#the boyz q fluff

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE 

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed. 

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows. 

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs. 

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold. 

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ). 

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back. 

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes. 

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning ) 

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light. 

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again. 

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?” 

You sigh, sprint up the second floor. 

“Y/n?” 

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely. 

“What?” 

“The letters…” 

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?” 

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall. 

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.” 

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse. 

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead. 

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit. 

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city. 

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” 

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon ) 

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city. 

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door. 

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile. 

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right. 

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.” 

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose. 

“Jaehyun.” 

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice. 

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink. 

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players. 

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe. 

“Yeah.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear. 

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.  

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle. 

Fuck. 

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you. 

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–” 

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong. 

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes. 

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae. 

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.  

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail. 

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit. 

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.” 

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back. 

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door. 

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before. 

You side eyes him still and sits up. 

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice. 

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone. 

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit. 

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.” 

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious. 

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him. 

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders. 

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again. 

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it. 

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees. 

“Too bad, too bad.” 

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again. 

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?” 

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.” 

Hyunjae smirks. 

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.” 

“Sure.” He nods. 

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.” 

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.” 

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.” 

( friday evening ) 

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink. 

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on. 

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him. 

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand. 

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.  

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear. 

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves). 

“Not so fast.” 

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully. 

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner. 

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks. 

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe. 

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles. 

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house. 

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens. 

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out. 

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again. 

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat. 

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square. 

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions. 

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass. 

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month. 

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room. 

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences. 

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book. 

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?” 

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings. 

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone. 

“Sorry.” You deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off. 

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks. 

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub. 

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party. 

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first. 

“Oh, Y/n.” 

He smiles, still holds the book before him. 

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.” 

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence. 

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly. 

“Why are you here?” You ask. 

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk. 

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively. 

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page. 

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.  

You nod. 

“We all do.” 

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence. 

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing. 

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option). 

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. . 

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly. 

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.” 

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle. 

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.” 

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?” 

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap. 

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after). 

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers. 

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again. 

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor. 

“Mindy?” He says. 

“Oh, Yeah.” 

They both laugh. 

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.” 

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol). 

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub. 

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open. 

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.” 

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back. 

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room. 

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls. 

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain. 

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.” 

“I am?” 

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness. 

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree. 

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return. 

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest. 

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame. 

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing. 

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.” 

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state. 

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs. 

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end. 

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.” 

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down. 

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him. 

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist. 

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–” 

“Sunwoo!” 

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above. 

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him. 

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you. 

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense. 

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.” 

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans. 

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path. 

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back. 

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated. 

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms. 

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back. 

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow. 

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him. 

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face. 

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence. 

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you. 

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette. 

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.” 

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.” 

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut. 

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs. 

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric. 

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps. 

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.” 

“Oh, Juyeon?” 

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line. 

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him. 

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead. 

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?” 

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it. 

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod. 

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head. 

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity. 

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.” 

“Really?” 

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack. 

“Jump on.” 

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt. 

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.” 

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly. 

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting. 

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks. 

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator. 

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap. 

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat. 

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes. 

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside. 

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.” 

You look up, “Oh.” 

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap. 

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head. 

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings. 

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?” 

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet. 

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.” 

They sit there until the lady comes out again. 

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing. 

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer. 

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair. 

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother. 

“Oh, you see!” 

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does. 

After another conversation, the topic returns. 

“So when did you meet?” 

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither. 

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.” 

Lady nods, “Since when?” 

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?” 

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.” 

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile. 

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze. 

“Then I confessed in university.” 

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both. 

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass. 

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to. 

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air. 

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay. 

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood. 

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat. 

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it. 

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers. 

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.” 

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat. 

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.  

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits. 

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’. 

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor. 

“Really?” You say surprised. 

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.” 

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t. 

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly. 

“What?” You lean away. 

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!” 

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back. 

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.” 

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders. 

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks. 

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.” 

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders. 

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too. 

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears. 

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”. 

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers. 

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring. 

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop. 

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips. 

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move. 

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.” 

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?” 

“At the library.” 

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans. 

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it. 

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down. 

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side. 

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces. 

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week. 

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph. 

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate. 

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow. 

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs. 

“Did anything happen?” 

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted. 

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time? 

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers. 

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence. 

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae. 

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight. 

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past. 

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated. 

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party. 

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines. 

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision. 

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak. 

“What?” 

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats. 

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head. 

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.” 

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world. 

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…” 

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye. 

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?” 

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time. 

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.” 

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp. 

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within. 

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly. 

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs. 

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer. 

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again. 

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from. 

“Bye Y/n, see you around!” 

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals. 

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only. 

“You never take water with you, Ice God.” 

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun. 

“You’re close with Sunwoo?” 

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.” 

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses. 

“Let’s run.” He says. 

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain. 

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.” 

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats. 

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does. 

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable. 

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot. 

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch. 

They stand still catching breath. 

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers. 

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you. 

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look. 

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X. 

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently. 

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.” 

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’. 

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer. 

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret. 

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric. 

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you. 

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up? 

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace. 

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted. 

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders. 

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear. 

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure. 

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly. 

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back. 

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain. 

“, and it fits you.” 

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing. 

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles. 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” 

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too. 

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice. 

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!” 

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe. 

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped. 

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses. 

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!” 

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid. 

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why. 

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic. 

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact. 

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth. 

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away. 

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally say. 

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again. 

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart. 

“I was-” 

“It’s oka-” 

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks. 

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you. 

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular. 

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling. 

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past. 

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field. 

“I actually like you too, Y/n.” 

It hitches in your throat. 

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks. 

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why. 

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot. 

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside. 

05 . CHAPTER FIVE 

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games. 

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come. 

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened. 

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely. 

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same. 

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”. 

He doesn’t get it. 

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling. 

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup. 

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head. 

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot. 

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned. 

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain. 

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages. 

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room. 

You suddenly shout, “Move!” 

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power. 

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads. 

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring; 

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest. 

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor. 

“I’m sorry-” 

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net. 

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome. 

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up. 

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.” 

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure. 

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.” 

He pauses. 

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.” 

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles. 

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..” 

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.  

They both laugh. 

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch. 

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why. 

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields. 

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out. 

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion). 

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm. 

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs. 

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?” 

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face. 

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.” 

“Why not?” 

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.” 

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.” 

“Don’t do this.” You complain. 

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth. 

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend. 

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball. 

“I missed.” He deadpan. 

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon. 

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?” 

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp. 

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary. 

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip. 

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack. 

“You stole my pocky?” 

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from. 

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends. 

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.” 

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them. 

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you. 

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing. 

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm. 

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat. 

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points. 

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n. 

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face. 

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you. 

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down. 

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder. 

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song. 

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round. 

He dares to look down.  He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own. 

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer. 

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him. 

“You do it then.” He smiles. 

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.” 

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless. 

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair. 

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder. 

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink. 

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand. 

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal. 

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong. 

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling. 

“Y/n!” 

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek. 

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and  to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point,  nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work. 

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color. 

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms. 

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.” 

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen. 

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off. 

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups. 

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in. 

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net. 

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts. 

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way. 

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too. 

“I have some for you.” 

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier. 

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate. 

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food. 

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral. 

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine. 

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.” 

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?” 

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.” 

“My stones?” You tilt. 

“You.” 

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies. 

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.” 

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.” 

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious. 

“You remember that?” He says surprised. 

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them. 

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly. 

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms. 

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age. 

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side. 

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say. 

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles,  “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.” 

 You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence. 

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him. 

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing. 

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good. 

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence. 

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin. 

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell. 

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them. 

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple. 

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining. 

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close. 

“You know…” He starts. 

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing. 

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.” 

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way. 

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out. 

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes. 

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes. 

“I’m actually a Capricorn.” 

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again. 

“You’re really cute.” He smiles. 

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?” 

He nods that his fringe follows. 

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.” 

He pouts with big eyes. 

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly. 

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots. 

You pretend to think, “Hmm.” 

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room. 

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open. 

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor. 

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest. 

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes. 

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?” 

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story. 

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die. 

“Eric?” You lie down. 

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you. 

“I forgot.” 

Eric snorts, “Really?” 

“Mm.” You insist. 

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”. 

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field. 

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely. 

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you. 

For now, he’s in denial. 

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently. 

06 . CHAPTER SIX 

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels. 

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time. 

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles. 

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon. 

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight. 

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third. 

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left. 

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.” 

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name. 

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you. 

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows. 

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively. 

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking. 

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk. 

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again. 

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase. 

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across. 

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently. 

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward. 

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen. 

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question. 

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?” 

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade. 

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass. 

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head. 

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly. 

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that. 

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life. 

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off. 

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up. 

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders. 

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up. 

The space opens again. 

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything. 

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became. 

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.” 

He looks up. 

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly. 

“But you’re actually very kind.” 

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression. 

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently. 

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles. 

( wednesday, afternoon ) 

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place. 

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet. 

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something. 

“You’re sad.” 

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention. 

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently. 

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin. 

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired. 

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down. 

You nod. 

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” 

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon. 

“Honesty is always valued.” 

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen. 

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.” 

You smile weakly. 

07 . FINAL CHAPTER 

( saturday, evening ) 

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows. 

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps. 

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely. 

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted. 

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door. 

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you. 

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods. 

“Welcome in!” 

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject. 

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking. 

“Do you know where Eric is?” 

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms. 

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him. 

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric. 

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him. 

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward. 

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you. 

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.” 

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too. 

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water. 

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t. 

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting. 

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles. 

You smile too and nod. 

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool. 

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.” 

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body. 

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it. 

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.” 

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.” 

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond. 

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.” 

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go. 

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house. 

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.” 

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood. 

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met. 

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up. 

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins. 

You found him. 

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away. 

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you. 

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does. 

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.” 

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes . 

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.  

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.” 

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts. 

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest. 

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue. 

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment. 

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window. 

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–” 

“I love you too.” 

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization. 

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time. 

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement. 

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you. 

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says. 

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter. 

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?” 

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking. 

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.” 

You pause. 

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position. 

“Not when you exist.” 

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face. 

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer. 

Though, Sunwoo has other plans. 

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts. 

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

[slytherinshua]

SURPRISE !

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. changmin w glasses skdjks??? pairing. changmin x fem!reader. wc. 553. request. no. a/n. changmin w his black glasses like in the babydoll stage actually DESTROYS me like wtf i need him...

A flurry of excitement filled your stomach as you peaked around the corner of the building you were hiding behind and saw your boyfriend standing with his back to you. You hadn’t seen him for months, and he didn’t know you had flown out secretly with the help of Chanhee to surprise him. He was talking about something with Eric, laughing at something he had said. You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine that the dimples you loved so much were displayed. 

Eric made eye contact with you, and you gave him a quick thumbs up— the signal you had both agreed on for when you were ready. You heard him bringing up an excuse of having to go to the bathroom, and dip back into the restaurant. Changmin leaned his shoulder against the wall, still with his back turned to you, and took out his phone to type something.

You felt your own phone buzz in your back pocket and bit back a smile. Of course you would be the first person he texted. You ignored the message, and silently crept closer, being as stealthy as you could so he wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Once you got close enough, you reached out and grabbed his thick black glasses from his face, pulling them off easily with a giggle. Changmin gasped in shock, brain not processing what had happened until he turned around in a rush and saw your smug face and your hand held up high with his glasses clutched between your fingers.

“Y/n! Give them back!” He laughed, reaching forward to grab them, but you held them just out of reach of him. 

“They’re mine now!” You said, satisfied as you slipped them onto your face while your boyfriend watched in shock. It didn’t take long for his brain to finally process that you had been away from him for months and you weren’t supposed to be in front of him now, except you were.

“How did you-” His jaw dropped again in shock and he reached out to touch you, as if to check if you were actually real or not. Upon finding that you were actually standing in front of him, his body seemed to act faster than his brain. 

He pushed you against the wall, closing you in with his hands on your shoulders. His lips were entangled with yours before another second could pass, and all you could do was sigh and kiss him back eagerly, hands finding their home in his dark hair. He had cut it while you were away, and while you had seen pictures, feeling it underneath your own fingertips felt different.

“Missed you too.” You giggled once he pulled away, still holding you close up against the wall. You took off the glasses you had stolen from him and carefully placed them back onto his face, kissing his nose after.

“You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve gotten you flowers or something.” He mumbled with a pout.

“That would’ve ruined the surprise.” You argued.

“I missed you so much.” He said, sounding relieved that you were back in his arms. He hugged you to his chest, breathing in your perfume and holding you like it was the last time he would ever be able to.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore

[loserlvrss]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 j. changmin ( 지창민 )

synopsis | you’d confessed your love to your best friend before graduating, and he didn’t feel the same. now that months had gone by, did he still not feel the same?

pairing : ji changmin x fem!reader   genre : oneshot, angst, alluded f2l, happy ending  warnings : language, alcohol / intoxication, slight emetophobia word count : 1.5k authors note : big lack of changmin truthers on this app btw :/ deobi get on this (im deobi)

“oh,” the silence after was thick, and unforgiving. it felt like your heart had just been ripped from your chest and squeezed so tight—tight enough to kill you where you stand. “i don’t know what to sa—i don’t feel that way, y/n. i’m sorry.” 

you knew somewhere not-so deep down that that would be his answer, but you thought, what the hell? you were on the doorstep of leaving the city, the verge of going off to a college far, far away anyways. except, yeah, what the hell… were you actually thinking? because in reality, did it potentially mess up your friendship with the only man you’ve ever been able to stand for more than a couple of minutes? maybe, but you couldn't let fear be the knife that hung over your head.

you were leaving; you had already left a couple months back, now in a new city. did it really matter anymore? changmin was halfway across the country, and you’d probably never see him again. so, it shouldn’t be the wind getting knocked out of you, or the constant rock in your shoe anymore, should it?

the music boomed against your ears, shaking your ribcage with every drop of the bass and snare. you cautiously looked around, (presumable) students chugging back beers and shots of clear liquids—or swapping spit—all while simultaneously moving to the track. you heard a loud cheer invade your ears, catching the tail end of a sunken ping pong ball. 

it felt like whiplash. 

“jen, what the hell is this?” 

your best friend turned to you, locking her arm in the crook of your elbow. “a frat, y/n! people our age go to those!” 

“how did you eve—“

“the guy throwing it,” she began, a huge smile spreading across her face as people brushed past with a lack of self awareness, “eric. he’s in my business class. and super hot!” she nudged your arm, “perfect, right?” 

you nodded hesitantly, mentally stuttering, “y-yeah… perfect.” 

she went on, disregarding your feelings entirely, “perfect man, perfect night.” instead swooning the air, “perfect, perfect, perfec—“ 

“if you say it one more time, i’m gonna throw up completely sober.” 

her neatly-shaped brows furrowed, “well we should fix that, what do you want? a beer?” 

“n-no, i’m okay.”

she rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed by your answer. “are you kidding me, y/n? let it go! just for one night and then i’ll let you sulk all you want tomorrow. please?” her hands were thrown together in a prayer position, “just be happy with me for once! he’s not here, he hasn’t been here.” 

months have passed since your dreaded confession, and you were still hung up on it like a waiting line on hold. he’d told you your answer; it should've been closure. 

it is closure. 

closure to a book you probably never should have opened, but the synopsis was too enticing. he was ji changmin for fuck sake, of course you had to love him. but jen was right, he didn’t, and he never would. he wasn’t with you right now. it was the broken record that you were finally taking off the player, the hand on a clock that had been stuck in place. 

he was everything you could’ve had, but he wasn’t the only thing you’ve ever needed. 

“vodka.” 

she hissed out a quiet yes, thrusting her fist into the air and dragging you across the lawn, onto the ricketiest porch you’ve ever seen. 

tomorrow you could care again, but during the early morning—after midnight—nothing mattered. when the moon was out, she was the only one who’d get to know how you truly felt. 

later, you found yourself in the kitchen with said host of the party, a couple drinks down. jen was right, he was hot—and perfect for her. 

the room spun as slurred words hit your ears, “oh my god, do you even remember what professor song said, eric?” her fingers dragged down his forearm, “opposites attract.” 

you clutched the counter, listening to their harmless flirting, “we’re in economics, jen.” 

she laughed, pointing to herself, “a,” then him, “plus b, equals c.” she adorned her statement with a heart, to which he had no choice but to laugh. nonetheless, you thought he was into it. 

they had the most painful eye contact you think you’d ever seen, smothering each other in desire but neither acting on it. maybe it was because you were there.

if you could read anything, it’s the room, and it was your cue to leave. 

“i’m gonna go… dance.” you said.

it didn’t capture her attention like you thought it would’ve. she’d never passed on the opportunity to throw it back before. she must really want him bad, you guess.

the music moved you so effortlessly, like you were made to keep your hands above your head and your hips swaying. you were careless at the moment, mind clouded with the people surrounding you. it smelled of cigarette smoke and lust. there were various vapors wafting through the air and meeting your senses. 

you couldn’t—didn’t—care. what even was his name anymore? with the alcohol in your system, it didn’t matter if it beat in time with your heart or not. 

he wasn’t here. 

and that's all you needed to know. 

“hey, pretty,” you were too far in your head that you didn’t even notice the hand that wrapped around your waist, squeezing the exposed skin of your torso. “do you go here?” they were close enough that their lips brushed the shell of your ear. you couldn’t recognize the voice, though if you were coherent enough you don’t think you’d have enough strength to even indulge the thought. your back pressed to his chest, his head in the crook of your neck, breath heavy on your skin as you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

the music was loud enough to drown out the sirens—the red flags waving—as you danced with a stranger. a stranger you hadn’t even turned around to see. it didn’t matter, even if he was the most beautiful model, moviestar or greek statue, it’d never compare to—

“y/n?” 

ji changmin. 

oh god, were you hallucinating your inner thoughts now? 

you swore that was his voice that called out to you, like you’d wished day and night for all those months back. you must’ve finally gone off the deep-end. or maybe it was all the secondhand smoke that became first now swimming inside your veins. whatever it was, you fought with the urge to want it, or to detest it. 

he wasn’t here. he couldn’t be. 

he gave you your answer, making the final decision and throwing the cards you’d spread on the table. you’d made the mistake of wearing your heart on your sleeve and giving it away so easily but, life has never been fair. 

regardless of being between heaven and hell, you were ripped away from the tight grip of the stranger. the touch was familiar. the touch you’d wanted to get to know further. the same touch you’d wanted to claim and keep for yourself, never letting him near another again. 

ji changmin, the man who had your heart still clenched in his fist. “what are you doing?” 

and anger overtook any love you’d felt for your best friend. 

tears brimmed, “what are you doing?” 

the guilt weighed heavy on your heart… you’d missed him so goddamn much, when you really shouldn’t have. 

what a perfect fucking night. 

“who is that?”

you shook your head in disbelief, ripping your arm from his grip. “why does it matter? are you going to replace him? do you even think you have the right to stare at me like a lost fucking puppy right now? why the fuck are you even here, changmin?” 

your iced-over heart couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him. he was still as perfect as you remembered. people changed over time, you knew that, but changmin never has. he’s always been yours to know, but he never wanted you the same way. your name has always followed my friend, when all you’ve ever wanted was for it to stop after the first word; my. mine. his. 

he backed down, “i wanted to hear your voice again… i missed you.” 

there it was… the claws ripping your chest open. he still knew every way to get you crawling back. he knew your brain too well. maybe that’s why you loved him, because, in reality, you two weren’t so different. 

always two birds atop the same wire, two stars in the same sky, two words next to each other in the same sentence. you were never paralleled lines, and it took him all of four months without you to figure it out. but he told you, under a random moon, that he never knew what he was feeling until he was numb. and the saying has always gone, you never know what you have until it’s gone. 

but, you’d never really be gone. 

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved. 

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taglist : @gluion @slytherinshua @mystarsohee @hursheys @seomisaho | send an ask to be added. 

back to masterlist !

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader (no pronouns used, but original fic was f!reader)

love. — what is love if not your steady heartbeat in his ear when he thinks you should be afraid?

4.7k words, established relationship, demon/supernatural creatures au, mild angst, very minor humor, bit of fluff?, mentions of blood, so much intimacy (skinship, cheek/stomach kisses), mentions of insecurities, swearing, use of pet names (love, sweetheart)

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: this lowkey just became a character study of demon changmin

THERE WEREN'T MANY INSTANCES where you were afraid for Changmin, nor were there many instances where you were afraid of him. You suspected that he strived to avoid either of said instances, especially regarding the latter. After all the two of you had experienced with one another, it seemed important to him that you could trust him and were not scared. 

It was difficult for him to fully accept that he did not frighten you in some way. Part of that reason, you guessed, was simply his awareness of how others viewed his species.

What was he but a mortal's night terror, a creature of evil?

To him, you should have been sleeping with a stake beneath your pillow—or rather, you shouldn't have had enough trust to sleep next to him at all. 

But several months under your relationship's belt was beginning to ease his concerns. The long drives up and down the state, chasing his strange assignments for work, had slowly become something he could look forward to. Sunshine or rain battering the windows, he would glance away from the dense fog outside to see you holding on desperately to the waking world, or feel your fingers curl around his hand when sleep stole you away. 

Most of the time, it wasn't too dangerous and you didn't mind tagging along with him. You'd grown used to the nomad lifestyle, seemingly content with spending a couple weeks in Moonstone Creek from time to time, and the rest of it with him. 

You loved him; you always made that clear. The ring on your right ring finger was proof that he knew that and reciprocated.

There were always, however, doubts. Changmin always had doubts. 

“—And I'll get that blueberry muffin creamer you liked yesterday, too.” 

Changmin broke out of the bubble he'd trapped himself in at the sensation of your lips against his cheek. This mortal body he had flushed at the feeling, his hand swift to stop you from leaving just yet, like an instinct. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and his face was level with your stomach from the chair he sat in. The hotels you usually stayed at on your routes always came with a desk and chair, so you could work on Moonstone Creek's finances or he could research. He pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your smiling eyes met his and you combed your hand through his hair once, twice. “I'll be back soon. You just keep your head in those books.”

He grumbled something against your stomach—‘I thought college was the last time I'd be pouring over texts’—and your laugh twinkled over his head. He hadn't even been paying attention to the texts he brought; really, his head was elsewhere today. 

“That's your fault for being an anthropology major and for literally chasing down ancient artifacts as your main source of income.”

“That was so unhelpful.”

Another comb through his hair. He could melt. “Just being honest,” you sang amusedly. “Okay, but I should get a move on. All their pastries are gonna be gone, and their danishes smelled really good yesterday.”

He hummed. “Stay safe.” Another kiss. 

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck. “I will. Love you.”

The words warmed in his chest. Just as you were pulling away, his grip tightened for a moment. “You have Clyde?” He couldn't let anything happen to you. 

“Yes—” you patted your jacket pocket, “—Clyde’s where he's always been. And Bonnie?”

“You know she's not moving,” he said, cocking a brow at you. 

You bit your lip through a small laugh and slowly moved toward the hotel room door, shoving your wallet and the room key into your pockets. “Okay. Happy reading then, love.”

“Unhappy reading,” he groaned into his hand, which was followed by your laugh and the door closing behind you. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

He counted a few seconds in case you had forgotten something, then went over to grab his phone from the nightstand. Settling on the edge of the bed, he pulled up the text thread he had between himself and Sangyeon. 

sangyeon: okay so don't freak out [sent an image]

sangyeon: but i found this lying around my house the other day, and i asked lily abt it and she said yn was on the fence abt showing u

Changmin could recognize your handwriting against Lily's in the picture. The image was a clear scan of a piece of paper, who's centerpiece was that of a house. It was a roughly drawn blueprint of a cottage, something small, cozy, homely. The house, as you outlined, wasn't large at all, but with one full floor, an attic, and a porch. There were notes all around the house in your familiar scrawl, writing about the projected cost of each thing—typical of you to think about practicality, even in your fantasy house blueprint—as well as features you'd like installed, like a fireplace and a porch swing.

It reminded him so much of Sena's house in the suburbs in a way… had you thought about this while you were there? A place you could call home, some place to settle down eventually, and finally have a slice of normalcy?

sangyeon: lily said she coaxed it out of yn, which is why yn didn't want to share it and make it seem like she was forcing u into anything u weren't comfortable w

sangyeon: but i think that u love her enough to hear her out

sangyeon: idk… it's ur call ofc whether or not u want to have that conversation yet

Changmin always had doubts. He'd learned during his time on the mortal plane to slow down and feel the weight of another's emotions, and what inevitably came with empathy was insecurity. 

You loved him; that was why his ring was on your finger and you would never bring up the cottage you confided to Lily about. You loved him, and knew that there was an unmistakable itch in him that could only be scratched when he was able to move, to not be chained to one place. But humans were different from demons, and your experiences were different from his. 

He always had doubts that you might never be fully content with this life he led. 

He sighed, massaging his jaw absentmindedly with one hand. Sangyeon had sent him those messages two days ago when you and he were driving to this sleepy town, tucked away at the foot of a mountain range. You'd been asleep when they were received, which was why you didn't see the notifications. Changmin could do as little then as he could now, and he basically replied to Sangyeon that he would think about it and talk to you. 

At some point. 

That was before he realized that it would be all he could think about. There was no word for 'selfish’ or 'selfless’ in demonic culture. It was either you did something to help yourself or harm yourself—usually, those who didn't act for their own benefit were thought of as weaker willed. It was difficult to dismantle methods of thinking like this in order to view the world and his interactions in a different way. 

Changmin abandoned his phone on the nightstand so that he could step over to the window and shove it open. The lever was rusty and squealed as he cranked it counterclockwise to let in the fresh pine morning and the natural white noise. 

Maybe this would help him focus on work or gain the courage to talk to you when you came back.

Changmin barely glanced up in time to see a blurry mass hurtling toward his face. “Shit.” 

He dropped to the floor.

A gleeful and tinny laugh like the rattle inside an aluminum can filled the room. The spike of shock in his heart was replaced very quickly with red, hot annoyance. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grunted, clambering to his feet, eyes narrowed on the pixie who had invaded his space. “Don't you fuckers ever knock?”

The pixie was only about a foot and a half tall, its translucent, membranous wings fluttering at the speed of a human eye's blink. This one in particular had a pair of orbs as dark as the lowest circles of Hell for eyes and two racks of jagged teeth lining its gums. The pixie buzzed around the room, careful to remain out of Changmin's reach. 

Fuckass supernatural mosquito….

“You hide your true form, demon,” its voice crackled like tin foil. “Naughty, naughty.”

Changmin's nostrils flared. “What's it to you, imp?”

“The darkness that lies deep within you—I can smell it—hear it.” The pixie zipped around the room over Changmin's head, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to clamp his hands around it. It squealed in delight, black eyes going wider and wider as if it could gaze straight into his soul. “What if we open the door, demon? Ah—I smell a human in this room!”

He stiffened. “You’re only smelling my human form,” he bit out.

“Must you need a reminder? I can smell your true form and I can smell lies.” 

Changmin stumbled back as the pixie flew directly in front of his face, then fluttered out of reach before he could snatch the piece of shit out of the air. The organ in his chest continued to hurtle toward overdrive—the pixie could smell you. The pixie could smell you. “I will rip the wings from your back if you even think about touching my human,” he growled. 

The pixie gasped, clapping its tiny, pale hands. “Oh-ho! The claws become you! Won't you show a little more skin, demon?” 

His eyes turned down to his hands, palms turned upward, the tips of his fingers turned an ash gray. Where his chipped fingernails had been, now sat a full set of dagger-sharp claws. He hadn't even realized he'd transformed them. 

“What color does a pixie bleed?” Changmin lunged for the pixie with his claws outstretched. 

The pixie dove out of the way, the claw just barely missing the edge of its leg. “Does your human taste divine?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Not very fun are you, demon?” The pixie whizzed past his ear, behind his head—Changmin whirled about on the ball of his foot. 

He slammed his palm forward, claws denting the plaster, nightstand digging into his thighs. As the pixie rose up toward the ceiling to stay out of harm's way, Changmin climbed onto the bed, determination coursing through his veins. 

“Would you like a riddle?”

Changmin swiped his hand, relishing in the splatter of clear liquid that glittered in the air—blood. The pixie's eyes widened, this time in fear. “Why would I want a riddle?”

A tremble marked the pixie's voice. “Twin halves of old, sealed by a third / like matches, they will spark the world to burn—” Its words were cut off as it swooped out of the way, its clear blood trailing behind it as Changmin's breathing grew heavier, eyes narrowing. “To save three—”

A loud crinkle, akin to a dozen small bones being crushed. A shrill shriek, nails on a chalkboard. A demonic smirk as he clutched a fragmented wing in his clawed hand. 

“You were saying?” he taunted, bringing the flailing pixie close to his face. Changmin couldn't deny the rush of deep, animalistic satisfaction that purred in his chest at his caught prey. Whatever this pixie had in mind for you would never come to fruition. 

“You're a fool to not heed my warning—” it spat, its agony spilling in glittery globs, “—such actions are so true to your species, my liege.”

The impact of the title came accompanied by a flurry of something bright yellow and fuzzy thrown right into Changmin's face. Alarmed, he dropped the pixie and scrambled to claw the dust out of his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and spat the substance onto the hotel room floor; upon hands and knees, he tried desperately to get ahold of his bearings. 

What the fuck was this stuff?

He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears, feel the transformation taking place. There was energy going toward places on his body to grow extremities he hadn't seen in years. 

No, no, no—

Changmin gagged on the pixie's dust, its acrid taste a reflection of the bitter effects to show. He screwed his eyes shut—willed his body to take control of itself. When his hands went over his head, he swore at the feeling of the twin horns curling out of his crown. 

Every one of his once-human senses were dialed to eleven. Voices and car motors and leaves crunching bombarded his ears; the intricately disgusting layers of odors in the carpet separated themselves beneath him. The sensations overwhelmed him from disuse. He held his head in his arms, panic weighing down and around his bones. 

When the transformation was complete, he was left in haggard breaths. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then to brace against the hotel bed. 

The pixie was gone, naturally, and likely escaped out the window from where it came in. 

Changmin splayed his clawed hands beneath him on the white sheets. 

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind and reign in the sensations to focus on the most important ones. Everything else could be background for now; all he needed was—was that. 

There—it was faint, but approaching by the second. Humming.

It was a soft, familiar sound that curled around his taut spine with the tenderness of a lover's caress. A heartbeat followed, slow but steady and sure. The pattern was also familiar, accompanied by leisurely footsteps and the smell of dark coffee and pastries. 

If he could just focus on those sensations in particular…

Then the thought hit him like a truck. 

That was you. The voice, the heartbeat, the footsteps.

You would return at any moment and see him in this state. Changmin could practically feel the fear that would roll off you in waves (or was that his own?), and he lunged for the bathroom. 

He stumbled into the dark chamber, fearing the reflection he'd find in the mirror should he turn the light on. The door slammed shut behind him and that darkness enveloped him. 

There was your heartbeat again—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—still faint, but becoming clearer. 

Slowly, he raised his head up to face the mirror on the bathroom wall. The dooming sense of acceptance dulled his own reaction. 

Twin horns, onyx in color, curled out from the tufts of his hair, hard and unmistakable. His skin had taken on the grayish tint of his kind from the black blood that now ripped through his veins. There were the claws, of course, and the slim, wiry tail speared at the end with a sharp spade and a mind of its own. Fangs, jagged and like small knives, peaked their points out past his lips, and he snapped his mouth shut to keep the forked tongue from tasting air. His eyes had become that of a predator's, the pupils dark as night and slimmer in shape—all the better for a deeper field of focus. 

In Hell, the consistent lack of bright light made it so that pinpoint eyes were sought after; it was better to see in the dark and pick apart the deep shades of red, black, purple, and blues. And, well, any sudden movement. 

Changmin didn't know why he tried to fool himself into thinking keeping the bathroom lights off would change anything. 

Your heartbeat was coming closer, louder. His breathing was beginning to even out as he matched his own to the sound of air rushing through your trachea, then exhaling through your nose. 

He could get himself back to his human form before you got back. He could do it—he swore he could. 

Focus.

It required so much focus and energy, but… but he could do it. He could do it before you saw him like this, before that calm heartbeat became erratic, and you became afraid—afraid of him. 

His breathing deepened as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen. In… out. 

Going from demonic form to human form in the mortal plane would be easy. 

It should have been easy. 

Seconds passed, and your footsteps approached from down the hall. There came the crinkle of a paper bag, shuffling of cardboard, as you shifted things in your hold to grab the room key from your pocket. The aroma of the pastries and coffee you brought back wafted into his nose, but not with the strength that your scent permeated every one of his senses—

Why couldn't he shift back? 

He curled his hands into fists on the counter, frustration making his fangs scrape against each other. 

Why wasn't he able to shift back? It was supposed to be easy—

The door outside clicked open and fell shut. “Changmin? Hey, I'm back.”

He stilled. The words to call back to you were lodged in his throat, unable to form upon the accursed forked tongue in his mouth. Panic seized him by the ribcage and he suddenly found it suffocating to breathe. 

There was silence on your end, and he could hear your heartbeat slowly begin to quicken. “Are you—are you okay? The wall's dented, and the—and the sheets…” 

Your footsteps arrived before the bathroom door, and at the same time he heard the door handle jiggle, he slammed his hand against it to bar you from coming in. 

Changmin could feel your leap of fright; his shoulders sagged with regret. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that. “Don't—” he cleared his throat from the grittiness there, “—don’t come in.”

Your heartbeat calmed then, after hearing back from him. “I won't,” you promised. “Is everything okay?”

I look like a monster. Some dumb fucking pixie made it so I can't shift forms. And I can't lock the stupid door because my nails are too long. 

But you didn't need to know all of that. 

He hung his head, attempting to feel that tendril of power in him that he could grapple onto to trigger the transformation. Nothing. “I'm… I'm fine,” he choked out. “I—” 

The corded necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt swung out into his view. His half of the pendant was not pulsing with life like yours was; it was connected to your heart, after all. But he curled his fingers around it nonetheless, his ears singling out your pulse. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum...

“... Changmin? Can I do something to help?”

He needed time. Fuck, he just needed to wait this stupid pixie dust out. His first thought was to send you away so you wouldn't see him at all. The next was a counter to the former—he needed your pulse. That was his anchor. 

The energy was slowly seeping from his bodily stores to sustain this form in this realm. Maybe if the pixie dust didn't wear off, he could tire his body into transforming. 

Your voice came out even softer. “Hey, what's going on, love?”

His forehead hit the door, eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not… I don't look like myself right now.” The self you're used to, at least. “A pixie came into the room and—and it threw something at me to force me to transform.”

“Into…?”

There was a light thump sound from the other side of the door as you leaned against it. Your warmth radiated through the wood, and the little monster inside him leaned into it. “My demon form.”

Changmin loathed the silence, your held breath. The acceptance washed over him in a deafening wave like his head was being held underwater. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, finally. “That’s okay… and so you're not able to turn back, is that it?”

His eyes couldn't help but narrow. “You're not scared.” The scent rolling off you wasn't that of fear. 

“Why would I be scared of you?”

Changmin's breath shuddered. There were plenty of reasons for you to be scared once you saw him. This body was made to harm. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I'm not scar—”

“I could hear it from the street, Yn.” He didn't know what to do about the leap in your pulse, the way that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum tripped over itself. Something at the back of his mind urged him to continue—to tell you everything and convince you to be scared. “I can feel the heat from your blood and smell the hotel soap on your skin.”

A beat passed. “That doesn't scare me.”

If you were anyone else, he would have laughed in your face. Foolish, foolish human. But you weren't just anyone else, and he couldn't get your terror out of his head. 

When he didn't say anything for a moment, you murmured, “Love, can I come in? Can I see you?”

Changmin swallowed. “I don't want to scare you.”

“I know—but I trust you.” Your hand warmed the door handle on the other side, the soft clink of his ring against the metal echoing through the material to reach him. “Do you trust me?”

(If demons ultimately were motivated to do things that would help them, then he should open the door. To his brethren, a human willingly walking into his clutches was a mark too easy not to lose. But the reason they would want you to come in through the door was nowhere near the same reason he wanted you to. 

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

He leaned his weight off the door. 

With his body mostly hidden behind the slab of wood, he carefully cracked the door open, his claws wrapped around the outside, so you would be fed his demonic form gradually. You'd seen the claws before when he'd gouged a siren's eyes out. But your eyes drank in the ashen skin around his features—death incarnate—from the slits of his irises to the spirals of ebony piercing out of his head. 

Your heartbeat took off, galloping wildly as he revealed more and more of himself while you stepped into the bathroom. The thunderous rush of your blood echoed in his own ears; it was a tantalizing sensation. 

There was a nervousness to your movements. Your lips were tight, hands slightly shaky. But above all else, your eyes remained tender and worried, and he might have fallen to his knees if he wasn't clutching the door. 

“Do you want to close the door?” You asked. 

Even now, you wanted to accommodate him. He gave a small nod, but added, “Can you—can you turn around?”

You dipped your head once, then turned your back to him. 

(So much trust… When did he earn all of this? From what did he deserve to have your back to him in this context? He could slit your throat in a blink, but you would throw yourself into Hell if he asked.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

Changmin closed the bathroom door and swallowed everything into darkness once again. He could hear your shallow breathing; you were trying to keep it steady, because you knew he could hear it as clear as a bell, but it wouldn't fool him. 

He took a step closer—then faltered, as he reached a hand out for your shoulder. He retracted his hand to his side. “You can turn around.”

Eyes watched as you slowly turned your body back around. You were fidgeting around with his ring, twisting the dark metal back and forth, as you lifted your eyes up and down his form. 

There was that catch in your breath again. Changmin's shoulders were so tense, he couldn't decide if that was from how high-strung he was or from the energy steadily being spent from his body. He'd probably last about another hour or two before collapsing. 

The bathroom was deafeningly quiet, with only your breaths and heartbeat keeping his insecurities company. He wanted to shrink into the collar of his shirt under your gaze, eyes blown wide as the moon. As you soaked him in, his eyes roved over your face—searching, searching, searching. 

At last, you tried for a soft smile. “You don't scare me.”

“I don't?” But he couldn't smell fear on you, couldn't make out any clear displays of it. He'd looked for them all. Your heartbeat had calmed, but your expression had never lost that something. 

(Was this love?)

You stepped forward once, and then again, until you stood with your toes touching and noses almost brushing. You shook your head and reached up to brush your thumb against his cheekbone. 

So warm… so gentle. 

His fangs gleamed in the dark when his lips parted. “You've been through so much,” he croaked. “Don't I look like them?” Them, the few creatures who had made you go on the run in the first place? Did creatures like him not haunt your waking world and nightmares? How could you bear to sleep next to him at night?

“If you're trying to convince me you're a monster, then it won't work.” Your fingers trailed down the plane of his face and he reached up to grasp onto you before you could retreat. “Does it hurt?”

At that question, he couldn't help the small, raspy laugh that bubbled out of his chest. 

“What?” You asked, the corners of your mouth lifting upward. 

“It's no—” he shook his head, his tongue darting out to slip over his lips. His fingers rearranged around yours and held them close to his chest, his thumb finding the familiar characters of his name wrapped around your digit. “—nothing. I just… you still care.”

Confusion flickered over your face, but was swiftly replaced by something softer. “Of course I still care.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could have hurt me a long time ago.” But you haven't. 

Changmin swallowed again, relishing in the warmth that radiated from your palm wrapped in his. “No, it doesn't really hurt,” he whispered. “I just can't sustain this form for very long.”

Your eyes shone. “How long?”

“A couple hours at most,” he said, fangs grazing his lip. “I'm trying to wait out the pixie dust—”

“Pixie dust? Aren't you supposed to be flying?” Your grin was flooring, but he managed not to falter. At his deadpan expression, you patted the back of his hand. “Sorry, don't get your horns in a twist.”

“Yn—”

“It was right there; I had to.” 

Even he couldn't suppress the curl of lips for long. He just… Hell, he just loved you. Even if he now had slits for pupils and knives for teeth, nothing could mistake the blatant fondness in his features. His eyes could be pitch black, but he would still find a way to express silently how much he adored you. 

You pursed your lips, the mirth leaving your face for a second. “Do you need blood? How long until the pixie dust wears off?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm not taking your blood.” He sent you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to retaliate. “It's like you have a death wish from the amount of times you've offered me blood. I'm not dying, sweetheart.”

“You could be…”

“Technically, I'm undead—”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever.” Your nose wrinkled up for a second, and then you were wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his shirt. “You’re still Changmin to me. You're still the guy I'm in love with.”

His arms came around your form and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, careful to keep his horns from hitting you. He suffocated himself on the feel of your skin, the subtle bump in your pulse just beneath the surface. Despite everything, you still trusted him enough to put his teeth so close to your scars. You didn't run away from him, from the true him. 

(Was this love?)

He wanted to hold you here forever. His human. “I love you.”

Your body tensed in surprise, and it nearly chased him away until you squeezed him tighter. He felt your lips against the place his human heart would have been. Changmin always had doubts, but you were so good at calming them. “I know.”

And haven't you always known?

Changmin had known, too, even if he'd searched long and hard for the doubt. All this time of sharing your space, your warmth, your company—he knew. 

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @bjnet

[halaboyz]

DOGS & EXES — J. CHANGMIN

૮ - ﻌ • ა SYNOPSIS ! exes co-parenting a dog?! you see yourself facepalming when you see your ex's text, asking if you could see the dog you adopted together, ghana, because he keeps waiting for you by the door of the apartment you once shared. the next thing you knew, you were walking to the park you agreed to meet up.

CHARACS ! ex! ji changmin x fem! reader; ghana; tbz' sunwoo & haknyeon, xg's jurin & hinata

GENRE ! smau, exes to ?, crack, fluff, angst, slowburn

WARNINGS ! some jokes may be offensive (using 'lord' in the whole series), cursing, if i missed something tell me!

STATUS ! on-going (08.06.24 — )

UPDATES ! every thursday

click here for the playlist!

send an ask for the taglist!

networks: @kflixnet @deoboyznet

. . .

profiles

chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5 | chap 6 | chap 7 | chap 8 | chap 9 | chap 10 | chap 11 | chap 12 | chap 13 | . . .

taglist: @molensworld @maiiitime @yeosangsbiceps

[sohnric]

LEGO HOUSE — j. changmin

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: roommates au?, friends to lovers. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. both hopelessly in love with each other. it's the readers birthday <3

wc: 1.5k

warnings: crying lol. nothing much ig 😭

a/n: thank u best friend @csenke for beta reading i love u the most 😚 this is inspired by that instagram post changmin posted yknow which one i mean..,,,. And also a pinterest post that I loosely quote in the first 2 paragraphs

spin-off (epilogue) to my fic partners in crime!

Ji Changmin was never looking for perfection. He likes wrinkles in his sheets, coffee stains at the side of his mugs. His hair a little wind-blown. The apartment a little messy when he comes home– socks on the floor of the shared bedroom, the dishes laying unwashed in the sink. The flowers in the vase wilted and all dried-out, petals falling to the wooden table. The cramped space of the kitchen, your hips bumping every time you try to cook something together for dinner. The dirty window staring back at him when he tries to look outside to the street. The mornings when he wakes up a little too early, alongside with your alarm, and watches you get up from the bed with a grumpy expression on your face– it’s always hard for him to fall back asleep on the days when you work the morning shifts and he does afternoons, but he doesn’t find it in him to be annoyed.

Ji Changmin was never looking for perfection. He likes your face– even with the presence of dark circles that appear after you’ve worked a little too much and slept not enough. The hair you leave in the bedsheets and all around the apartment, leaving him sweeping it up once a week. He likes the freckles on your back and the chapped skin of your lips when he studies them late at night, taking you in. He likes it when you leave a message for him in the foggy mirror after taking a shower, never complaining about the smudges of the reflective surface. 

He likes things a little messy. He likes things a little well-loved.

He never wanted a perfect life– he said goodbye to that ideal when he was just a little boy. All he ever wanted was something better. Something more. His own place, away from all the prying eyes and expectations. Something beyond his reputation. He never wanted perfection– he knew life wasn’t that fair.

You were both so young when you behaved 25– now, he realized, you’ve grown into tall children. 

Ji Changmin unlocks the front door of your shared apartment at 7 in the morning after coming home from his night shift. In his hand is a cardboard box, and after discarding the pack of cigarettes onto the little table in the hallway and fishing for his lighter, he opens it and takes the little candle in between his fingertips. A click, spark, then a flame, the candle being stuck back into the white icing. Taking his shoes off, the box is back in his hands as he takes careful steps inside of the kitchen, knowing you’ll be there already, awaiting his arrival.

That’s the routine you two have. You only work morning shifts– Changmin, on the other hand, does both afternoons and mornings, and once a month, a week of night shifts. He comes home the moment you wake up for work and you silently say hello to each other in the quiet of your apartment. You got the place together after you ran away– one bedroom, one bathroom. Getting a lease was easier as a pretend couple, but somewhere deep inside of his soul, Changmin knew you were so much more.

Your back is turned to him, shoulders hunched over. The room is dark, the only light providing you two being the low light of the rising sun behind the window. He’s sure you heard his footsteps, but he still clears his throat and puts on a show for you, lowly singing the birthday song to you. When you turn around to look at him, the note he left at the kitchen table for you before he left for work in the evening is secured in your grasp and tears are dripping down your cheeks– a little by little, then all at once, like a waterfall, overwhelmed with emotion.

Changmin imagines today to not be easy for you. It’s your first birthday without family. You’re turning into an adult, with no supervision at all. There’s no one to reminisce over how tall you’ve grown and how much your face has changed over the years– only him. Only him and the lump in his throat as he watches you crumble in front of him, helpless. 

“Blow the candle out, it’s starting to drip on the icing–” he says, having you laugh and shake your head at him. It works, though– as you take a step towards him and do as he says, closing your eyes momentarily to wish for something. Changmin won’t ask what your wish was, but he could probably guess.

“Happy birthday, dear,” he mumbles, putting the cake and the box onto the kitchen table– just next to the mug stain in the corner. 

“Thank you,” he hears before your arms are thrown around his neck, chest on chest. You hold on to him for dear life, your nose burrowing into the crook of his shoulder. He gently cradles the back of your head, fingers slowly raking through your hair. His heart squeezes on itself when he feels your body tremble in his hold, making him try his hardest to calm you down. “For everything, that is. For sticking with me.”

Not every day will be easy– Changmin knew what he was getting himself into. It’s okay for you to walk on unsteady ground, though, it’s okay for you to look behind your shoulder after every step of the way. It’s okay for your world to break and crumble under your feet– Changmin will keep the pieces of you safe, like a building kit, and help you put them back up together again, the way they were before, like a lego house. Truth is, he doesn’t really have a tutorial or a guide, he doesn’t own a reference picture to how you were before everything– he met you at a very strange point in your lives– and so you might end up in a shape you didn’t have before. But that’s okay, because you’re back in one place– and although it may look and feel a little awkward at first, you will get used to it. You will grow to love it– just like he does. The new shape of you has character– it shows what you’ve been through. And that is fine. Beautiful, even. 

He’ll love the new shape of you just the same way he loved the previous one. Maybe even more– since now, he has his hand in it. He’ll love it more gently. More deeply, as well. He’ll love the new structure as it grows, and he’ll love it even with its missing pieces and imperfections. He never once gave up on you, and he would never dream of doing that now.

“Always,” he whispers.

You pull away from him, but still stay within reach. Your hands rest on his cheeks, thumbs glazing his cheekbones. The boy feels his breathing catch in his throat, wordlessly awaiting your next move. Looking at you almost always puts him into a trance, but today, he feels almost enchanted with your sheer presence. He feels grateful for your existence– he guesses this is the sentimentality parents feel on their children’s birthdays. He knows he’s not really the one you’d like to hear the words from, but he says them anyway. “I’m really proud of you.”

It happens without him even noticing– you standing on your tiptoes, answering the heart’s calling. The chapped lips he’s spent countless nights watching are pressed against him, a reply to the wandering question in his brain of how they would feel against his. He breathes you in: all of you. All of your worries and your troubles, all of your joys and your smiles– of which you press one against his lips, making his knees weak and heart beating raw in the palms of your hands.

You’re like everything he’s ever dreamt of and more. Somehow, he thinks this bond was there in the stars for him, written into his fate. He was bound to meet you, one way or another– and if he could turn back time, he’d do the same things, over and over again, just to end up in this moment with you. 

To an outsider’s eye, what you two have is not perfect, but he was never looking for perfection anyway.

Perhaps, he thinks, perfection is relative. Perhaps, this is what defines perfection for him: you two in your shared kitchen, holding each other, your birthday cake and the handwritten note he left for you watching you take another leap together– and truth be told, he doesn’t even know when it all happened. For him, falling in love with you went without him even noticing– a little by little, then all at once. One day, he was poking fun at you in the familiarity of the police office, and suddenly, he did all he could just to protect you.

(As long as I’m alive, you will always be loved.

Happy birthday to the best partner in crime life I could ever wish for.)

[strayed-quokka]

babydoll || ji changmin || masterlist

↳ Changmin isn’t popular nor is he rich, whereas you run on the other end of the spectrum, spoilt and living on your dads credit card. when you’re tasked with kicking him out of the biggest party of your year, you come to realise he’s not all that bad. unfortunately, falling in love with the ji changmin is your one way ticket to social suicide.

↳ pairing: ji changmin x female reader + ex lee juyeon x female reader

!!! this is not a love triangle !!!

~ rating: NC-17 minors please do not interact with this work

↳ genre: enemies to acquaintances to reluctant friends to lovers, slowburn, drama, angst, happy end but it takes a long ass time, rich girl broke ass uni boy

~ warnings: high society bitch of a reader, an unadressed eating disorder (limited), drug use, sex while on drugs, a lot of sex (will add individual warnings to chapters), sex with juyeon, maybe you fuck him twice, sex while high, taller reader with longer hair but no colour description for the plot, jokes and implied tone about death/wanting to die (not meant), obsession with weight and beauty standards, juyeon is manipulative and toxic, emotional abuse, physical abuse (not reader and not in detail), everyone needs therapy, past self harm (not reader, not in detail, descriptions of scars), deep self loathing and insecurities, bullying, changmin calls reader little doll, reader wants to look like a doll, nicknames such as darling and princess, classism

!!! if I missed anything or I remember something else I will add it to the general warnings. there’s a lot of drama but it isn’t as dark as the warnings probably imply it to be, but it also isn’t a light read.

↳ words: 70k + blame the slow burn

a/n: this was meant to be a 20k one shot then changmin said sike so I had to split it up into multiple parts so that tumblr wouldn’t break because it said it would 💔 this is dedicated to @sanaxo-o because she’s never given up on this fic even when I wanted to throw it out the window. no one loves babydoll more than her. thank you @mosviqu for reading this every night when I add a little extra and make you hate juyeon and thank you @sungbeam for the banner cause mine was clearly trash.

I joke that I’ll retire once I’m done posting every part of this fic but we all know that’s a lie. I did pour all my energy into this though so please be nice to me or say nothing at all LMAO. again, I wanna disclaimer that there are some specific physical attributes to this reader which I usually avoid doing but for the story itself it was necessary.

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist 🩵 started: 25.7.24

~ teaser

~ act i

~ act ii

~ act iii

↳ i aim for just three chapters if tumblr allows it but depending on final length this might have to change

©️strayed-quokka, please do not steal, translate, reuse or rewrite as your own

[jinkoh]

drunk texting

changmin x gn!reader

tags: established relationship, idol!changmin, fluff, texting/drabble, pet names (babe/bebi), alcohol consumption; SFW

wc: 0.5k (drabble under the cut)

a/n: i've never made fake texts but the pictures he shared from lotte world felt sO much like drunk selcas to me and it wouldn't leave my mind so after discussing the idea with @blizzardfluffykpop a while ago i finally made a little something out of it [also yes he is saved as chungmin in your phone, it's bc i love the day drinking idol human theater episode]

Masterlist

You knew your boyfriend had been to Lotte World for filming today and then out for a few drinks with the guys afterwards. He’d been kinda bummed out about not being able to take you along, but judging from his texts he still had a good time. Of course you would have loved to spend the day with him, but it was his job and it wasn’t like you were taking him along to your job either, so there were no hard feelings there. You were just glad he had fun with it and got to enjoy some off time with the members after. It wasn’t too often they could go out like this.

With a small gleeful smile on your lips, you made your way to the bar to pick him up. It didn’t feel like a chore or anything and you knew he would have gotten home by himself just fine, but you wanted to use this chance to spend some time together (and you loved how affectionate Changmin was with you when he was tipsy).

almost there, you texted him as you were about to walk inside, almost stumbling into someone as your focus was still on your phone screen.

“Oh!” Changmin exclaimed, voice full of excitement. “You’re already here!”

Before you could even look up, you were already wrapped up in a tight hug. 

“I was just about to come out to wait for you,” he said, swaying you both from side to side. You leaned up to leave a peck on his lips. “Mhm, I hurried to see you sooner.” 

His face lit up with a happy smile before he loosened the hug and grabbed your hand to pull you inside the bar. The guys were sitting in a corner booth greeting you excitedly and Eric immediately scooted over so you could sit with them. 

“No-ou,” Changmin shook his head, and wrapped his hands around you from the back to keep you from sitting, “my bebi came to pick me up, we’re going home.”

“Gross,” Haknyeon mumbled with a scrunched up face as he watched the corny display of affection.

“You’re just jealous, because you have to go home with Sangyeon and Hyunjae.”

“Rude?” Hyunjae chimed in, “we’re great company.”

“Sure,” Changmin nuzzled his nose into your neck, making you giggle, “but mine is better.”

“We got it,” Sangyeon said with a sigh from behind you, carrying a tray of drinks, “but can you leave already so I can set this down?”

You moved aside with a chuckle to make space for Sangyeon and then said your goodbye’s shortly after. When you were back outside, Changmin was holding your hand again, swinging it back and forth.

“We could have stayed a bit, if you wanted.”

“I know,” he said, leaning over to peck your cheek, “but I missed you. We haven’t had any alone time for a while.”

“That’s true.”

“Did you want to stay? I know you don’t see them that often.”

“No, it’s fine,”  you replied with a smile, squeezing his hand in yours, “I really wanted to be with you, too.”

He squeezed back. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Always.”

Masterlist

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Scared?

Summary: You’ve been picking your boyfriend up from his haunted house gig, since his car broke down and just because it’s raining doesn’t mean it’s going to be any different, is it? Otherwise known as Changmin takes your mind off of being scared.

Oneshot

Smut, Fluff, Non-idol au, Established Relationship au 

Warnings: Dacryphilia, Slight Corruption kink (not as much as I had wanted), Unprotected sex, Slight hair pulling (m!receiving), Fingering (f!recieving) Use of pet names: Baby (frequently) and Good girl (once). Again, this takes place in a haunted house (afterhours), so everything that comes with that. *And if I missed anything pls lmk!*

Word Count: 2,382

Changmin (Q) X Fem!Reader

[A/n: This takes place in the same world (haunted house) of Fearful First Dates by @jinkoh, and Scaredy-cats by me.]

If you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work. 

------

Since Changmin’s car is in the shop for the week. You’ve been picking him up from his job. He always comes out with a happy little smile before rushing to the passenger door, “Baby! You won’t believe the people I scared today!” You grin as he hops in, telling you about it. You weren’t great with horror or scares. But it brought him joy, so you’d always listen to him as you drove him home. You can’t wait to hear what wild stories he has this time as you call him, letting him know you’re on your way. He answers, “Hey, Baby, since it’s raining, I’m gonna wait inside the building until you get here.” You hum, “Oh, okay, do you want me to pull up to the door?” “No, actually, I was wondering if you could come in so we could wait for the rain to pass together.” You gulp, “Um, Changminnie, you want me to go inside the haunted house?” He cheerily replies, “Yeah!” “Are the others there?” “No.” Well, since there’s no scarers outside of your doting boyfriend, it can’t be that bad, right? You sigh, “I uh, I guess I could come to whatever room you're waiting in…” “Perfect! I’ll see you in a little, then?” You sigh again, “Yeah, I’m pulling up now.”

You park as close to the back entrance as possible, not wanting to walk through the rain even though it’s just a light drizzle. You shake your head as you shut your car door, realizing he could have just rushed to your car. There must be some reason he wants you in there. With a sigh, you decide to be brave and head in instead of calling him to come out. You make it up the steps and open the door, gulping as you move the curtain back. You fill with dread as you take it all in. You've only been in here once before when they were starting to decorate, and now it looks like something out of your worst nightmare. The blood-splattered Victorian wallpaper and Persian rugs make your face twist into disgust. You make the mistake of looking up to notice the netting that wasn’t there the last time and see fake bloody limbs entangled in it. You also notice how the stage lights are on instead of the overhead lights. And while you look up you feel something squish under your foot, causing you to yelp. You recoil in disgust, focusing all of your attention on the rugs as to not step on anything else. It’s somehow worse without the other scarers. No laughter or screams fill the darkened hallways, making it spookier. It feels unsettling to hear the creeks of your steps beneath your feet. You can’t help it as tears prick your eyes as you continue through the haunted house. It was one thing when people were in the building but another when it was empty. It was as if something could come out from the shadows with vicious intent. 

You walk faster as fear starts to set in. You call for Changmin when you hear something dripping. He calls back, and you rush to the room you heard his voice come from. With tears in your eyes, you knock. And he opens the door, “Come on in, baby.” He takes in your appearance as you fling yourself into his arms and sniffle, “Please don’t make me do that alone again.” He asks, “What, were you scared?” You look at him as your tears finally fall from your eyes as you scowl at him, “You already know I was!” He moves his arms from your waist to cup your face in his hands, and asks, “Would you like me to take your mind off the scary things?” You scrunch your nose at him, “How so?” He smirks, “I have an idea or two since we’re the only ones here and all~” He brings his lips to yours as he asks, “What do you say?” You sniffle again as you whisper, “Please.” He smirks as he kisses you, “Good girl.” 

When he pulls away, he twists you around after shutting the door, and you catch a glimpse of the cushy-looking bed, “Is this okay?” You nod as you shake off your jacket before he looks over his shoulder to see the camera’s watchful eyes. “Hold on one second, baby.” He finds some masking tape and rips it off with his teeth. He mumbles, “Jacob if you only knew what real fun was…” Before returning to you, asking rhetorically, “So, where were we?” You smile, “The part where you kiss me before pushing me backwards.” He smirks, winking at you as he says, “Right.” He tilts your chin up, gently kissing your lips before licking your bottom lip. You part your lips, and his tongue eagerly slips in before pushing you back onto the bed. He pulls away, giggling at the sight of you, “You always look so cute all sprawled out for me~” He climbs over you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him to you and kiss him deeply. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging on it, making him groan into the kiss. And before you can do anything else, he pulls away from your lips. You pout at him, and he giggles before giving you another peck before kissing down your neck, nipping at spots as he makes his way to the collar of your shirt. His hands crawl under your shirt, sending shivers up your spine. You lift your arms over your head, and he slips it off of you before reattaching his lips to your collarbone. He nips until you groan out, and he sucks on the spot until it becomes red. He makes a few more marks before pulling away, satisfied. You smile at him, and he brings you in for another kiss. 

You tug on his shirt, and when your lips part, he throws it up and over his head. You smile as you run your fingers down his chest and make quick work of his pants. He kicks them off before he undoes your jeans and slips them off you, slowly kissing your thighs as he goes, “You’re so pretty.” You blush as he comes back up to kiss you again. He whispers against your lips, “My cute little baby.” You peck his lips before his voice drops an octave, “I can’t wait to ruin you.” You rut your clothed hips into his as he asks, “What do you want, baby?” Already knowing the answer as you tell him, “You… Please…” He hooks his fingers underneath your underwear, slipping them off of you before rubbing his first two fingers along your entrance, “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Before slipping a finger in, seeing that you can take two, he slips in another, and you close your eyes, moaning as he curls his fingers inside you. He thrusts his fingers in a few more times before slipping his fingers out. You open your eyes, blinking at him in confusion at the loss of pleasure. Just to watch him pop his fingers into his mouth. He hums as he pulls them out, “You always taste so sweet.” He hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he whispers, “Wanna see for yourself?” You hum, and he kisses you deeply, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You let out a little groan as he pulls away from your lips, a trail of saliva connecting you two. Both of you groan at the sight before it breaks, and he finally slips his briefs off. 

His cock springs free, hitting his abdomen before he runs it along your folds. He rolls his hips against yours, causing you both to groan. Before he finally lines up with your entrances and slips in, you both moan at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. When he finally bottoms out, he groans, “You take me so well, baby…” He kisses you, taking your breath away as he starts slowly moving in and out of you. When he pulls away, you moan out his name. He nips at your lips as he starts setting a pace. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to you until he drops his forearms on either side of you. You smile at him, and he grins back before you pull him in for a rough kiss. Your lips mashing together as he thrusts inside of you. You tug on his hair, finally getting what you want as he groans into your mouth, and you can swipe your tongue over his. You savor the kiss before he parts, and you pout as he looks into your eyes. “How can you look so innocent and sweet when you’re taking all of me.” He pauses his thrusts to whisper to you, “You just make me want to fuck you that much harder.” He pulls away to pepper kisses along your jaw, making you sigh contentedly as he starts thrusting into you faster. 

He effectively calms you down from your earlier fright. That is until you hear something creaking along the hallway outside the room. Your eyes grow wide as you gulp, “W-what was that?” He groans as he thrusts into you harder before answering, “Oh…” He pauses, “It was just sounds of the building settling. It’s okay. Don’t be scared.” He leans in next to your ear to whisper, “I’ll protect you.” You give him a small nod before he resumes, and he starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear, “You are always so good to me…” You groan as his thrusts become rougher, as he adjusts one of his hands to hold your waist. And you hear the creaking noises again. This time closer to the door, the sound starts to freak you out, causing you to shiver, and he moans at the feeling. And whether it was from the creaking or Changmin groaning sweet nothings into your ear as he thrusts into you. You're not sure, but you start tearing up again. He looks up from your jaw to see the tears starting to streak your cheeks. He groans loudly at the sight, “Sh-shit, you look so pretty when you cry…” You sob, and he asks, “Are you scared, baby?” Pulling out before slamming back in to ask, “Or are you so fucked out you can’t control your tears?” You whine as he starts kissing your tears away, “C-Chang-min… Please…” He glares, “Which is it?” And you moan as you try to meet his thrusts, “B-Both…” He smirks as he moves his fingers from holding your waist in place to rubbing your clit, causing you to cry out his name, “That’s it, baby. Cry for me.” 

You cry out harder as he rubs faster, “I-I’m close, Ji…” He smirks and puts more pressure on your clit as rubs circles over it, “Come on, baby, cum for me.” You cry harder as you hit your high, cumming all over his cock. He groans at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. He groans, “(Y/n)... (Y/n), fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He looks over your tear-stained cheeks as he pulls his hand away from your clit. “Fuck… You’re so cute.” His hips stutter into yours as he cums. He wipes his hand on the duvet before wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks away. He asks, “You okay? I didn’t go too hard on you, did I?” You shake your head, “No.” He smiles as he gives you a gentle peck, “Good.” He lays gently over you as he tells you, “You did so well for me.” You take a second to catch your breath before asking, “Crying?” He turns red as he whispers, “Yeah…” against your skin. You giggle at him as you pull his face to yours, “You should have said so sooner.” You pull him in for a kiss, basking in the feeling. When he parts from your lips, he slips out. You both shudder at the feeling, making you both laugh. He lays beside you, looking at you fondly, “You’re so lovely.” You grin, “And tired.” He laughs, and you kiss his nose, “Thanks for distracting me from the horrors.” He smirks, “If this is what you need to distract you from horror, you should pick me up from inside more often.” You squint at him, “Don’t push your luck.” The two of you laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. 

After lying there quietly for a while, just soaking in the ambiance, he gets up, cleaning the both of you up before helping you get dressed. He pulls on his shirt and pants before heading to the camera, taking off the masking tape. You join him as he waves at the camera, and you both stick your tongue out at it. Before he puts his hand out for you to take, and you slip your hand in his. He holds your hand tightly, and you bury your face into his shoulder as you walk back out of the haunted house together. He asks, “Baby, are you scared?” You shake your head ‘yes’ into his shoulder, and he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He walks you to the door, with no surprise scares along the way. 

He pulls back the curtain and lets you out first. With the rain no longer coming down, you hand him over your keys. He opens your door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and shutting your door before heading to the driver’s side. He looks over and sees your pout, “You didn’t kiss me as you buckled me in.” He giggles as he puts the key in the ignition, turning towards you before gently kissing your swollen lips, “Better?” You hum as he turns the engine over. He asks, “Yours or mine?” “Yours if you promise ‘your kids’ will stay in the kitchen…” He laughs, “Our kids… But yeah, I’m sure they’ll be on their best behavior since you’ll be home.” You roll your eyes but give him a small smile, “Yeah… And if you say so.” He puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly before telling you, “Yeah, I do.”

[sunshyni]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsun:ray

Changmin × You | w.c: 1.2k | avisos: nenhum, family friendly na área!

context: você faz parte da família mais rica da região litorânea em que Changmin mora. Na véspera de ano-novo ele te convida para uma festa mais interessante do que a que seus pais organizaram, e você descobre que não existe nada mais doce do que virar a noite ao lado dele.

notas: eu 'tava tão obcecada pelo Changmin desde “Babydoll” que me senti muito feliz com esse pedido assim que ele chegou (não sei se executei bem o que tinha em mente, provavelmente não KKKKKK Mas enfim). Eu claramente me inspirei em “Outer banks” pra desenvolver isso, porque com toda certeza o Changmin é um pogue e a personagem principal é uma kook KKKKKK Mas é isso! Espero que vocês gostem dessa bomba!

boa leitura, docinhos!🍊

— Como assim o sol já tá nascendo? — Você sussurrou para Changmin que deslizava o dedo pela tela do celular, procurando em sua playlist favorita uma música diferente da que estava tocando, para ser reproduzida baixinho nos fones de fio que vocês compartilhavam deitados no colchão inflável da espécie de “batcaverna” que existia nos fundos do mercadinho dos pais de Juyeon, que dormia serenamente no sofá antigo ao lado de vocês, com uma manta fina envolvendo-lhe enquanto o braço esquerdo estava pendurado para fora do móvel.

Após alguns segundos de deliberação, Changmin enfim escolheu a faixa e “Babydoll”, de Dominic Fike, iniciou com seus primeiros acordes de guitarra.

Com cuidado para não arrancar o fone do seu ouvido, Changmin se virou no colchão, mudando sua posição, ficando de frente para você e repousando o celular no espaço entre seus corpos. Ele destinou uma rápida olhada para a janela alinhada ao colchão de vocês estendido no chão, contemplando os primeiros raios de sol que ultrapassavam o vidro e iluminavam seus rostos, aquecendo a pele num jeito agradável.

— Estamos oficialmente virados — Changmin afirmou fechando os olhos por alguns instantes para abrí-los novamente e te sondar de forma demasiada atenta, fazendo uso do mesmo volume de voz baixo, com a diferença de que ele esbanjava uma rouquidão que fez seu corpo se arrepiar deliciosamente.

Os olhos dele estavam direcionados exclusivamente para você e não transpareciam nenhum sinal de cansaço, embora vocês estivessem alí desde que os fogos de artifício anunciando o ano novo se cessaram e Sunwoo teve a brilhante ideia de beberem um bocado no esconderijo de Juyeon, você abarcou a ideia, mesmo sabendo que certamente teria problemas com seus pais mais tarde.

— Tá arrependida?

— Por que eu estaria? Foi a melhor noite que eu já tive em muuuito tempo — Você achegou o corpo um pouco mais ao dele, fazendo com que os rostos ficassem a – no máximo – uns quinze centímetros de distância, mas Changmin não se afastou, pelo contrário, continuou encarando seus olhos com uma diligência extrema. Changmin tinha te salvado de uma noite de ano novo tediosa, ele fazia parte do grupo de funcionários do bufê que a sua mãe contratou para a grande white party no jardim da casa de veraneio, que a sua família possuía naquela região litorânea.

Vocês se conheciam por um histórico extenso de olhares furtivos na areia da praia principal, mas nunca haviam trocado uma palavra sequer; Até Changmin interromper sua conversa com um parente velhote e antiquado, questionar se você estava interessada num lance mais animado para que assim que conseguisse seu consenso, entrelaçasse os dedos com os seus e te conduzisse até a festa anual que os três amigos organizavam em toda véspera de réveillon.

— Só gostaria de estar vestindo algo mais confortável — Você apontou para o seu próprio visual, um vestido branco curto rodado Calvin Klein que te deixava com um ar jovial e inocente, o gesto chamou a atenção de Changmin, que desceu o olhar para o seu corpo, não de forma descarada e desinibida, se tratava mais de conferir pela milésima vez a sua roupa e sorrir de um jeito tão caloroso que ele poderia competir com aqueles raios solares sem um pingo de medo da derrota.

— 'Cê tá linda — Ele disse, desviando o olhar para qualquer canto do ambiente que não fosse você, numa tentativa falha de disfarçar as bochechas que adquiriram um tom de vermelho púrpura, provocando em você uma vontade insana de apertá-las como se ele fosse uma criança fofa — Se você quiser, eu posso te emprestar alguma coisa do Juyeon, mas já vou avisando que ele não é tão estiloso quanto eu.

Seus lábios se curvaram num sorriso completo quando ele te deu essa oportunidade implícita de contemplar as roupas sociais que ele vestia devido ao código de vestimenta do bufê, infelizmente o colete, a gravata borboleta e os óculos da noite anterior haviam sido descartados, mas a visão de agora era tão boa quanto a de antes, o colarinho aberto juntamente com os dois primeiros botões da camisa social amassada igualmente abertos te incitava o desejo de desbravar o que existia por trás daquele tecido sóbrio.

— O que você acha que vai acontecer quando voltar pra casa? — Ele questionou e você se livrou do fone, fazendo-o copiar o movimento para pôr o celular fora do colchão, se aproximando de você sem a intenção no processo, ocasionando numa agitação na sua barriga que se parecia muito com nervosismo e ansiedade. Você engoliu em seco, esperando que não estivesse transpirando igual uma boba na frente e tão próxima de Changmin.

— Provavelmente eu serei deserdada. Minha mãe superestima demais esse tipo de evento — Seus pais odiariam saber que você estava perambulando com a “ralé”, mesmo que estivessem sempre muito obcecados em auxiliar pessoas de classes inferiores a sua apenas para conseguirem reconhecimento e fama de bonzinhos, o que não condizia em nada com a verdade e com o mundo que eles idealizavam. Você tentava todos os dias se desvincular daquela grande farsa, mas nunca teve a coragem necessária para agir contra seus progenitores e adotar seu próprio ponto de vista, não até Changmin segurar a sua mão e te fornecer toda determinação necessária — Mas esse palácio aqui tá livre, né? Juyeon não vai se importar.

— Você é mais do que bem-vinda — Um sorriso iluminou ainda mais a feição de Changmin que foi retribuído por você da mesma forma, ele se aproximou um pouquinho mais de você compartilhando da sua mesma respiração cadenciada, os olhos castanhos alumiados pelo sol que te fazia ter certeza que as pupilas dele estavam dilatadas, certamente iguais às suas.

Você alternou o olhar entre os olhos e lábios de Changmin por alguns segundos até tomar a iniciativa e unir os lábios nos dele num beijo casto e rápido, o bastante para provocar um barulhinho característico que fez Sunwoo – jogado numa poltrona – se mexer, mas jamais acordar.

Você cobriu a boca com a mão, mas Changmin não demorou muito para retirá-la dali, sorrindo ao mesmo tempo que avançava para cima de você com a mão imobilizando seu pulso suavemente, finalmente te beijando ao passo que sua mão livre tirava os botões da camisa de Changmin de suas casas, lentamente, os lábios ocupados em corresponder ao beijo vagaroso, quase preguiçoso, mas que fazia seu baixo-ventre se alvoroçar em expectativa enquanto Changmin encaixava o corpo no seu na melhor forma que podia, parecendo gostar da forma que sua mão exploradora tocava-o em todas as partes possíveis de alcançar.

Juyeon provocou um pequeno escândalo se remexendo no sofá, o que fez o beijo terminar mais rápido do que o previsto e Changmin esconder o rosto coradinho na curva do seu pescoço, só para abafar uma risadinha um tanto quanto envergonhada. Você tomou o rosto dele nas mãos, beijando-o devagar, com medo de causar aquele mesmo estalar da primeira vez.

— E se eles acordarem? — Você perguntou, e ele revirou os olhos de uma maneira nada sutil mas muito doce, os cabelos curtos e revoltos na manhã espetando-lhe a testa levemente, Changmin soltou seu pulso para acariciar sua cintura suavemente, dando passe livre para as borboletas no seu estômago permanecerem habitando lá por tempo indeterminado.

— Relaxa, eles não vão acordar — Changmin assegurou dando-lhe um selinho breve — Só quero ficar de chamego com você pelo resto do dia.

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz [ TEASER ]

FULL FIC

Y/n's stale love life gets a catalyst at the start of the autumn semester when two weeks earlier; her younger brother got egged on by his friend to post the box of secret love letters she has collected during 12 years. how does she handle the end of summer and five leaked love letters?

PAIRING ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

GENRE, WARNINGS fluff, university!au, humor, to all the boys i loved before!au, 2000s and 2010s au, summer!au, sprinkle of angst, sporty people, nerdy people, parties, friends2lovers, childhood friends, bickering, slice of life, coming of age ( more info in full fic ! )

RELEASE DATE end of may / beginning of june

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT 10 - 17 k

TEASER WORD COUNT : about 500

this will be my fic for the @deoboyznet love letter collective event! ( idk if i should use the dbn tag since it’s just a teaser ) i've wanted to write a "to all the boys..." fic for so long and i'm finally doing it! if someone wants to be tagged for the full fic lmk!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

THERE'S A THING YOU DO–OR SHE DOES AT LEAST–WHEN SOMETHING'S BEEN OCCUPYING YOUR MIND.

Dad told her once after an argument with a best friend to take a paper and a pen; then, let it out. Fold the paper, lay it in a box, and shelter under your bed. 

It’s inherently the same concept as a diary she suppose. Though, somewhat more effective. 

Nonetheless, from that first letter a series of what one can only describe as an uncontrolled teenage angst ensemble of love letters emerged over the course of twelve years.

...

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who she had a trivial crush on in middle school (together with everyone else). In all honesty she didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling her one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts her still in uni as her roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, her childhood friend, the boy next door, her first love? He has many titles she realize. He lived in an impressive house north from hers, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily for her; Y/n has never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, Y/n has never confessed the secret ways she looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; she never got his last name–from summer camp who she even (jokingly) got married to. Her first summer at thirteen, away from her parents, with kids her age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken right out of a movie, and she fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center (bad and good…mostly bad tbh). They got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and their coordination couldn’t take them ten meters. But she remembers every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night they snuck out of their cabin’s to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, she swore her heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy she had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by her own. Scuba Steve (long story) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like she saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as her (if not more) and they would visit each other just to cuddle with them. Her teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and they together named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus (source: Eric). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of her mother’s friend. He teached her calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, she didn’t learn much from him that year because all she did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded her endearingly when she didn’t listen (which was the majority of the time). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, her mother might have approved if they got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left her with a newfound thing for glasses (still wearing cute polos in uni). 

And that's all five. She sometimes wonders if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back to her. 

to be continued

© littleroaes, written and all

[yeoobiii]

⋆｡°✩ 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

꩜ boyfriend!changmin x gn!reader

꩜ established relationship

꩜ you receive a package of clothes you ordered the other day and Changmin insists you show him everything you got. Little did he know you had a little surprise for him as well

or: You ask your boyfriend to try on a mini skirt for you because you love his thighs

wc: 2.6k

warnings: slightly suggestive

a/n: there's not much to say, I think Changmin would look irrisitable in a mini skirt and that's it, that's the plot.

It was Saturday morning. Or was it Friday? Your mind felt groggy as you opened your eyes, your room flooded by the golden rays of the morning hour. Still half asleep, you reached across the bed with your arm, a bit confused when you’re greeted with nothing but wrinkly sheets and an unoccupied pillow.

You groaned to yourself, it’s probably not even 10am and all your sleepy mind was craving were some cuddles and kisses but your boyfriend seemed to have dissolved himself into thin air.

Not ready to get up and go look for him, you tossed and turned a few more times in your bed until you faintly registered people talking outside of your room. You perked up slightly, squinting at your door as you heard your front door shut; next thing you heard were footsteps and they were getting closer and closer until eventually the door to your bedroom opened.

Changmin revealed himself to you, his black hair still disheveled from sleep, his oversized sleep shirt slipping down on one of his shoulders. You had to hold back the urge to coo at how cozy he looked. Eventually, you noticed the big cardboard boy he carried.

“The clothes you ordered a few days ago just arrived.” He explained, voice still a bit horse from sleep.

You sat up, your mind more and more present as the seconds go by, the fogginess of dreamland slowly fading.

“You went to go get it?”

“You didn’t wake up from the doorbell ringing so I went to check.”

Changmin moved over to sit down beside you after he placed the box at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks, baby” you give him a soft kiss to the cheek as a token of your appreciation and you both eye the package together.

“Are you gonna show me what you got, or what?” Changmin requested as he smiled at you excitedly. His favorite part about you getting new clothes is when you’d try them all on for him and you’d decide together which pieces to keep and which ones to send back. There was just something about being the sole audience member to your very own little fashion show that he enjoyed a lot.

“Let’s have breakfast first.” You suggested as you comb your hand through his hair lazily and even though Changmin seems to be a bit impatient, judging by the slight pout that’s gracing his features, he eventually agreed and followed you out into the kitchen.

30 minutes later he was sitting on the couch in the living room, a fresh, steaming hot coffee sitting in front of him on the coffee table. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas yet, the only thing added to his look of an oversized shirt and gray sweatpants were a pair of black rectangular glasses placed on the bridge of his nose.

As he made himself comfortable on the couch, you went back into your room, going through the box of clothes and deciding which items to try on first.

Whenever you do these kinds of things, you make sure to take your time to actually put together an outfit, not only to see if the clothes fit into your already existing wardrobe but also because it was always really endearing how Changmin would hype you up and point out all the things he loved about your outfit or give you suggestions on how you could elevate your fit even further.

After you decided on a pair of washed out, gray-blue denim jeans, which accentuate your ass perfectly, if you might say so yourself, you found a vest in the same order that fit the jeans perfectly. You rounded up the outfit with a white shirt to wear under the woven orange brown vest, added some jewelry as well and didn’t waste any time to show it all off to your boyfriend.

Changmin heard the door to your bedroom open and his head instantly snapped into your direction. His eyes were already on you, having scanned your body up and down multiple times by the time you walked down the corridor and were standing in front of him.

You do a little spin for him, the vest flowing in the air as it is a bit oversized on you. You also hit a few poses in order to show him all the angles.

“Woah” his mouth was slightly agape, his eyes shimmering. The jewelry you picked accentuated the whole outfit perfectly and he’d have loved to take you out then and there, showing you off to everyone who may lay their eyes on the both of you.

“The color suits you so well, baby!” He complimented, eyes big as he’s still taking in your look “I’ve been telling you, you should wear more colors in general, it kind of makes you look more vibrant over all.”

And that’s precisely why you enjoyed doing these things with Changmin so much. Your boyfriend was really into fashion in general and you never questioned his taste in clothes before, that’s how well dressed he usually is. Automatically, you value his opinion a lot when it comes to the clothes you picked out for yourself and getting praise like that from him makes you flustered in all the best ways possible.

“Also, your ass in these jeans looks phenomenal” he added, gaze lingering on the way the jeans hugged your waist and hips.

“I know, right?” You joined in on his enthusiasm.

“I actually think I’m gonna keep both of the items, what do you think?”

Your boyfriend checks you out one last time in the current fit before giving his approval; not that you’d need him to approve your choice in clothes, he knows that.

“Definitely, the whole look is one big yay if you ask me.”

Before you go and change into the next outfit, you take a few steps towards Changmin, grab his jaw and give him a quick, lighthearted kiss, to which he smiles at you satisfied.

As you decide which items to try on next, your eyes land on a specific piece of clothing and instantly you were reminded of the idea you had in mind when you first decided to order the item.

In your hand you were holding not only one but two mini skirts, one of them gray and the other one black. As you browse further through your box of goodies, you find the black waist corset that was originally part of the vision and you smile to yourself excitedly.

You put on the gray skirt combined with a white, flowy dress shirt and a fitting waist chain that you found in your jewelry collection. The matching black skirt you clasp in one hand behind your back as you step out of your room again.

Changmin didn’t waste a single second to admire your second outfit.

“Oh, a mini skirt? I love it. And the dress shirt is so dreamy.” He gushes over you the instant he laid eyes on you. You didn’t miss how his gaze lingered for a moment on your exposed thighs.

And you had to admit to yourself, you were in love with the whole outfit and how it looked on you; your vision basically coming to life. But there was a second part to the whole idea you’d hoped would be a beautiful addition to your already stunning look.

“Thank you, Minnie” You beamed at him. There was something so intoxicating about how dedicated Changmin was to these little fashion shows; having all his undivided attention on you made your insides do a flip.

“Okay so, I had this idea…” you started to explain, while heat rose to your cheeks.

“Oh, yeah? What did you have in mind?” Changmin seemed instantly intrigued by your teasing, curious what was on your mind.

“Okay so, when I was ordering this” you pointed towards the skirt you were wearing “I couldn’t help but imagine how it would look if we’d be matching.”

From behind your back, you reveal the black skirt to him.

“And I was wondering if you’d be down to try this on with me?” You ask shyly.

It’s not like Changmin has never worn a skirt before, but from what you’ve seen they are usually on the longer side, never shorter than knee length and while the looks Changmin created with these skirts where immaculate, you couldn’t help but wondering what he’d look like in a mini skirt, with his lean muscular dancer thighs exposed. The image hasn’t left your head since it first occurred to you, so you figured you had to shoot your shot.

“You want us to wear matching mini skirts?” Changmin inquired about the obvious, raising an intrigued eyebrow at you.

There was a cocky smirk starting to form on his lips as he watched how you got progressively more flustered at the idea of him wearing the skirt. He could see it was something you’d really like him to try. Even though he has never been opposed to the idea of wearing mini skirts in the first place, he could never possibly deny you a request like that.

“I just think it’d look really good on you– on us both, I mean!” You went to explain yourself as Changmin slowly got up from the couch, stepping closer to you and eventually taking the skirt from your hands.

“It is a really cute skirt” he agreed as he looked at the piece of clothing properly, his tone teasing.

He is a bit surprised to see how the thought of all of this was affecting you, though. If he’d have known that him wearing a mini skirt would leave you this flustered, he’d have done so ages ago.

“So, you’ll wear it? For me?” You request, eyes big as you wait for his answer.

“How could I possibly say no, if you ask me like that, darling” he smirks at you, placing a kiss on your forehead before making his way to your bedroom to change. It’s not like he wouldn’t change right then and there in front of you, but something within him wanted to show off the same way you did with your outfits earlier, make himself look presentable and see what he can find to combine with the skirt to see your reaction.

“Changmin!” You call out to him before he steps into your bedroom.

“Hmm?” He perks up

“I’ve got something else you might want to wear with the skirt, I laid it out on the bed for you. Only if you feel like it of course.”

“Look at you spoiling me today. I’ll check it out, thank you, baby” and with that he disappeared from your sight.

This time it was your turn to sit on the couch, your fingers fidgeting as you were waiting for your boyfriend to finish changing.

About five minutes later you heard the door opening and out stepped Changmin, wearing the black mini skirt combined with the black waist corset you’ve laid out for him earlier, a knitted white vest tucked loosely into the corset, also leaving his arms and parts of his shoulders exposed. You didn’t fail to notice how he had put on a pair of dangling earrings as well to complete the look.

As he stood in front of you, your mouth went dry. You scanned his body up and down, starting at the knee high socks he has put on, traveling further up to his thighs where your eyes got stuck for a moment. You loved his thighs so much, the skin tan and the outlines of his lean muscles visibly even when he was not flexing them. Next thing your eyes catched was how perfectly the corset seemed to hug his waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

As you travel further up, your eyes fixate on the V-cut of the vest and his partially exposed, delicate and sensitive collarbones.

This outfit seemed to highlight all your favorite parts about your boyfriend’s physique in a manner that made him look like a tall tease on two legs.

Your gaze traveled all the way up until you reached the smug smile he was wearing at leaving you speechless like that.

“You like it?” He asked as if it couldn’t be any more obvious by the way you were drooling over him.

“Yes, very much so. Babe, you look– just everything about this look, I’m–“

The self satisfaction at seeing you so flustered and all of that just because he put on a mini skirt and dressed up for you was evident on his face.

Slowly, he takes a step towards where you were sitting on the couch.

“You know, you seem quite affected. Do you need me to get you a glass of water?” He teased, chuckling at his own remark. He knew he was hot.

There have been countless times where Changmin looked at his lover and was left speechless at their beauty and frankly also at how irresistible they looked whenever the both of you dressed up. Something he appreciated a lot about the relationship the two of you shared though was that you never failed to make him feel the same way. The way you were looking at him right now, he felt beautiful, he felt desired, he felt loved. It was an unmeasurable ego boost and he was surprised again and again how good you made him feel about himself.

He took another few steps towards you, until your knees bumped together.

“You just look… really good. You look pretty, Minnie” you compliment him, knowing the effect it has on him.

It didn’t take Changmin two seconds and he was straddling your lap. As if on instinct, your hands found purchase on his thighs as he was crossing his arms behind your neck.

“I have a feeling, I should wear mini skirts more often, yeah?” He whispers against your cheek in-between soft kisses he places along your cheekbone.

“I’m serious, you look so pretty like this, baby” you keep telling him as you were truly obsessed with everything about this.

Your hands slowly traveled up his thighs, centimeter by centimeter sneaking their way under his skirt, making Changmin hiss under his breath in the process.

He could drown in the attention you were giving him; in the way your touch was so soft yet so wicked, the thought unable to leave his mind that it was him that made you feel this way, made you want to touch him, made you want to caress him, made you desire him.

“And you like it when I look pretty, don’t you?” He said before his kisses travel down to your jaw and neck. One kiss at the time the tension in the air rises and your skin starts to itch, yearning for his touches, for the soft grace of his lips all over your body.

“Yes, so pretty, just for me.” You validate him, slightly tilting your head to give him better access, while your hands were still busy exploring your boyfriend’s thighs.

And you were taking your time with them. Making sure to pay attention to every little curve of muscle you could get our fingers on, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.

If you’d have known your silly little idea would have let to this, you’d have begged your boyfriend to wear matching mini skirts way sooner.

I'm actually thinking of continuing this and making a slightly longer explicit version, but idk yet.

I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[sungbeam]

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader

birthdays have never mattered to him—until it was yours.

1.7k words, fluff, supernatural/demon au, minimal swearing, est. relationship au, a night terrors hc

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: continuing to expand their story for my own sanity :') istg i will go back to writing their snarky banter at some point (i just like soft romance 🤕)

JI CHANGMIN HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT OF BIRTHDAYS as insignificant, trivial matters. Perhaps that was because that was how he was raised to think of them as; hardly anyone in Hell cared for such a frankly human celebration of life. Even when he ended up on the mortal plane, he never seemed to fully grasp the concept.

There were always, within the couple years he knew your sister, days she would refuse to take on a client or work if it was your birthday. It could be the end of the world, and she would turn an adventure down to be at your side to celebrate your birthday. Despite being gone from home so often, she never failed to remember.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was freaking out now.

“What's all this?” He asked to the room as he munched on a blueberry pancake from the kitchen. When he walked into the pack house for breakfast this morning, he'd been greeted by the sight of Kevin and Jacob working together to string a Happy Birthday banner in the foyer. Balloons and streamers dangled and dazzled about the stair banister and around the walls. Lily had even recruited the little ones to help make about a thousand and one cupcakes.

Kevin and Jacob's heads both snapped over to him. “You're shitting me, right?” Kevin asked. Atop the ladder he stood on, he placed a hand on his hip.

Changmin blinked. “I know it's someone's birthday; I can see it on the banner.” He threw his free hand in the direction of said item.

Kevin and Jacob exchanged looks with each other. Jacob was next to speak: “Changmin, do you seriously not know who's birthday it is?”

“No, am I supposed to?”

“Did you guys say Yn likes the firefly lanterns or the sparklers?” Juyeon waltzed in through the front door with his arms piled full of a smorgasbord of lighting arrangements. He nearly dropped one of the glass firefly lanterns (currently devoid of fireflies, luckily), and he just managed to fumble it between his fingers before it hit the ground and shattered.

Why would he ask what you…

The dots snapped together.

“Shit.”

The night had swelled into a symphony of merriment and mirth. The party everyone had thrown for you had sailed smoothly, with Eric and Haknyeon having dragged you back from your hike through the forest only to return to everyone's welcome and well wishes. Along with lovely songs, so much good company and food, and a massive cupcake with a candle staked in its frosting, the night simmered out with music and games in the town center as always.

But by the end, your energy was fizzled out, and you found yourself shoving your face into the mass of a familiar body.

His chuckle was warm as he cupped the back of your head, cradling you and pressing something sweet to the side of your head with his lips. “Tired, sweetheart?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed. After a long day full of activity and energy, it was time to recharge. The two of you stood upon the inn's front porch where you usually shacked up when you weren't on the road for Changmin's job. At some point, you figured you would settle down somewhere more permanent, but there was a part of you that figured your counterpart's skin crawled at the idea of putting roots down somewhere.

Forever was permanent and long, but you were patient.

You heard him—felt him—clear his throat above you. “You—you’re not super tired, are you?” But as soon as he said that, he seemed to backpedal. “If you are, then it's okay. You need the rest.”

“What is it, Changmin?”

“It's nothing, I—”

You pulled back from him and arched a brow high. “Tell me.”

He winced to himself, cupping the back of his neck. You hadn't seen him so nervous before. “I—” he huffed as if he was working up the courage to say something, “Can I show you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a nod. You offered out your hand to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Where to?”

Changmin's eyes darted from your face to your extended hand, then back up to your face. He slipped his hand into yours, fingers interlocking until your entwined hands hung between your bodies. “Upstairs,” he said, inclining his chin in toward the inn.

So upstairs, you ventured.

Instead of splitting yourselves up into two separate rooms like the very first time, you both shared a bedroom at the end of the second floor corridor. It wasn't like Changmin slept much anyway, so most nights you got free reign with bed space.

You didn't know why your heart began kicking up in speed as you approached the door. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary—no cliché rose petals strewn over the path, no candle light coming from beneath the door. You didn't expect anything of that sort from him, and frankly, you would have been suspicious if you ever witnessed something of that sort from him.

Changmin still hadn't said anything when you opened the door and let yourselves in. The bedroom was dark with only the light from the courtyard outside streaming through the slitted shutters on the window. There didn't seem to be anything new for him to show you here…

You sighed, letting go of his hand so you could massage your temples with the tips of your fingers. “I'm glad I didn't drink a lot tonight,” you mused, “I think I'm gonna need to train my tolerance back up again or something.”

“Yn,” he finally said, voice low.

You turned to face him, eyes wide as they adjusted to the darkness better. “Yeah?”

“It's on the nightstand.” Changmin shoved his hands into his pants pockets and if you weren't mistaken, there was a jittery energy about him.

“Right, okay.” A part of you became giddy at the thought that he got you something for your birthday—because that was what this was, right? Of course, you neither expected nor required something from him; you weren't even aware demons knew what a birthday celebration was.

Yet, you moved toward your side of the bed, leaning over to twist the lantern on to give the room a bit of warm light. Just as he said, there was something sitting on the nightstand beside your phone and the lamp.

Your heart stopped clean in your chest for a long second.

It was a ring.

There was no studded jewel at its apex; it was a band made of a dark material that gleamed like the color of mercury in the light. There seemed to be some kind of engraving on the side, but from where it sat, you couldn't make out exactly what it read.

You suddenly didn't know how to use your hands. Your fingers froze midair, unable to decide what to do with what sat there, waiting for you, calling out to you, for you.

“Changmin—” Your fingers miraculously managed to thaw and carefully pluck the ring into your grasp. You swiveled on your foot to face him, holding it up. He still stood where he'd been before like his feet were glued to the floor. “What… what is this?”

The organ in your chest hammered so hard against your chest that your ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood.

He swallowed. His dark irises flashed in the dim lantern light and you crossed the room to stand in front of him again. “It's—it’s a birthday present.” Changmin unconsciously scratched his bicep then gripped his arm. “I don't really know how birthday presents work, but you know, it seemed like an important thing, so it must call for something important in return,” he murmured, now cupping the back of his neck and trying to avoid your eyes.

It was interesting seeing him so flustered and grasping for an explanation.

“And I remembered that I—” When he raised his eyes to meet yours again, they searched your face. He lost his voice for a moment, all sense of thought. You still didn't know what he saw there to make him pause. A sigh fell from his lips. “When demons are born, they're given a naming ring,” he said quietly. “The stone used adjusts to the wearer's finger, so it can be worn all throughout their life. I guess it's kind of like a birthday celebration, just at the beginning of our lives.”

He motioned to the ring in your possession. “That's… that's mine. My name's in Latin on the side.”

Your thumb ran along the grooves carved into the stone, and though you didn't know Latin, you would commit the feel of his name to memory.

“Why are you giving this to me if it's so important to you, hm?” You asked softly.

“You're important to me.”

And if only every question between two people could be solved with so simple, yet so powerful an answer. You were positively devastated. “Oh, Changmin—”

He was quick to add, “If you don't want it and it's weird, then that's fine. I—”

“Changmin.”

“Yeah.”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh.”

A smile curled itself onto your face and you saw it slowly reciprocate on his. You held up your hand, inspecting your fingers and wondering which you should wear it on. “Y'know,” you murmured, “Sena told me that the jewelry on each finger represents something.” You couldn't remember every one specifically, but you didn't have to doubt either of the ring fingers. Though this was no wedding ring, your right ring finger would do nicely.

“What does that one mean?” He asked quietly as you slid the band over your chosen digit. The stone was cool and smooth to the touch, and it seemed to fit exactly right, just as he said it would.

“Not really sure,” you confessed as he took your newly adorned hand into his. His thumb immediately went to feel his name curled around your finger. “Something that describes what you mean to me though.”

The light in Changmin's eyes was tender, warm, happy. He cupped the side of your face with his hand and brought his lips to your head, mouth lingering there for a second longer. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

a/n: it's not an engagement ring, so don't look at me like that. i'm Not Delusional, YOU ARE— (for those who need to know, the right ring finger is love and trust :'))

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101

[halaboyz]

DOGS & EXES — J. CHANGMIN

CHAPTER 7 ! # ... OUTRAGEOUS !?

૮ - ﻌ • ა SYNOPSIS ! exes co-parenting a dog?! you see yourself facepalming when you see your ex's text, asking if you could see the dog you adopted together, ghana, because he keeps waiting for you by the door of the apartment you once shared. the next thing you knew, you were walking to the park you agreed to meet up.

CHARACS ! ex! ji changmin x fem! reader; ghana; tbz' sunwoo & haknyeon, xg's jurin & hinata

WARNINGS ! some jokes may be offensive (using 'lord' in the whole series), cursing, if i missed something tell me!

# ... m.list | chap 6 | chap 7 | chap 8

taglist: @molensworld @maiiitime

[sohnric]

[TEASER] partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. acquaintances to lovers. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: for the teaser :: 1k || for the full fic :: approx. 32k

warnings: for the teaser :: existential dread, a fake gun, robbery || for the full fic :: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), more to be added as i edit lmao

SEND AN ASK/COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST! Posting when the editing is done and my beta reader gives me the approval and validation <3 (end of may??)

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

[beautifulchris]

muggleborn

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader

wc: 3,7k

featuring: bang chan, seo changbin, han jisung, lee felix, ateez’s seonghwa, the boyz’s changmin

summary: minho likes to go to the prefect’s bathroom to relax but oh! you're here as well

genres: hogwarts!au, kinda strangers to lovers!au?, slytherin!minho, hufflepuff!reader, fluff

warnings: it’s fem implied because in the universe, there’s one guy prefect and one girl prefect; other than that i used gender neutral pronouns

notes: thank you for reading and liking my work, it means a lot ♥ moodboard made by me, pictures found on the internet. reposting works from my old blog

order of writing: chan - jisung - minho - hyunjin - jeongin - seungmin - changbin - felix

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland

tag list: @badwithten @raethethey send ask/dm/comment to be added!

On a cold sunday in november, you were so exhausted from all the homework you had this week, you decided you needed a long, hot bath to decompress. Well, more like Seonghwa, your best friend, helped you finish your homework early and forced you to rest because he could see you needed some. You obviously went to the prefect bathroom because it was rarely used and very comfortable.

You opened the door after giving the password and soon realized someone was already taking a bath. Since nothing forbade several people to use the bathroom at the same time, you approached and saw Minho, eyes closed, humming a song you probably heard somewhere before. He seemed somewhat peaceful.

Minho was either feared, admired or loved. You didn’t know much about him so you were just curious. How could he be so cold yet afraid others would discover his secret? A secret you knew about since third year, the only time you talked to him, actually.

You had lost one of your most precious quills you owned and went to see Myrtle Warren in the girl’s bathroom on the first floor to ask for her help. You became friends with Myrtle in first year, when you entered the bathroom for the first time. At the time you didn’t know it was abandoned and ran into her. You’ve always called her by her name (not Moaning Myrtle) and been nice to her so anytime you would need help, she would accept without much complaint.

When you entered the bathroom, you first heard “I can’t tell them I’m muggleborn!” then saw two boys facing each other by the chipped sinks. You could see one’s back then a head popped up from the side and looked at you.

“Hi!” he said, waving his hand.

The other one turned around, glared at you and almost ran to the door. You saw the look in his eyes, he was scared. When he was next to you, your mouth moved on its own while you were still processing what was happening.

“Being a muggleborn doesn’t make you any different from the rest of the students. It’s almost incredible that you were born into a magicless family. Imagine how special that makes you. I promise you’re not worth less and if anyone dares to say otherwise, I’ll jinx them.”

You surprised yourself by your words, but maybe it was the Hufflepuff in you that couldn’t stand seeing him down like that. His heart warmed up and he smiled —you couldn’t see that— and he left without a word. Your gaze drifted to the door and you stayed like that until the one that greeted you came to you.

“Hey, I’m Chan.” You recognized him as the keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Y/N,” you smiled softly.

“Thank you for your words. I think it got to him.”

“With pleasure. It’s the same for you by the way. I hope you’re not feeling self-conscious about it.”

He looked at you dumbfounded. “How—”

“Just a guess,” you answered, “and your reaction proves I’m right.”

Chan smiled, showing his dimples, then made a more serious face. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I came to find Myrtle, I got robbed.”

“Oh shoot! I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, Myrtle or I will find it. What were you doing here?”

He scratched the back of his neck. He was in the girl’s bathroom after all and he knew it. “Um. We needed a quiet place to talk and this one was the closest.”

For the little story, Myrtle found the quill, a second year had stolen it. He gave it back when you came to him with Myrtle giving him death glares from behind you.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

You hesitated between taking your bath with him or leaving him be and coming back later. You didn’t really know him and you didn’t know if it was the right place to start a friendship so you decided it was best to go. When you stepped back, your eyes still on him, you stumbled on one of the sinks, swearing under your breath. He opened his eyes wide in your direction and stopped humming abruptly.

“Y/N??” Oh, he knew your name.

“Um, sorry, I’m going to leave, I’ll come back later.”

“Or you can join me? Maybe, if it’s not too weird?”

You froze. Was Minho really asking you to take a bath with him when it was literally the first time this year that you exchanged a word? Wow. Bold. Maybe he just saw the perfect opportunity to get to know you better and was internally praying you would say yes.

You did and joined him, seating not too far to hear what he would say but not too close either to insert boundaries. Because, yeah, you wanted to know more about him too but not scare him off. People labeled him as cold but at that moment, he was far from that. He kept smiling shyly and it was a nice sight.

You didn’t leave that bath until the water was cold and you had wrinkled fingers, meaning you stayed in there for about three hours, talking and playing in the water. You just had that connection with him and almost regretted you haven’t started talking to him before.

What you didn’t know was that Minho had a crush on you since the time you talked in the girl’s bathroom, three years ago. Your words really got to him and even if he never shared his secret information with anyone but his closest friends, he had this feeling that if anyone would come at him for it, you’d be by his side. In a way, the idea comforted him.

The next day, even after your efforts to rest, you were tired.

“I had so much trouble sleeping last night,” you sighed as you sat at the Hufflepuff table next to Seonghwa.

“Even after all my efforts to make you rest?” 

“It could be because someone was thinking about you,” proposed Changmin, your other friend, mindlessly playing with his marmalade toast. Both were Hufflepuffs.

“Who the hell could think of me at 3 am?”

A large group of people heard your sentence, including the ‘someone’ in particular, who was about to sit at his table, bowing his head in embarrassment.

Changbin, who saw and heard it all, laughed. “What, you’re the one preventing them from a good sleep? Man, I didn’t know you were so mean.”

“Shut up Binnie, like you can probably realize, I didn’t sleep much either.”

“When do you plan on telling them?” he asked as he gave Minho the tea-pot.

“When the time is right. Which is not now, we just started talking.”

“That’s a start, I wish you good luck.”

Minho sighed. “Thank you.”

Since that day, you would talk to him from time to time, getting to know each other better because obviously, three hours weren’t enough.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Weeks passed and a morning after the christmas holidays, you found a note on the backboard about the apparition lessons. You were thrilled by the news. In the Great Hall, you heard some students of your year already talking about it. You sat next to your best friend, who was already seated at the Hufflepuff table.

“Hi Seong. Can’t wait to take the apparition lessons,” you excitedly said as you poured cereals in the bowl in front of you.

“Hey, me too.” He gave you the milk and you thanked him.

“Bet you’ll apparate a mile south,” laughed Changmin, resting on his elbows in front of you.

You smirked. “Bet you’ll apparate under the rain.”

“You children.” Seonghwa’s remark only made Changmin and you giggle.

A week after you signed up for the lessons and paid the required 12 galleons, they finally started. It wasn’t as easy as you could think but you were determined in succeeding.

The first week, the ministry employee that came to give the lessons basically spent the entire hour talking about the dangers of apparating without a flawless concentration. Like leaving an eyebrow, a piece of cloth or even a leg behind.

The next week, the first tries were made. You all needed to try and apparate into a hoop by focusing your mind on the hoop and then spin around with the intention of appearing in the hoop. No one perfectly succeeded.

Weeks passed and the keeper of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Seungkwan, disappeared in front of you. Turned out he apparated in the Quidditch pitch.

“He probably thought too much about Quidditch,” Seonghwa had told you. 

If only Seungkwan was the only one to disappear. Juyeon, beater of the same team and Changmin’s close friend, ended up in the school grounds under the rain and Wooseok, from Gryffindor, was found a mile south.

Remembering your talk with Changmin a month before, you went to him after the lesson.

“Does that mean we can predict the future? Sounds scary,” he gasped dramatically.

“Idiot, it could happen to anyone. Sicheng apparated at the entrance of the forbidden forest last year.”

“How do you know?”

You shrugged. “Seonghwa told me. He’s a fan.” Sicheng was one of the chasers of your house’s Quidditch team.

The first person to succeed was you. You were astonished to say the least while your friends, on the other hand, weren’t even surprised. They always said you were the best of your year and this accomplishment was just proving it once more. A guy in the back made a displeasing comment about you but you didn’t hear. The next day during breakfast, however, you were obliged to see the same guy’s head inflating after drinking his tea. One of his prefects counter-spelled him and went back to eat like it was nothing.

Next week, Gryffindor Chanwoo apparated between the forbidden forest and the lake, although he was the last one to apparate anywhere else but into the hoop.

The following weeks, Seonghwa, Minho and Seungkwan succeeded, followed by Juyeon, Wooseok, Changmin and a few others.

“It was about time,” the latter had sighed.

The last few weeks, everyone managed to reach their goal without losing any members. Finally, all those you cared about had their license to apparate, including Minho, and you were proud of them —and yourself.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Life was somehow good to Minho because you too had feelings for him. The day you realized that, you were in your fourth year, at the library on your own, working on some transfiguration homework. A 6th year slytherin with books under his arm passed by you, calling you a ‘nerd’ with a disgusted face. It wasn’t an insult for you anymore, you were just doing your homework and listening in class, the rest was easy but only because you were passionate about it.

Seeing he was ignored didn’t please him but before he could add anything, his books turned into birds and flew away from an open window. The noise made you look up at the guy in disbelief while he was running out of the library and after his books, screaming, under the disapproving look of the librarian.

Behind a shelf, there was a boy who put his wand back in his pocket and returned to his homework as if nothing happened. You knew it was the boy you gave a speech to the year before and from this day, you were thankful for the countless times he got your back when you basically said you had his. Thinking your crush on him had no place to be, you tried to repress it, but his somehow protective behavior made it grow bigger. And here you were, befriending him two years later.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

It was april, you were close friends with Minho by now and spent time with him everyday. Today, you were seated on a bench with Minho’s cat, Pepper, on his lap because yeah, he had a beautiful Russian cat with green eyes. You were almost giving more attention to Pepper than Minho but, he could totally get that, his cat was what he valued most in the school.

“I don’t really like your friend,” he sighed and for a moment, you were confused.

“Which one?”

“Your best friend.” You didn’t get why he was all mysterious all of a sudden.

“The only reason I see you could hate him for, and that’s pure jealousy, is his height.”

“Wait— you’re saying I’m small?” He looked at you in disbelief.

“You’re the one saying it, not me.” You smiled so brightly his heart skipped a beat. Maybe he didn't have to be scared of him.

Later that day, Seonghwa and you were in your common room, doing your homework together.

“So, how’s it going with Minho?” he asked as he was closing a book about potions he borrowed at the library.

“What do you mean?”

“I guess none of you confessed yet,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Are you going to confess?”

You didn’t even bother asking him how he found out. “You’re not my best friend for nothing, uh. Am I that obvious?”

“It’s sickening. I wish one of you would do something about it soon.”

“Thanks for your opinion Seong, it’s much appreciated but—”

“Oh please, don’t start with your ‘but he doesn’t like me’ bullshit, he DOES. Listen to me. He’s as obvious as you, if not more, so please, do something about it or I swear I will.”

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The next day in history, you were seated next to Seonghwa, like 100% of your classes. Minho was behind you with Dahyun, the Slytherin prefect with him. The class was often a bit boring because the professor would often talk way more than necessary. Today, you knew the subject already so you let yourself relax a bit and take less notes.

“Hey, I was wondering,” said Seonghwa out of nowhere, “what’s your favorite flower?”

“I think it would be Parrot’s beak. It’s from the Canary Islands and pretty rare,” you replied after a moment of reflection. “Why?”

“Oh, just like that.” He winked and gave his attention back to the professor.

“What’s yours?”

“Oak-leaved geranium.” His eyes never left the blackboard and you hummed in response, going back to listening as well.

At the end of class, Minho was the first one to run out. He took a secret passage behind a tapestry which led him to stairs. He followed some fourth years and when he saw a Gryffindor getting his hair colored in red and standing on end, he just knew who was behind it. He soon enough saw Jisung and his partner-in-crime laughing their asses off, that was until they saw him.

As prefect, he was in the obligation to take points from Jisung (only, because his friend was in Slytherin and he couldn’t afford to take points from his own house). Since he was impressed by the fact Jisung put a transfiguration spell in a hair-rising potion, he decided fifteen points would suffice instead of twenty.

“By the way, I need to ask you something.”

“Just after taking points from me? That’s bold.” Jisung crossed his arms.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you respected the rules, you know.”

Getting out of arguments, he surrendered. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to find Felix.”

Jisung pushed the older one in the closest empty room then took the Marauder’s Map (for more info read Jisung’s au) out of his inside pocket (he made it himself). He recited the formula and looked at it closely.

“Felix’s outside by the lake. I’m not surprised, are you?”

“I must admit I’m not. Thanks.”

Without waiting a second more, he ran to Felix, who was playing with a plimpy he befriended. The creature fled as soon as it saw Minho running its way.

“Minho? Are you okay?”

He held a hand up while catching his breath. “I’m alright. I need you to put something in the Hufflepuff common room.”

“What, exactly?”

Minho looked around him, took a stone that was at the edge of the lake and gave it to him. “This.”

Felix examined the stone. “…This?”

“Yeah, somewhere Y/N could see it, please.”

He nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks. By the way, do you know what oak-leaved geranium means in the flower language?”

“I believe Seungmin once mentioned it meant true friendship, why?”

Minho didn’t realize at first that he was smiling widely. “Just like that. Thank you so much.”

He then went to the library, needing one last thing: a picture of a parrot’s beak. Once he looked in every flower book in the herbology segment, he asked the librarian, who eyed him scornfully.

“Parrot’s beak isn’t magical. You’ll find what you need in the muggle area. Be quiet now.”

He mouthed a ‘thanks’ and walked to the said area to find what he was looking for.

When he found it, he went to the dungeons to hide behind a huge statue, used Orchideous to make a bouquet of parrot’s beak out of his wand, added a note and waited. Felix soon entered with the stone in his hand. Minho knew he would stay by it until you would find it. A few students entered the Hufflepuff common room, then you came in with your best friend. Minho approached discreetly and used a switching spell to switch the bouquet with the stone. Then, he left before anyone could see him.

You were about to sit on the couch when a beautiful bouquet of parrot’s beak appeared out of nowhere. You beamed and took them in your hands.

Seonghwa looked at them too. “There’s a note.”

“What does it say?”

Seonghwa took it and started reading. “To Y/N, the most kind, smart and stunning person on earth. From a MB.”

You smelled the flowers and smiled joyfully. Seonghwa was smiling too, almost amused.

“How did they know it was my favorite flower?”

“We talked about it twenty minutes ago, Y/N. Someone must have heard it.”

“Is it you?” you enquired.

“I’m sorry but it wasn’t me. I didn’t know what they looked like. They’re really beautiful, by the way.”

Felix watched the entire scene and was pleased Minho made you happy. He couldn’t wait to tell him about your reaction.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

Seated on the couch with your bouquet in one hand and the note in the other, you were thinking. “MB…”

“Is that initials?” asked Seonghwa.

“Or Miami Beach.”

“Really, Changmin?” Seonghwa face palmed.

 He shrugged. “Just giving options.”

After a while, you sat up straight. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Both the boys asked, confused.

“Muggleborn,” you whispered.

“Makes sense,” approved Seonghwa.

Changmin was looking at his friends. “Does it, though?”

Thing is, you knew a lot of muggleborns (and were too oblivious to think about Minho).

(っ◔◡◔)っ ✿

The next day, Felix went to Minho before breakfast. “Y/N was beaming. Never saw a smile that bright and eyes so sparkly.”

Minho’s smile was wide. “Thank you so much, Felix. Do they know who did it?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t do eavesdropping,” he said, giving his friend a subjective look.

“I don’t do that either!”

“Sure. How’d you know Parrot’s beak was Y/N’s favorite flower then?” Minho’s cheeks burned and he refused to look the younger in the eyes.

Later, you found Minho at the library and spent time with him.

“So, I heard you received a bouquet,” he said as casually as he could. For a brief moment, he thought you were going to ask him if it was him and got scared.

“Yes, the flowers were really beautiful. I put them in a vase on my nightstand.”

You were beaming and Minho, seeing you this happy, almost revealed himself. 

“I wonder who sent them though. I mean, these flowers aren’t that known, even in the muggle world.”

His lips were burning to tell you but he was scared the feelings weren’t mutual.

“Minho? Why do you look sad all of a sudden? Did I say something wrong? Is this about the,” you stopped to get closer to him and whisper, “muggles?”

He couldn’t believe you were worried about him. “Oh, no, no, don’t worry! I— um, was wondering if, I don’t know, you had an idea on who sent it?”

“Actually, I do have an idea.”

Minho gulped. “You— you do?”

“Yes. The person’s obviously in history class with me. And they’re seated close to me. Plus, they’re muggleborn, from what I learned from the note. So I narrowed it down to two people. First Dahyun, which, I think, has zero reason to send me flowers as we never really had any conversation. Also she glares at me from time to time. Doesn’t add up.”

The boy was sweating. The more you talked, the more he regretted his question. What if you rejected him?

“The other person, on the other hand, we’ve talked more and I highkey want it to be him.” You looked him in the eye with such intensity he choked on air.

“Who’s that?” he risked.

A smirk was spreading on your face. “Vernon. He’s cute.”

His face dropped and you couldn’t help but laugh. Teasing him was funny.

“I’m kidding, it’s you.”

At this moment, Minho was still confused but happy. If he understood what was going on correctly, you knew it was him who sent you the flowers and you wanted it to be him??? He absolutely didn’t see it coming.

“So… you… like me?”

You smiled at him fondly. “I do.”

His heart was pounding, he was ready to kiss you. You felt like he was thinking about Seonghwa so you tried to reassure him as much as you could.

“Seonghwa is my best friend, nothing more. I can assure you.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, a satisfied smile on his face. “I like you too.”

“I was hoping you would say that.”

“Can I kiss you now?” You bit your lip, the question was really attractive.

Without answering, you got closer to Minho and pressed your lips to his.

“How dare you make out in the library? OUT! IMMEDIATELY,” shouted the librarian from behind. You both moved back from shock and ran out, hand in hand, a big smile on your faces.

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