi maemae, what about i got you by bebe rexha with either ju/sangyeon? 🙈

AHHHH Yu! MY NUMBER ONE MOOT WHO’S BEEN THERE FROM DAY 1! I HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR REQUEST <3 Heree we go for some sangyeon feels 🌹🌹🌹 Also I got carried away with this but oh welll this is what happens when you’re on a roll xx

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I got you | l. sangyeon

Song request: I Got You - BeBe Rexha

Genre: angst/fluff

Everything has been so hard. 

Your work. Your social life. Your eating habits. Your entire life. 

You’ve carved yourself into a hole that keeps on crumbling upon you, piles and piles of responsibility that keep getting thrust in your face the more you try struggling. Work has turned into a boring, monotonous routine of getting to the office, spending eight hours straight staring at your screen, then going back home and collapsing onto your bed with no energy left. You haven’t seen your friends since forever and your phone which usually blew up with messages is now silent and empty, void of any human interaction that you crave for. 

It’s harder these days because of the pandemic and you know that this will pass eventually. You just can’t seem to figure out how.

Which is why you find yourself drowning in a bottle of wine by the time Friday evening rolls around. Sitting outside upon your porch and letting its bittersweet aftertaste drip down your throat like medicine, you’re not quite sure what you’re aiming for really -- whether it be to throw up or pass out -- until there’s a soft knock at your door.

Groggily opening up with a confused frown, you see none other than Sangyeon’s face and immediately reel back with shock. 

“What are you doing here?!” you screech out. If you had known, you would’ve tried making an effort with your appearance! Unconsciously, your hand finds its way to your hair in an attempt to detangle its knots.

“You look terrible,” is his response. He doesn’t wait before blundering past you into the kitchen and settling down what looks like a bunch of takeaway containers, “Why have you been avoiding my calls?” 

You flinch out of impulse. He’s right; you have been avoiding your maybe-boyfriend most of all, merely due to the fact that you can’t help feeling like a failure and wondering how lowly he must think of you. 

Sangyeon is the epitome of a hard worker, starting out as a mere waiter in a quaint noodle shop and toiling hard for two years before he got promoted as a sous-chef. Then, his manager has seen so much potential in him that Sangyeon got appointed as the head chef a year later. 

You know all this because you’ve seen him go through it and grow through every single obstacle sent his way, circulating in the same friend group and sharing the same passion for food. However, it hasn’t been long since this friendship has slowly budded into something you’d like to believe is a start of a romance.

Not that either of you made it clear. It’s something, but what? You’re not quite sure yourself. 

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” 

“Huh?” you snap back to reality, blushing upon realizing the lack of distance between your faces, “oh--sorry. What did you say?” 

“I asked you why you’ve been avoiding my calls,” there’s a tone of exasperation in his voice. But a little more than that. You’d like to believe that it’s concern, “are you okay, Y/N? You really look like--” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, turning away before he can spot the slight tremble in your lip, the slow tears building at the corner of your eyes. 

A warm hand grasps your forearm, “tell me.” 

It’s an order. One that you can’t help to oblige. You swivel around slowly, embarrassed that he -- your biggest crush -- gets to see you like this, in such a horrible, vulnerable state. 

You hate it. Yet, once the tears start silently carving silvery paths down your cheeks, there’s no stopping them. 

Sangyeon pulls you into his chest with a soft sigh, allowing his arms to encircle your waist while one of his hands comb through your hair. You cry silently in his shoulder, fully aware of the growing wetness seeping through his shirt, but his grip doesn’t lessen when you try tugging back. 

Instead, he holds you a little tighter, murmuring into your ear, “come on, let it out.” 

You’ve never been a fan of loud crying. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so used to keeping in your sobs, stuffing your blanket into your mouth in order to restrain the tears, the pain, the suffering. But Sangyeon stays even so, hand continuously smoothing along your head and down your back in a way that renders you soft and mellow against him.

When you have no tears left to cry, he does the job of pulling away slightly so that his face hovers just millimetres from your own. You hope you don’t look like shit.

“I brought you some pasta,” he murmurs, “cooked by yours truly.” 

And you swear it’s the best fucking pasta you’ve ever eaten in your life. You’re not entirely sure how you manage to finish a whole plate -- considering you’d barely had any appetite these days -- but you have to admit that you feel much, much better after finally leaning back into your cheek with a full stomach.

Sangyeon eyes you from his side of the table, chuckling at the look of satisfaction on your face. 

“What?” you’re about to scowl, but then remember that you shouldn’t put your walls up so high. It’s only Sangyeon. Only Sangyeon.

"Should’ve started by giving you the pasta,” his eyes, warm and tender and just so fucking beautiful, sparkle in the dim light of the kitchen, “maybe then you wouldn’t have cried over my shirt.” 

“Oh shut up,” you snap back half-heartedly. He knows there’s no bite to your tone. 

His leg nudges yours underneath the table and, prompted to gaze up at him, he asks, “what’s going on, Y/N?” 

You bite your lower lip. Eyes fixing onto the table top before you, you decide to spill everything. Everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sangyeon’s voice is rough wth concern, annoyance that permeates through. But you’re adamant on not making eye contact, so adamant that you hear his chair scrape back, then the soft pad of his feet over to your side of the table.

Warm fingers cup your chin, leaving you with no choice but to face him as your eyes quickly slip downwards.

"I didn't want to trouble you," is what spills from your lips in a soft murmur, "I'm not used to people worrying about me and I guess...I just got used to it. Dealing with that shit on my own."

You don't have to look at him to know that his gaze is soft and warm. It makes you want to curl up in his lap and burrow your face into hid chest, away from the world.

As if reading your mind, Sangyeon tugs you closer so that he can hug you properly, "I got you," his murmur brushes against your ear, "I got your back Y/N. And you can tell me anything. I don't care if you think it's none of my business. I want to know."

He holds you in silence for a while, the only sound echoing through your ears being his heartbeat. A soft thumping against his chest, vibrating with every breath taken.

It's almost like a miracle, the way your body softens underneath his touch like it has been waiting for him all along. With Sangyeon there, it feels easier to breathe, not to think so much.

"Thank you," you whisper, clearing your throat. You repeat yourself once more for good measure, to which he chuckles and presses the lightest of kisses atop your head.

"Next time, you'll tell me. Right?" He cocks his head to look at you.

You pull back slightly to gaze up at him in the dim back light of the dining room. It's crappy lighting and yet, it curves along his features so nicely.

"Fine," you mumble after realizing you hadn't answered him yet, "I'll try."

A smile breaks over his face. He kisses your cheek then, causing heat to spring up over your face, "that's a promise then."

[mae-gi-writes]

Twilight | Changmin (The Boyz)

Twilight drives and tender eyes.

Genre: fluff, little angst if you squint, soft Changmin hours, Changmin being the softest bf ever.

----

"Stop! Changmin seriously!"

The said brunette's grin widens and in response, he follows up with more splashes, his giggles mixing in with the scent of salt as the ocean roars behind you in the distance.

You duck, hands covering your face and hair -- to no avail -- before splashing him back in retaliation. It's cold and soaks you right to the bone, but nothing can compare to the stupid grin that's been permanently stretched across your face from the moment Changmin had greeted you with a coffee and a promise to soak up the sunlight at twilight.

He had a tendency to do that. Just appear out of the thin air whenever you were having a hard time and drive you along the coast of the country till the weight in your heart had lifted.

"Ha! Take that!" Changmin childishly sticks out his tongue when you got drenched by an ongoing wave, only to yelp himself when it swept him off his feet.

You burst out laughing, "say what?!" You taunt, giggles intensifying when he sticks out the finger in mock annoyance.

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon as you clamber back into his used-up, battered red Honda and get hit in the face with Changmin's towel, "ow!"

"That's for laughing at me earlier," comes his muffled alto. Then, before you can retort, his hands come on either side of your head. He rubs att your hair, drying it off, and your heart warms up at his gesture.

When your eyes manage to peek out of the towel, you offered him a soft smile, "thanks."

Changmin stills for a moment as he gazed back in your eyes. Features softening, he leans down to drop a shy kiss at your temple, "pleasure," his words tickle your forehead and you swear that heat has blossomed through your limbs at his sweet countenance.

"Want me to drive?" You offer while watching him pull out of the parking lot, eyes lingering over the curve of his arm, the way the golden hues of the sun bathes his side profile.

Changmin snorts, "and get myself killed? No thank you."

"Says the one who failed his driving test three times."

"That was the policeman's fault."

"It's okay Changmin. Not everyone can be as talented as I am in driving," you taunt as you reached for some chips you'd packed in your bag, pop it open to offer him some, "also, was it necessary to drive all the way out here just for the beach? There's a beach back home too, you know?"

"So that we could bump into people we know? No way," he shakes his head, "not my style. Anyway, it's prettier here."

The more you gaze fondly at the young man sitting beside you, the more your heart beats for him, dances to the rhythm of his laughter and reacts to the curve of his smile.

You are lucky. Oh so lucky indeed.

A comfortable silence eases your nerves and as you settle comfortably in the passenger seat, you let out the softest of sighs while taking in the array of trees spilling on both sides of the quiet road. It's almost as if only you and Changmin are present in this very moment. Reddish gold sunlight streams through the leaves, the darkening purple sky softening life and all its forms. Somewhere in the distance, you catch the sound of a bird singing.

"Oh let's stop here for a minute," Changmin says. You follow the direction of his gaze towards the edge of the forest lining that gives view of the ocean lying beyond. Pulling onto the side of the road, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and ushers you out so that you stand only a few feet away from the edg of the cliff.

"Now that-- that's what I brought you here for," his murmur gets washed out by the crashing of waves below. A deathly drop if one was to jump. You are so mesmerized by the swirls of foam that you don't miss your boyfriend's absence -- until coldness suddenly presses to your cheek.

Jumping slightly, you turn towards him to see that he's holding out a beer that he has previously cracked open, and gratefully take it from him with a soft thanks. He takes his place next to you amidst the tall grass and it's almost like instinct that your body curves into his ever so slightly, your shoulder meeting his own while admiring the gradation of blues and mixed purples and soft dimming oranges that are washing out by the minute.

"Is it safe here?" You can't help but wonder aloud.

"I'd like to say yes," his face looks so determined that you giggle slightly, "you're so dumb."

"Is that what you say to the best boyfriend in the world?" He gasps mockingly, hand over his chest to stare at you. Trust Changmin for always being a drama queen, "I am hurt, Y/N!"

"Oh shut up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Dream on," your cheeks flush despite the tone of finality in your voice, though you don't protest upon feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder to pull you close. He giggles in response as his nose bumps against the side of your head and you flush with even more heat.

To distract yourself, you take a sip of your beer, "I gotta say, you impressed me today."

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds smug, "so admit it, I'm the best boyfriend you could ever ask for--"

"You--" your finger reaches up to shove his forehead back, "need to stop being so cocky. It doesn't look good on you."

"Are you saying I'm not the best boyfriend you could ask for? After everything I did for you?" That's when he pulls you even closer before pressing the softest of pecks along your brow line. Heat explodes through your cheeks, and you know it's not from the cold that suddenly sweeps in without warning.

"I never said that," you manage to mumble out. Proceeding to hide your face in the depths of his chest as his arm curls around your middle, you continue, "actually, I do think you're winning the best boyfriend title today. With everything that you did."

"Well I gotta keep up my game. Can't have my girlfriend always being better at courting than I am."

You shove him then, "you know what? Screw you, I'm trying to be serious and grateful here."

"And I'm trying to compliment you," his lips skim along your cheekbone. He peppers a few kisses there before mumbling out, "you smell like the sea."

"Wise observation, considering we just went swimming," your face turns ever so slightly to face your boyfriend's doe-eyed gaze and in the warmth of his brown pupils your breath stutters at how beautiful he looks. That, and the fact that it feels as if he can't seem to look at amything else but you.

Beautiful, your throat closes up. Beautiful. Changmin's features rendered soft in the dim shades of the evening, the angular curve of his brows matching the feline tilt of his eyes, and then of course--

His mouth. Curled slighrly upwards in amusement because he just knows that you're ogling him openly without excuse. He knows.

"I know you've been struggling," Changmin's eyes search yours, "and it hurts me to see you like that."

"It hasn't been all that bad though," you murmur out before your throat clogs up as his palm cups your cheek, stroking slightly, "I've ...been okay."

Changmin snorts, "Y/N, anyone who knows you can see it. It's not that hard," his gaze softening then, his nose nudges yours and very lightly, as if you're made out of glass, he pecks your lips, "and honestly, it hurts me more to see you sad. You can be angry or moody or snappy. I don't mind that. I can take all that. But your sadness, that hurts more."

Guilt coats your tongue in a bittter aftertaste. You hate it, how much your mood affects Changmin and how you get overly sensitive, how the tiniest things can trigger you.

"I'm really sorr--" his finger presses upon your mouth to stop your attempts and he pins you down with his gaze, now hard and firm, "don't. It's my duty. No--it's not even my duty. I just love you Y/N. What hurts you hurts me too."

"Well maybe you can love me less?" You try to lighten up the atmosphere but the joke falls flat. He chuckles anyway, bringing you into another chaste kiss and murmuring against your mouth, "that, I definitely can't do."

Allowing yourself to kiss him back while your hands find their way to his chest, tracing the span of his shoulders to tug him closer, your mouth slants against his as time slips through your fingers.

It is only when you pull apart for air, foreheads pressed together and eyes half-closed, that you realize that the night now fully dominates the sky, the ocean dark and deep and abstract.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. You close your eyes and press one last kiss to his mouth.

"You know that--" he kisses you in-between words, "you can't just--" kiss "get away" one more "with that."

Giggling and kissing him once more on the lips, you proceed to pepper his entire face with kisses-- his nose, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead -- everywhere you can think of. So much so that by the time you pull back, he's grinning at you with wet eyes.

"Let's go back home," his alto is rough with emotion. It makes you smile that you have that effect on him.

Pulling himself up and you along with him, his fingers find their rightful place in-between yours while making your way back to the car, the night air now cool against your faces with Changmin's warmth to keep you warm.

He holds your hand all the way back home, even if that means driving at turtle speed.

You let him.

Because after all, slowing down to bask in a moment is a luxury.

And you won't have it any other way.

[mae-gi-writes]

[08:44.a.m.] Eric

You groan when you feel a hand shaking your shoulder, turning away from your boyfriend who seems to be a little too jovial for a Monday morning. 

“What?” Your words get muffled by the pillow hiding your face against the glaring sun, as you feel his hands rest along your hips. 

Slowly, he turns you around and another groan slips past your mouth when you do as you’re told, coming face to face with Eric’s grin. Usually it’s cute. But right now, you’re not sure whether you want to slap him for waking you up from your deep slumber. 

It’s not like you have the best sleep cycle. So when you do, it’s quite annoying to be woken up without warning.

“I brought breakfast,” he whispers. 

Breakfast? That catches your attention. You prop yourself up on your elbows with furrowed eyebrows, noticing that there is indeed, a platter of eggs and toast balanced precariously on the edge of your night table that Eric picks up. He sits himself on the edge, one of his hands beckoning you over to his side, which you do so without complaint, heart fluttering at the warmth basking on his face.

“What a nice surprise,” you say with a soft smile as he pulls you into his chest, cuddling you close. Then, after ensuring that the plate won’t fall off his lap, he stabs at a piece of egg with his fork before bringing it up to your mouth. 

“Ah,” he says, and you eat it obediently, watching with a curious gaze as he plops another piece in his mouth. 

“So? Did you break something? Or did you do something that would make me mad?” you narrow your eyes while analyzing his features, though he scoffs at you in mock offence, “I made you breakfast and that’s the response I get?”

You shoot him a look.

“Okay,” he chews the inside of his cheek, looks away bashfully, “maybe I did do something that would make you mad.” 

“Like what?” 

"Like...maybe mistaking your concealer for sunscreen?"

"What?!" You jolt up instantly and he screams as the plate almost topples, his hand shooting out just in time to avoid an accident.

"I'm joking," he laughs good-naturedly while pressing a kiss to your temple, "your concealer is still as good as new."

"You're so annoying."

"And you are so fun to tease," he tickles your side, making you squeal as you try to squirm away. Thank god for his strong hold on the breakfast plate, or it would’ve already splattered across the floor by now. 

As you take a bite out of the buttered bread he offers you with a satisfied noise of agreement, your mind can’t help but ponder over the multitude of reasons why Eric is being so extra sweet today. 

As if reading your train of thoughts, your boyfriend’s fingers flick your forehead lightly. You jolt with a yelp of pain, “what-- that hurt!” 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he frowns at you while wagging a finger, “you think I did something. In fact, I did nothing but do you a favour this morning.” 

“Because?” you drag the word out before playfully biting his finger. 

He grimaces, jerking his limb away with a roll of his eyes, “because I quite love you and because I thought it’d be a sweet gesture. Now I’m not so sure. What happened to ‘oh my god Eric I love you so much, you’re such an amazing boyfriend.’ “ his voice gets higher as he imitates you, which makes you swat him in return. 

“You’re not funny.” 

“Never said I was babe,” he holds out a piece of sausage as he speaks and you take a bite, allowing the taste to coat your tongue. You gesture towards the plate, “you eat some.” 

“Feed me then.”

Rolling your eyes before stabbing some sausage with your fork, you do as you’re told and he hums in satisfaction, “mhm, that’s good,” before proceeding to lean in and peck your mouth.

A noise of surprise erupts from your throat and Eric can’t help chuckling softly at how adorable you look, all shocked and with nothing to say. That is, until his eyes scan down to your mouth once more and without even thinking twice, he’s cupping your jaw to press another longer kiss. 

One kiss becomes two. Then becomes three. And then they’re becoming longer, mouth keeping on brushing against yours until they’re practically molded together with no space left to spare. His free arm quickly discards the breakfast plate on your nightstand and before you know it, you’re down on your back with Eric’s shoulders bunching as he props himself atop your figure to kiss you some more, slower, longer caresses of mouth to mouth. And soon, his tongue joins in a soft cadence that has you gasping, and not just because you feel a particular hardness against your thigh.

Oh boy. This is going to be long morning.

[mae-gi-writes]

[04:05a.m.] Sunwoo

"You’re so cute.” 

“Shut up Sunwoo,” you groaned as you struggled to keep the said young man stable on his two feet that were now rendered as useless as jelly sticks, trudging at an ungodly snail’s pace back to his flat where you knew there would be an array of helping hands. 

The morning sun was only making its presence known through the softest streaks of pinkish purple straining through the dark sky, just the slightest slither of dim light bouncing off the clouds as you kept on tugging Sunwoo forward with all the force accumulated in your body. Granted, you weren’t small by nature, but you definitely were not meant to be hauling about Sunwoo’s tall frame nevertheless, especially when he was piss drunk. 

“Y’know Y/N, I’ve always--always wondered--you know--” he slurred through his words, face lolling against the side of your neck as you took another deep breath and heaved him forward on the empty street, yellow streetlights cascading over your figures, “why you--why you don’t have a-- you know what I mean--boyfriend? Yeah, why you don’t--Why don’t you have a boyfriend Y/N?” 

“Do I look like I’m in any condition to have a boyfriend?” you rolled your eyes, mentally smacking yourself in the head for even considering his question as legit when Sunwoo was clearly out of his mind. 

God, you were going to kill Hyunjae for giving him that last shot.

“But--then Hyunjae--Hyunjae my best friend,” he hiccuped, “my other best friend. Because you are, too. Don’t be mad. Hyunjae is--he’s good to me too--”

“Sure, by overdosing you with tequila.” 

“--he told me that you--that you--you know, that you liked me.”

You stopped dead in your tracks at the revelation that made your throat squeeze tight and your heart to go cold in mere seconds, although Sunwoo hadn’t noticed and only swayed along with you, head rocking back and forth, forward, then tilting backward to look at the sky. 

“Who told you this, Sunwoo?” you questioned quietly, your eyes fixed on his dazed ones that were glancing around in confusion. You tried to ignore the way his eyebrows scrunched up cutely whenever he frowned. 

“Hm?” 

“Who told you that I liked you?” 

“Oh,” His eyes widened, still glazed from alcohol, “You like me?” 

“I--”

“You like me?” He insisted while thrusting his face close to yours, “You like me? Oh--Do you--Do you really like me? Is it true? Hyunjae--He was right,” his mouth turned into an ‘O’, “he was right. If I knew I would’ve confessed--confessed sooner, Y/N. And--” 

And that was when he leaned forward and threw up at your feet.

[mae-gi-writes]

Ways To Love: Juyeon

"Cooking for someone is one of the most beautiful, authentic, genuine things that one can do to express their feelings for that said person."

Read more of the ‘Ways To Love’ Series:

Sangyeon | Jacob | Younghoon | Hyunjae | Juyeon | Kevin | Changmin | Chanhee | Ju Haknyeon | Sunwoo | Eric

---

"I'm home," you call out while dragging your feet towards the living room. An array of delicious smells instantly waft through your nostrils and you sniff, curious, while your eyebrow slowly slants up.

"Juyeon?" You call.

No response. But you do hear a distant "fuck!" echo from the kitchen and quickly squabble towards the source of the sound.

"Juyeon?" You repeat his name, sliding through the doorway only to be presented with a sight so comical you can't help but burst out laughing. Before you, one hand on the pan and another juggling a pot, stands a slightly distraught Juyeon, one that you're not used to seeing.

"What --" you try to catch your breath as your eyes quickly scan the flour-coated counter, the opened bags of sugar and nutella, before flying up to meet his gaze, "what is going on?"

"N-Nothing," he stammers while fidgeting with the said pan. You walk up behind him to peer over his shoulder, and see a slightly overcooked crepe that he's been trying to flip over for the past minute.

"I was trying to cook you something nice," there is a tinge of desperation in his voice when he tries to explain himself, ears red and face averted from yours in embarrassment, "but clearly that's not working out."

The chuckles are still bubbling up your throat, "you didn't have to do that."

"But I wanted to!"

Your arms come to lace around Juyeon's waist in an affectionate embrace. Tucking your chin onto his shoulder, you don't hesitate to press a gentle kiss right at his nape, "thank you," you murmur out, "you're so cute sometimes."

"Yet, you still make fun of me," you hear him mutter.

"Because you’re a funny guy," you nuzzle your nose against his neck one last time before finally taking a look at the crepe predicament, "here, give me the pan."

A few minutes later, you sit at the table next to your boyfriend, protesting between mouthfuls of crepe and chocolate sauce as he insists on feeding you mouthful after mouthful like a baby.

"Juyeon!" You shriek when he tries to give you another piece of crepe, "I can feed myself, thank you very much."

"No," he outrightly responds, before holding it to your lips until you grin and accept it with a shake of your head. This boy, you think to yourself with fond affection.

It probably shows on your face, because he asks you why you're smiling like a creep.

"Nothing," you pick up your own fork, catching a piece of crepe before holding it out to Juyeon, "say ah."

He moves towards your crepe with an open mouth, only to duck at the right moment and instead stealing a kiss from your lips.

Your face flames, "Juyeon!"

"What?" He goes for another kiss, tongue darting out to catch some stray chocolate at the corner of your mouth. Your heart practically flops inside your stomach, the blush on your face evident as you avert your eyes shyly. There are times, like now, where his actions leave you speechless with butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

"Aw don't be shy," he pinches your cheek, grinning like a smug little child, "it'a not like we haven't kissed before."

"Oh shush," pushing him away as he chuckles wholeheartedly, "besides," his voice deepens when he speaks next, "we've done so much worse than just kiss--"

His words get muffled by your hand cupping his mouth and omitting the rest of his sentence, "You talk too much."

Eyes crinkling up into a soft smile, your heart can't help but melt when faced with his tender gaze and your lips quirk up to mirror his expression. He kisses the inside of your palm, causing you to giggle softly as he loops an arm around you waist to pull you closer.

Snuggling into the crook of his neck and fingers splaying against his collarbone, you let out a satisfied sigh, muscles melting into his embrace like you know you're finally home.

"I love you," you murmur out softly, but not softly enough for him not to hear. He shifts his head down and steals a kiss from your lips.

"Love you too."

[mae-gi-writes]

Burning Flame (PT.2 of Catching Fire) | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

BY POPULAR DEMAND! Part Two of Catching Fire; it is only when Atheera falls under attack that your love for Sunwoo gets revealed. 

Genre: fluff, royal au! guard Sunwoo au.

A/n: jesus christ Sunwoo will be the death of me and I aint even mad.

-----

Confrontation had never been Sunwoo's forte. So imagine the horror on his face once the words slipped from Y/N's mouth as she stared down her parents just like she would stare down the barrel of a gun.

It wasn't anyone's fault per se. It all so happened that the Royal Kingdom of Atheera was under attack a few weeks after the pair's undying confession of love to each other, which made Sunwoo one of the primary guards responsible for devising their defences.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Y/N had said lightly, though the said guard heard the soft lingering sadness in her voice despite her attempts to sound as jovial as she possibly could.

"They need me," he looked up from tying up his boots, catching sight of the princess's worried glances flying between him and the group of soldiers that were waiting outside the stables. She had been allowed to the servant's quarters with the excuse that she would be the one to send off their army. But it was quite unsettling to see her -- refined and pale and looking as fragile as glass -- amidst the piles of straw stacked in the corner and the smell or horse droppings in the air.

She shuffled uneasily, clearly distraught by the fact that he'd be taken from her side for days, weeks at most. Throwing a glance to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, the soldier reached out, grasped her hand, and dragged her to him. His legs parted so that she stumbled between them, tilting his head upwards to gaze into her dark worried pools of brown.

Reaching up almost out of instinct to curl her hair behind her ear, he said, "I won't be long. You'll blink and I'll be back."

"Liar," she shot back.

"Okay so maybe I'll be a little longer than usual," he grinned while trying to imprint her features into memory. God knows how long he'd be gone. He wished he could pause to enjoy this moment -- just the two of them -- for a little longer.

It was only upon feeling the softest brush of Y/N's lips against his forehead that he was brought out of his daze, gazing at her with questioning eyes.

She bit her lip, averted her eyes, "please be careful."

"I will," he wrapped his arms around her middle, hearing her take a soft breath as he dropped a peck onto her clothed stomach, "one day, what's inside will be mine."

"Sunwoo!" Her blush was so prominent atop her cheeks, she slapped his arm, "you cocky bastard."

And so they said their goodbyes with Y/N on the brink of tears and Sunwoo's heart heavy with emotion. When her voice broke as she told him to take care of himself, he had to steal one last kiss from her mouth while murmuring how much he loved her, chuckling as she flushed deep red even when shrouded by the darkness of the stables.

One week had gone by. Then two. Then, just when Y/N had given up hope altogether that her soldiers would find their way back home, she'd spotted the tiniest glimpse of the red Atheerian flag billowing in the distance and had practically fallen out of bed to alert the guards at the gates.

It was chaos. Blood splattered across every soldier's face, clothes torn and tattered in places she couldn't even imagine. Y/N barely kept it together as her eyes flitted from bruises to scrapes to trying to identify a familiar face amidst a sea of vague strangers.

Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo, her heart and mind chimed together. But he wasn't there, he didn't seem to be there.

Emotion tightened her throat. Before her eyes fell onto a face.

A face she'd been waiting for all this time.

It was relief that hit her first. It crashed through her body and caused her shoulders to slump away all the tension. But just as quickly as it went, it came right back as soon as she spotted his mangled body being half-dragged by two other soldiers, bloodied shirt and all, and a badly-wrapped wound that was drenched in blood. 

Y/N didn’t realize that her mouth had opened on its own accord, that she was screaming -- until hands fluttered at her sides, pulling her back.

“No!” She screeched and batted the limbs away, before charging towards a barely coherent Sunwoo with a force she seldom knew she had, “Sunwoo!” 

“Y/N,” came his soft, breathy murmur, masked by a soft groan when his movement caused pain to ring through his side. She quickly went to his other side, slung his shoulder around her arm albeit the fact that her nightgown was getting all bloody in the process. He would’ve reprimanded her in normal circumstances, but he barely had any energy to peel his eyes open.

“Bring him to the hospital wing, I want his wound to be treated as soon as possible. Call all doctors if need be,” Y/N’s voice, despite echoing through his mind as though he was hearing her through muffled headphones, was sharp with authority, the power of her bloodline thrumming through her tone, “get the rest of the soldiers to safety. The ones who aren’t injured should go down to the city, gather as many doctors as you can. If there are others just like Sunwoo, get people to start treating them.”

The said soldier willed his mouth to speak, to tell her that he was fine and that there was no need to worry, for his wound wasn’t that deep. But it seemed like he’d lost consciousness as soon as he was marched through the castle doors for the next thing he knew, his eyes were fluttering open to see Y/N before his bed, hands fisted and mouth twisted into a scowl directed towards the King and Queen of Atheera standing at the door.

Sunwoo wanted to ask what happened, only for a cough to rip through his lungs instead. Y/N was at his side in a flash, hand coming up with a cup of water that he downed without hesitation. 

“What--” he coughed some more once she pulled the empty glass away, eyes flitting from her defensive figure to her parents’ worried glances, “Y/N?” he croaked out, “what’s going on?” 

"Nothing,” Y/N’s stance was defensive, a feline that felt threatened, “I’m just trying to tell my parents to call off the betrothal because the man I love is right here, in this room.” 

At that, she tilted her chin upwards in a defying manner, causing Sunwoo’s stomach to coil tightly in a mixture of fear and apprehension. He didn’t dare spare a glance towards the king, whom he could feel was practically drilling holes into his head from where he stood.

“How?” Her mother was saying, stumbling over words with glassy eyes, “how did that--how even? How? We never--”

“Does that matter?” Y/N cut her off as her hands tightened into balled-up fists at her sides, “I always did what you ask. I never complained. I’ve done all my duties as a princess. But just this once, I want to have a choice,” desperation laced through her soprano, “please.”

At this point, embarrassment was boiling through the soldier’s lungs like wildfire. Reaching out to tug at her arm, he rasped out in a whisper, “Y/N, not now--”

“We--” the king cleared his throat. Their faces swivelled, rapt with attention as the older man raised a hand in mock surrender, “we'll talk about this later.” 

And that was when he stepped out of the room, soon followed by his wife after throwing one final glance in the soldier’s direction. It was definitely not a friendly one.

Y/N wasted no time to turn to him as soon as the door closed with a sound that left a bitter aftertaste in Sunwoo’s mouth. Her eyes, red-rimmed and tired, searched his face as she tried not to burst into tears.

“You--” she bit her lip, barely managing to hold on to the multitude of emotions that would’ve rendered her weak at the knees if she hadn’t been sitting, "you idiot.” 

"You’re the idiot,” Sunwoo blinked away the tiredness, hand finding hers to interlock their fingers, “do you want to give your parents a heart attack?”

She shook her head, “never mind that,” glancing down at the bed sheet covering his wound, her eyes scanned his face for any hint of injury, “how are you feeling?”

“Y/N?” Panic rose through his chest, “what am I doing here? Did you tell them--”

“You were dying,” she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. When his eyes shot up to hers in surprise and noticed her gaze brimming with tears, his heart couldn’t help but give a painful twist. She exhaled shakily, “you were dying and I couldn’t--I didn’t have a choice.” 

Something that felt like horror churned uneasily in the pit of his stomach. That was it. He’d probably be fired as soon as he could walk and albeit the fact that Y/N would fight for his sake, it was clear where the said soldier stood in the eyes of the Royal family; in the stables where he belonged.

As though taken by a sudden impulse to make things right, Sunwoo made to throw his leg out of bed. Y/N quickly shot out, pushing his shoulders back as she said, “Oh no. What do you think you’re doing?” she tucked the sheets back around his neck in a decisive manner, “you’re not moving. Not when you’ve practically lost half of your blood’s worth.” 

“I’m fine, I need--” her hands were insistent and he was too weak to fight her off. He relented with a soft grumble, a guilty expression taking over his face as he noted the dark circles imprinted underneath her eyes, the worried lines along her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” his murmur was soft and barely audible if she hadn’t been paying attention, “I’m sorry, for everything--”

“You scared me,” her tone was fierce, eyes glassy as she squeezed his hand, “I thought you--I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was, too.” 

“There was so much blood,” her voice broke halfway through her sentence, “there was so much blood Sunwoo, I--I lost it. I just wanted you to get all the help you could get. I didn’t think and I--” 

“Hey hey,” he tried reaching for her, wincing as a dull ache spread throughout his limb. She noticed and leaned closer, close enough that he managed to lift a shaky hand to wipe away the stray tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks, “I’m okay now,” his thumb traced circles over her cheek, “don’t cry.” 

That was when she broke down into ugly sobs, pulling away from his hold and  leaning against the bed while her hands came up to hide her face from view. Sunwoo watched, own tears stinging the corner of his eyes. He wanted to hold her, to pull her close. His heart hurt at her broken countenance and he wondered how many nights had she stayed up watching over him, how many nights she’d cried herself to sleep. 

"Come here,” he rasped out a murmur and found her without protest when he managed to tug her. She wrapped her arms gingerly around his neck, pulled him close in a gentle hug and buried her face into the space between his shoulder and jaw.

“It’s okay,” he kept on repeating like a lullaby, alto so soft in her ear in made her shiver, “it’s okay, Y/N.”

It was only when her sobs had subsided into soft sniffles that she managed to lift her head to gaze at him with swollen eyes, and though she had never looked in a worst state, Sunwoo thought that she’d never looked so kissable right here, in this particular moment. 

And so he tugged her forward. Gently. 

She followed without hesitation, the softest kiss exchanged. It was one that sucked out all air from his body, one that caused all his nerves to light up in a fire of sensual temptation as he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. 

She was close enough that he could tilt his head up and kiss her forehead. Her nose. Both cheeks. And her lips. Once, twice. 

Before he cupped the back of her neck to kiss her more deeply, mouth staining hers and moving her through a dance that was more rhythmic, more sensual. His tongue delved into hers and she let out a dying gasp as she relented to his attack, allowing his wet muscle to explore and twine around her own. A satisfied grumble echoed through his chest as he pressed her closer while the girl’s hands moved up to cup his face, caressed his jaw as she kissed back with just as much restrained passion.

He felt her desperate need to feel him close, her attempts to mold her entire body to his if that was possible, and smiled into the kiss before drawing away. The softest, muffled whine fell from her throat the moment he did, causing the soldier to chuckle as he watched her flush deep red with embarrassment.

"So what's going to happen?" He murmured, "now that your parents know?"

She shrugged, "does it matter? I'm not getting married to anyone but you. I made that clear enough."

"Y/N, you know it doesn't work that way."

"Oh don't worry," a wicked grin broke across her face, "the prince I'm supposedly betrothed to has already announced his engagement."

"What?" Sunwoo blinked, ears perked up and alert.

"We already had an agreement, him and I," she continued while playing with his fingers, "that both of us would be allied without marriage."

"Do your parents know about that?"

"Obviously," she paused, "not yet."

"Oh god," he let out a groan, "they're gonna hate me."

"Not if I do this first."

He didn't even have time to blink before he spotted her sliding something along his finger. A ring.

A ring.

His head snapped up in shock, jaw falling slack at her action. Y/N gazed back, flushed yet determined, gauging for his reaction.

He swallowed. Opened his mouth. Closed it. His ears flushed deep red.

Finally, he managed to cough out, "I--I was the one who was supposed to do that."

"Nobody ever said I couldn't do it first," she grinned back.

Sunwoo grumbled out an incoherent response and her grin widened even more upon noticing his embarrassment as he turned his hear away.

Giggling, she peered over at him, "are you blushing?" It was amusing to see Sunwoo, so brave and courageous, rendered to that of a small child who couldn't even meet her eyes, "you are blushing!"

"No I'm not!" He replied hotly.

"You so are!" She teased, "oh my god, Sunwoo. I didn't know you could be so cute."

He had nothing to say in his defense, only managed to bury his face back into her shoulder as she kept on laughing softly, hand going up to trickle through his dark strands.

"So will you?" She asked, "marry me?"

A whine escaped his mouth. But she pressed on, "I need a verbal approval."

He made another noise that sounded halfway between a mewl and a whimper. Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to flaunt that maybe she was asking the wrong person, when his hand grasped her shoulder to pull her back so that he could kiss her with much more intensity, a demanding kind of passion that left her breathless and causing a wave of desire to erupt through her stomach.

When he pulled away, there was a hint of a smirk dancing along his lips as he said, `was that answer good enough for you?"

[mae-gi-writes]

Safe With Me | Hyunjae (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! Your trashy ex wants to get back with you, but he’s got to go through Hyunjae first. 

Genre: mentions of sex, lil angst, fluff, supportive bf! Hyunjae. 

-------

"What was he doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” you grab a fistful of your hair and try not to tug it entirely out of your scalp as you stare down at the coffee table, “I don’t know Jaehyun. It was--It felt like a nightmare.” 

Your boyfriend’s body is tense next to yours on the couch, jaw clenched in dismay and eyes glazed over with repressed anger as he considers the words you had blurted out just a few minutes prior: that being your encounter with your ex-boyfriend, who had been waiting for you outside the building where you worked at. 

“Y/N,” he’d called out when he spotted your figure sliding through the double doors. Your mind had blanked out at first, just gazing at him with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before reality had come crashing down on you like ice cold water thrown in your face. 

“Joong,” you’d muttered, body instantly tensing up at the prospect of him being in such close physical proximity, “what do you want from me?” 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he leaned against his motorbike -- probably from the amount of extra cash he made with those drug exchanges -- while his eyes raked over your form with barely restrained hunger, “wanted to see whether you worked at the same place.” 

“Well for your information, I do,” you shifted uneasily from one foot to another, a protective hand clasping your bag against you just in case you had to swing it in his face, “now what do you want?” 

“He wanted to just catch up?” Hyunjae lets out an empty laugh, one that makes your heart twist inside your chest at how hurtful it sounds, “really? That’s the best he can do?” 

“Look, I don’t care. I just--seeing him just reminded him of everything he did to me and I--” you can feel the tears slowly clogging up your throat and almost instantly you feel Hyunjae’s arms around you, a comforting cocoon of an embrace that allows you to melt into his chest.  “I’m not going to let him touch you,” Hyunjae’s murmur holds a threatening undertone as it echoes against your temple. He presses a kiss there then, holding you a little tighter, “never.” 

“What if he keeps coming back though?” you look up at Hyunjae’s doe brown eyes while biting the inside of your cheek, “what if--what if he wants something from me?”

"He won’t be able to,” Hyunjae pushes a strand of hair away from your face, “he’ll have to get through me first.” 

You bite your lip, “I--I’m scared.” 

Hyunjae’s eyes soften at your murmur, like a scared child whose worst nightmare is turning into reality. Sighing and pressing another chaste kiss on the side of your head, his hand starts rubbing comforting circles along your spine.

“Don’t worry,” his alto is soothing, almost enough to make you forget your initial worries, “watch, I’m going to kick his ass so hard he’ll barely be able to drive that bloody motorbike of his.” 

One might think that Hyunjae is just being an overprotective boyfriend. But having known your history with Joong had how the latter had fallen into the pits of drug dealing, and how he’d dragged you into the dark world of illegal trading, all while using up your funds and wasting them all onto cheap alcohol, there is no way in hell that Hyunjae even wants you within ten metres from the said guy. 

Not to mention the fact that Joong had left you scarred, scared to trust any man who genuinely wanted the best for you. He’d left you incomplete and fearful of the opposite sex, and you would’ve stayed that way if Hyunjae hadn’t come along.

In contrary to your first excuse of a boyfriend, Hyunjae had been patient, and kind, and more than understanding every single step of the relationship. He’d respected your boundaries until you had declared you wanted to move things further, was always around to remind you how lovable you were, doing small things like get you a coffee and doing your laundry when you were taking a nap, too tired out from the day’s events. Hyunjae was the type of boyfriend that would watch you sleep while trying to come up with pranks, all the while being supportive and understanding of the difficult life choices you’d faced. 

So it was no wonder that you had fallen head over heels for this man.

And now, Joong is here to ruin it all.

True to his word, Hyunjae’s promise that he’ll be there after work to pick you up is one that he keeps. Relief floods through your veins the moment you step out and spot his figure, arms crossed over his chest and leaning back into the building’s outer wall. He doesn’t realize how effortlessly handsome he looks, or the various giggles that ricochet from the group of girls passing by every once in a while, and that fact that makes him even more attractive. Your heart swells up with pride. 

Before your eyes land on another familiar face on the street. Joong grins up at you with that smirk you had once found earth-shatteringly attractive. Now though, it only makes your stomach twist into knots. 

“Hey Y/N,” Joong starts making his way over to you, a panther in search of his prey, and you stumble back upon instinct while your heart ricochets up your throat. That is before you feel the warmth of Hyunjae’s hand cover yours, causing you to look up and see the serious set of your boyfriend’s face. 

Joong, slightly confused, stops a few strides away while blinking, “who’re you?” 

“Her boyfriend,” Hyunjae shoots right back. 

Joong lets out a dry laugh, “you’re kidding.” 

Your heart picks up a nervous pace. Hyunjae responds with a scowl, which makes Joong realize he’s not kidding at all. 

The latter straightens up in defence, his eyebrows arching in amused curiosity, “so you’re actually her boyfriend. What? Did she tattle tale on me?” His eyes find yours and you almost wince at the coldness you find there, “Didn’t take you for such a wuss, Y/N.” 

Your lower lip trembles, "Joong, I really don’t think you should come here again.” 

“I’ll do whatever I want--” 

“She’s scared of you,” Hyunjae cuts in, taking a step forward so that he acts as a physical barrier between you and your ex. Warmth trickles through your chest at his concern, “and she’s right. Why wouldn’t she be? After everything you did--” 

“You told on me?” Joong’s alto rose, nostrils flaring as he threw you a glare.

“You stole from me!” you say, “you took everything I had and gave it to--to those--those thugs of yours! And then you’d come home and try to have your way with me even though I didn’t want to!"

“You slut,” Joong hisses as he moves forward. Hyunjae responds by his shoving you behind him, though it’s clear that in terms of size, Joong is definitely the one that has the advantage, “how dare you say this out loud? You’re the one who wanted it so bad, you told me you wanted me to fuck you--” 

“But she’s not yours anymore,” Hyunjae’s eyes are narrowed, fists clenched against his sides.

“Oh move out of the way pretty boy. You probably can’t even get her to moan like I do--” 

Hyunjae’s punch is rapid, too rapid for Joong to register. It bashes him straight in the jaw and the force knocks him back with such vigour that he can’t help but stumble, toppling right onto the side of the street. Hyunjae lunges like he’s ready to pound into him a little more, but you make a grab for his arm at the last minute. The small disruption has definitely caught passeby’s attention, and when you hear another voice shout, you swivel your head to see a security guard jogging up to you.

“What’s going on here?” the guard glances back and forth and, probably from the terrified grip you have on Hyunjae’s coat sleeve, he deduces the situation for himself. Turning towards Joong, he says, “Sir, this is private property. You’re not allowed to park your motorbike here--”

Joong scrambles up, “I’ll park however the fuck I want, asshole!”

“Sir, I’ll have to tell you to leave the premises. Otherwise, I have no problem in bringing you down to the police station.” 

After that, Joong doesn’t hesitate to scramble back to his vehicle and you quickly recount the story to the security guard, while Hyunjae butts in to tell him that he should really keep an eye out if ever Joong comes around again. After thanking him and turning back towards the subway station, you don’t hesitate to grab onto Hyunjae’s wrist, clucking your tongue when you notice the redness of his knuckles.

"You shouldn’t have done that,” you tell him, fingers gently caressing the back of his hand before you look up at him, into those soft doe eyes that are currently gazing down at you like you’re worth it. The warmth in his pupils causes your throat to tighten with emotion.

“He was asking for it.” 

“I think I might have some medicine back home.”

You wait for his agreement, only to be met with silence. Trying to search his gaze for any indication, you let out a soft yelp when his arms suddenly lace around your middle to pull you into a hug. 

“Jae?” you murmur into his ear, only for him to tighten his hold in response, “what is it?” 

It takes a moment for Hyunjae to answer. When he does, his voice is choked with anger. 

“He hurt you,” he grovels out, warm breath against your neck, “he hurt you and he doesn’t even fucking care, Y/N. He stole from you, and he touched you when you didn’t want to--” 

“Hey, hey,” you pull away to gaze at the pain brimming in his irises. Your hand brushes away a strand of his hair, “he can’t hurt me anymore, okay?”

Hyunjae just searches your face for a moment, as if wanting to console himself that you’re alright, and that tender action is enough to make a small smile dance across your lips. 

Softly, you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek, “thank you.” 

That’s when his mouth tugs up at the corners, expression mirroring your own as his orbs soften with care, naked affection reflecting in his own pools of brown.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispers, “it’s my job.” 

You answer him by pecking his lips, pulling back to see his eyebrows quirked up in amusement. 

“That’s your reward,” you grin.

“That’s all I get?” 

"Should’ve broken his nose then,” your hands quickly pull him back when Hyunjae makes a move to turn away to finish what he’s started, bubbles of laughter erupting from your lips as you slap him jokingly on the shoulder, “I wasn’t being serious, you idiot.” 

"Do I get a bigger reward?” 

Cheeks flushing, you answer, “maybe.” 

That’s all it takes for Hyunjae’s face to break into that charmingly handsome grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He grabs your hand then, before tugging you towards the subway, “let’s go home then!” 

"Perv.” 

“You’ll be eating your words later,” he winks. This man. 

[mae-gi-writes]

Betrothed | Sangyeon

Requested! Royal au! Sangyeon and Y/N have been betrothed ever since they were kids. Too bad that you hate each other’s guts...Or do you? 

Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au, royal au.  Tagging: my lovely precious @aniyawoos​ because she deserves all the love in the world. 

----

"Where is it?” 

You wish that your murderous glare can drill holes through Sangyeon’s back as you stand, fists clenched at your side, as you watch the prince smoothing over his horse’s mane as if he has no worries in the world.

You try breathing out through your nostrils. Inhale. Exhale. Relax. 

“Where is it, Sangyeon?” 

“I didn’t touch your diary.” 

“You’re the only one who knows I always keep in on my desk. And the only person who has access to our quarters is you,” you cross your arms over your chest, “where is it?” 

At that, he whips his head around to throw you a scowl, “I told you, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what it looks like.” 

“That’s a load of bullcrap. You’ve seen it before.” 

"If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really give a rat’s ass about your stuff, nor do I have any interest in reading your personal matters. So no, it’s not me,” he returns back to his horse and you’re tempted to throw a bucket at him when he’s not looking.

What an ass, you think to yourself as you storm away, anger bubbling up inside your stomach. 

Ever since you could remember, your parents had been constantly throwing you into Sangyeon’s arms as a reminder that you were to be his wife someday when you guys were of age to rule over the Kingdom of Gustale. It was your duty as a princess from the neighbouring Kingdom and you wouldn’t have minded it as much, if not for Sangyeon’s constant bitch-ass attitude towards you these past few years.

Growing up had been fun, to say the least. Before everything had turned like sour grapes, you and Sangyeon would spend endless days together, sharing stories from your own and going out on small adventures in the city. That was before responsibility had fallen onto both your shoulders, before summer was replaced by additional royalty lessons about managing the people and the economy of the Kingdom itself. 

You weren’t exactly sure when things started going downhill in your relationship. But it had been sudden; the way Sangyeon had withdrawn from you as distant as the wind, the way his features -- which you were used to seeing so soft and open -- had hardened considerably whenever he was meant to interact with you. You had never had the nerve to ask him about it, but it was clearly not your fault. 

How could it be? It was almost like you had snapped your fingers, and the Sangyeon you knew was gone.

And time is fast in slipping through your fingers, for it’s only a few days until your actual betrothal. 

Another sigh escapes your lips as you think of the bleak future ahead. Before, marrying Sangyeon wouldn’t have bothered you that much. Now though, it seemed like you were readying yourself to walk through the gates of hell.

The preparations for the Royal Engagement ceremony take up most of your time, which successfully steer your thoughts away from the big elephant in the room you have yet to address. You busy yourself organizing the tables, going through the list of decorations, and spending as much free time walking along the docks to greet the merchants going back and forth to the sea like it’s their second home. 

It’s only when night falls that it becomes a challenge. As a way to encourage your intimacy, the Royal family had decided it suitable for you to spend your nights in Sangyeon’s royal quarters. That wouldn’t normally bother you as much. But with Sangyeon’s coldness, you find yourself most of the time slipping away in the middle of the night to curl up in one of the library’s couches.

So it comes as a surprise when you hear Sangyeon’s alto float through the air. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, you pause in mid-action. Have you just heard wrong or--?

“Y/N.” 

You blink. Hesitate a few seconds. “What?” 

Another pause.

“Have you--” his voice is gruff, coming from the room itself. You wish you can see him, “have you found it?” 

“My diary?” 

“Yeah.” 

You resume brushing your hair, “no.”

Another awkward silence takes hold of the room and you’re not sure whether you should be filling it with short talk. 

Your heart jolts in your throat when you hear him once more, “I didn’t steal it, Y/N. If that’s what you think.” 

Biting your lip, you nod, before realizing he can’t see you, “I know.” 

“Good.” 

That’s possibly the nicest he’s ever been since...well, ever since. 

You try not to ponder too much over the meaning behind Sangyeon’s gentle demeanour, knowing full well that it only leads to disappointment in the long run. Quickly untangling the knots from your hair before moving towards your bedroom, you’re surprised to find that he’s still sitting up, blinking up at you as though waiting that you’ll join him for the night. 

“What?” You can’t help but ask the moment your eyes meet for a second too long.

His eyes slide away in growing embarrassment, “I--Uhm, are you--are you going to bed for the night?” 

“Yes?” Confusion falls over your face. 

He turns his head away so that you’re graced with his profile, and you can’t help but admire the strong jawline he sports, his plump lips that every girl would die for, “I was just asking, because I know you tend to sleep in the library.”

“Oh,” realization dawns on you, and while the first thing that scratches the back of your tongue is an apology, your mind reels back when you realize that you don’t really owe him anything.

“Well, uhm--” you rack your brains for an answer, “I thought you weren’t comfortable with me sleeping in the same bed as yours.” 

His mutter is so soft you would’ve missed if it you hadn’t been paying attention, “I really don’t mind.” 

That’s how you find yourself, curled up on your side and away from the said prince of Gustale, hands tucked under your head and trying to take up as little space as you possibly can. You can feel the heat of his body radiating from his side of your bed, practically bathing your entire backside, and though Sangyeon’s bed is big enough to accomodate the two of you, it’s quite modest in comparison to what the King and Queen have in their sleeping quarters. One wrong move in his direction will ultimately cause your limbs to brush, no question.

The first night is definitely awkward. You try not to bring it up, and Sangyeon does an amazing job at hiding what’s really going on in his mind. But as more time passes, you start picking up on things that he’s starting to do differently. For starters, he now engages in quiet conversation with you at meal times, asking whether you’re finding your way around the palace, or grudgingly passing you plates of food without so much as a protest. He’d asked the maids to keep tabs on what made you uncomfortable so that he could change what didn’t sit well with you, unknown to your knowledge, and you’d only found out later when one of the guards had accidentally let it slip that the prince seemed to be ‘putting it a lot more effort nowadays’. 

Not that it had helped, since you’re still left empty-handed, with all your thoughts and private feelings probably tucked away in someone else’s desk drawer. 

Sangyeon’s sudden bout of generosity and consideration makes your heart warm. You slowly start softening towards the said man, until you hear a pair of court ladies mumbling amongst themselves on the eve of the Royal Engagement. 

“The Prince and the Princess have been getting quite cozy lately.” 

“No wonder,” the other woman scoffs, causing Y/N to back up against the nearby wall, ears focused on their conversation, “after all, he knows what he’s got to do after their marriage. Maybe he wants to get an early start.” 

“You think so? The prince doesn’t strike me as the type to sway women only for his physical needs.” 

“Well, she will definitely be the bearer of his children. So he surely must get into her good books.” 

At this point, you’re already walking towards his quarters with your heart palpitating in your chest and your legs going numb from the women’s earlier discussion. Is it true? You ask yourself as you absentmindedly open his room door. You close it softly behind you, pressing your back against it while the words slowly digest themselves in your head.

If what the court ladies are saying, then it makes sense why Sangyeon is acting all nice all of a sudden without reason. He merely wants to get the job done as quickly as possible, so that he can be done with you and just throw you into a corner like a used item of clothing he’d outgrew. 

That doesn’t seem to sit well in your stomach. You manage to get yourself to the toilet just in time to throw up your entire dinner.

That is where Sangyeon finds you, a few minutes later, heaving and gasping into the toilet bowl while your hands are gripping the edges for dear life. Your face is dotted with perspiration, your face probably flushed from the effort. You know, without looking at your reflection, that you’ve had better days.

“Did you eat something wrong?” he crouches down beside you, a tentative hand fluttering against your backside. It makes you shiver, the warmth of his palm, still not used to his body being so close.

You manage to shake your head, “no,” you mutter, spitting some remaining saliva before you try moving towards the sink. Sangyeon’s arms are around your shoulders in an instant, helping you up to allow you to wash your hands.

You force your gaze down towards your hand, trying to busy yourself with the task at hand so that you won’t have to see the concerned expression he’s plastered over his face just to convince you that his affection is genuine. 

“What happened?” he follows you into the bedroom, though it’s clear at this point that you want to burrow underneath the covers and hide forever. You do just that, kicking off your shoes and ignoring the prince’s questions that would’ve once made your heart flutter with affection.  Now though, you’re not really sure what you should be feeling towards Sangyeon.

Feeling the bed dip as he sits at your bedside, you can’t help but flinch when his hand pushes a stray strands of hair away from your face, “talk to me, Y/N. Was it something at dinner? Do you feel unwell? Have you caught the stomach flu? It seems to be going around a lot these days. Maybe it’s something you caught when you were out by the docks--” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off and close your eyes, “leave me alone.” 

There’s a pause and you force your muscles to relax despite feeling the heat of his gaze zeroing on your face.

“Y/N?” he starts, his alto unsure and confused, “did something happen? Was it something I said?” 

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what is it?” 

“Nothing. I said leave me alone.” 

“Y/N come on, don’t start playing those games with me,” his hand reaches for your shoulder, only for you to jerk away from his hold. Hurt flashes across Sangyeon’s face, though he is adept at masking it into indifference, hand hanging in mid-air. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he finally says in the silence that prevails, “we can’t be arguing on the eve of your engagement, for christ’s sake.” 

“Is it true?” you blurt out before your mind can stop your heart from rearing in pain, “is it true that you’re only being nice to me because you want to bed me?” 

Silence. A pause. Then, “who told you this?” 

You shrug but decide not to answer. 

Only to be pulled back to face Sangyeon a second later, his arm latched onto your shoulder so that you meet his darkened gaze, coated with restrained anger. His jaw clenches as he repeats, “who told you, Y/N?” 

“Is it true?” your eyes lock on his, “is it true then? Do you just want to get into my pants?” 

“No, it’s not true. But that’s not going to help my case is it?” he sighs, “listen Y/N. People talk a lot, and there’s bound to always be rumours flying around--” 

“So then why?” you cut him off with a scowl, “why are you acting so nice to me when you haven’t been for the past five years?” 

You try to search for any indication on his face, but Sangyeon being Sangyeon, he knows exactly how to close himself off, hide behind a mask of nonchalance so that it’s almost impossible to guess what might be making the cogs in his head turn. 

“Can I tell you something without you shouting at me?” his murmur is so soft, so unlike his usual cold demeanour, that you nod in agreement, willing to at least hear him out.

“I read your diary.” 

Your jaw drops, “You what?! You liar!” You shoot up, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure instinct, “you said you didn’t know where it was!” 

“It’s under the bed, I technically found it there so-- ouch woman!” he rubs his now injured shoulder, “can I continue? You promised you wouldn’t get aggressive.”

You keep glaring at him as he continues. 

“The things you wrote--I didn’t know that you were hurting so much. I thought that keeping my distance was what you wanted,” he bites the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t want you thinking I was being nice just because we’re meant to be married, especially since I liked you so much. So I tried avoiding you, tried to distance myself so that you’d come to me out of your own free will,” he presses his lips together, eyebrows drawn into a frown, “but then...I read your diary and realized that you--that it was hurting you, more than it was doing you good. You know? And that--that hurt me.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you just want to have sex?” 

His ears flush a joyous red, so vividly oblivious that your inner mind screams out at how cute he is. 

“It has nothing to do with that,” he stammers out. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?” Now you know you’re only pulling his leg, but it’s even more precious to see him ducking his head as the flush reaches the tips of his ears, “I--I never--I never said that! I--well, I mean, you--you’re going to be my wife after all so--obviously, you --you know I kinda...” he scratches the back fo his neck, clearly uncomfortable with all the questions you fire at him, “I kinda already...thought about it.” 

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing in his face and revel at how red he becomes as he splutters out, “it’s--it’s not funny.” 

“Oh god,” you clamp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself, though it’s quite a pathetic attempt, since even Sangyeon’s mouth tugs up into a mirroring grin. 

“So are we good now?” He murmurs while his hand unconsciously lands upon yours. It’s soft, warm from his heat. It feels good, it feels...safe. 

Your heart skips a beat, “yes Sangyeon. We are. We’re good.” 

“Good,” he clears his throat thickly, bites down onto his lower lip as if in thought while his thumb traces soft patterns over your knuckles. It almost feels normal to have him so close, it’s like your body knows that he’s the one you’ll be sharing the rest of your life with.

And then, a memory of his little speech comes floating back before your very eyes. 

“Wait,” your eyes snap up to his own confused ones, “you said you liked me?” 

He opens his mouth, closes it in realization that he indeed had let it slip. 

“Yeah,” he finally mumbles while looking away, ‘Yeah. I like you Y/N. I’ve liked you a lot, for a long time.” 

Your entire body springs up in warmth, “why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper out hoarsely. 

Turning towards you so that there’s only millimetres between you, your eyes fall onto the soft curve of his collarbones underneath his white shirt, quickly snapping away to stop yourself from getting any wild ideas. 

“How could I?” he croaks out, “this whole betrothal thing is planned. I wanted to love someone truly, without titles. I loved you, not because I was betrothed to you. You were just--” his gaze flickers to your lips, “you.”

“Well maybe if you had told me sooner, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” 

“Maybe.”

“Sangyeon,” his dark orbs are swirling with warmth, with a tenderness that causes butterflies to shimmer across your chest when your gazes lock, “I really appreciate what you did. These past few days.” 

He chuckles softly, “that’s nothing to thank me for, princess.”

Sitting there with Sangyeon at your side, with his hand resting on yours and your bodies so close you can smell his cologne mixed with the natural scent of wood and summer breeze -- a scent that can only be defined as Sangyeon’s -- it almost feels like you’re part of a family. Your heart swells with emotion at the thought; maybe it’s not so bad after all, to be betrothed to someone like Sangyeon.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s calling your name softly. Looking up into his doe brown orbs gleaming with an open kind of understanding, you find that you can’t possibly look away. The intensity of his gaze is enough to send your heart galloping out of your chest, and when you take a shaky inhale to calm yourself, you realize how close your faces actually are, so close you can see the tiniest freckles spattering across his cheek like galaxies of their own.

You wish to say something. Anything that might save you from staring at him like he’s a piece of art you can’t take your eyes off. But the words get stuck in the back of your throat like sandpaper, a gasp being the only thing that draws out of your mouth when you feel his hand gently cup your chin. 

Sangyeon’s thumb brushes against your lower lip and instantly, you feel your skin explode in goosebumps. He moves a little closer and the gasp that dies in the back of your throat catches his attention fully. 

It seems like ages go by without as much of an exchange. The world slips away, with only you and Sangyeon gazing into each other’s eyes, both trying to play it safe and yet, there’s definitely something in the air, the electricity that tingles along your spine is definitely not fantasy. 

Your hands ball into fists upon impulse. You can barely breathe, hearing your heart slamming against your ribcage. 

He leans a little closer. His mouth brushes against yours. Barely. 

Your breath hitches, body tensing up slightly.

And then he’s kissing your next breath away, arms lacing around your middle to pull you close while his lips slants over yours in the most sensual caresses that leaves you gasping. You melt right into his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you up, his touch leaving searing paths of hot heat like an imprint that kept you reeling and wanting for more.

It’s only when your back hits the mattress that you realize that you’re lying down with Sangyeon hovering over you, breath staggering and muscles bunching up so that he can kiss you some more, a little deeper each time your mouths collide to ignite sparks behind your lids. Your hands slip around his shoulders to wrap around his torso, traveling up to his hair, his beautiful dark hair that slips through your fingers like silk, and the groan that echoes through his chest causes heat to pool inside your stomach.

With a knee pressing down between your own so that another gasp falls from your lips, the prince’s hands trace a sensual path along your stomach, trailing up to ghost over your chest. You breathe out softly, the smallest of whimpers escaping your mouth. That seems to please him, for his tongue darts out to part your lips with the softest of groans. 

It feels so good to have him against you, his heat pooling around yours in a comfortable safe haven that elicits nothing but desire. 

When he pulls away for air, you can’t help but whine at the loss of contact while tugging his neck back down in an attempt to steal another kiss from his lips.

Sangyeon lets out a throaty growl, “Y/N, princess, I don’t think that’s such a--” his words die into a moan the moment your mouth starts nibbling along his collarbone. His grip tightens around your waist, and before you know it, you’re backed up against the headboard of the bed right before his lips take yours in once more in a sinful dance of tongues.

“Y/N,” he groans against your mouth, hips unintentionally bucking up against yours when your soft curves roll in delicious desire, taunting him to take it a step further, “baby, stop...”

it is a surprise that he manages to wrench himself away, chest heaving and lips swollen. Your eyes flutter up to his face with a mixture of desire and affection clouding your gaze. 

“We can’t,” his soft murmur causes you to shiver. He proceeds to caress your cheekbone, “we’re going to lie down and sleep. And we’re not going to ruin this, not tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, though you smile softly “fine.” 

He flashes you another tender smile, then moves towards his side of the bed, tugging you along as he goes. With your head resting on his chest and with one arm wrapped securely around your waist, you allow your ear to be comforted by the soft heartbeats echoing through his chest, a soft reminder that this man’s heart beats for yours, and will beat for yours till the end of time.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile sleepily, “good night, Sangyeon.” 

You’re almost falling into the depths of sleep when you feel his mouth press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

---

[mae-gi-writes]

Kevin Frost | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

Summary ❄ Being sick every winter sucks, until winter itself decides to bring itself to you in the form of Kevin Frost.

Genre ❄ fluff, fantasy, inspired by Jack Frost (as per my beautiful @nyuwings​ request)

A/N ❄ for my lovely @nyuwings​ with whom I’ve bonded with so quickly I keep wondering whether we’re soulmates. Thank you for your presence and for just being you. Ily. ❤

° . · ❄ · . °

Sighing for the nth time, you placed your hands up against the window, palms turning icy cold as you took in the array of snowflakes floating to the ground. It was that time of the year again, a time that signified celebration as the town of Sleva would get covered in a blanket of what your brothers liked to call fairy dust. Snow would bathe the entire streets white and would glimmer in the light of the street lamps lining the streets. You could already spot the Christmas lights in variants of red and green and yellow gold strung across the main intersections, probably where the Christmas market would be. Right about that time merchants would line the streets with their wooden carts, shouting out about all the fresh sausages and special meats they’d offer for a good price for the festive season. 

You knew Christmas season like the back of your hand. It was ironic then, that you were the only person not allowed out whenever Christmas and winter came around. 

“You’re sick,” your mother had scolded you once when you had mustered up the courage to ask her why you were the only one being left behind, “you’ll die if you go out in the snow.” 

And it was true. Your lungs were small, pea-sized, as the doctor had mentioned at one of your checkups. It was about the same time when you started asking questions, curiosity finally picking away at your logic. Going out in the snow and allowing your body to suffer the cold would deliver a fatal blow to your nervous system. 

He had not, however, told your parents to keep you locked in like a prisoner that would instantly face death the moment you caught wind of cold. But while your parents had taken dramatic measures to keep you tightly tucked in warmth until summer came around once more, you’d like to think that it was more of an exaggeration as an extension of their concern for your well-being, and not the actual truth. 

So that was why you were sitting like the pathetic picture that you were, staring out at the countless other people trudging through snow and laughing as they made up snowballs and built snowmen in their driveways. You wondered briefly what your friends were up to, knowing full well from their recounted stories that at this time of year they’d flock to the bars to catch glimpses of the beautiful young men, soldiers and men from military that would come home from their basecamps on these special occasions. 

“We can sneak you out!” One of your friends exclaimed the first time you had explained the real reason as to why you could barely set foot outside, “And we’ll bring you home before your parents wake up.” 

You shook your head though, politely denying their requests as your heart ached, “it’s fine. You guys have fun.” 

“We’ll find a nice catch for you, Y/N,” another winked at you and you plastered a smile on your face right up until they had turned the corner.

You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

So there you sat every day and night, surprised that your butt hadn’t made an indentation on the chair yet as the sound of your mother’s cooking echoed up the stairs. The attic was where you liked to spend most of your time. It was a place where you could be at peace with yourself and enjoy your own company, the silence that came with it filling your mind with nothing but serenity.

Something flashed across the window. 

Probably a snowball, you thought to yourself as you rubbed your eyes. The smell of your mother’s famous dumplings wafted through the attic room and you sniffed the air, stomach growling in anticipation. There was bound to be a feast on Christmas eve. It was a tradition your family never missed out.

A group of children were busy building a snowman in the yard opposite yours and snuggling a little closer to the window, you pulled your blanket tighter around your frame as you watched them, giggling amongst themselves, while sticking the carrot to form its nose. 

Another flash. So fast and blurred that you cried out in shock and almost toppled over from your seat. 

Blinking, you stared long and hard at what you thought you had seen. If you weren’t mistaken, you swore that it had looked a lot like--

“Hello!” 

You screamed, toppling over for good this time. You landed on your butt and must’ve caused a ruckus for your mother’s voice to float up questioningly, “Y/N? Are you okay?” 

“Fine!” you cried back without tearing your eyes away from the window. 

A boy gazed back at you with amusement glimmering through his eyes. No, not a boy. More like a young man in his twenties, maybe about the same age as you were.

And he was floating.

You opened your mouth only for the words to choke the back of your throat. You coughed instead and didn’t realize that the said young man had propped open the window until you heard him ask, “you good there? That was quite a fall--”

Rushing to clamp a hand over his mouth, you hurriedly looked back towards the staircase. Thank god it seemed like your mother was so engrossed in her cooking and you sighed in relief, before realizing that you were a little too close to the said stranger. 

Pulling away quickly and tugging your blanket over your frame, you hissed out, “who are you?” in a tone that you hoped was threatening enough for him to understand you were not here to make friendly conversation. If anything, he was a stranger and he was weird.

But either he was used to people’s rude demeanour or he just didn’t care, for he merely brushed some snow out of his raven coloured hair before settling himself on the window frame more comfortably. He had a wooden cane gripped tightly in his left hand and his feet were left bare. You wondered briefly whether he was cold.

“My apologies for barging in without introductions,” his voice was melodic, smooth, “my name is Kevin Frost. I’m...winter?” 

Your eyebrows dipped into a frown, “excuse me?”

“I’m winter personified. Kind of like a guardian, weather guardian. In my case, guardian of winter,” he lifted his cane as if proving a point. Except, what was so special about it? It just looked like a tree branch he’d picked up along the way, “I’m responsible for the snow, I guess?” 

“You guess?” 

This guy was crazy. 

It seemed like he read your mind, for he sighed and threw you a sympathetic look, “you don’t believe me.” 

“You end your statements like they’re questions. How am I supposed to be convinced by that?” 

Kevin lifted his hand at your words and as he twirled his fingers through air, a wisp of snowflakes suddenly danced along his knuckles as if by magic. Blinking in astonishment, your jaw fell open without warning and he chuckled, “close your mouth, sweetheart. You might catch a fly.”

You snapped your mouth shut, “there are no flies in winter,” you muttered through narrowed eyes while crossing your arms over your middle, “so say what you’re saying is real...What does that mean?” 

“That I control winter, kinda. I come around every year when the season rolls around.”

“Why?” 

“Why? Because the world needs winter,” he scoffed as though you had asked the most stupidest question, “without winter, the cycle would be broken.” 

“Well, you can take your winter and use it elsewhere.” 

He looked at you for a second too long that you couldn’t help but shift uneasily under his darkened gaze, “What?” you asked, though averting your eyes at the sudden change in his demeanour.

“You don’t like winter.” 

He said it like a statement. Without question. Confident that what he told was the truth. 

And he was right.

“What?!” it was his jaw that fell open this time, “so what? You’ve never touched snow before?” 

“I don’t,” you answered.

"Why not?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you said, “I...my health isn’t the best during winter. I can’t go out.” 

You shook your head and his eyes grew even wider if that was possible, so baffled by your statement that he almost dropped his cane, “Oh that is really shitty.”

“Oh yes,” your eyes glued themselves to the floor, “that’s me.” 

The silence that followed made your heart drop. Why were divulging your darkest thoughts to a mere stranger? And one that climbed through windows and could weld snow like it was as easy as breathing? 

But Kevin’s hand reached out, palm open and facing upwards as his face softened. It was almost like he understood what it felt like to be different, deprived from something that everyone else could enjoy, “I think I can help with that.” 

“Uhm,” your eyes were skeptically analyzing the small wisps of cold air surrounding said hand, “I don’t think that’s the answer--”

“Just trust me.” 

“You’re a stranger.”

“And I’m the only way you can enjoy winter.” 

Maybe it was the truth that rang through his words despite barely knowing him, or maybe it was the idea of finally being free of the bodily chains that held you down and just out of reach of the unknown. But one look at the dark obsidian orbs that swam with nothing but an open invitation was enough to make you reach out, hand gently placing over his and shuddering slightly at the icy coldness of his fingers. 

"Allow me,” he murmured as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder before tugging you with him. And before you knew it, you were tumbling out of your window and into open air as you whipped along with the wind that carried you forward, over the houses, over the cityscape bathed with snow with Kevin’s hold tightening every so slightly on your frame. 

A gust of wind blew in your direction and your shoulders tensed, readying yourself to feel the air nip at your skin and skittle across your clothes with those icy fingers. 

But nothing. Nothing but a soft warmth that slowly spread through your limbs, almost as though you had sat by a warm campfire with a mug of warm hot chocolate. Your eyes shot up to meet Kevin’s, who only grinned at you with playful mischief. 

“Told you that you’d be safe with me, didn’t I?” 

With that, he swooped you along, the edge of your dress skimming the top of houses. You didn’t realize you were yelling in delight the higher you went as your legs dangled. Tingles shot down your spine and into your feet as you looked down at the ground, butterflies roaming your stomach in a mixture of fear and excitement. 

“Oh!--” the air stuck in your throat the moment you spotted the Christmas market, “Is that--Is that the Christmas market?!”

His chuckle grazed your ear, “sure is.”

“And that’s the church! Oh my gosh--It’s so pretty!” Gasping at the wondrous sights that appeared before you like a movie you’ve been dying to watch, you can’t help but tear up in blind joy. This, this is what you’ve been missing out on all this time? You couldn’t believe it; how magical it all was, how authentically beautiful and breathtaking. It was almost like looking into a snow globe. Untouchable. 

“Are you--Are you crying?” the panic laced in Kevin’s voice made you burst out laughing as you felt the ghost of his hand swiping at your cheek. It felt weird hanging in mid-air being too close to a man -- or could you call him a man? -- that was currently wiping away your tears like it was the most mundane occurrence. But at this point you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“No I’m just--It’s beautiful. I--I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on all this,” you spluttered out, chest tight with emotion, “why hasn’t anyone ever told me?” 

“Well to be fair, we are above all humans,” his murmur was so close to your ear that you turned out of curiosity, only to swallow hard at the closeness of your faces. 

You looked away, “and you’re not human?” 

You sensed his hesitation, “...not exactly.” 

“Then what are you?” 

Another round of silence as he struggled to give a coherent answer. Something told you that you weren’t going to be fond of all that he had to say. 

“It’s complicated.” 

You didn’t fight him, knowing full well that it would provoke more questions than provide you answers. He tugged you along silently over the house chimneys, allowing you to ogle at the arrays of food merchants littering the streets and settling you atop one of the roofs to enjoy a live show of musicians in Sleva’s Square. Curiosity burned at the tip of your tongue whenever you caught yourself looking at him for a second too long. But it seemed like your earlier conversation had dulled the light in his eyes and you decided it was best to keep your mouth shut, instead focusing on clapping along to the sound of merry jingles floating through the air.

It was past midnight when Kevin deposited you at your window sill, gingerly settling your feet onto the ground as you allowed your eyes to find his own dark orbs reflecting the dim light of the attic. 

You licked your lips that had run dry from the slow ebbing warmth of Kevin’s presence, “thank you, for today.” 

His grin was contagious, for you felt your own lips tug into a smile, “you’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

You couldn’t help the blush from spreading up your neck at the little pet name that he had garnered, “so who’s the next lucky lady then?” you were quick to change the subject, “you can’t tell me I’m the only who gets to ride along with Kevin Frost.”

He smirked and you swore your heartstrings tugged. Reaching up with his hand, he proceeded to tuck your hair behind your ears and only grinned a little wider when your face flushed.

“You are,” he whispered, and with another cold gust of wind, he was gone before you could utter another word. 

° . · ❄ · . °

Kevin Frost’s presence was starting to become a constant in your life that winter, dropping by on numerous occasions throughout the day and night as he kept you company. He entertained you with stories of his day; how he’d helped a few children ice skate by freezing the entire lake over, or how he’d made it snow a little harder for others to get enough snow to finish off their snowman.

Sometimes, he would whip up some Christmas creations in your attic itself and wrap you in his arms as he danced along to the snowflakes cascading from your ceiling. He’d hum to a few Christmas tunes as you went, stepping onto his feet and him on yours because-- you’d realized shortly after -- that he wasn’t as such of a good dancer as he claimed he was. 

Most nights though, he’d make it a must to fly you to one of the rooftops to enjoy the scenery. You would huddle closer for warmth, your blanket heavy on your shoulders and his arm around you keeping you heated while you exchanged stories of your past and childhood. In exchange he would recollect where he’d come from; how his earliest memory had started from the moment he’d fallen out of an icicle in the North Pole and how, from that day onwards, he’d fly around the world to provide snow when it was necessary.

“So that means you’ll be gone once spring comes around?” you couldn’t help the words that slipped from your mouth. Coughing a little, you nestled closer out of instinct. For some reason, you had been a little weaker these past few days, reason being the numerous secret outings after dinner time. Not that you had mentioned that to your mother when she’d commented on your physical state. That was recipe for disaster.

"My duty will lie elsewhere when that time comes."

"I notice you always talk in riddles whenever you don't want to say things that will hurt people."

He glanced at you, maybe out of shock or maybe just because he already knew how you'd picked up on his habits in the few days that you had spent together.

When he spoke next, his voice was a raspy whisper, “I don’t like hurting people.”

"Don’t avoid my question, Kevin Frost.” 

The words hung between you like a cold breath of winter. Kevin’s skin was warm and yet, your fingers felt numb from gripping one of the roof tiles too hard. 

“Yes,” he pressed his lips together, “I’ll be gone. Until the next winter season.” 

“So you’re leaving me.”

“I never said I was going to stay.” 

The words stung like bees, as though someone had reached into your chest for the sole purpose of squeezing your heart until it pinched with pain. 

He must’ve regretted his outburst, for in the silence that followed there was a soft mumble of his apology. 

"And you said you didn’t like hurting people,” you scoffed and saw him wincing from the corner of your eye, “that’s exactly what you’re doing.” 

Gathering up your skirts and wrapping the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders when you felt a gentle whoosh of the winter air scald your skin, you muttered, “I’d like to go home now.” 

The fly back was laden with a heavy silence that pressed down on your throat and made your eyes burn with the onset of tears, though you refused to cry for him. You knew, deep down, that he’d be gone in the blink of an eye. He wasn’t the personification of winter for nothing and it ultimately wasn’t his fault for leaving you. 

He wasn’t to blame. 

It was just a matter of unleashing your own frustrations because you were going to miss him. More than he could imagine.

The moment your feet touched the wooden edge of your window sill, you fought the urge not to turn around and bury yourself into his arms. He grasped your hand, the other around your waist as he helped you inside like he always did, except this time your heart skipped a beat despite the small pang of pain resonating through your chest. 

“Y/N,” came his murmur the moment your feet touched your attic floor. You turned around reluctantly, heart collapsing the moment you caught sight of the glistening wetness in Kevin’s dark orbs. 

“I--” he took a shaky inhale, stepped towards you until you were close enough for your feet to touch, “I never wanted you to get attached, nor did I want to get attached...to you.”

Your head angled to the floor as you bit your lip, not wanting him to see how much you were breaking inside. 

"Oh come here sweetheart,” and that was when his arms laced around your middle to pull you close, a movement so surprising that it made you gasp. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away, only for him to hold on a little tighter and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart felt like it had suddenly been ignited with fireworks, heat coursing through your veins at the sudden display of affection that left you lightheaded.

“I don’t like seeing you unhappy,” his whisper echoed through your ear and as if on impulse he tightened his hold. 

“You’ll...” you broke off when the tears started choking you up, arms going around his chest to press your cheek against his collarbone, “you’ll come back though. You can promise that...right?”

Feeling him nod, you pulled away to get that same affirmation from his eyes, which you did once your gazes locked. Gently, Kevin’s hand went up to hold your cheek, brushing his thumb slightly over your cheekbone and causing your breath to stutter inside your throat. 

Time felt like it had stopped as you stood there, unmoving, just watching the shades of dark brown moving to soft maroon of Kevin’s eyes as the light danced against his face. 

And then he leaned down. His lips feathered over your forehead before pressing a soft, chaste kiss upon it, “I promise.” 

° . · ❄ · . °

As Winter slowly ebbed away with the arrival of Spring, so did Kevin Frost. It was as if you were waking up from a dream all this time, a dream that you hoped would last forever. It was only when it was warm enough to step outside that you spotted all of his silent messages displayed across the town. Ice sculptures depicting two miniature figures flying through the sky, dancing on rooftops and laughing together paved the way from the door of your backyard to the edge of your fencing and you swore that if you had been alone you would’ve broken down into tears.

But you held on to that thin strand of hope that Kevin Frost would return the next winter. You hoped. Believed that he would keep his word. 

Summer was a daze where you occupied yourself helping your brothers, who had recently bought a stand to open up a bakery shop at the end of your street. As you slowly started learning the ropes of rolling dough out and making confectionaries that the locals were so fond of, you slowly developed the skill of decorating them to your liking; which was winter-themed. Soon enough, cookies in the forms of snowflakes were being displayed, there were icy popsicles in the shape of ice-skating rollers, cakes to show the frozen lake and small figurines dancing atop its surface icing. 

The one creation that sold the best out of all these was the pastry depicting a scene from when you and Kevin Frost had sat upon a roof, heads nestled close and looking like there wasn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. You had carved into the dough with the best of your ability, with the details springing from the golden crust once it had gone through the oven as bits and pieces of white chocolate made up the snowflakes falling in that idealistic landscape.

"My daughters just love your creations!” One lady once stated as she bought a cake box and about dozens of your pastry, “she finds them so adorable that she shares them with her friends at recess!” 

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad she likes them,” you smiled back as you exchanged the box of goodies for some gold coins. Your brother, named Hyunjae, nudged you the moment the woman was out of earshot, “so now that we’ve established that you know how to bake. Care to elaborate where you met this man?” 

“What?” you tried keeping your face impassive. But you’d be a fool to think your brother would be satisfied with your obliviousness. 

“Y/N, I’d like to know whatever’s going on in that little head of yours,” Hyunjae slung an arm around your shoulder with a sly smirk, “so do please enlighten your brother before he finds that man and lands him one.” 

You gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Well it seems like he’s breaking your heart, whoever that man in the pastry is.” 

"I--He’s--There’s no one.”

“Y/N.” 

“Hyunjae, leave her alone,” your eldest brother, who went by the name of Younghoon, just threw Hyunjae a stern stare, “she’ll tell us when she wants to.” 

“You’re no fun Younghoon.” 

Before you knew it, the temperature had dropped and the lush greenery of the foliage adorning the town slowly turned to warm hues of orange and red and yellows that fell to the ground, signalling that a new season was making its way through Sleva. Working in your house kitchen was a given now that it was too cold for your body to handle. You woke up before down each day to prepare the set of pastries and adorned cakes that your brothers would then transport to the market place as you watched, waving until their figures disappeared behind the wooden structures of the buildings. 

And then, the first snow came. 

You weren’t exactly sure when or how Kevin Frost was going to make his appearance. It had been so long that your memory fogged up whenever you tried to remember the details of his features. Did he have a mole at the corner of his eye or was that just a figment of your imagination? Nevertheless, the first time you spotted snowflakes drifting to the ground, there was a rush of adrenaline through your heart and you just knew that Kevin Frost was here.

That night, you set up the fire in your attic as per usual and gathered your blanket around you before huddling over to the edge of the window. No expectations, your mind told you, no expectations that he’d make it to you today. And that was alright.

Your hand went to press against the window pane. It was cold. It sent a shiver through your body and you coughed slightly, muffling it with your palm. 

Who were you kidding? There was absolutely no reason why you sat at the edge of the window with your palms bearing the cold if not for one glimpse of Kevin Frost, one sign from him that he had returned with the winter that buried Sleva in its magical beauty.

You imagined him now, that playful asymmetrical smirk and those gorgeous feline eyes and the tender way he would look at you whenever you would spark a conversation that would keep you awake till the early hours of the morning.

You missed him.

Breath fogging up the glass as your nose went to press against it, you took this moment to close your eyes. 

Get a grip Y/N. You had to live your life just like he was living his. He wasn’t even human, so why? What made him so important that you felt like your heart was constantly dancing to the rhythm of his voice? 

Your eyes fluttered open as you took a breath--

Only to look straight into Kevin Frost’s eyes. 

Gasping in shock, your jaw fell slack as you gazed at his face from behind the window pane, his hand pressing up where yours was as he grinned back at you.

“Kev--” your throat felt tight, “Kevin?” 

Your hands scrabbled for the latch. You flung it open.

He was here. He came back as he had promised.

Your heart swelled twice the size of your chest, tears gathering along your eyes so that they made your sight all blurry as you reached out to feel his hands clasping your own and before you knew it, you were being cradled to Kevin Frost’s chest as he held you as though he was never going to let go.

“Kevin?” your murmur was muffled against his shirt and reaching out to cup your cheek, he tilted your face towards his in a manner so gentle that your lungs seemed to stop functioning altogether. 

His eyes were the same dark obsidian, his nose scrunching in that same manner of his whenever he was deeply amused and whether it was due to your shock, you weren’t about to make a comment when he was here in the flesh, in your arms. 

“Long time no see,” his mouth was pressed to your temple and he pecked the area, over and over again like he himself couldn’t quite believe it, “sweetheart.” 

His pet name made you laugh, though the tears now pooled down your cheeks, “long time indeed.” 

“Kept my promise though, didn’t I?” his hand went up to smooth over the back of your head in an affectionate manner and you swore you felt your heart melt at his touch.

“Still as cocky as ever.” 

“Admit it, you missed me.” 

You grumbled out a small whine of agreement while looking away and Kevin only chuckled in response. He pushed back your hair, curled it behind your ear before cupping your cheek once more as he searched your gaze.

The intensity of his dark orbs made something in your chest constrict, hands tightening ever so slightly on his shirt, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I wanted to try something.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I saw a bunch of couples doing it so it got me thinking.” 

Heat spread through your cheeks and coursed down the back of your neck at how casually he seemed to handle the matter. It must’ve been obvious from the look on your face for Kevin only chuckled and bent down so close that his nose brushed yours, eyes slowly drifting shut when he angled his head to the side.

When his lips touched yours, you swore your heart burst into a million of fireworks. 

A shy, tentative kiss. A first kiss for Kevin Frost. That was for sure. 

It felt unreal, cold lips against warm ones that made you shudder out of the sheer sensation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he caught your lower lip between his own. You let out a small sound of appreciation and spurred on, he kept on kissing you that way over and over again while his other arm tugged you close so that you were pressed up to him, all of your curves molded to his hard frame.

He pulled back and for the first time in forever he was the definition of being flustered, red cheeks and shy smile, “how...how did it feel?” he asked like a little five year old boy. 

The grin that almost split your face in two was priceless and you'd never know that his heart was racing hundred miles an hour the moment you did.

"Cold," you giggled at his confused frown, "...and magical."

Satisfied with your answer, the young man pressed another kiss to your cheek in a manner so delicate it made your insides blossom with butterflies.

"So," Kevin turned towards the now open window which was now coated in snowflakes, "shall we?"

Your hand slipped into his as you made your way to the ledge, noting the gentleness of his arm as it wound around your waist and caressed your side.

"Show me what you've made of this winter, Kevin Frost."

[mae-gi-writes]

Delice | Changmin (The Boyz Christmas Series)

La Joie De Noel Series.

Sangyeon | Jacob | Younghoon | Hyunjae | Juyeon | Kevin | Changmin | Chanhee | Haknyeon | Sunwoo | Eric

Delice : something delicious

In which basketball player Changmin finds an excuse to talk to you at the Christmas bake sale.

-♡-

"Christmas muffins for sale!" Y/N bellows at the top of her lungs while waving her decorat3d Christmas flagpole around, its etched words "Christmas Goodies" glittering in gold atop itd dark red material. Beside her is an old lady shooting her down with a narrow-eyed glare, probably ticked off at her enthusiasm. Not that it matters to Y/N, nothing can kill the joy brimming through her heart at the mere thought of Christmas around the corner.

"Christmas muffins!" She cries after gulping some hot steaming coffee from her traveling mug, "for sale! Three for five dollars!--"

That's when she notices a young man, awkwardly shuffling a few feet away from her stand and ducking his head away as though embarrassed by the mere thought of being here. Tilting her head to the side in curiosity, Y/N waits until his shy eyes lift up to hers and with a jolt, she recognizes him as Changmin, one of the guys from the basketball team.

Her heart summersaults. What is one of the most popular guys of college doing in a Christmas Market, of all places?

Her first thought is that he'll make fun of her, and quickly ducks away by thrusting her nose into her scarf. While she's not exactly friends with him, they know of each other as a result of being invited to the same outings, the same parties, and that's why she decides to raise a hand to wave at him, a shy greeting that borders embarrassment.

While she had secretly hoped that he'd wave and turn away to spare her any more mortification, horror surges through her when the latter moves towards her table, smiling shyly like a little boy that doesn't really know what he's doing here.

To be honest, shes' not really sure herself.

"Muffins?" She gesture towards the tray.

"You made them?" His voice is muffled against his scarf as christmas jingles echo through the air.

"Yeah, it goes to the Orphanage down my street," she flashes him a small, albeit warm smile, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh you know, just hanging around."

"Alone?" That's even more suspicious, considering that this isn't his neighbourhood to begin with. She only knows that because she has a teeny, tiny crush on him.

Changmin shuffles as embarrassment floods through his cheeks and it takes her everything not to squeal at how adorable he looks, "yeah, uh-- well-- How much are those by the way?"

"Three for five dollars. One for two fifty," her arm waves towards the signage she had placed earlier and his face reddens even more.

"Right. Cool."

"Want one? It's for a good cause."

"Uhm, actually...I wanted to--" he breaks off while scratching the back of his head, looking away to the side, "uhm. I'm not here for the muffins..."

"Oh, sorry," disappointment floods through her. You idiot, her mind screams. Of course he's not interested buying for charity, "I just thought--"

"No! I mean, it's not that I don't want to buy--"

"No it's okay Changmin, I understand," she flahses a reassuring smile, respecting the fact that different people have different perspectives of life. But he seems even more aghast at her response, for he blurts out, "no no, you don't get it I--"

"Please don't apologize, it's totally okay--"

That's when he blurts out, "You know what? I'll buy it. I'll buy the whole tray."

Huh? She blinks at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "uhm, it's...that's--"

"How much is it?" Pulling out his wallet and looking flustered behind his scarf, he drops it onto the floor in haste before quickly picking it up, "sorry uhm. No seriously, I'll buy them all."

"Oh," she mumbles, "o-okay."

She takes his money before passing him the whole box, still shocked into silence by this turn of events. She should be glad actually, to have sold all her muffins by mid-morning, but a soft prick in her chest reminds her that this young man has just bought the tray maybe out of pity. The thought is enough to make her heart drop in her chest.

Her gaze falls to the table, now devoid of all treats, conflicted about what she should be feeling at this very moment. That is, until she hears Changmin clear his throat.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she squeaks out a soft "bye now," followed by the smallest wave of a hand.

"Uh...bye," Changmin's alto trails off though he still stands, as unmoving as ever, keeping eye contact while shuffling his feet for a moment. Then, he swivels away with the box in hand, causing Y/N's heart to drop slightly in her chest.

He suddenly turns around, "actually, no. Wait."

The abruptness has her frowning in confusion but the young man bustles on, "I--Can I have your number?"

"Huh?"

"I...uh...I didn't come for the muffins," his gaze drops away, shyness written all over his face. Stealing a shy glance from behind his bangs, he continues, "My friends told me that you...that you'd be here. So I came."

Her brain puts two and two together, "to see me?"

It's like magic is playing through her ears. That can't be right. And that shock is even more poignant when his head dips down in a single nod.

"Oh," her brain stutters to a stop. Reality kicks in, "oh."

"Sorry, I know this sounds weird and creepy, I--I think I'll go now--" he is already backing away as he speaks, causing Y/N's mouth to react before her brain does:

"Wait."

He stops. She fists her hands into her sweater sleeves.

Lord, what is she even doing? Her throat feels raspy like sand is stuck in her throat, "I'm going to pack up early since I sold out. But do you...maybe want to--uh--grab some hot chocolate?"

She doesn't realize that her eyes have glued themselves to her clasped hands before her until she sees Changmin's shoes step into her peripheral, causing her eyes to flutter up in surprise to catch his own gaze, now twinkling with warmth against the glow of Christmas lights and buetling of the crowd around them.

"I'll help you pack then," he grins cheekily, a grin filled with promises of something a feeling that blodsoms through her chest as slowly and as shyly as a baby bird rising from its nest. Her heart skips a beat though she nods, her own face lighting up with a mirroring smile.

Christmas won't be so lonely after all.

[mae-gi-writes]

And You Should Live | Changmin/Q [Part Two]

Athlete Changmin au! In which you and Changmin teach each other how to live again.

Genre: angst, tearjerker, fluff

Part One | Part Two

--

The few months that the ex-athlete spends confined in hospital are definitely some of the most challenging weeks you've had by far. It takes patience and acceptance of his new body, of the way that he is now going to live his life, and it's easier said than done. A psychiatrist checks up on him every week but his complaints are verbal and abusive, not one to hide his discontentment. There is no sign of his father, though his mother drops in once a week at most to bring some spare clothes and wheedle a few responses out of him, in vain.

He cries the first time he sees himself in the mirror, hair all dishevelled, stubble forming over his chin, skin all grey and pale from months of no sunshine. And you stand behind him that day, heart breaking in tine with his as the pained sobs falling from his mouth bounced throughout the room. He cries without relent this time as your hands tighten their grip on the handles of his wheelchair, helpless to his pain and desperate to somehow make it right in any way possible.

The next day, you bustle in with a comb, some shaving cream and a pair of scissors. 

“No,” is Changmin’s reaction, as with everything you’ve once introduced to him. You’re now used to his reticence and instead shove his hands away from you, a measley attempt to stop your advances. Instead, you threaten to attach his arms at his sides if he doesn’t cooperate and with a few more grumbles under his breath, he settles back against his pillow like a sulky child. 

“I can’t believe this,” he mumbles through closed lips as you dabble some shaving cream over his face. Mind you, you’ve definitely never done this on a man before and so you dip your head closer to his face, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you focus on spreading the cream evenly across his jawline.

"I swear, Y/N, if you cut me--”

“Oh shush,” you wave his protests away before drawing out the razor you’ve slipped into your pocket. Then, you gingerly lean down once more to slowly slide the device at the edge of his jaw. 

Feeling his orbs on your face, you can’t help but spare him a quick glance only for your eyes. They’re dark maroon, so dark you can barely make out his pupils from his irises, and they reflect an intensity that somehow makes your insides squirm and your heart to speed up--

“Ouch!” he cries out and you jump back in surprise, eyes flying wide open with panic, “fuck! Did I hurt you?!” You dab at his skin in search of a cut, “shit, I’m so sorry--”

Changmin’s giggle bursts through his mouth and it takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s only pulling your leg. Your hands drop to your sides in growing annoyance, “you!--”

“Sorry, it was all too obvious that you’ve never did this before,” Changmin’s eyes crinkle up into crescents. It might be the first time you’ve seen him laugh with such purity, and you can’t help but stare at the dimple forming on his cheeks, at the way his whole face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And then, you blink and let out an exasperated sigh before you shove his shoulder, “you’re such a dick,” you mutter as you resume shaving him. 

“Sorry,” he keeps on giggling, “you should’ve seen your face.”

"Keep that up and I’ll make sure you have no hair left on your scalp.”

You decide to move on to his hair a few days later just as he is being wheeled back in by the said psychiatrist. You bow to him, cheeks involuntarily rising when his gaze meets yours, a tender smile dancing across his lips.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Y/N,” he says.

“You’re the one who’s always busy, Sangyeon,” you grin back.

“Ah yeah. Especially during exams season. A lot of students drop by,” Sangyeon nods at Changmin, “well, I’ve leave you two to it then. Maybe we can catch up over coffee sometime Y/N.” 

“That’d be great!” 

You don’t realize that you’ve still got a stupid smile on your face until Changmin lets out a snort, “you look ridiculous.” 

Scowling back at him, you lift the scissors up threateningly, “keep talking and I will make you bald, Changmin.” 

" You like him? He's such a dork," Changmin continues without relent as you wheel him to the washroom, " And you know what? He smells really bad if he doesn't wear perfume."

"And how would you, of all people, know that?" your fingers comb back his hair to tie it up into sections, eyes clashing with his in the bathroom mirror.

"Because I smelt him once when he came from the gym."

" That's just how humans work," you retort with a Scoff," also, I don't think you should be the one to talk, considering you were an athlete."

"That's different! I was training!"

" You're not denying the fact that you smell bad too though, without deodorant."

"Oh yeah?" He sniffs, "well I ain't got any deodorant now. Smell me, go on."

His statement is so outrageously crazy that you burst out laughing and soon enough he joins in so that you giggle like two schoolchildren sharing mischievous secrets. Ruffling your fingers through his hair and combing it through with water, your fingers proceed to measure how much hair to chip off.

" can I trust you with that?" doubt coats Changmin's voice.

You scoff in return as a large clump cascades down his shoulders and makes him yelp, " Don't worry, I won't murder you. If that's what you were thinking about."

" Well I can't help but think about that now."

The blossoming friendship is inevitable. After all, you were almost the same age and had fallen into a complicity, having spent so much time together. So much so tha the man would outrightly refuse anyone else's help albeit the fact that you had only told him good things about your colleagues.

When his discharge came around - a little too soon for your liking if you were being honest with yourself- he'd requested for your presence on the evening before his departure, where you had brought along some cookies that your little brother had made the night before.

"I can't eat that," Changmin crinkles his nose, acting exactly like one of those pompous arrogant kids that had more money in their wallet than they had brains.

You push it towards him nevertheless, "just try it."

" I told you, I can't eat that."

" Why not?"

"Because-" his words die halfway through his throat in realization and it dawns on you that it's probably something to do with his previous diet.

But you don't have time to find a proper response before his hand snatches one cookie up and shoves it in his mouth, head turned away to avoid your concerned gaze.

" It's good," is his response after a beat of silence, and you smile.

"So what do you plan on doing when you get home?" you lean your head onto your palm, a soft yawn falling from your mouth.

" Haven't figured that out yet. Probably lie around feeling sorry for myself," he shrugs nonchalantly, but you know it's far from that, " smoke up. I never got the chance to try. Might as well start now."

You find yourself rolling your eyes at him. Then, out of the blue, he suddenly catches you off guard.

" You always ask me about myself. But now that I think about it," he tilts his head sideway. curious," I don't know much about you. Actually, I don't know you at all."

That's it. That's the moment your heart constricts and your throat closes up so that you choke on air. You don't look at him, quickly finding interest in the mold growing at the corner of the room while you mutter out that there is nothing to tell.

You know he's not dumb enough to fall for your lie, because he repeats the question, a glowing glint of curiosity in his eye.

So you tell him. In the simplest words possible, you tell him. About how normal you are, really normal. About your average grades, your small group of friends, your family of five that you cherish with all your heart. And about the scars that line up your thighs like a row of soldiers, the time where you had almost given your life away due to the unexplainable sadness consuming you from the inside.

When you're done you can barely look at him. Your hands find comfort in the folds of your white nurse pants and suddenly you can feel the scars glowing with heat, searing hot against your now sweaty palms.

It's still as fragile as ice to be talking about this memory in particular, and you're not even sure why you've suddenly divulged it all to the man sitting before you.

"That explains a lot."

Your eyes flutter up to his, surprised at his statement.

His gaze is strong as he holds yours, " about the way you care about people... about me."

" I know what it's like," comes your mumble," to suffer in silence."

A comfortable silence fills the gap in the room and despite the chilly coldness of the walls, your cheeks feel warm, entire body suddenly bathed in heat as a result of Changmin's subtle compliment.

Which is why you almost yelp when heat engulfs your hand. Blinking down just in time to feel Changmin's fingers give yours a gentle squeeze, your heart suddenly grows twice-fold through your chest.

" Thank you," you look up at him as he murmurs and you swore his face has never seemed so gentle.

"You don't -" your throat runs dry, " there's no need to thank me. It's not something to be thankful for."

"Oh don't go all poetic on me," Changmin rolls his eyes though his hand, you notice, makes no move to retract.

Not that you mind.

" You'll still visit," you chew on the inside of your cheek as gently, Oh so gently, his thumb starts a slow brush against your knuckles, "right?"

His orbs crinkle into a soft smile when you peek at his face, " Missing me already? Y/N, you used to hate my guts."

You mutter that you still do, which earns you a playful shove before another round of laughter ensues. And then he’s pulling you into his chest in a hug that leaves your insides tingling and your body suddenly erupting as if a troop of butterflies have decided to make their way from the top of your head down to the tip of your toes. And though you know that tomorrow will never be the same, you try to hold on to the warmth blossoming over your heart and the delicious fuzzy scramble inside your stomach that makes smiling a little easier.

He tucks your head underneath his chin, hands coming up to stroke your back in comforting circles. It’s a friendly hug, no doubt, one that is as innocent as the baby born a few seconds ago in the adjacent room. Yet, you wonder whether Changmin can hear how fast, how hard your heart is beating at this very instant.

You pull back slowly after a moment while averting your gaze, your hands still entangled together like a flurry of mixed-up jigsaw puzzles that somehow fit so right. 

"Here," taking your hand in his before motioning towards the pen attached to his medical clipboard, you watch as he scribbles a bunch of numbers," Now you have my number. So you have no excuse."

"Is that a threat?" you can't help but smile.

He grins back, dimple showing, " if that's what it takes to make you talk to me."

-♡-

Your shifts at the hospital without Changmin are void and empty now that he's gone. The first time you walk in to see an unfamiliar face in the space that Changmin was supposed to be, something almost akin to pain twists inside your chest and you swivel around almost instantly, excusing yourself as bile crawls up your throat.

It's normal, this is what hospital life is about. You constantly meet people, bond with them, only to have them walk out the door as abruptly as they had come.

And yet, there's a sense of haunted expectation that follows you around Wherever you go, as if you're bound to eventually bump into the said man at any moment. Sometimes, you catch yourself getting glimpses of his face amongst the crowd. One might have his nose, or the same undercut he sports ( the result of yours truly 's doing) or even the same tonal inflection that gathers your hopes up, only for it to deflate once you realize it's not him. It never is.

You cave in one night as you gaze at the array of numbers that will bring you to his voice, deciding on impulse as your fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Hello?"

His voice is deeper than in your memories, rough, like he's just awoken.

Your fingers tighten onto the device, "Hey. Remember me?"

You hear a sharp intake of breath, "It took you this long to call?” he accuses and you can already picture the narrow-eyed stare he throws you, that some glower that you always laugh at instead of being offended.

That becomes your new normal, calling him day and night and in-between shifts. Sometimes he’d send you messages during the day, little highlights of what he does. He tells you about how his parents are literally breathing down his neck every second of the day, how his rehab sessions are getting harder and harder that he almost wishes he could give it all up. He doesn’t mention going out or meeting friends, and something inside you can’t help but twist in concern at his dismissive tone. 

"How about prosthetics?” you ask unsurely, fearful that he’ll retract back into his shell the moment you mention it.

And you’re right. He’s quiet for a few long seconds that pass by like an eternity. So you hurriedly add, “you don’t have to answer that. It’s not my problem after all--”

“I have,” he cuts you off, “spoken to my physiotherapist about it.” 

Your chest gives a small lurch of anticipation, unconsciously pressing the device closer to your ear, “what did he say?” 

“He thinks I still need a little bit more strength. I used to train everyday, so all my muscles were suddenly atrophied the first few months I spent in hospital,” Changmin replied as he shifted on the other end of the receiver, “but if I keep it up, he said he’d send in a request for me to be on the waiting list.” 

“That’s wonderful Changmin!” Hope flared through your chest and warmed your heart as though you’ve just drank a cup of warm tea, the grin on your face almost as bright as the sun itself, “oh that’s good news! Maybe you’ll be able to walk again! Maybe--” 

“It’s not that easy,” Changmin hurriedly says in response and is it your imagination or does he sound a little...embarrassed? “I mean, even with the prosthetics, he said it would take some time for my own body to adjust.” 

While you haven’t seen his face for so long, there is a sense of comfort that washes over you whenever you speak to the said ex-athlete. It’s like this silent cord of communication that comes to life whenever you talk and laugh and giggle about life in general. You find yourself craving for his phone calls every day, your heart dropping in disappointment when he tells your that he’s too busy, only to flutter in exhilaration whenever you see his name flashing across your phone screen. It’s bad, that your happiness depends on a young man who’s clearly already starting to build his own life away from you, away from those damned hospital walls that everyone hates so much, but while your mind keeps on reminding you that maybe it would be wiser to take a step back, your heart aches to hear Changmin’s soft alto, if that’s the only thing that will soothe over the pain of his absence.

"So now that you’re out of the hospital, you don’t even visit?” you once tell him off. It’s true, that he has not dropped by once over the past five months after being discharged. 

Guilt resonates in his voice when he answers, “sorry, Y/N. I’ve-- I’ve been busy. And my parents--you know, they’re not that keen for me to go around by myself yet.” 

You tut at him but decide to let it go. The only memory you have of his parents is the one conversation that haunts you till this day forth. You can’t imagine how it must feel to live in a home where the ones who supposedly love you the most are the ones who believe you’ve lot your ability to walk just to spite them.

October slowly moves in to November, before November falls right into December, who trickles in with the gift of snowfall. You catch yourself gazing out of the window at the slowly drifting snowflakes more often times than not, the sense of melancholy bringing you back to your school days whenever you spot young children playing in the yard. Patients come and go, ones that you get along with, ones that are still a pain in the butt up until they’re getting discharged. Soon, you count the days till your internship is going to be over and dread slowly fills you at the prospect of having to go back to school, to go back to the life of book and spending countless hours cooped up in the library. 

Your friends throw a party on the eve of Christmas, but when you invite Changmin to come along, he is quick to dismiss your invitation with an excuse that he’ll feel like the butt of a joke and besides, who wants to sit there and watch all of you have fun on the skating rink? 

“But I’ll stay with you,” your protests are drowned out by him adamantly shaking his head, the shadow on his face evident even in the pixelated screen of the video call. 

“No way,” his jaw clenches, “no way. I’m not going out there just so that people can feel sorry for me.” 

“Okay,” you pause, “but Changmin, we haven’t seen each other since you got discharged. What happened to us meeting each other often and keeping in touch?” 

“We are keeping in touch,” he protests even when his eyes slide away from the screen.

You shake your head with a sigh, “fine. Be that way. I’m just trying here, but that’s not a one-way street,” and you cut the call before waiting for his answer.

Mood ruined, you are clearly not in your right state of mind the moment you show up at the skating rink. Still, you make an effort. And with your friends’ naked excitement and jovial cheerfulness, it’s hard to keep sulking in a corner. The lights hanging over the trees adorning the skating rink are twinkling red and gold and shimmering green, bouncing off the ice and creating such a magical atmosphere that it is hard to keep the grin from breaking across your face. 

Until Chanhee, one of the mutual friends that had tagged along, tugs you away to give you a gift. You blink down at it, confused as to why this young m decked with numerous admirers --  was giving you a gift as though you knew each other.

He seems to read what’s on your mind, for he quickly lifts his hands in surrender, “It’s from Changmin. The one from the track team?”

The name clogs up the back of your throat. Changmin?

“You--” Your mind reels in shock. You blink, “you know him?” 

“Not really. He just dropped by, said to give this to you.” 

"What?" You swivel around to scan the perimeter, "where? Where is he?"

"He's not here--"

But you are already halfway across the rink, striding with such purposeful speed that no one has decency to stop you as you hurry, legs burning with effort, until you turn on the corner of the road.

Nothing.

Your chest heaves. He was here, you know he was. He just doesn't want to see you.

That thought alone makes your heart ache.

When you get back home to finally open his present that night, your breath catches in your throat the moment you open the box to see a pair of earrings, simple yet elegant musical notes dangling from their hangers. They are beautiful, exquisitely so. It makes your heart pound, your stomach blossom with a troop of butterflies as you wonder at the thought of Changmin picking out a pair of earrings especially for you. That idea alone makes heat flare through your face.

A card had fallen out of the gift wrap and you gingerly pick it up from the floor, eyes scanning the words scrawled on the inside:

"Since you've been a good listener to me, I thought of gifting your ears. Thank you for these past few months. I'm sorry for not having the courage to face you yet. I'm sorry.

Love,

Changmin."

Tears sting the corner of your ears and you brush them away hastily with the back of your hand, his voice resonating through his words with such a vivid picture that your heart aches at the prospect of having just missed him. If you had been a few seconds early, he might’ve still been around and maybe, just maybe, you’d have the chance to catch a glimpse of his face, to allow yourself to gaze at those deep brown eyes that -- once foreign -- felt like falling into a galaxy of stars in the world that defines Changmin. 

As if upon mere reflex, you don’t even think twice before dialling his number.

He picks up after the second ring. 

“You,” there is so much restrained emotion in your voice that it feels clogged coming out of your mouth, “I don’t get it. We haven’t seen each other for six months. That’s almost half a year. What happened to ‘let’s stay in touch and that you’ll visit?’ “ 

It’s not fair for him to fall victim to the built-up frustration swimming in your stomach for months. But your mouth is like a dam that suddenly bursts and the words come rushing out of you faster than you can blink. 

“You can’t just walk into my life and walk out of it as if the time spent in hospital meant nothing to you. If that’s the case, then why even bother answering my calls then? Why not just cut me off altogether? It’s not fair Changmin,” you swallow thickly, “It’s not fair. You’re not the one that gets to choose when we see each other, or when we don’t.” 

There’s a pause where you catch your breath, and when he speaks next, his voice is rough, laced with remorse, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You breathe out shakily, “why?” Your nose feels stuffed and you’re pretty certain it’s glowing red, “do you not want to see me? Is that it? Why don’t you just say so--”

“I do want to see you, Y/N. Just--Just not--” he chokes on the last word, “not now.” 

“Why?” 

The silence that follows hangs between you both like a bubble threatening to pop, held with a string of tension so high you feel goosebumps explode across the back of your arms. 

And then, just when you think that he is too much of a coward to actually say something in his defence, his alto resonates through the receiver:

“Do you trust me?” 

Your mind pauses. You digest his words. Do you? 

It takes a moment of hesitation for you to murmur your agreement.

“Then, please don’t question whatever’s happening, whatever I’m doing right now,” he inhales, exhales softly, before repeating, “please.” 

And you’re not really sure why, or how, you still have faith in this relationship of yours that you’re not even sure where to classify it. You just nod and murmur out, “okay,” all that while silent tears are paving trails down your cheeks to dribble along your chin. 

You just hope that whatever his reason is, he better have a damn good one.

-♡-

You wait. 

And wait. 

You keep waiting.

The new year comes and goes by without much excitement. February is a spring breeze filled with valentine cards and balloons popping up at every corner of the street. March is wet and full of rain showers, so much so that there is not one day you don’t come home soaked to the bone and shaking like a dog. 

After your argument on Christmas eve, you decide to do what’s best for you, which is protect your heart at all costs. Tossing away the hope that maybe there might be something akin to romance blossoming between the two of you, you focus instead on the new semester as well as the troubles and stress that come along with it. Through it all, you keep a constant stream of chatter between you and the said young man, whom you’ve learnt has taken up French lessons online to stimulate his brain and now can fully move around in his wheelchair without any assistance. 

“Look,” Changmin said once when he’d swivelled the camera around to show you how he’d managed to get himself into the garden, “I barely had any energy in my arms when I first left the hospital. Now, it’s as easy as walking.” 

The smile on his face was as pure as sunshine and your gut felt weird knowing that you were in the same city and yet could not, for whatever of his personal reasons, see him face to face. 

The physicality of him is a void in your life you had patched up with a flurry of activities to keep your mind busy. Whenever you catch yourself daydreaming of the possible what ifs surrounding this young man, you’d throw yourself head first into any activity -- literally anything -- to keep your mind off; accompanying your mother to the grocery store for instance, or helping your dad mow the lawn. Maybe it’s just a coping mechanism until you crash headfirst into a wall and realize that running away from your problems isn’t going to cut it. But for now, you’d accept this gladly as your fate. 

The most you get of him is through video call, not that this can compare to actually seeing him physically in real life. But hey, you’re taking what you can get at this point. It makes you grow closer to each other, communicating every day about everything and anything. Though the physical distance has never seemed so huge, you can’t help but feel like these past few months you feel like you’ve grown even closer to the man in the wheelchair on the other side of the screen, heart warming and cheeks flushing deep red whenever you catch yourself wistfully daydreaming of encountering Changmin again after so long.

You’re not even sure where the time goes but no sooner are you done with your final semester of University that a year has passed. A year since you’ve met Changmin, a year since your internship that seems to have opened your eyes to see the world in a whole different perspective, as if you’ve been blind up until now.

A whole year and you still haven’t seen nor hide or hair of the said young man.

That ultimately changes one day.

You’re to attend the Children’s Day event at the hospital which you’ve interned at that day. Decked in a pair of loose khaki pants and a white shirt, you’ve tied your hair up in a bun for the occasion and trudge to the hospital doors with your worn-out, red converse. 

That’s when you hear a voice. You hear him, calling out your name.

You freeze for a moment, mind going in a mental frenzy as you try to hold yourself together. This has happened all too many times to count, where you’d turn around so fast expecting to see Changmin’s dimpled smile greet you-- only to end up grinning at a random passerby instead.

But then his voice resonates louder, stronger. Curling through the air and shattering through reality like a bass drum: 

“Y/N.” 

Slowly, like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, you turn around. Your eyes settle across a familiar face, features that you’ve endlessly traced god knows how many times in your dreams and almost on instinct, a scream dies at the back of your throat while you stumble back in shock, blinking furtively and trying to make sense of the reality before you.

Because there, with that same dimpled smile and those brown eyes curved into crescents, sits Changmin.

“Wha--” you don’t know what to say, precisely why you stop yourself mid-way through a sentence. You’re not really sure if you’re dreaming or not, thumb instantly pressing down against one of your fingers in case this might be a dream.

But the sting is all too real and you can’t help sucking in a breath, stunned into silence.

You gawk. He stares back evenly, a lingering smile dancing on his lips.

Changmin, your mind screams. Changmin. 

He’s here. Right here within an arm’s touch. 

You don’t think. You can’t even breathe for a second. 

Your feet stumble, as if attracted to him like a magnet. Heart beating in the back of your throat. 

“You--” your throat is clogged as if you can barely breathe and in response the young man only chuckles, the laughter resonating through your ears and reminding you of all the reasons why you’ve held on so tightly to him for all these months. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you don’t even bother to stop them cascading down your cheeks. Instead, you take your time to analyze his face, to trace the contour of his lips an the edge of his nose with your maroon orbs like a parched woman taking a first sip for the very first time.

When Changmin speaks next, his alto is a soft murmur, “surprise?”

“You--You--” you want to say something, anything. But the only words that manage to make it out are, “You’re here.” 

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “I’m here.” 

The urge to hug him suddenly overtakes your body and you move forward as if on instinct, until he stops you with a lift of his hands. 

“I can explain,” his eyes flutter down for a moment, before going back up to meet your brown orbs, “why I never asked to meet up, why it seemed like I never wanted to see you.” 

Confusion flits across your face, causing Changmin to let out another chuckle, more nervous this time, before his hands went to press down onto the handles on each side.

And then slowly, as if you are staring at some kind of miracle of some sort, you see him lift himself up on his legs. 

And then he stands. On his legs.

He’s standing. 

Changmin is standing. 

A breath escapes the back of your throat. Your heart almost drops to your stomach. What?

“Wha--” orbs flickering back and forth between his legs and his face, your brain goes into overdrive at the sight before you, “How?”

The Changmin, who had almost given up on life the moment he was wheeled inside the hospitals. Changmin, who had tossed any help away as though they were only nuisances in his life.

This Changmin was now standing before you on his own two feet and grinning from ear to ear as if he’d never been happier in his entire life.

“Prosthetics,” he explains then, even though you’ve already managed to put two and two together, “I didn’t want you to see me...in such a state. I wanted to make sure I could walk, by the time I saw you again,” he bites down onto his lower lip, “so it took a little more time than expected. That--” he inhales shakily, closing his eyes for a second, before gazing straight into yours with such an intensity it makes your heart stutter, “that was the promise I made myself.”

“But--how--That must’ve--” you can’t seem to find coherence in the tangled knot of thoughts in your brain, “that must’ve hurt--”

“You said so yourself,” he murmurs, taking a shaky step towards you. Then another, and another. Until he’s now just at arm’s reach, “that I need to start living.”

“I--” you swallow thickly, “I--Changmin, I don’t know what to say--”

“Then don’t say anything,” his hands come up to cup your face, “just kiss me.” 

And his mouth is claiming yours before you can even respond, moving with such an intensity that your surprised gasp is drowned out by the sensation of warmth blossoming over your chest. He kisses you with an almost desperate need , mouth moving at a pace that leaves your thoughts dizzy, your breaths uneven and your chest tight with fluttering butterflies while his hands find purchase at your waist to pull you even closer, so close you can feel his hard frame against your curves. 

Your eyes flutter open when you part momentarily, lips still hovering over each other and foreheads pressed. Gazing up into those dark pupils of his, so tender and intense at the same time, a sob echoes through the back of your throat without meaning to before you bury your face into his neck in a mixture of shame and embarrassment of being seen in such a weak, shaken-up state. 

You feel his hand rub comforting circles over your back in a gesture of comfort, of reassurance. That only makes you sob a little harder, clutching onto him with a feline’s grip as if you fear he might vanish the second you blink.

“Y/N,” Changmin’s soft alto reaches your ears, “Y/N, it’s okay.”

It is only when his legs shake that you take it as a hint that he shouldn’t be standing too much. Wiping away your tears with the back of your hand, you quickly help him back into his chair as you’re met with another of his wide grins that takes years off his age, “sorry,” he says, “I’m not really supposed to stand for too long. It’s only until recently that I managed to stand on my own.” 

“And yet you were showing off,” you remark with a roll of your eyes.

“I wanted our first kiss to be a good one." 

Something about his abrupt confession has you redden down to the tips of your toes, heat tingling like electricity down your back while his hand grasps yours to tug you closer. You look down at him and wonder where all the pain has gone, for it seems like Changmin's voice is free from the tension, the earlier pain that had deeply etched grooves onto his features.

But it's not there anymore. His expression ie clear, pure joy glistening through his eyes. You wonder briefly what changed and you can't help but ask, not even bothered by the cold nipping at your fingers.

His eyes soften at your words as his thumb traces random circles over your knuckles, "nothing changed. I just decided that I wouldn't be that person who spends his days being depressed and sad all the time."

"Does it hurt?" You motion towards his legs, "how did you even do it? I know of patients who did the same treatment. It's not easy, you have to go through rehab--"

"Which I did. I took all the pamphlets you gave me, signed up for counselling and physiotherapy. Went everyday until I had blisters along my thighs. It was hard, I almost gave up," he shakes his head, the memory causing his face twist in a slight grimace, "but I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you that I could do it. Y/N, I don't think I've ever been that desperate before. You know that one race you want to win? It felt like that. Like my life depended on it."

His eyes are so intense it makes your breath catch in your throat. Your entire chest constricts. He continues:

"I just wanted to prove to you that I was capable of doing something like that. And along the way, I guess I just felt like...like all this, this felt like living."

And it is. Gone is the weight that bears down on his shoulders. Changmin looks like he's finally breathing again, like he set himself free from the cage of his own mind.

Pride swells within you. It's amazing how far he's come from the broken mess he once was and tears prick ay the corner of your eyes.

Softly, he tugs you down onto his lap and you don't even fight it, allowing your body to give in to the warmth emanating from his chest and the feeling of his face so close to yours.

H pushes away a strand of hair from your forehead, curling it behind your ear. His maroon orbs meet yours, warm and swimming with affection, "I missed you," he murmurs huskily, causing a flurry of tingles down your spine.

"I--" your eyebrows knit together as all the time spent alone comes rushing back to you, "I missed you too."

His thumb rub circles over your cheek, "I’m sorry, I didn't want to hurt you."

"No, it's fine," you pause, hands tightening over his shirt, "I can understand."

"I didn't want to disappoint you--”

"I know.” 

“--And I didn’t want you thinking I was a coward. Or pathetic.” 

“I know, Changmin.” 

A sigh escapes his lips before he buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. You shiver in response and heat flushes through your neck upon feeling his lips ghost over your skin, "Am I forgiven then?" He murmurs.

"I guess you are--" the words die halfway up your throat when he presses the softest peck against your pulse point. Breath quickening, your body instinctively tenses as you ask, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing,” you don’t have to see his grin to know it’s there, imprinted on his face. But at this very moment, not even an inch of your brain cares, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him as close as you can. Changmin takes a shaky inhale at your touch as his own hands flutter down your back, the softest of caresses up and down your spine as you hold each other in the coldness of the hospital parking lot. 

"I’m not letting you go again,” the murmur falls past your lips before you can stop them, but you don’t even have time to ponder over the cheesiness of your statement that Changmin’s arms wind so tight around your middle that you are pulled close, his hard frame against your curves. 

You swallow, eyes locking in silent conversation, though it’s not quite silent since the love shining through his maroon orbs is as clear as crystal water. 

He nudges his nose against yours, “I could say the same for you.” 

You smile as he steals another kiss from your lips, not caring that your bodies are freezing, not even thinking about how ridiculous you must look sitting on his lap in the middle of the hospital parking lot.

All you know is that Changmin-- breathing and alive and filled with so much life and energy and hope -- has made his way back to you. And that you’re not about to let go. 

[mae-gi-writes]

When you get jealous of Hyunjae kissing his fans through the screen

Requested by anon! 

Genre: fluff! Jealous gf y/n!

----

"Stop ignoring me!" The whine falling from Hyunjae's lips is so loud that you feel like smacking a hand over his mouth, just so that he'd stop his incessant noise.

You love your boyfriend. You really do. But right now is definitely not the moment.

So pushing him by the shoulder and focusing instead on the book in your hands, you relish in the frustrated groan rumbling through your boyfriend's chest.

"Just tell me, Y/N. What did I do?" He makes a grab for your arm, almost shaking it out of its exoskeleton.

"Leave me alone," you snap back.

"Not until you tell me why you're mad at me."

"Oh piss off."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" You swivel around so quickly that Hyunjae lurches back, wide eyes blinking at you in shock. Probably because you're not usually so aggressive.

But you had good reason to be. Fair enough that Hyunjae was a rising idol star, especially since that damned Road To Kingdom reality show had boosted their fanbase up to the nines. You knew it was only going to get harder the more auccessful he got, that didn't mean that your feelings were so compliant.

So when you stumbled upon an instagram video showing Hyunjae adorably peppering the entire vlive screen with kisses, anger burst through your stomach in a wild spitfire that had you flush red to your toes. It didn't help that the caption mentioned something about him being boyfriend material, when clearly he already had one: you!

"I saw your Vlive the other day," your words are clipped, cold, eyes narrowed threateningly, "you give out a lot of kisses, don't you?"

He stares you down for a whole fives seconds.

Before bursting out in loud laughter.

"You--You're kidding?!" He roars wildly, head thrown back and mouth wide open as he clutches his abdomen, "you're actually serious?!"

Rage flares through you, "Yes I fucking am!"

"Oh my--Oh my god--" he's wiping tears at the corners of his eyes now as he's still trying to stifle his chuckles, "I can't believe you're mad just because you got jealous--"

"I'm leaving," you hiss and don't hesitate to swivel around to walk out in the direction of your room, a still-laughing Hyunjae following you in haste.

`Wait--" his hand latches onto your arm to tug you around. Eyes narrowed into a glare, you hope that it's enough to burn his skull off the moment his brown orbs flit over your face, "hey, it was only fan service. You of all people should know that."

Your own orbs slide to the floor to avoid his gaze filled with concern and open understanding, the kind that makes your heart melt and give in almost instantly, "Whatever."

"Y/N," He tugs you a little close and despite your initial resistance, it soon crumbles as you allow his other hand to cradle the back of your elbow.

Ducking his head to catch your eyes, he murmurs, "look, it's just my job. They're my fans and they give me so much support. It wouldn't be fair that I don't meet them halfway."

You bite the inside of your cheek without saying a word. He tugs you even closer so that your hand brushes his side now.

"Besides, they're not the kind of kisses I give you. They're just friendly kisses," weaving his fingers through yours, he lifts your knuckles up to press a kiss there.

You grumble some more though it's hard to keep such a cold facade when Hyunjae is right there, looking up at you like a kicked puppy in need of a cuddle.

"I just don't like it," you finally say.

"I know you don't," he presses another kiss to the inside of your wrist this time. You shiver as he murmurs, "come here."

And then you're dragged to your room, Hyunjae plopping down on the bed and pulling you into his lap, his arms weaving around your middle and his chin finding its place atop your shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your cheek while ignoring your protests, peppering a chain of butterfly kisses along the curve of your neck. 

“Am I forgiven?” he breathes, eyelids half-closed as he peeks at your face. A soft smile makes its way to your lips, though you shake your head with a smug look. Hyunjae merely chuckles, before resuming to press another chaste kiss on your ear, then to your cheekbone, then turning your head to peck your nose.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you throw him a poignant stare, “you might have a lot of fans, but you only have one girlfriend. Got it?” 

He smiles up at you, hand cradling your face, “yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” you flash him a smile, “now kiss me.” 

“Bossy,” he remarks, though he barely gets the word out when you peck his lips. Again. And again. And then he’s moulding his lips against yours, harder, pressing into you with growing fashion as his arms tighten around your frame. Your hands tighten around his neck, hand slipping to his jaw and cradling his face as his tongue delves out to meet yours in a sinuous dance. 

“Are you convinced now?” he says, mouth brushing yours. You barely have time to respond before he’s kissing you again and tilting your head to get a better angle, teeth nibbling at your lower lip so that you gasp against his mouth. 

When your lips part, you press your forehead against his while a small smile adorns your lips. His eyes gaze into yours, sparkling with galaxies of affection that causes butterflies to spring through your abdomen and flutter across your ribcage.

“I’m convinced,” you whisper, “but you can keep on kissing if you want.” 

He grins so wide that his eyes crinkle into half moons before his mouth his back on yours. 

[mae-gi-writes]

[ 05:47 p. m.] Jacob

The smell of the sizzling meat fills the air as you flip over the pieces of uncooked beef strips, the afternoon sun beaming down on the back of your neck in a warm, cozy blanket that allows your muscles to relax. You bask in the moment, head tilting down to stretch your nape.

" Need help?"

Your lips pull up in a soft, gentle smile at the sound of Jacob's voice. Turning your head just slightly to catch his golden- hued side profile, you say, " I thought you were playing football with the guys."

He scoffs," Not if my girl's back here, doing all the dirty work." He glances around with a frown, " Where are the rest of the girls anyway?"

"They popped out for groceries."

" And left you here alone?"

" I told them to! We would've wasted too much time otherwise."

Your boyfriend groans out a string of incoherent words before shuffling a little closer to you, the warmth of his chest transceding to your back.

" Here," he grabs the tongs from your hands, "let me."

You're about to protest, when he shoots you down with a narrow- eyed stare as it to say 'don't- even- try'. So you relent, watching as he turns the pieces of chicken and beef over with ease.

"How do you even know when to turn them?" you ask, stomach rumbling at the delicious aroma wafting through your nostrils.

" Practice, I learnt to watch over meat with my grandpa," Jacob deftly picks up a few pieces only to toss them on the plate, ready for cooling, "he loved doing barbecues. Did it every weekend if he could."

He reaches over your frame as he speaks and it is only then that you realise how close he actually is. You can feel his chest, firm and hard, pressing against your back, his arm brushing your shoulder with a warmth that sends an array of goosebumps down the said limb.

"See that?" you jump at the sensation of his breath against your ear, barely taking note that he is indeed referring to the meat.

His other hand, meanwhile, has settled at your hip without your realization. stroking it softly without realizing that it makes your body tense up with silent anticipation.

"uh huh," you mutter while watching him flip over another set of chicken strips and hope he can't feel the loud pounding of your heart through your chest, "looks good."

It's crazy how one single touch from your boyfriend renders your body into a chaos of Jacob- oriented symphony calling out for him to touch you. While it is true that you haven't been dating for long, the attraction between you two is clear as crystal water. So much so that one can smell it from a mile away.

You almost yelp upon feeling his mouth at your ear, warm air brushing against your flesh while his thumb presses against your waist in a firm grip.

His murmur is soft, rough with dripping temptation, "You know what else looks good?"

Biting your lip, your hand quickly reaches out to grab his own. He's prepared though, quickly clasping your fingers with his and pinning them behind your back.

He pulls you closer, " Hm?" you see his smirk at the edge of your peripheral. The little shit.

"Behave," you chide half-heartedly, knowing full well that this won't stop Jacob's advances.

A chuckle echoes through your ear, hot air fanning against your neck, your jaw, before he pulls your back against his hard frame.

"You're so cute," he murmurs against your ear and making you to squirm in his hold. He holds on a little tighter though, which does not help prevent the blush slowly spreading across your face.

"I can feel your heart," he continues his assault on your ear while removing the meat with practised moves, " it's beating very fast."

You flush, "shut up, Jake."

" Why?" His smirk widens and you gasp when he bites onto your ear, stomach curling in naked desire just when a voice breaks through the patio windows.

"Hey! I hope you're not burning the food!" calls Kevin jovially, totally ignorant of the fact that your boyfriend is currently making love to your ear and is pressed so close to you that you can feel him.

--------

For you ❤ @atbzkingdom

[mae-gi-writes]

The Fine Line | Juyeon (The Boyz Imagine)

Requested! Prince Juyeon! au x Royal Guard! Reader. 

In which you’re stuck with the most disorderly prince of Nuine, Juyeon. 

To anon: this fic took me so long to write and I am so sorry for being so late. BUT i hope that you like the end result and that I made your idea justice! Please do let me know :) <3 Stay safe and stay healthy <3 xx Thanks so much for requesting! 

Genre: fluff, crack-ish? Just all the good stuff. 

---------

"Your Highness ,no."

"Come on Y/N, don't you want to try a teeny tiny piece?"

"I said no."

"Ah come on! It's just a bite!"

"No."

Juyeon finally threw both hands in the air with exaggerated exasperation, "you're really no fun."

"I'm not on duty to have fun, if I might remind you," Y/N snapped, barely keeping hold of her neutral facade when the prince kept acting in such a foolish manner, definitely not like how royalty should behave and yet, the king had stuck her with their youngest son, Juyeon, who knew nothing of royal pride nor did he care about where his family came from.

That wasn't what unnerved her though. What did was the fact that Juyeon thought he was free to do as he pleased, whenever he pleased, and it didn't matter whether he was prince or not. That, in itself, was a motto than did not run smoothly in Y/N's mind.

She was a proud soldier, one that had climbed through the ranks at lightning speed because of her amazing dexterity and talent in wielding weapons as though they were water and she was mother nature.

But she hadn't signed up for this, a.k.a babysitting the most irresponsible royal family member of Nuine.

Except -- she kinda liked him.

And not just as a friend, or a mere man. 

She really liked him, and that only fuelled her hatred. Why would she like such an incompetent man in the first place? It must be the hormones! At least, that was what she had come to the conclusion, before realizing that there was much more to this little crush than she thought there was.

Juyeon sat on the ground of the royal garden, legs crossed as he observed her with alert eyes, "do you ever smile?"

Y/N didn't bother answering him. Though she had a huge urge to just roll her eyes.

"I don't get it. You were so happy and nice when we were young," his orbs were calculating, deep with thought as he surveyed her as though she was a book he couldn't quite decipher, "what happened to you?"

"Life happened. Not everyone gets to spend their days doing nothing like you."

The heat of his gaze did nothing to help, and she found strength in her feet to stop herself from squirming.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, the prince tilted his head in curiosity, no trace of offence whatsoever on his face despite her harsh reply.

"What?" She barked.

“Did I do something to you?” 

“Huh?” 

Juyeon tilted his head to the other side, “what did I do for you to be so pissed that you have this permanent grudge against me?” 

“I don’t have a grudge,” she huffed. 

“Okay so, why then?” 

"Just because, Juyeon. Not everything I do needs to have a reason.” 

He puffed up his cheeks like a blowfish, “Jeez, you’re really mean Y/N. I just wanted to be friendly, make conversation you know?” 

It might have been true that during their childhood, Y/N and Juyeon had been very close, practically attached at the hip even. Because of her father being appointed head of the Royal Guards serving the Majesty of Nuine, Y/N was always around roaming the halls and lifting weapons much too heavy for her spaghetti arms. But her interest had been there since her young age, her passion for fighting and the natural talent that came with weapon wielding a skill that her family had recognized very early on. 

So it was no surprise that she got enrolled in the nearest soldier academy despite her mother’s protests, following right into her father’s footsteps and gladly acing all midterm tests with flying colours. 

Everything changed one dark night, when her father died.

After that, Y/N had never really been the same. Did she blame the Royal Family for his death? Not really, it was in their job description after all.

But did she resent Juyeon for having lived a sheltered life all his life? Maybe so. 

It was selfish of her. Though, it wasn’t like she could control herself. 

A few days later found the pair in the middle of Nuine's street food market, with Juyeon craning his neck in curiosity over the multitudes of heads inclined towards a stall in particular.

Y/N tugged on his shirt sleeve, "your majesty, I think we should go."

"Oh but wait, this is the best part," Juyeon insisted without peeling his eyes away from the said cook behind the stall. As if on cue, the cook flipped what seemed to be an omelette pancake in the air.

The crowd gasped as the pancake flipped twice on itself, before landing securely on an already-prepared plate.

"Wow!" People burst into applause almost immediately while the chef bowed and extended the pancake to his most recent order.

"Alright," Y/N was already turning, one hand gripping Juyeon's arm in warning, "we've seen enough--"

She was tugged back instead as the prince moved forward until he reached the front of the stall, a crooked grin dancing across his lips as he peered at the cook from underneath his cloak.

"Can I have an omelette please?" Juyeon asked while ignoring the dagger eyes coming from Y/N's direction.

"Tomatoes? Olives? Onions? Ham?" As the cook listed all his ingredients, Juyeon merely nodded along and Y/N let out a trepid sigh. Her foot started tapping on the ground, impatient.

"Juyeon, you know what your mother said about--"

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. Live a little."

"But--"

"If anything happens -- and it won't," he hurriedly added as she opened her mouth to protest, "then I'll take full responsibility."

"And I will lose my job," she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

------

And of course, considering Juyeon's luck, something was bound to happen.

It was only mid-afternoon -- a few hours after they had returned to the Kingdom, that the prince doubled over due to a stomach ache, coiling so bad that sweat broke over his forehead and his mouth was a tense, thin line of pain.

"I told you so," Y/N tutted while helping him maneuver his way into the bathroom, head practically buried into her neck as he groaned in pain.

"Y/N really? Right now?" he all but groaned against her.

She was about to find a snarky comeback, only for the prince to lurch himself straight at the toilet bowl. Disgusting noises echoed through the room and Y/N turned away from the scene briefly, her own stomach twisting into tight knots. 

Y/N was strong, yes. But have someone throw up in front of her? Even smelling that? No way. She could live without that.

When he was done heaving twice more, now sprawled across the toilet bowl as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she judged him with a smug look. 

“See, this would never have happened if you had only listened--” 

Juyeon held up a hand, silencing her, “not now, please.” 

He really did look awful. His usually tan skin was the colour of chalk, fingers holding so tightly over the toilet lid that his knuckles flushed white. As he tried lifting himself from his position, his knees buckled and he would’ve face planted on the ground if not for Y/N’s arms quickly holding him up against her. 

Silently, she moved him back to his bedroom before tucking him underneath his covers, all the while avoiding his gaze that seemed to poke through her countenance with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.

And then, came the tiniest murmur, “sorry.” 

Y/N paused for a moment. Her eyes fluttered to his face. 

Juyeon gazed back, hooded eyes seemingly genuine to apologize, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

She quickly swallowed, “it’s fine.” 

There was a soft pause in which Juyeon’s heavy breaths filled the air. It was suddenly warm in his room, maybe because the thick curtains were now drawn against the slow-setting sunset off the coast of Nuine’s edge, the light a vibrant golden slithering through the wine-coloured drapes. Feeling suddenly vulnerable and out of place, Y/N stood up from her crouching position at his side, causing the man’s eyes to flutter up at her movement. 

“Where are you going?” He asked as she made to move towards the door. When she glanced back, she couldn’t help but notice the confusion on his face as he blinked up at her like an over-sized man child. 

“I thought you’d like to rest, your Highness,” she replied stiffly. 

Another pause. 

Then, in the smallest voice possible, Juyeon mumbled out: 

“Could you--stay? With me?” 

She blinked, “stay? With--” 

And then the words made sense in her head. 

“Uh--” her cheeks coloured instantly at the thought of being so close to a man. Or maybe it was because it was Juyeon, or it was the heat! Right! Totally made sense that it was the heat. Her mouth moved before her brain did: “Sure.” 

What in the name of Nuine are you doing? Her brain screamed at her the moment she sat herself down on the bed’s edge, Juyeon’s body instantly curling up against hers with his head resting upon her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 “Uhm--” Y/N’s brain blanked out at the warmth of Juyeon’s head against her thigh, “what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” as he spoke, his breath washed against her legs and goosebumps suddenly erupted along the skin there. She shifted uneasily, trying to force herself to stay still despite the fact that there was a full grown man lying down on her like a cat in need of affection.

“Can you pet me?”

His question threw her off guard. She blinked down at him, at the way his eyelashes were casting dark shadows over his cheeks, “What?” 

“My mom used to pet me whenever I was sick,” he murmured, one of his hands grabbing her own before placing it atop his own tuft of hair, “it used to calm me down, make me go sleep.”

“I’m your guard, Juyeon. Not your personal maid.” 

He let out a long sigh, then dropped her hand, “Fine then.” 

The silence that followed felt so thick and coated with an awkward kind of tension that she knew, without reading Juyeon’s expression, that he was currently mad at her. Trust him to be a little brat about it. Usually, Y/N wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. That kind of behaviour was one of a five year old child, one that she wasn’t going to tolerate.

But maybe it was the fact that he was being so dependent, maybe it was the closeness of their two physical bodies and the lack of distance between them. In any case, her heart melted slightly when she felt him shift in her lap and before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to caress down the side of his skull.

The sight that left Juyeon’s mouth was laden with such satisfaction that it sent shivers running up her spine. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose right into her thighs, causing her to yelp slightly. 

His head snapped up, “what?” 

She recovered quickly though, snapping, “I want to make myself clear, Juyeon. I am not, and will not be, some kind of mistress that you bring to your quarters whenever you feel like it. I’m your Royal Guard.” 

“Jesus Y/N,” the prince turned so that he was facing upwards, gaze landing right onto hers without flinching, “Is that the image you have of me? That I take advantage of everything that moves?”

Suddenly embarrassed, she cleared her throat, “That’s not what I said. I just wanted to let you know.” 

“I know you’re not.” 

“Okay good. Just so that I make myself clear on where I stand.” 

“I wish you didn’t though,” his murmur was a low one, but still one that reached her ears and prompted her to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Her question was only met with stubborn silence, which made sense, as she might see how Juyeon might have taken this as an offensive use of words. But she’d never been one to beat around the bush and had always been passive aggressive whenever Juyeon was concerned.

Once, she thought that she actually liked him.

And maybe she had. But instead of falling straight into that pool of romantic feeling, Y/N had just brushed it aside, already deciding for herself that it was never going to happen and that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up.

That was, in part, why she was used to being so cold and distant.

It was the only way she could protect herself, make the prince hate her.

She was about to let it go and change the subject, when his words pierced through the air like needles, “what is it about me that you can’t stand?” 

Her hand froze in mid-stroke, still entangled in his dark locks. 

His gaze was so intense she felt him burn holes through her skull.

Y/N cleared her throat. Looked away. 

“I--I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Juyeon’s dark eyes were still surveying her every movement, “but can you be honest with me? What is it with me that you can’t stand? It’s almost like--I don’t know. You don’t even look at me when we talk. You barely acknowledge me sometimes, and you never try. With my brothers it’s like--it’s like you’re this completely different person. You talk to them, you laugh. Why don’t we have that? What did I do Y/N?” 

“You did nothing.” 

“If I did nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?” 

It feels all too real suddenly; the heat radiating from Juyeon’s body, the intense emotion swimming through his dark brown swirls even though she couldn’t muster the courage to actually lock gazes with him, and the weight of his head on her lap as though they were blissfully in love and comfortable in each other’s presence. 

Her eyes quickly flitted to the golden descending rays dancing along the curtains, anything to keep her away from his probing stare, “I...” 

“What?” Juyeon pressed on, “tell me.” 

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she kept quiet. 

“Okay,” Juyeon sighed once more. Then without warning, he hoisted himself up before his face suddenly zoomed in on hers, so close that she couldn’t help but fall back against the headboard as he dipped his head down so that it was level with hers. 

Her heart speeding up, Y/N tried not to focus on the lack of distance between them. Though that was quite a hard feat, considering he was everywhere she looked.

Sitting there in Juyeon’s bed, with him trapping her from any sort of escape felt as though she was on the brink of a cliff being pressured to jump when she clearly had no intention to. But when she opened her mouth to protest, Juyeon’s eyes snapped up to hers in a way that told her words weren’t going to work, not anytime soon.

She swallowed thickly.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if it was anyone else,” once he started, it was almost like the flow of words were suddenly too much for him to keep in. He kept on going, voice closing up with emotion, “but it’s you, Y/N. No matter how much I try not to think about it...I do. A lot. And I--I hate it, the way you don’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. I just--I just want to get along with you because I--” 

Before she knew what she was doing, one of her hands had shot out to yank his shirt, with him toppling over before she landed a kiss smack on his lips.

Juyeon stared, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, jaw slack in naked surprise. 

“Wh--What was that?” he stuttered, a red blushing mess that she would’ve made fun of, if she hadn’t been trying to stop herself from being just as red as he was.

“Look Juyeon, I might hold some feelings for you,” Y/N said it outright though her cheeks were flaming ablaze with heat, “but I just hated you so much, after my dad died. I--I couldn’t look at you without thinking of his death and I tried really hard to loathe your guts. But then...” she shook her head, bit down onto her bottom lip as she chewed on the words that were about to fall from her mouth, “but then, I just--couldn’t. Hate you, I mean.” 

“S-So you--you’re telling me that you-- that you might -- that--” he was gesturing so wildly she thought he might faint from shock. Breathing out softly and pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his balance. Then, he opened them once more, “you like me. But you hate me.” 

“Tried to,” she corrected him.

“That--That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N.” 

“Yes it does! I liked you, then I hated you. And then I hated that I liked you because I just couldn’t hate you--”  His hands were suddenly at her hips, “Enough talk,” and no sooner had she tried figuring out what that meant that the young man was dragging her over to his lap before his mouth pressed down onto hers in a passionate kiss. 

Y/N tensed for a few seconds, before her body slowly melted in his embrace as his mouth moved slowly over her own, a sinuous dance of lower lip against her upper ones while his arms tightened their hold around her waist. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hard frame against her curves, causing the prince’s mouth to tilt up in a smirk as he progressed the intensity of his kisses. Mouth chasing her own with a hunger she had never been victim to, one of Juyeon’s hands didn’t hesitate to ghost up her arm, along the back of her neck, to mess up her tight ponytail so that her dark hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain. 

There was a soft throaty rumble that signalled his approval of this newfound hairstyle, before he slanted his lips even further by tilting his head. Kissed her deeper, with longer strokes and with his tongue slowly introducing itself into her mouth. It was almost like she was being consumed by his entire being, her breath being taken away every time she tried to as she drowned into Juyeon’s ocean of feelings that seemed to emanate in the form of every kiss, every touch, every line of his body that aligned with hers and set fire to her skin.

Only when her back met with the soft foam of the mattress that realization trickled through her mind like icy water. Unlatching their lips with a soft ‘pop’ and scrambling back against the headboard, she looked up, right into Juyeon’s hungry, predatory gaze, one that swam with full-fledged desire, a thirst that she had never seen on the young prince’s face before.

“Juyeon?” her whisper was breathless, and she felt like slapping herself for sounding so needy. 

“No,” he let out a soft growl, leaning over her body with his arms settling on either side of her head. HIs mouth started a slow, sensual path of kisses that trailed up her neck, leaving fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, “you’re not talking. You’re not telling me off, not now. Not tonight,” he nipped at a small patch of skin right under her jaw and the girl squirmed, desire rippling through her veins and shooting right down south. It didn’t help that every inch of his muscular frame was pressed against hers as though demanding her to beg for what he could give her.

“Please tell me you’re not playing around,” came Y/N’s soft spoken murmur. She hoped that he didn’t hear it. But it was Juyeon, and Juyeon heard everything that concerned him.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Y/N,” his eyes locked onto hers and she saw his gaze brimming with a vulnerability, a tenderness that shook her to her core and made her heart flip upside down, “you of all people should know that.” 

“So you like me?” she hated how squeaky her voice sounded. He only let out the softest of chuckles, before he leant down to peck her on the mouth, “yes. Yes Y/N. I kinda like you a whole damn lot.” 

[mae-gi-writes]

All The Cuddles (PT.2) | Hyunjae (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! Part Two of All The Cuddles

--

"It's not my fault," Hyunjae pouts as you scowl and tuck him in a little deeper into the bed. The breakfast tray filled with soup is forgotten at the side in favour of wrapping your sick boyfriend up in warmth.

Your eyebrows shoot up so high at his comment that they could've disappeared under your hairline, "right, totally not your fault that you kissed me when I was sick."

"I didn't see you protesting against that idea," he mumbles, watching you sit yourself on the edge of the bed before you make a grab for the soup.

"I'm just gonna say that your lips are itchy, and you should've kept them to yourself," scooping up some soup before blowing it, you gentle bring it to Hyunjae's lips.

"Mhm, it's good," he says through a mouthful, "and you said you couldn't taste anything."

"I couldn't!"

"You just didn't like my soup, did you?" He coughs slightly, turning his head away before throwing you a dramatic stare, "how ungrateful, Y/N, and here I thought you loved me--"

"Oh shut up," you shove him and he grins, before his arms lace around your middle to tug you close.

"Oh no," you say as you feel his rising need to cuddle, "oh no Hyunjae. You're sick, I don't want to catch that nasty cold again."

"You're immune now," he rolls his eyes while your shoulder touches his chest, his chin fitting atop your shoulder blade before he tilts his head to gaze at you, "and I'm sick. You're supposed to do everything to make sick people more comfortable."

"Are you sure you're sick? Or is that just a way to make me take a day off work?"

He sighs dramatically, hands plucking the bowl from yours before he places it on the nightstand. Then, he entertwines his fingers with yours as he murmurs, "what if I did?"

Your head whips around, "You did NOT--"

He pecks your lips to cut you off, "I am sick," his grin widens upon hearing your soft groan. He nuzzles your cheek fondly, "but not sick enough that I can't give you attention."

"Lee Jaehyun," your tone rings out with warning, though it is weak-willed. He drops another kiss onto your cheek as you continue, "you're impossible, you know--"

Cutting you off with another kiss, you try to wrestle out of his grip. But his mouth slants even more upon yours, his hand coming up to press against the back of your neck. You groan slightly before your mouth parts, kissing back the slightest and causing his lips to twitch with a smile.

When you pull back, he is more than satisfied to see your lips all red and swollen, your chest heaving as your eyes fluttered in a daze.

You attempted a scowl, "if I fall sick again--"

He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to shut you up and giggling when your scowl deepens, "LEE JAEHYUN!"

"what?" He murmurs, pecking you again and again like you're a flower so sweet that no bee can resist, "you're too cute."

"Don't make me throw that soup in your face."

"Oh I don't think that'll happen anytime soon," he winks, and before you have a chance to say anything else, your boyfriend is kissing you long and hard and you lose all train of thought albeit the fact that you've just told him off for being sick and taking advantage of it. His hand tighten ar your waist, the other cupping your jaw so that there is no attempt of escape even if you wanted to.

He feels the slightest smile on your lips, as you give in to his advances, and his heart roars with affection.

I love you. So much.