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wooyoungiewritings · 6 months

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Mr. Popular - Seonghwa x Reader

Summary: After your best friend leaves you alone at the party, you find yourself in an unfortunate situation, until an unexpected savior comes to save the day. Seonghwa, the popular guy, ends up being your knight in shining armor, but he also happens to be the guy your best friend is currently crushing on. So what do you do, when you find yourself getting to know him and he makes you feel things you shouldn't?

Word count: 21.8K

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty, S M U T

Warnings: smut, fem reader (fem pronouns), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, light choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, edging (f), Hwa is very dominant hehhehehhe, lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

“You know who’s coming tonight?”

You look to your side and see a smirk on your best friend’s lips.

“Judging from the smirk on your lips, I’m guessing one of your boyfriends.” You roll your eyes jokingly and her hand smacks your arm.

“Boyfriends?!” She almost screams, and you send her a pair of eyes to tell her to quiet down. The poor taxi driver has driven you two all across town and has heard plenty of your conversations, and you’re starting to feel bad for him. “They’re not my boyfriends.. yet.” She smirks.

“How many do you plan on dating, huh?” You look out of the window, not recognizing the area.

“Crushing on someone is not the same as dating them. Just because two of my favorite eye-candies are coming tonight, doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to both of them.”

“And who’s that?” You ask curiously. Last time you counted, she was crushing on 5 people from your school, a few of whom she has never spoken to.

“Mingi and Seonghwa.” She answers confidently. “And who I’ll be shooting my shot at tonight, all depends on who catches my eye first.” She shrugs, and you roll your eyes once again. Once again, you feel bad for the taxi driver, but when you see a house full of people, you know you’re finally at your destination. You pay for the cab before heading out, and the music from the house blasts loudly in every direction.

Your best friend grabs you under the arm and drags you towards the party she got you both invited to. She was the social one of the two of you. She knew everyone, knew how to get her way, and was happily dragging you along with her. You on the other hand, mostly only agreed to come so she would keep inviting you to things.

It’s hard to be as extroverted as her, but you got a taste of the popularity from her, and that was enough for you. You didn’t attend these parties quite often. They were alright, but you enjoyed your relaxing weekends even more. But it had been a while since your last party, so you decided tonight was the night.

People fill the yard outside, smoking and drinking, and you mentally prepare yourself for the party inside. As you enter through the front door, you’re welcomed by a vibrant atmosphere. Every room is filled with people laughing and dancing, and the bass from the music vibrates through the entire floor to your body. The smell of alcohol filling your nose, a group of guys screaming over a game of beer pong, and the sticky floor from spilled alcohol remind you why these parties aren’t your favorite way to spend your night. You look to your side and see your best friend scanning the room.

“You see something?” You ask, seeing as she squints her eyes in a certain direction.

“I’ve spotted my target for tonight.” She wriggles her brows with a smirk and you feel her let go of your arm. “A tall Mingi just went out to the backyard.” She lets completely go of you, but before she goes anywhere, you grab her hand again.

“Are you leaving me?” Panic is evident in your voice. You’ve been here for 15 seconds, and she’s already about to leave you for a guy.

“No! I’m just... Getting us something to drink... From the backyard...” Her excuse isn't getting her far, and your sigh lets her know how you feel about the situation. “I’ll just go talk to him really quick, okay? I’ll be back. Please?” She sends you her famous doe-eyes as she softly holds your hand.

“The eyes only work on guys, you know that,” You shake your head, looking at the door Mingi just went through. Your gaze meets her eyes again, and another deep sigh leaves you. “Go.. Before I change my mind.” Your words have her jumping, and she quickly kisses you on the cheek before making her way toward the door that leads to the backyard and a certain Mingi.

A sigh escapes between your lips as you look around at the party in this unfamiliar house. Your eyes try to scan after someone you can hang out with while your friend shoots her shot, but it only leaves you unsatisfied. You recognize a few people, but not anyone you’d categorize as your friends. A group of guys runs past you, nearly running into your still-standing frame, before they exit the door filled with drunken laughs.

Your introverted side is really kicking your ass right now.

You find your phone in your pocket, trying your best to look busy and fail to see the eyes watching you from across the room. Eyes that belong to someone who doesn’t see you at these parties very often, and is too busy people watching, compared to his friends around him who have their own conversation going. He takes a sip of his drink as his eyes stay on you. He wonders why you’re all by yourself, or if you’re waiting for someone.

“Don’t you think, Hwa?” Wooyoung asks as San laughs, but Seonghwa hasn’t heard a word of their conversation.

“Sure.” He simply responds and looks at you again. A loud group of guys snatch his attention from you. They’ve been loud the entire night, and he’s honestly not a fan of this group of guys. They’re from another college and are always at these parties where they tend to make a fool of themselves. The group of guys are standing around a small table filled with bottles of alcohol, and a few of them point in a specific direction. Seonghwa’s eyes follow their pointing and he realizes they’re talking about you.

This catches his attention even more, and he keeps his eyes on the group of guys as he watches them make a drink, and one of them heads in your direction, two drinks in hand.

“Hey, you look a bit lost?” A voice steals the focus from your phone, and you look up to see a guy with two drinks in his hands.

“Oh, I just barely know anyone here.” You say, putting away your phone.

“Then let me accompany you, I’m Daniel! Nice to meet you,” He holds out a hand for you to shake. He has a friendly smile on his lips, so you shake his hand and introduce yourself. “You came here alone?” He asks.

“No, I came with someone else but I kinda lost them. So I just decided to stay here... they’ll come back... Hopefully.” You honestly don’t know when your best friend will be back. She’s done this a few times before, and she can be back in 5 minutes or 3 hours.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be alone as well. Can I join you?” He sends you another smile. His voice is courteous and accommodating, and he’s the only one who has talked to you, so you decide to let your inner extrovert shine.

“Sure.” You shrug.

“Cool. I also happen to carry an extra drink with me... Are you up for a game?” He lifts a brow daringly, and it turns on a fire in you. You may not know this guy, or be the biggest fan of drinking games, but you feel tempted to accept.

“It depends.” There’s a skepticism evident in your voice.

“Whoever chucks the fastest, gets to make the other one a drink, and they have to drink it. Deal?” He holds out one of the drinks for you. The orange color of the drink makes it look fruity, and you’re tempted to lose yourself for once.

Have fun, be open, meet people.

“Deal” You grab the drink.

A smile spreads on his lips and he holds out his drink to cheer with you. You bump your drink with his and slowly get ready for this small challenge he gave you. Your hand brings the drink to your lips, and you get ready to chuck while Daniel starts a countdown.

“Alright, ready? 3..2..1..”

“There you are!” An unknown voice interrupts just as you’re about to drink. You and Daniel both stop and look at the owner of the voice, and you freeze when you see a tall figure next to you. “Sorry, I took so long, Angel. You’re already starting without me?” Seonghwa asks before he grabs the drink from your hand. You’re completely frozen in your spot as you watch Seonghwa take a sip of the drink and make a disgusted face. “Oh, babe, you don’t like this... Remember that drink you tasted a few weeks ago? It tastes exactly like that,” Seonghwa pours out the drink in an empty bowl on the table next to you. His scent wraps around you like a warm hug, when he relaxes his arm around your shoulders and shifts his gaze to Daniel. “And who do we have here?”

Daniel narrows his eyes in Seonghwa’s direction, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest.

“Daniel,” He answers coldly. "Who are you?"

“Let’s get you something good to drink.” Seonghwa looks down at you with a smile and completely ignores Daniel's question and presence. Seonghwa's black hair falls down in front of his eyes as he looks down at you, and you’re lost for words. You’ve never spoken to Seonghwa before, only seen him in class or whenever your best friend wanted to show pictures of him, but being this close to him so suddenly, seeing his sharp features up close, sends a quick rush of warmth throughout your body.

Seonghwa definitely caught your eye at times. He and his friends were some of the popular guys on campus, and most people knew who they were. Hence, they were always at the parties. But Seonghwa seemed like one of the more “friendly” ones. He wasn’t as intimidating as some of the others in his group and generally gave you the best impression. And seeing him up close like this, you see why so many girls were crushing on him.

Seonghwa grabs your hand and wedges himself through the crowd and into the empty kitchen, leaving Daniel alone. The loud music quiets down to a less deafening volume, yet the loud voices from people are still evident from around the house. Alcohol, empty cups, and chips are lined up on the kitchen island, and he lets go of your hand before you watch him as he starts mixing two drinks.

“What just happened?” Is all you finally manage to say as Seonghwa locks his focus on the drinks.

“He and his friends.. bad news.” He explains and you watch him pour alcohol and soda into the cups. His black slightly curly hair falls down on his face again, and together with his big black sweater, he gives a relaxed vibe, despite being in the chaotic household.

“Really? He seemed cool.” You don’t know much about these parties, but Daniel seemed nice, and not like “bad news” as Seonghwa called him.

“Yeah, they do until they get you drunk and take advantage of you.” His words make it sound like this has happened before. He doesn’t keep his eyes on you much, too focused on making the drinks as he takes a quick sip of one of them. He doesn’t look fully satisfied and continues to mix some more soda into the cups.

“Do you know him?” You ask.

“I know about him, but I saw him approach you and the way he spoke to you.” He grabs a spoon and uses it to mix the liquids in the cups. His words have you tilting your head slightly.

“You were watching me?” You ask, narrowing your eyes jokingly at him. Seonghwa smiles to himself, avoiding your eyes, and keeps his gaze on the drinks.

“Here..“ He hands out one of the cups to you, ignoring your question. He finally looks into your eyes and the big brown eyes lock with yours as you take the drink. “He and his friends had hidden the taste of alcohol so you would get drunk quicker,” He explains before taking a quick sip of his cup. “Never take drinks from strangers.”

“Kinda suspicious saying that after handing me a drink, don’t you think?” You ask, lifting the cup to your lips. You let the liquid make its way into your mouth, and you're instantly impressed with the flavor. It doesn’t taste a lot like alcohol, but you also noticed how much soda Seonghwa added to the drinks compared to the amount of alcohol.

Seonghwa sends you a warm smile. “I’m Seonghwa.” He says.

“I know.” You say before telling him your name in return.

“I know. We have class together.” His words leave you slightly speechless. Never had you noticed his eyes on you or heard your name escape through his lips. Sitting at the other end of the classroom, not being part of the same friend groups, never sharing a conversation. It honestly made sense if he didn’t have any idea of your existence.

“I didn’t think you had noticed me,” You say quietly, trying to hide your blushing cheeks. His soft piercing eyes had a bigger effect on you than you cared to admit. “In a class with 95 other students, I feel like it’s pretty easy to blend in.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I see you in class..” The way his eyes continue to show warmth and friendliness, despite never looking into them for this long, have your knees softening. “You have a very innocent face. Like an angel,” His words make you forget everything for a second, never having heard that compliment before. “But I usually see you with this other girl, I think I saw a glimpse of her and Mingi tonight.”

Hearing how your best friend successfully made a move on Mingi, somehow makes you feel a little better for her leaving you. At least her plan worked.

“Speaking of her..” You start, looking at your cup. “What do you think of her?” Your curiosity got the best of you. Talking to Seonghwa, one of her many crushes, could open your chances of being a wonderful wingman for your friend.

A wrinkle formed between Seonghwa’s brows as he tried reading where this conversation was heading. His skepticism of the topic held him back from answering, so you decided to expose your friend.

“My friend has a little crush on you. That’s why I’m asking.” You shrug, and Seonghwa let out an awkward laugh.

“Oh... I haven’t spoken with her enough to have an opinion. She seems nice though.” It didn’t seem like he was ecstatic at the information about your friend’s crush on him. But Seonghwa seemed like the guy to get confessions from girls a few times a week, so this probably wasn’t new to him.

“I’m just saying... If you want to shoot your shot with her, she won't decline.” You’re working your hardest, trying to be the best wingman for your friend. If only she knew that you were spending your time talking to her crush about her, while she was shootig her shot at someone else.

Seonghwa seem to have the same train of thought.

"Are you trying to set me up with your friend while she's visibly trying to hook up with my friend?" There's a smile on his lips, slight confusion evident in his voice.

"Look, I'm just trynna be a good wingman here." You hold up your hands like you're innocent, earning a chuckle from Seonghwa.

“Well, maybe... But I’m kinda busy tonight trying to save this girl from some creep trying to get her drunk at this party.” A smirk formed on Seonghwa’s lips and the urge to roll your eyes rushed over you.

His brown eyes were slightly hidden by his black hair, and as much as you hated to admit it, you felt intrigued by him. He had a certain charm and friendliness that made you addicted to his presence, and despite only talking for a short amount of time, you’re already more than comfortable around him.

“You don’t think I’m able to take care of myself?” You ask teasingly.

“Oh, I know you can take care of yourself. But when you see a blind person crossing the street, you still offer help, even though they know how to walk by themselves.” His anecdote had you smiling. He lifts his cup slightly in your direction, still with a smirk decorating his lips. “Cheers, angel face.” His smirk hides behind his cup as he keeps his eyes on you. Never did you think your best friend’s crush would be your savior of the night, but you find yourself more comfortable with him than anyone else at this party so far.

You both lift each of your cups to your mouth, and you taste the sweet taste on your tongue. Seonghwa’s eyes linger on you while he also takes a sip, and you’re glad you can blame the warmth in your cheeks on the alcohol.

The two of you start various conversations in the middle of the kitchen, barely noticing the people around you, and you use this time to try and get to know Seonghwa. He's making you laugh, telling you stories about previous parties, and telling you about his friend group. You try opening up to him as well, but you realize how his life is much more exciting than yours. But Seonghwa is very accommodating and asks multiple questions about you, making you feel welcome.

It makes you feel better, having someone to talk to in this crowded house of strangers, but as you're about to say something, a presence enters the kitchen, stealing Seonghwa’s attention from you.

“Seonghwa! I’ve been looking for you!” The female voice bursts out, and you look at the doorway to see a beautiful girl walking towards Seonghwa. Instantly, your confidence falls to the ground, as the popular girl steals the popular guy from you.

You watch as she walks past you, barely paying you any attention as she steps in front of you so she can talk to Seonghwa. Your feet take a few steps back, allowing her the space she needs. Seonghwa notices how you move away and he looks down at the intruder.

“Oh, sorry, can I talk to you in a minute? I have-”

“You said that before too!” The girl interrupts, and you meet Seonghwa’s apologetic eyes. You know you’re not usually a part of this environment, and the people used to these parties probably know each other in a way you don’t. You send Seonghwa a smile and take a few steps toward the doorway.

“It’s fine, I have to find my friend... Thank you for this.” You hold up the drink before making your way out of the kitchen. You ignore the small crack in your heart as you walk away, actually not wanting to stop your conversation with Seonghwa. You’re thankful for him saving you, but you don’t want to hold him back from talking to his friends at the party. You decide not to look back at Seonghwa as you make your way through the crowd. What you don’t see is Seonghwa’s locked gaze on you as you walk away, barely listening to the girl in front of him.

You choose to look after your friend, deciding on her behalf that she has spent enough time with Mingi. What you didn’t expect, was to search for her everywhere for what felt like hours. You even ended up searching for Mingi, but both of them seemed gone like the wind. Going around the crowded house multiple times, trying to find a familiar face was an impossible mission. The thought of leaving did cross your mind, but you were in an unfamiliar neighborhood all the way across town. Getting a cab would be expensive as hell, and since you expected to share a cap with your friend, you weren’t keen on the idea of paying twice as much for a ride home. You therefore decide to stay, hopefully finding your best friend sooner or later.

The softness of the couch felt like a reward as you sat down amid the crowd, relaxing your legs. You wrote a mental note to yourself to never let your friend leave you in the middle of a party where you know literally zero people.

The couch gets another visitor, and you look to your side to see a smile in your direction.

“Guess you didn’t find your friend?” Seonghwa asks, earning a shake of your head.

“Nope. She’s literally gone with the wind.” You lean further back on the couch when Seonghwa hands out a cup for you.

“No thank you, I don’t feel like drinking anymore.”

“Good thing it’s water then. I figured you weren’t in the mood for alcohol.” He sends you a warm smile, and you see the clear liquid in the cup.

You always saw Seonghwa as the friendly type, but he also seemed kind, funny, and thoughtful. He’s like your knight in shining armor tonight, saving you from the villains, who happen to be drunk frat guys.

“You know, a guy once told me to never take drinks from strangers, so I don’t think I can accept this.” Despite being in a bad mood, you still find the energy to tease Seonghwa, and he responds by rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Good thing I’m not a stranger then, but a guy from your class slash guy who saved you from getting too drunk slash your best friend’s crush.” He extends his arm with the cup for you to take, and you chuckle as you accept the water. Him addressing himself as “your best friend’s crush” kicks you in the head, as you didn’t expect to suddenly feel a certain type of way about that title.

If your best friend hadn’t been crushing on Seonghwa for months, you would have allowed the caged butterflies in your stomach to break free, but you couldn’t. You’re not a bad friend.

“Good point. Thank you.”

“What have you been doing all night? besides talking to creepy frat guys and sitting here?” Seonghwa keeps his soft eyes on you, and a deep sigh leaves between your lips. Is now the time you break to Seonghwa what you’ve been doing all night, or should you make it sound like you had the time of your life?

You decide on the first one.

“Oh, I had one hell of a night. I spent 25 minutes on the bathroom floor upstairs because I didn’t know where else to go. It has underfloor heating if that sounds tempting.” You take a sip of the water, letting the cold freshness hit you.

“Wow, I kinda wish that was me.” He jokingly replies.

“I have something better... someone spilled this weird green substance all over my arm, which probably completely ruined my shirt. Then I walked around the house six times, went outside to get some air, and now I’m here.” You look to see his brown eyes full of amusement looking back at you, and him trying his best to hide the smile on his lips.

“You’re right, that is better.” He says, and you can’t help but chuckle at the way your night has been so far.

Your eyes travel around the crowd, and they instantly dwell on the girl who interrupted your conversation with Seonghwa earlier. She’s standing in the crowd, surrounded by her friends, but her eyes are locked on Seonghwa. It’s obvious to you that she’s trying to get his attention, and seeing how popular Seonghwa is amongst the girls, you’re reminded of how different the two of you are.

He likes to party, he’s popular, and all the girls in school love him because of his handsome looks and welcoming personality... On the other hand, you barely know anyone, like to stay home to watch a movie by yourself, and have not once had any romantic interaction with any guy from your school.

“You seem quite popular,” You say quietly, feeling Seonghwa’s eyes on you for more context. You point to the girl on the dance floor, and as he lays his eyes on the girl, she sends him a small wave. You can’t help but look at Seonghwa to see his reaction, but he simply sends her a smile in return. Your eyes flicker between them for a moment. “Don’t let me hold you back if you wanna talk to her.”

“Hey, can I show you something?” He suddenly asks, changing the subject. His gaze goes back to you, and you look at him with squinted eyes.

“I hate these questions. It can either be a wart on the ass, a beautiful sunset, or anything in between.” Your words have him almost breaking into a laugh, but he tries his best to keep his cool.

“If I promise it isn’t a wart on my ass, will you come with me?” He asks with a raised brow.

“I’m not sure.”

“Suit yourself then.” He stands up from the couch like he knows you'll get up to follow him. And without looking back at you, he senses your presence behind him, and he takes you to the first floor. The crowd is much thinner up here, easier to talk.

“Alright, wait here..” He turns around to you, and you look at him patiently as he sends you a warm smile. His tall frame walks past you and heads downstairs once again, and you stand patiently in the hallway.

What you see up here, isn’t surprising to you. Couples enter the first floor, hand in hand, find themselves in an empty room, and lock the door behind them immediately after. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s happening behind the door, and a slight worry washes over you. What does Seonghwa want up here? Is he actually like the boys you hear about, who messes with girls at parties and leaves them right after? When is he coming back?

And you have plenty of time to think those things through because after 25 minutes, Seonghwa is still nowhere to be seen. You’re left in the hallway, couples entering and exiting the different rooms, and you’re still leaning up against the wall Seonghwa left you at. Deciding you’ve waited enough, your feet start to move.

You decide to walk downstairs again, not knowing what to expect when he left you in the empty hallway. But when you see him talking and laughing with that girl from earlier in the middle of the crowd, you feel stupid for waiting so long.

Seonghwa is popular, and girls love him. You understand why they do, so you can’t even blame him for constantly being busy talking to people. The thoughts are quickly pushed out of your head, as you make your way upstairs again and lock yourself into the bathroom for the second time tonight.

You don’t know how much time you spend in the bathroom, only sitting on the heated floor in your own company as you wait for a cab to arrive and take you home. You’ve decided you’d rather pay for the expensive ride home than be all alone at this party. After receiving a message that the cab is near, you open the door and surprise hits you when you see who waits on the other side.

Seonghwa, breathing heavily like he had been running around, is leaning against the door frames, trapping you inside the bathroom. A sight of relief flashes through his eyes when he sees you, and you’re taken aback by his tall frame in front of you.

“How’d you know I was here?” You ask.

“Underfloor heating.” He simply replies, and you mentally curse at yourself for exposing your hiding place earlier. “I’ve been looking for you, why did you go?”

You take a moment to figure out how to answer, not wanting to make it sound like you're mad, because honestly, you're not. You're just tired of running around, searching for people when you'd rather be home.

“Well... you left me standing alone for 25 minutes and then I saw you downstairs talking to your friends, so I just decided to go.” The awkward smile on your lips sums up the emotions you're feeling. "It's fine though, don't worry about it."

Seonghwa’s shoulders fall and regret washes over him.

“I didn’t-..” He stops mid-sentence and looks around before making his way into the bathroom with you and locking the door behind him. The two of you are now completely alone, separating yourself from the party and blasting music downstairs. “Shit, sorry.. Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I was gonna show you the balcony but I needed the keys from one of the guys here, but then my friend Wooyoung got in a fight and this girl from before wouldn’t let me leave alone and then-”

“Seonghwa, it’s okay, you really don’t have to explain..” You interrupt Seonghwa before he loses his own breath. “You’re at a party and you should enjoy yourself with all of your friends. I promise you don’t have to feel bad, the two of us aren’t even friends. I just called a cap anyway so I’m going home.”

“Home? Where do you live?”

You tell him your address and his brows nearly shoot up in the ceiling.

“You know how expensive a cab is gonna be from here? It’s all the way across town.” He says as if you weren’t perfectly aware of the situation.

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug.

“You can stay?”

“And be surrounded by strangers with no one to talk to besides creepy dudes who tryna get me drunk? No, thank you.” You scoff at the idea of staying, already surprised you aren’t home in your bed already. As much as you hate to admit it, Seonghwa was the reason why you stayed even longer, but you not knowing anyone at the party, isn't his responsibility. He should have fun with his friends. Not be your babysitter.

“Well, I’m coming with you then.” His words shoot out of his mouth and hit you like a bullet. You did not expect this answer, but you shake your head in response to him.

“No, don’t. You seem to have a great time here, and I can take a cap myself.”

“I know you can, but I’ll have to take a cap later eventually and I don’t wanna pay all of that money. This way, we’ll split.” His reasoning does make sense, but you still feel like you’re robbing him from having fun at the party.

“Are you sure? I don’t want-”

“Come on, stop trying to convince me otherwise. Let’s just go.” Before you get to say anything, Seonghwa grabs your hand, locks your fingers with his, and opens the bathroom door. You try to ignore the way your hand feels in his, as he makes his way downstairs with you behind him, his large frame shielding you from the people in the crowd. He makes sure to look back at you, ensuring himself he isn’t losing you out of his sight again, already feeling terrible for leaving you like he did.

As he finally sees the front door, he abruptly stops when he notices the group by the exit. Your body almost crashes into his, but he’s quick to turn around and stop you. Worry flashes in his eyes, and you suddenly have no idea what to expect, but he’s quick to notice the way his action affects you and informs you of the situation.

“Alright, don’t look, but the guy, Daniel, from earlier and his friends are standing by the door... I really don’t trust them so just stay behind me. Okay?” He tries his best not to worry you, but you see the way his eyes look and you’re not certain of the situation. But despite the growing knot in your stomach, you nod before he turns around and makes his way to the front door.

You try your best to do as Seonghwa said and stay close to him, and you have a slight hope that the group of guys won’t notice you and Seonghwa leaving, but it quickly falls to the ground when Daniel steps in front of Seonghwa. Your body hides behind Seonghwa as he just stares Daniel straight in the eyes, waiting for him to let you guys through the door.

“Hey, sorry to bother you two again, but I didn't get your name earlier.. Haven’t I seen you before?” Daniel questions, obviously trying to provoke Seonghwa in some way.

“I don’t know, your face doesn’t seem recognizable.” Seonghwa responds, only stirring the pot, trying to annoy Daniel. A scoff leaves Daniel, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow. You really want to get out of here, as you don’t feel safe around this Daniel-guy.

You squeeze Seonghwa’s hand in yours, trying to get his attention. “Seonghwa-”

“Ohhhh, now I know! You’re the Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa, the one who is friends with San and Wooyoung!” Daniel shouts, interrupting you. You notice how people have started gathering around you like they’re waiting for something to happen. This only makes you even more nervous about the situation, and Seonghwa instantly notices your reaction to the crowd around you.

“Listen, if you have anything going on with them, it’s not my problem. Just let us get out of here.” Seonghwa’s words are soft like he doesn’t want to make the situation worse.

“Of course... Can you just give this to your friends then?” Daniel holds out a closed fist, waiting for Seonghwa to hold out his hand. But before Seonghwa gets to react, Daniel swings his arm and a punch is thrown at Seonghwa’s face. A loud gasp flies out of your mouth, and your free hand covers your mouth in shock. Your heart is beating faster than ever, almost messing up your breathing.

Seonghwa’s body turns, and he hunches over from the hit. His free hand goes to his mouth, where the salty, metallic taste of blood hits him.

“Tell your friends I said hi.” Daniel takes a step forward, hunching down close to Seonghwa as he speaks hushed to Seonghwa only. “I know the people around you, Seonghwa... I’ve seen your little girlfriend now too, so don’t fuck with me.” Daniel bites before making his way through the big crowd of people, now surrounding you. Seonghwa removes his hand to see blood coming from his lip, and for a split second, he almost loses his cool.

Daniel's friends follow him, a few of them knocking their shoulders into Seonghwa purposefully, before they all disappear into the crowd. Whispers from the staring eyes surrounding you start, and Seonghwa stands up straight before heading in the direction Daniel went. As he takes the first step, he feels a pull from his hand, and when he turns around, his heart almost breaks.

You stand before him, tears forming in your eyes, silently begging him not to go after the group. Everything stops when he sees the look in your eyes. You look scared, concerned, worried. It breaks his heart in a way he never expected, so he squeezes your hand, still in his, and looks you soft in the eyes.

“Let’s go.” He says before dragging you with him out of the house, leaving the chaotic scene. The cap is outside waiting for you, and Seonghwa helps you inside before getting in the cap himself. He tells the driver your address, remembering from when you told him before and he looks at you concerned. “Hey, are you okay?”

Your gaze shoots at him, slightly confused with his question. “Am I okay? You just got punched in the face.”

“I’m fine... But you’re crying.”

You hadn’t noticed your tears before he mentioned it, and you rub your eyes, removing the evidence. The sight of Seonghwa getting punched in the face replays in your head.

“It looked scary... Seeing you being punched like that.” You don’t know what to say, looking down at your hands, resting on your lap. You feel the rush of guilt over you for having Seonghwa interact with Daniel tonight because of you.

“I’ll just put some ice on it when I get home. It’ll probably bruise a little, but that’s all.” He tries searching for your gaze, but you keep avoiding him.

A silence fills the car, the only sound coming from the low radio in the cap. The streetlights pass you as you’re on your way home. After hours of being in the house with loud music, it should feel relieving to sit in the silence of the car. But your mind is running wild, thoughts louder than any music.

Seonghwa is about to open his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“You do this a lot? Get into fights? If I hadn’t pulled you back I’m scared you would’ve gotten into a real fight.” You finally get the courage to look at him, and he immediately shakes his head.

“No... I would’ve told him to leave us alone. Leave you alone.” He replies softly, but you still have questions flooding your mind.

“Why did he want to fight? Are your friends.. dangerous?”

Seonghwa seems taken aback by your questions and shakes his head again.

“Noo, no no, not at all! San and Wooyoung just like to pull pranks on people, and some people take their pranks a little more seriously than they intend to.” Seonghwa begins explaining, not wanting to hide anything from you. “Remember the fight I told you Wooyoung got in earlier? It was with one of the guys from Daniel's friend group, and I guess Daniel and his friends are some of those people who take their pranks a little too personally.” He tries reading the look on your face, but the cap is dark, only lit up by the streetlights outside. But the silence coming from you is enough for him to know how you feel. “I’ll talk to San tomorrow and make sure this won’t happen again. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

A heavy sigh escapes Seonghwa as he runs his fingers through his hair, the weighing feeling on his shoulders feels unbearable as the night escalated from the beginning. From the moment he saw you, he felt like he needed to protect you. Step in and make you feel safe and comfortable at the party. But as he kept talking to you, he found himself not wanting to go from you. But he kept doing so. He kept messing it up for himself, and he couldn’t stop mentally cursing at himself for doing this to you. For ruining your night, when all you deserved was a simple friend to hang out with.

He’s about to open his mouth and apologize for making your night shitty, but your words stop him.

“Please let me help you with your lip, you need to get some ice on that. That’s the least I can do.”

Confusion hits him, not sure he heard you right.

“What do you mean? This didn’t happen because of you.” He points at his mouth, blood still visible from the busted lip.

“But I feel like if I hadn’t talked to him, you wouldn’t have had to step in and save me from getting dead drunk. Please, I really want to help, you can also sleep on the couch if you wanna stay over. I have a pretty good couch if I do say so myself.”

Seonghwa doesn’t know what to say. His eyes just soften even more at the sight of you blaming yourself for something out of your control.

“But-”

“Seonghwa.” You insist again, not backing down. The guilt is taking up most of the space in your stomach, so you need him to accept your offer. He looks at you for a moment, trying to see who of the two of you backs down first. But a deep sigh leaves between Seonghwa’s lips as he realizes how stubborn you are.

“Sure.”

Silence surrounds the both of you for the rest of the ride to your apartment complex, and you feel him follow you as you exit the cap and make your way to your apartment. None of you said a word to the other in the elevator to your floor, both exhausted from the chaotic night. You unlock your front door as he awaits behind you, and he takes in the sight of your home when you both enter.

“Just... act like you’re home, you can get comfortable on the couch while I find something for your lip.” You throw your keys and purse on the small table in the hallway, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Seonghwa slowly makes his way further into your apartment while you find what’s necessary. You find some frozen peas in your freezer and wrap the bag in a towel so I won’t be too cold on his lip. Having Seonghwa in your apartment was definitely not something you ever expected to happen, but your mind is running on survival mode after the chaotic night. You also find some vaseline for the wound, along with some saltwater.

As you enter the living room, Seonghwa is studying the pictures decorating your wall. His relaxed figure, hands resting in his front pockets as he studies the pictures with a small smile.

He seems too focused on the decor in your apartment to notice your presence. “Seonghwa,” You say and he turns around, immediately looking at you with the cleaning kit you’ve gathered. “Couch.”

“Yes, boss.” Despite the weird tension from the fight, he still manages to tease you as you both get comfortable on the couch. You turn on a small lamp behind the couch to get a better view of his wound, and you start rinsing his lip with the saltwater.

He winces at the touch, and you look apologetic at him as you continue to remove the dried blood from his lip. You try to make it quick, not wanting him to be in more pain, and quickly put pressure on the lip with the frozen peas.

“Hold this.” You say.

Seonghwa goes to grab the bag and his large hand covers yours while doing so. You can’t help but notice how small your hand is compared to his, and the warmth from his adds a significant contrast to the frozen peas, freezing in your palm. Shocked by the feeling he gives you, you pull your hand away, leaving him to hold the peas alone against his lip.

“It feels nice,” His voice gets deeper as he relaxes on your couch and leans back. “You really are an angel, aren't you?” There's a teasing in his voice, but the words have a bigger chokehold on you than you would like to admit.

Seonghwa’s eyes close, and you take this opportunity to really study his features, and the first thing you notice is how incredibly handsome he is. His black hair looks more messy compared to the beginning of the night, now constantly resting before his eyes. He hasn’t done anything to fix it for a while, and a part of you wants to remove it, but the messy look suits him better than ever.

He looks so soft relaxing against the pillows on your couch, the light behind you perfectly highlighting certain parts of his face. His lips are slightly parted, long eyelashes resting on the top of his cheekbones and his breathing gets softer the more relaxed he is.

Before you catch yourself doing something you might regret, you shake your head to yourself and look away from him.

“Thank you for helping me tonight. My impression of you has only gotten better.” You say, breaking the silence. Tonight’s party left you with a weird feeling, but if it hadn’t been for Seonghwa, you wouldn’t even imagine what would have happened to you.

His eyes open, instantly focusing on you with a soft look.

“Did you have a bad impression of me before?” He asks curiously.

“No, not at all. Tonight just confirmed that you don’t fit into the popular-asshole-category. More the popular-nice-guy-category.” Your shoulders lift to a shrug, and your eyes lock in the dimmed light. You notice a flash of something unknown in his eyes as the words leave your mouth. He gets silent once again, looking away from you before taking a deep breath.

“I don’t see myself as popular thought.” He admits. You suddenly wish he could see himself from your perspective. This man was the blueprint of the perfect, popular guy. Has many friends, is nice, is invited to all the parties, everyone knows him. Not to forget all the girls searching for his attention.

“Are you serious? The amount of girls I saw drooling over you tonight, is actually insane.”

“Yeah, but they just want me to fuck them,” His eyes shoot back at you. “It’s only superficial from their side.”

You’re taken aback by the way this conversation is going, not knowing how to respond. There’s a subtle hint of hurt in his voice, but also acceptance. Like this is just the way it is.

“Sounds like you’ve got some experience with that.” You say.

“Mhm.. That’s how it is with these people,” He shrugs, still relaxing against the big cushions on the couch, letting his eyes travel away from you to gather his thoughts. “You party at the same house, with the same people with the same mindset, every weekend. Maybe, you find someone interesting, take them to an empty room, and you fuck each other. Then you walk out of there and don’t talk until the next party, where you fuck again. These people want to feel love, but they don’t actually want it.”

The way he talks about the parties sounds similar to how your best friend describes them. She loves the chaotic energy it brings, how people are kind of the same, looking for the same thing. But Seonghwa’s description doesn’t sound as appealing as when she talks about it. And it all reminds you again, why you aren’t going to these parties every weekend.

“Do you want it?” You ask. “Love?”

“I want it with the right person,” He still looks away from you, letting out his thoughts. “I used to like this environment. Going to parties, having girls throw themselves at me, feeling like I could get whatever I wanted without having to make an effort. It made me feel.. powerful. But I also started to feel used. Like I wasn’t more than a good fuck to them.”

He then looks back at you, and you now understand where the hurt in his voice came from.

Never had you expected this about Seonghwa, he always seemed like he thrived in the popularity and the benefits that came with it.

But maybe he was right. It is all superficial.

“Well, not to be that person, but I feel like they’re missing out if they don’t get to know you.” You send him a smile, trying your best to light the mood with the truth in your words.

“And you say that like you know me.” His lips tug into a smirk.

“I feel like I’m starting to have a pretty good idea of who you are.”

“And who am I?”

You take a moment to think, considering the pros and cons of telling him.

“I don’t wanna say, in case I’m wrong and it bites me in the ass.” Your words leave him smiling. This side of Seonghwa is the purest you’ve seen so far.

In class, he’s usually very talkative and once again, popular. But this Seonghwa, who’s opening up to you like you’ve known each other for years, has a depth you have never seen in him. And the more you get to know him, the less you understand how someone can sleep with him and not feel the need to know him for him.

Just by the conversations you’ve shared tonight, you’re intrigued by his welcoming personality, his need to protect the ones around him, and his warm smile.

You look away from his eyes and down to the frozen bag of peas, still pressed against his lip. “How does your lip feel?”

“Swollen. Is it?” He removes the bag and turns his head so you can get a better view of the busted lip. The light from the lamp behind you doesn’t really do its justice, and only creates shadows from your heads instead.

“Turn your head to the light,” You guide him, and he turns again but it doesn’t help. “Here, let me.”

You gently grab a hold of his face and scoop closer to him as you turn his head. The light perfectly shows you the condition of his lip, and you do your best to see any swelling. But the more you look at his lips, you can’t seem to look away.

They’re slightly parted, and as he gently relaxes in your hands, you can’t help but realize how perfect they look. The color, the shape. Everything comes together, and you suddenly wonder how it would be to be kissed by those lips. How soft of a kiss he would leave on your lips, or how they could leave traces of kisses down your skin. All while speaking with the mildness in his voice, and the gentle touch from his fingers travel over you.

You suddenly realize where your thoughts were taking you, and you look up to his eyes, to see him stare back at you.

Heart pounding hard against your chest, you let go of his face and scoop away from him on the couch.

“Uhm, it looks okay, just make sure to put on the Vaseline and you’ll be good,” You stand up from the couch and point to the blankets next to him. “There are blankets and pillows on the couch, so make yourself at home, and if you need anything just knock on my door.” You rub your palms on your hips, trying to get rid of the sweatiness.

Seonghwa looks up at you from the couch, sending you a smile.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Not knowing what to do and mentally cursing yourself for having those thoughts about him, you quickly make your way to your bedroom.

“Goodnight, Seonghwa.”

“Goodnight, angel.”

***

Nervous to open the door from your bedroom, you take a deep breath before pulling down the handle. Silence rings in the hallway leading to the living room where Seonghwa slept for the night.

Your roaming mind had Seonghwa as the main character in your thoughts the entire night. After getting closer to each other last night, you had no idea how to behave normally in the morning. But you slowly made your way down the hallway, towards the living room, expecting to see Seonghwa on the couch. But when you peek your head out, afraid to wake him up in case he is still sleeping, you see an empty couch, blankets nicely folded and pillows perfectly lined up.

Your brows come together in question at the sight, but you quickly notice what awaits you on the small table by the couch. You step closer to see a coffee and a small brown bag with a sticky note attached to it.

Confusion speaks for itself when you grab the sticky note from the bag and look around the living room before reading.

Good morning! Hope you slept well! :) My boss called me.. Someone called in sick and they needed one asap, so I had to step in.. Sorry to leave out of the blue, but I made a quick run to the cafe on the corner and bought you some breakfast as a thank you for the help last night!

Have a good day, angel

A smile creeps up on your lips as you read the note. Curiosity washes over you and you open the small brown bag, to find a bun and a chocolate muffin waiting for you. You look at the iced coffee, still cold with ice slowly melting, indicating he didn’t leave a long time ago.

Once again, you feel a warmth in your body, and you slowly allow the caged butterflies to escape.

***

New week, same school day, same seat. Nothing feels different when you sit in your classroom, on Monday morning, waiting for the day to start. You’ve gathered the things you need for the first class, writing some notes in your notebook when you feel a presence looking at you.

“Hi...” Your best friend says, looking guilty.

You haven’t spoken to her since she left you at the party, and you would lie if you said you weren’t a little disappointed in her for ditching you the way she did.

You simply give her a cold smile and look back down at your notes. She knows you well, and you’re not furious with her - she knows that. It takes a lot for you to get actually angry at people, but she deserved the cold shoulder for a bit

“I’m so sorry for disappearing at the party,” She sits down on the chair next to you. “Really, that was so shitty of me.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.” Her whole body is turned towards you as you are silently giving her the side-eye, but as mad as you try to be, you can’t. You genuinely want to show her how disappointed you are, but if she hadn’t left you at the party, you wouldn’t have spoken to Seonghwa in the first place. Her crush. So not saying you’re happy she left you, but you definitely see the positive in this situation, which in this case happens to be a dark-haired boy with a busted lip.

“Hm..” You respond, looking back in your notes.

You feel her eyes on you for a moment, before she leans forward and whispers in your ear.

“Mingi and I really had fun though, he’s so sweet.” The smile is evident in her voice, and you finally turn your head to look at her.

“Well, I’m glad ditching me had its benefits.” Your words seem to finally get her to understand the situation, and she takes a moment to read your eyes and feel the disappointment.

“I’m sorry.. Really.” Her voice softens, filled with genuine guilt and you send her a broken smile.

“It’s fine.”

You both exchange warm looks before she unpacks and you both silently decide to move on.

“Did you have fun at the party, though? Did you talk to anyone?” She asks, back to normal like nothing happened.

You freeze for a moment, deciding if you should lie or tell the truth. You still hadn’t decided if you should ever tell her that you had her crush staying over at your place and that he happened to be your knight in shining armor. You know she’s been crushing on a few guys from school, some more than others, but you also know that Seonghwa is one of her favorites. Multiple times, she has opened up about how bad she wants him and that he’s, quote on quote; “Made for her”. If you tell her the situation, you’re scared she’ll get mad at you for breaking the girl code.

Your friend’s crush is off limits.

You know you haven’t done anything wrong, and nothing happened between you and Seonghwa, so you decide there's no need for her to know about anything.

“I talked to a few here and there.” Is all you say about the situation.

“How did you get home? Did you take a cab by yourself? I hope it wasn’t too expensive.”

Once again, you take a moment to figure out what to answer, without saying her crush actually paid for the shared ride home to your apartment.

“I shared a cap with someone who was going the same way as me.” You respond, hoping she won’t ask further, but you quickly notice she’s barely listening.

“He’s so fucking hot...” She mumbles, and your eyes search for whoever her gaze is locked on, but you quickly realize when you see who enters the room.

Seonghwa is walking into the classroom with his bag hanging on his shoulder and messy black wavy hair. He’s wearing a shaded blue denim jacket with a white tee underneath and black loose jeans. He looks so put together, even if he isn’t even trying, and for the first time since you started school, you’ve become one of those girls who stare at him when he enters the class.

You expect him to sit at his usual seat on the other side of the room, but he confidently walks past it and towards your side. This catches your attention even more, leaving you and your best friend in awe as you see him walk closer to you.

Seonghwa finds a seat a few seats in front of you, and as he swings the bag of his shoulder, his eyes meet yours.

They’re warm and he locks his gaze on you while a smile creeps up on his lips. You can’t help but smile back like you’re both silently saying hello to each other through your eyes. This is the first time you’ve made eye contact with Seonghwa in class, and you can’t seem to look away while he smiles at you.

But trying not to be too obvious, you force yourself to look away before he sits down, and your gaze goes to the notebook in front of you.

“Did you see that?” You hear your best friend say.

“What?”

“He smiled at me.” Your eyes shoot to her, confused to see her stare at Seonghwa who now sits down in his seat, back facing you. Not being able to open your mouth and tell her that he was actually smiling at you, you bite your words and start scribbling on your notebook.

“Oh.. I didn’t see.”

“Did you hear he got into a fight at the party?” She leans towards you, ready to start gossiping.

A fight. The party. Daniel.

In panic, you shake your head and pretend you didn’t witness it, front row.

“Shit, I hoped you had seen it so you could tell me the details. But people say it was about a girl.”

“What?”

People? Are people talking? About you? And Seonghwa?

“I know, that’s what I said. A girl was with him when it happened but they apparently left right after. They don’t know who she is, probably just someone’s plus one.” She shrugs and starts scribbling something in her own notebook.

You feel horrible knowing the exact situation, and not being able to tell your best friend the details. But one of the reasons you also hated these parties was the drama. The newest gossip after a spicy weekend. People always had something to say, and you didn’t want to be the next hot topic.

“What about you and Mingi, though? You’re gonna start seeing him?” You look at her, trying to change the subject. It seems to work because your best friend just shrugs as she looks unbothered by the whole situation.

“Nah, you know how I am. I’m not looking for anything serious, I like to have my options open.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, and Seonghwa's words replay in your mind.

Maybe, you find someone interesting, take them to an empty room, and you fuck each other. Then you walk out of there and don’t talk until the next party, where you fuck again. These people want to feel love, but they don’t actually want it.

It leaves another taste in your mouth when you know how Seonghwa has opened up to you about how he feels, about going to these parties.

But I also started to feel used. Like I wasn’t more than a good fuck to them.

You had a certain respect for your best friend for doing whatever she wanted, but you also found Seonghwa’s feelings valid. There had to be a downside to the popularity and girls wanting to sleep with you without attachments.

Your thoughts about Saturday's events are slowly replaced when class starts, and the focus is on the teacher in front of the whiteboard. Class goes by rather quickly, and students then leave the classroom to go to the next one. Having to exchange the books for the new class, you make your way to your locker, after agreeing to meet your best friend at the classroom.

You’re in your own world when a tall frame suddenly stands beside you.

“Hey.” Seonghwa’s warm voice slightly surprises you. This is the first time you’ve spoken in school, and somehow, it almost feels illegal.

“Oh... Hi.”

“I just wanted to apologize for disappearing yesterday without saying goodbye. I just didn’t want to wake you up.” You can see the clear guilt in his eyes, and you immediately shake your head as you grab the new books from your locker.

“Don’t worry about it, It’s totally fine. I appreciated the breakfast though.”

He somehow seems taller today, looking down at you. His sharp features look as perfect as they did on Saturday, his eyes looking like the entire universe could fit into them.

“Yeah, I thought I had to thank you in some way for letting me stay the night. And for taking care of my lip.”

You notice the dark mark on his lip as he talks, the wound already healing.

“I think my frozen peas did most of the work, but you’re welcome. Does it hurt?” You still can’t help but feel a little guilty for him getting punched in the face, but you’re glad to see it heal this fast.

“No, it’s only a bit bruised, but I’ll be as good as new in a few days. Will I see you at the party on Friday?” He relaxes with his hands in his pockets as he leans up against the lockers.

You realize again how he has this typical popular-boy-charm. He looks cool and could make anyone believe he could have the world in his hands if he wanted to.

“Uhm.. I don’t usually party multiple weekends in a row.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking.”

He’s quick with his words, and he doesn’t hide the smirk on his bruised lip as he smiles at you. You take a moment to think.

“I have to work, so I can’t.” You excuse, while actually telling the truth.

“Oh, where do you work?” A small wrinkle forms between his brows.

“At the mall, I have a closing shift... But I hope you’ll have fun at the party though. As much as I appreciate you keeping me company last Saturday, I think it’s good you get to spend time with your friends instead of taking care of me, who apparently doesn’t know how to take care of myself.” You laugh at yourself, trying to make light of the situation, and before Seonghwa can answer, someone snatches his attention.

“Hwa!” Seonghwa’s friend group all stare at the two of you talking, some of them indicating him to come as they are headed to class.

“l have to go.. I’ll see you around?” He slowly backs away and doesn’t turn around until you nod and he sends a smile in your direction, as he runs after his friends.

***

Another sigh leaves you as you look away from the words written in your book. You don't know how long your eyes have been going over the same sentence, trying to get the words to stick to your brain, but it’s simply impossible at this point.

Your eyes travel around the library from your seat, looking at the multiple other students here to expand their knowledge. The old books decorating the walls around you help with concentration, almost as if you feel bad for not studying while they’re watching.

You take off your headphones, needing a break from studying when a conversation from the other side of the shelf steals your focus.

“Girl, come on. Are you really surprised at this point? Have you seen him?.” A female voice says.

“Right, I hooked up with him once and I swear I couldn’t walk normally for days.” Another voice says.

The typical drama flooding around wasn’t new, especially not in the library. People seem to think it's the perfect place to sit in silence and gossip, clearly not aware that everyone else hears the conversation as well. You weren’t in the mood to hear someone talk like this about someone else, and you had been studying for a few hours already. Deciding this is your cue to leave, you start to pack your things while the gossiping continues on the other side.

“Am I right? Who would’ve thought that nice personality held back a demon in Seonghwa.“

You immediately freeze when you hear Seonghwa’s name in the conversation. Were they talking about him?

“For real! Without a doubt the best guy I've been with. I mean have you seen his hands?”

Your thoughts immediately go to the thought of Seonghwa’s hands, how his hand covered yours when holding the bag of peas on his lip. How big they were, slender fingers making everything he does look so elegant.

Feeling a weird sensation in your stomach from this information, you decide to speed up and get out of the library before you hear another word.

The heat in your cheeks turns into a light shade of pink as you step outside, deciding to make your way home. In need of fresh air, you let your legs guide you toward your apartment complex.

Overhearing those girls’ conversation about Seonghwa left you with thoughts you didn’t know existed in your mind. Seonghwa had been nothing but nice to you since the party, and of course, you agreed that he was beyond handsome. But after hearing what they had to say about him, only enhanced the number of thoughts about him.

I hooked up with him once and I swear I couldn’t walk normally for days.

Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you decide to walk the rest of the way home, in desperate need of fresh air.

***

You didn’t think a week could go this slow. School was as boring as ever, and every day looked the same. Except, the new ‘same’ was that Seongwha and you had small interactions during the week. A smile here and there, a wave when seeing each other, and small talk by the lockers.

You had a feeling that Seonghwa knew you didn’t want your best friend to ask you about your growing friendship with him, so he only came to talk whenever you were alone. It wasn’t that you were trying to hide the fact that you and Seonghwa were slowly becoming friends, but you knew she would question you if she knew. She would ask questions about every single thing about him, all in hopes that you would help her hook up with him, and you simply weren't interested in that.

Seonghwa was becoming a friend of yours, a friendship you never expected to happen, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest.

But that doesn't mean your mind hasn’t drifted to the conversation you overheard in the library.

When talking to Seonghwa, you’ve caught yourself looking awfully much at his hands. Or when he was sitting in class, you’d admire him a little more than you’d like to admit.

You didn’t think it meant anything, but you definitely didn’t plan on sharing those thoughts with anyone either.

It’s finally Friday, and you’re closing off at your closing shift. The mall closed at eight, but you had to make sure everything was ready for the morning shift, so you walked out around 8:30. Not having anything to do after work, you took your sweet time finishing up. Your fingers tapped your phone screen, trying to find the perfect song in your headphones as you made your way out of the mall and towards the bus stop. The chilly late summer night air hit you as you stepped outside, finally finding a song you’re satisfied with.

You look up but immediately stop in your tracks.

On a bench, outside the mall in front of the parking lot, Seonghwa is sitting by himself, fiddling with his fingers. There’s not a single person in sight, making Seonghwa stand out. Your brows shoot together in confusion as you watch him. He’s in his own world and you slowly make your way towards him.

The sound of your feet against the concrete makes his head shoot up and his gaze direct at you. A smile tugs on his lips, and he lifts his hand to send you a wave.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, stopping a few meters away from him.

“I’m waiting for you to get off work.” He stands up from the bench before taking a few steps towards you.

You notice how the scrape on his lip is practically gone already.

“I thought you were going to the party.”

“I was. Was there for 10 minutes, realized it was boring as hell, drove home, and waited for the mall to close so I could pick you up.” He makes it sound like it was the most normal thing for him to do.

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Seonghwa sends you a smile and starts walking towards his black car, parked only a few meters away. “Come on, just accept my offer and let me give you a ride home, it’s late and it’s dark,” He opens the door to the passenger seat and looks at you, frozen in your place. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

You eventually get in his car, and he’s quick to get in the driver’s seat. You immediately notice the car is neat, and clean and smells like Seonghwa. He turns on the car and starts driving towards the parking lot exit.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, eyes still on the road.

“I had a snack.”

“A snack? Come on, a snack won’t do it.” He drives onto the main road, in the direction of your apartment.

“I’ll eat when I get home.” You roll your eyes at him teasingly.

“I know a good place, I hope you’re up for trying for the best milkshake in your life.” He makes a u-turn and you’re suddenly headed towards an unknown location.

“Seonghwa.” You look at him, a hint of seriousness in your voice. It isn’t that you have anything better to do, but you aren’t mentally prepared to hang out with him. You don’t feel like you look your best, and you don’t want to steal his time.

“What?” He flickers his gaze from you to the road. His boba-looking black eyes meet yours for a second before looking straight ahead, and when you quickly notice the glimpse in them, it’s like you can’t say no to him. He looks so full of excitement, that you swallow your words and send him a smile.

“Nothing.”

Seonghwa drove you both to a diner, a little outside of town. You’ve never been here before, but the neon sign and the old-school 60’s aesthetic left an evident impression on you. Seonghwa opens the door for you, and you’re immediately hit with the feeling that you just stepped into the movie 'Grease'.

You’re met with black and white checkered floor, red booths, and a jukebox in the corner. Seonghwa’s excitement is through the roof as he guides you towards one of the booths further down the diner, with his hand on the small of your back.

You try your best not to pay too much attention to how his touch makes you feel, and quickly focus on something else. You sit down across from each other, the two of you being the only ones there, except the elderly gentleman in the corner, reading a paper.

You’re reading the menu when a waitress comes over, and you immediately notice the way she looks at Seonghwa.

“Hi, welcome.” Her flirtatious voice speaks. She has bright red lips, a dress that covers just the top of her thigh, and an apron tied around her waist, making her curves more visible.

“Hi.” Seonghwa smiles, taking his focus from the menu to the waitress.

“What can I get for you?”

“Can I have the medium cheeseburger menu, please?” Seonghwa asks as he points to the menu.

“Of course.” She responds as she writes down his order on her notepad. You wait until it’s your turn to order, but as silence surrounds you and you notice how she’s just staring at you, you come to your senses.

“Uhm.. I’ll just have the small fry menu, thank you.”

She writes down your order in silence, and you feel awkward, sitting across Seonghwa as this waitress barely notices you.

“Would you like,” The waitress looks Seonghwa up and down. “Anything else?”

A part of you wants to laugh at the scene playing in front of your eyes, watching Seonghwa and this waitress flirt with each other. Seonghwa scans the menu card like he doesn’t know it front to back.

“Do you still have the chocolate milkshake with the drizzle and strawberries on top?” He asks, looking up at the waitress.

“No, we don’t actually..” She shakes her head for a second but takes a short moment to think before speaking up again. “Not officially, at least, but I can make it for you anyway? It’ll be our secret.” She bites her bottom lip and for some reason, you have to fight everything in you not to roll your eyes and scoff.

“Really? That would be amazing.” Seonghwa responds, handing her your menus.

“Anytime.. Let me know if I can help you with anything else. Can I ask what your name is?”

“I’m Seonghwa.”

“I’ll be right back with your milkshake, Seonghwa.” She sends her last smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Seonghwa looks at you satisfied, not realizing how his conversation looked to everyone but him and the waitress.

“I see why you like coming here.” You say.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” You mumble and look away, out the window. There’s a huge neon sign with the diner’s logo on the parking lot, shining through the windows. The low music from the jukebox is playing 60’s instrumentals, making sure to give the customers the full diner experience.

“Because she flirted with me?” You look at him to see his smirk. He’s staring intensely at you, slightly enjoying seeing the way you try to avoid his eyes. You respond with a nod and a “mhm.”

“Did I flirt back?” He asks, squinting his eyes at you. There’s a small hint of jealousy in your stomach as you talk about this, him talking with this girl who’s obviously very into him, but you obviously don’t let that side of you out.

“I don’t know how you are when you flirt.” You shrug.

“Are you sure?” lifting an eyebrow at you. You want to say yes, but the way he’s looking at you, makes you doubt everything you know. Your silence is enough of an answer for Seonghwa, and he rolls his eyes. “To answer my own question; no, I didn’t flirt with her. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell.”

“I haven’t known you for long, how should I know?” You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this conversation seems.

“You don’t have to know me for long to know.” His words shut you up, and you stare at him, sitting confidently on the other side of the booth. The way he’s in some blatantly obvious way flirting with you, somehow makes you doubt everything. It’s like you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he’s so forward with his words. You don’t get to say more before the waitress comes back and places a chocolate milkshake on the table.

“Here’s your milkshake, Seonghwa. Your food will be ready in 10 minutes, let me know if I can do anything else for you.” She sends him a warm smile again, not once acknowledging your presence.

“Thank you,” He smiles back at her when she walks away, and immediately leans over the table to lower his voice as he speaks. “I didn’t even know she worked here. I’m usually assisted by my friend Barbara, running on her 68th year. The reason why I like coming here is because of this heavenly milkshake I just ordered for us. They only have it once in a while, but if you’re with me, you can get it all the time.” He leans back in the booth, looking more confident than ever.

“Must be nice having pretty privilege when it comes to milkshakes.” You tease, and he looks up at you, trying to hide his laugh.

“I don’t know what I think about your cocky attitude when I’m taking you out to dinner and picking you up from work.”

“I didn’t ask you to do either of those things.”

“No, you didn’t. And yet you still claim you don’t know how I flirt,” He pushes the milkshake closer to you, as you stare at him, not knowing how to react to his words. “Here, try it. Try it and tell me it’s not the best thing you’ve ever tasted on your tongue.”

You squint your eyes at him, before dragging the chocolate milkshake closer to you. It’s tall, has the perfect color of a chocolate milkshake, has a mix of different drizzles, and has three bright red strawberries decorated on top. You lean forward to take a sip from the straw, and an overwhelming flavor bursts in your mouth.

“Oh, it’s good.” You admit.

“I know, right? All thanks to my pretty privilege.”

You and Seonghwa spend more time at the diner than you thought you would, talking about everything and nothing. During the hours across from each other in the red booth, you ended up realizing that this was the best way you could spend the night.

You were now in the car on the way home, and summer rain had started pouring against the windows. Pools of water decorate the streets, mirroring the light from the street lamps.

“So,” You start, looking at Seonghwa from the passenger seat. “You’re giving parties a new chance tomorrow?” You’re not searching for a specific answer, but after he opened up to you last weekend, you’re curious about him going to the parties.

“I’m not sure. The guys and I are talking about having a small get-together, just the few of us. You should come, bring your friend too.” He says, looking relaxed as he drives you home.

“I don’t know.. These social things still intimidate me.” You don’t see yourself going to any of these parties for a while.

“It’s more lowkey than the parties, I swear.” He sends you a smile and hands you his phone from the center console. “Put your number in my phone, I’ll text you the details if you decide to come.”

You slowly grab his phone from his hand, surprised by how relaxed he seems. It’s already unlocked, and you’re about to make a new contact when his phone suddenly rings. The caller ID is a girl's name, and you freeze, not knowing what to do.

“Oh.. Someone’s calling.” You say, showing Seonghwa the screen.

“Just press ignore.” He answers quickly.

“Are you sure?”

He nods as he keeps his focus on the road, driving through the puddles on the road. You continue where you left off, adding your number, but the girl’s name appears on the screen again as another call goes in.

The fact that a girl is calling him, shortly throws you off. It’s probably not new for him to have girls hit him up constantly, but it makes you feel awkward.

Seonghwa notices how you freeze with the phone in your hands. The car stops at a red light, and you hand him the phone while it’s still calling. You try not to snoop too much, but you can’t help but watch from the side of your eye, what he does. He ignores the call again, goes to the girl’s contact, and blocks the number, before handing you the phone again.

“There.” He says.

You finish adding your number to his contacts, saving it under your name, just as another call goes in. This time from Wooyoung, as the screen reads.

“Now Wooyoung is calling.” You show Seonghwa the screen and he makes an annoyed sound.

“You gotta be kidding me..” He gently grabs the phone from your hand, answers the call, and puts it on speaker before placing the phone on the center console. “What?” He asks into the phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” Wooyoung’s voice almost sounds panicked.

“I left.”

“What? Bro, you need to come back. ‘You know who’ keeps asking for you and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.” Wooyoung explains, but Seonghwa’s face doesn’t show a care in the world, as the light turns green.

“Not my problem, I’m not coming back.”

“Why? Where are you?” Wooyoung’s question hangs in the air for a moment before Seonghwa sighs deeply.

“At your mom's, see you tomorrow.”

“WHAT DO YOU-” Wooyoung’s voice is cut short when Seonghwa ends the call. The childish behavior they seem to have makes you hold back a laugh. You haven’t spoken to Wooyoung before, only knowing him as one of the popular guys, but what you’ve gathered about him so far, really sums up a chaotic personality.

“And that’s how you deal with that. Did you put your number in?” Seonghwa asks, glancing at you as he holds out his phone with a smile. It's dark outside, but his teeth still shine so brightly when he’s smiling. His entire face lights up when he smiles, making the darkness brighter.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The drive home is quick from that point on, and Seonghwa offers to follow you to the door but to save him from getting drenched, you convince him not to. You’re quick to run inside to hide yourself from the rain, managing to get inside without getting soaked.

In your own world, you get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, and you’re exhausted from school, work, and late dinner with Seonghwa.

You get under your covers, ready to lay with your phone for a while before actually getting some sleep when your lips curl into a smile from a received text.

Unknown Goodnight, Angel

It takes you no time to figure out who sent the message, and you reply as the butterflies slowly spread throughout your body.

You Goodnight, Hwa

***

You have no idea what you’re doing. You promised yourself a relaxed weekend, without any parties or anything close to it, and you kept that promise for the most part! You had initially texted Seonghwa that you wouldn’t come to the get-together, but thanked him for inviting you.

Partially because telling your friend that Seonghwa invited you, would indicate you and Seonghwa had contact, and you weren’t ready for that conversation with your best friend yet. But you didn’t expect your best friend to hit you up Saturday evening, inviting you to a small get-together at Mingi’s place.

After she sent you the information, you immediately realized it was the same information Seonghwa had given you. This changed something, the fear of missing out suddenly hit you. Therefore, at the last second, you decided to accept your best friend's offer and join her at Mingi’s, but promising yourself not to drink too much.

“Come on in!” Mingi says as he opens the door further. When stepping through the front door, you hear music and voices from further into the apartment. Mingi’s apartment is bigger than you thought, as you expected a small dorm, but are instead met with a rather big apartment. The decor is very minimal, the most he’s done is plastering a few posters up here and there. You feel a flip in your stomach at the thought of seeing Seonghwa in a few seconds but you quickly push the thought away when your best friend grabs your arm and drags you into the living room.

You’re met with four guys sitting in the living room, and your eyes immediately notice Seonghwa. He’s leaning back on the couch, a slight tug on his lips from listening to the conversation before him, and in a black hoodie with baggy jeans.

His eyes travel to you, a flash of something apparent in them for a second and slight confusion written on his face. The confusion is quickly replaced by a smile spreading on his lips, probably still a little confused by seeing you since you texted him you weren’t coming.

You feel his eyes on you as you look around to see the other guys, San sharing the couch with Seonghwa and Wooyoung sitting by Seonghwa’s legs on the floor. Mingi sits down on the floor as well, inviting you and your best friend to get comfortable too.

“Do you guys wanna sit on the couch?” San asks, about to get up, but your best friend quickly speaks up.

“No, that’s fine!” She sits down next to Mingi (shocking, you think), and you join her on the other side of on floor. You knew she and Mingi hooked up last weekend.

And you couldn’t help but hope she would leave her attention on him and forget about Seonghwa for the night.

You try not to make it too obvious how bad your eyes want to go to Seonghwa, but you eventually succumb and look at him, surprised to see him with his gaze already locked on you.

You haven’t heard him say a word yet, yet you know everything his gaze is saying.

You came anyways?

You shrug with a smile, and look away, trying not to make the heat in your cheeks too apparent.

Alcohol is gathered in the middle of the circle, San opens a six-pack of beers before handing a can to Seonghwa, but Wooyoung is quick to snatch it.

“Seonghwa is not drinking tonight, he’s being a bore.” He says, cracking open the beer before taking a sip. He almost spills as Seonghwa kicks him in the back, wiping the beer away from his chin.

“If I wasn’t a bore, you wouldn’t be sipping on those beers. I had to drive to a place 25 minutes away because you forgot to buy some.” Seonghwa shakes his head, slightly annoyed with the younger.

“You’re right, thanks mommy.” Wooyoung sends Seonghwa a loving smile, but Seongwha only responds by rolling his eyes.

The decision you’ve made not to get too drunk seems like a good idea as the night escalates and more beers are opened. The volume in the group gets louder as more alcohol is consumed and laughs are shared over silly topics. This all eventually ended with the group deciding to play various drinking games, which you silently participated in.

It was obvious that you were the newest addition to the group, not knowing them all very well. And that really showed when they decided to play ‘who’s most likely to’. An explicit version, at that.

“Who’s most likely to sleep with a teacher?” Mingi asks, looking around at everyone before starting the countdown. “3..2..1..”

There's silence as everyone, besides you, points around, and everyone points at San. The man looks down looking embarrassed, even pointing at himself.

“She was 27 at the time. Only 6 years older than me, it isn’t that big of a deal.” San explains before taking a sip of his beer.

“She was still a teacher.” Wooyoung comments.

“Substitute. The key word is substitute.” San eyes Wooyoung who only starts a small discussion about the situation, leaving you to observe the two. A smile creeps up on your lips at the conversation before you, but you can't help but look at the person directly across from you, meeting Seonghwa’s eyes again.

Looking at him was like excluding the rest of the world for a moment. His lips curled into a subtle smile, only keeping his focus on you and ignoring the bickering from his two friends. Hoping no one notices the way you look at each other, you look away, taking a sip from your first beer.

The game eventually moves on, San having to pick the next ‘most likely to’.

“Who’s most likely to be the best fuck?” He asks, a smile creeping up on his lips as he gets ready to count down. “3..2..1..”

The majority of fingers point at Seonghwa, him sitting relaxed on the couch, only watching the game unfold. There’s a short silence around the group before Wooyoung speaks up.

“There’s a reason why at least 5 girls flirt with him at every party. They all want a piece of that Seongwhanger.”

“Don’t ever call it that.” Seonghwa snaps, looking at his friend by his legs.

“Am I wrong though?” Wooyoung laughs.

You only watch as the others add to the conversation while you drift into your own thoughts. You’re reminded of the conversation you overheard in the library, those girls talking about their encounters with Seonghwa in the.. bedroom.

Having Seonghwa’s best friends knowing about his abilities when it comes to sex, as well as those random girls, would mean it must be a thing people knew. Somehow, you had just missed that information.

“I’m intrigued.. Why do you guys think Seonghwa is most likely?” Your best friend asks, looking around at the guys.

“If you knew the screams I’ve heard from the girls he’s fucked. That alone tells me everything I need to know.” Wooyoung answered.

You suddenly enter a topic you had not prepared yourself for, and that results in you feeling restless. The thought of Seonghwa fucking hard, has your mind playing a dangerous game with you. You don’t know where to look, where to keep your hands, how to breathe.

Whenever your eyes landed on Seonghwa, all you saw was him.

Naked. On top of you.

“I spoke to a girl he fucked once. She told me she saw heaven and hell at the same time.” San adds.

“Guys..” Seonghwa tries to stop the conversation, or at least make it less explicit, but the others don't seem to follow along.

“Come on, Hwa. It isn’t something to be embarrassed about, own it!” Wooyoung hits Seonghwa’s leg in an accepting manner.

“I am, but in respect for the girls... Let’s not.”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head. “You know how they brag about it, they want to be talked about after. They all wanna be a part of the Seongweenie club”

“Stop!” Seonghwa’s eyes grow big at Wooyoung’s constant name-calling.

Your best friend laughs next to you, enjoying this conversation more than anyone else. You try to look at Seonghwa again, but when his eyes meet yours, you instantly look away. It’s like you can’t look at him and not have your thoughts stray to less innocent territories. You finish your beer, feeling slightly grateful for the way it leaves you feeling.

“You guys are embarrassing, why do you know these things about each other?” Your best friend asks as her laugh dies down, curious about this conversation. San looks at her, scooting away from Seonghwa on the couch so he can speak at a lower volume like Seonghwa wouldn’t hear him.

“Because at this point, it’s common knowledge. I don’t want it to sound weird, but I’ve heard a lot from the girls he's been with. The things this man does,” San points over his shoulder at Seonghwa. “Don’t let his nice persona fool you guys.”

“The thing is, Seonghwa is just way too humble about it.” Mingi adds, shrugging.

Your eyes quickly travel to Seonghwa, looking defeated, before Wooyoung steals your focus as he stands up.

“I’m just surprised you’re not bragging about it more. If I were you, I would be telling everyone about my Shlonghwa.”

Wooyoung barely finishes his sentence before Seonghwa runs after Wooyoung out of the living room and they disappear in the hallway. All you hear is Wooyoung's muffled laugh, as you hear him run, and you finally take a moment to breathe, now that Seonghwa isn’t in your eyesight.

Another topic is suddenly going on amongst the rest of you, but you can’t seem to move on from the information you just got.

She told me she saw heaven and hell at the same time.

Your brain keeps going over and over the words from Seonghwa’s friends. You didn’t expect to ever hear these things about him, and it honestly shocks you a bit. You knew he was popular amongst the girls, but you thought it came from how nice he was (as well as incredibly handsome). But now, knowing many of them want to sleep with him because, like Wooyoung said, “they brag about it, they want to be talked about after”, only adds to your thoughts.

The conversation you shared with Seonghwa after the last party, suddenly made even more sense to you. Even Seonghwa’s friends knew how many girls were wondering how it would be to sleep with him.

And so you feel an incredible guilt for wondering the same.

How his hands would run down your body, lips tracing kisses all over you as he has his way with you.

“I’ll be right back.” Your best friend wakes you from your thoughts before she disappears into the hallway. Wanting to remove the thoughts about Seonghwa from your brain, you try to focus on the conversation between San and Mingi, but it doesn’t help at all.

Shaking the empty can of beer, you are in desperate need of something to help with your dry mouth. You excuse yourself as you stand up, decide to get some water instead of beer, and make your way to the kitchen.

You manage to find the kitchen without any help, but your body immediately backtracks when you see who’s in there, and you hide behind the wall before they see you. Your best friend is laughing as she jokingly hits Seonghwa on the chest. His smile grows on his face before continuing whatever conversation they were having.

Not wanting to snoop or hear your best friend flirt with Seonghwa, you quickly make your way back to the living room. Your hands reach for another beer, and you take a huge sip of it to quench your thirst and with a small mission to forget what you just saw in the kitchen.

You didn’t like Seonghwa. Of course not, right? He was just becoming a good friend, and your best friend has been crushing on Seonghwa for almost a year. If she managed to finally get him, that would be great! You’d be happy for her.

On the outside.

But on the inside, you’d be less excited.

You hate admitting it, but Seonghwa has been running in your mind 24/7 ever since the party. You finally understood why your best friend was into him. Why every girl was into him. You’d be blind if you didn’t see how perfect he was, how kind, thoughtful, and funny he is. And that’s just Seonghwa. That is how he is. And he’s much more than that.

Needing a moment for yourself, you manage to find the bathroom to breathe. This get-together was turning into something you didn’t expect. How can you feel so many emotions all at once? Seonghwa was already living in your mind rent-free, and now that his friends suddenly exposed how his intimate side is, you have no space in your brain left.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you’re immediately reminded of San’s words.

The things this man does... don’t let his nice persona fool you guys.

Your mind once again goes to forbidden places. How he looked that night of the party. How his messy hair would be even messier after you would run your fingers through it. How it would fall down in his face while he’s being on top of you. Sweat starting to form on his forehead. His deep voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Skin against skin as he fastens the speed.

Cursing at yourself at the thoughts, you decide being alone isn’t helping. At this point, Seonghwa is tattooed in your mind and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You open the door and step into the hallway, when you’re suddenly standing in front of the man in your mind.

“Hey, angel.” Seonghwa stops in his tracks, sharing his first words with you for the night.

“Hi.” You nearly whisper.

Your focus is turned to Wooyoung, who has to pass the two of you in the hallway, and you notice the way Seonghwa sends him a glare. Wooyoung laughs as he quickly sprints past Seonghwa, afraid that Seonghwa will reach out for him. He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Seonghwa alone in the hallway.

“He’s annoying, you’ll get used to it.” Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours again. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Trying not to focus too much on the thoughts in your brain, involving Seonghwa in a less innocent setting, you do your best to act normal.

“I guess FOMO got the best of me.” You shrug, starting to play with the sleeves of your shirt.

“I’m glad you came,” His eyes curl as he sends you a smile, and your mouth starts to dry again. You shift your gaze away from him, not being able to look him in the eyes for too long. “You want a ride home later?”

Your eyes flicker for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

“Oh, uhm.. I don’t know, I have to talk to my friend and ask her if we’re sharing a cap.”

“You’re not. She’s staying here.” He responds rather quickly, leaving you slightly confused.

“How do you know?”

“The way Mingi is looking at her... I know.” He can’t seem to hide the smirk on his lips. He seems confident as he rests his hands in the pockets of his loose jeans, but you’re not convinced.

“But maybe she would like to stay with you tonight?” Your words make his brows shoot together. “She’s been talking about you for a long time, you know.” You look away from him again, eyes focused on your fingers playing with the ends of your sleeves.

“Still trying to wingman me with your friend?” You can hear the smirk on his lips.

“She likes you.” Is the only thing you say, leaving a silence between you and Seonghwa. He scoffs shortly, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he smirks.

“I’ll drive you home later.” He says.

“You don’t-”

“Have to, I know. At this point, just accept it.” He sends you a smile before making his way back into the living room. Like a duckling to its mother, you follow behind him, him leading the way. The rest of the group is already back in the circle, and you quietly sit down while Seonghwa takes his seat back on the couch, making sure to whack Wooyoung on the back of the head first.

The rest of the night, you’re quietly sipping on your second beer, not wanting alcohol to get too involved in the way you’re thinking. The rest of the group decided to continue various games and explicit conversation topics, thankfully leaving Seonghwa’s name out of most of them.

You notice his gaze on you multiple times, but you immediately avert your eyes, not being able to look into his piercing ones. A part of you couldn’t wait to get home, but the fact that Seonghwa had insisted on driving you home, made your heart pound faster against your chest. The thought of being alone with him seemed dangerous, afraid you’d do something you would regret.

The get-together eventually came to an end, and just like Seonghwa had predicted, your best friend decided to stay at Mingi’s place.

The door to the driver's seat closed, and Seonghwa put on his seatbelt before turning on the car.

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you.

“Mhm..” You nod, looking at your hands resting in your lap. Seonghwa keeps his gaze on you for a moment, trying his best to read you to the best of his abilities.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight. Something going on in that pretty head of yours?” His words make your stomach flip, but you push the feeling away as quickly as you can.

“No.. Just tired, I guess.” You try sending him a smile, thankful for the dimmed light surrounding you, making it harder to see his handsome features.

Seonghwa tries to ignore the feeling he gets when he can tell that you are obviously lying to him. He turns on the car and drives off to your apartment complex. The quiet music plays in the background, making the silence between you less noticeable.

Your eyes follow the trees and street lamps as you drive by, intentionally keeping your gaze in the other direction from Seonghwa. A small tapping sound following the music catches your attention, and you look down at the gearshift to see Seonghwa’s fingers around the shift. Their tapping follows the beat of the song on the radio, momentarily hypnotizing you.

The car stops at a red light, and you find yourself not being able to take your eyes off his hands. You realize how pretty his hands are, even in the dimmed light. He’s wearing a silver ring around one of his long slender fingers, the veins in his hands more evident as he taps along to the song. They curl prettily around the gearshift, having your mind wander to places they shouldn’t.

What you don’t notice is Seonghwa’s focus on you. A smirk creeps up on his lips when he realizes how his fingers have you in a trance, wondering what suddenly made you so focused on his hands.

As you catch yourself in the trance, you look away from his figers and out the window on your side.

You’re too deep in your own thoughts to notice Seonghwa lean closer to you and reach out his arm at you. A sudden grip on your chin forces you to look at him, and you see him smirk with the red light from the stoplight decorating his face.

“What?” You ask to the best ability, still with his hand holding your face. He takes a moment to study your face, not saying a single word. A tiny crease forms in the middle of your forehead, waiting for him to say something. His smile only widens a bit, not letting you know what he’s thinking.

“Angel face..” He says softly as the light turns green and he lets go of your face before taking off.

The rest of the way to your apartment is silent, except for the radio music and Seonghwa’s fingers tapping along. You finally see your apartment complex, and Seonghwa parks his car in the parking lot. Today, he follows you out of the car and towards your building. You’re a few steps ahead, not knowing what to say without accidentally saying something stupid.

Your mind is playing games with you, but you decide not to let this awkwardness control you anymore. What would be appropriate to talk about after the information you’ve gotten about him today? Do you even need to talk about it? You’re friends, so it wouldn’t be weird to ask him to stay over again, would it?

You take a few steps up to the main entrance, holding onto the railing, when you finally open your mouth.

“Seonghwa?” You turn around on the stairs, looking at him a few steps under you. Seonghwa’s big eyes look up at you, looking innocent and pure.

“What's up?”

You lose all of your bravery and immediately decide to abort the mission.

“Nothing,” You say, quickly moving on. “Thank you for driving me home. Goodnight.” You turn around again, about to head up the stairs to the entrance to your building when Seonghwa’s voice makes you halt.

“Wait.. Is everything good?” There’s a concern evident in his voice, and you send him a smile as you look down at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He takes a moment to look at you a few steps up on the staircase, before taking a deep breath.

“Are we gonna address the situation or are you just gonna stay silent?”

His words hit you like the fall from a roller coaster, making your stomach turn.

“Situation?” You ask.

“How your behavior changed when we reached a certain conversation topic tonight?”

You can’t read the tone in his voice, and his blank face doesn’t help either. You knew you had been exceptionally silent tonight, but you didn’t think he would notice. Suddenly, nervous that you’ve done something to make him mad, you feel your heart pound faster.

“What topic?” You ask nervously.

“How I fuck.”

You blink a few times, not expecting those words to escape his mouth. Mouth dry, heart pounding, and sweaty hands all have you quickly looking away from him, averting his gaze.

“There it is.. That look in your eye..” Seonghwa studies your face silently, taking two steps closer to you on the stairs. “You wanna know what that look tells me?” His voice drops an octave, and your stomach does another flip.

He’s killing you.

“Mhm..” You gulp as you nod, too overwhelmed to use actual words, blushing like crazy.

“It tells me you aren’t as innocent as you may seem.” He takes another step up the stairs, now only two steps separating you. “That those big eyes are pretty good at hiding what goes on in your mind, but sometimes it slips out, and they expose your thoughts without you saying a word..” He takes the last step closer to you. Now, he’s the one looking down at you, and you freeze like a prey trapped by the lion. His scent is hugging around you, making you feel dizzy. His eyes study you carefully, knowing he has you figured out. He scoffs confidently. “Tell me.. and be honest with me..” He leans forward, making it impossible to look away from him. “Are you wondering how it would be if I fucked you?”

Nervous, scared to admit the thoughts you’ve had about him the entire night, your eyes flicker away from him. He leans back a bit, a smirk growing on his face as he knows he’s onto something.

“So that’s a yes,” He says, your heart skipping a beat. The fact that he can read you so well, without you having to say a single word, makes you even more tense. You wish he would end this suffering, and either let you go or press his lips against yours, but instead, he does something different. “I’m feeling generous tonight, so instead of letting you wonder any longer, I’ll just tell you what it’s like to be fucked by me,”

You finally find the courage to look into his eyes as he’s trapping you between him and the banister. The thought of what he’s about to tell you makes the heat between your legs unbearable. He takes a deep breath, letting you mentally prepare yourself before he speaks.

“I like to be in control. I like to have them under me or on all fours in front of me. I like wrapping my hand around their hair or around their throat, forcing them to look at me,” He moves his arm around you, and you feel a slight pull in your hair. Your breathing is ragged, trying to control yourself. “I also use my tongue to make them cum. Luckily I love to eat pussy, especially if it’s from a pretty girl. But the best is when their big, pretty eyes look up at me, begging to cum and I’ll get to control when they’re allowed to let go and feel the orgasm take over.” His voice is down to a whisper, and you can’t believe what is happening right now. You have to bite your lip not to scream for him to kiss you. A smile creeps up on his lips like he’s about to mock you. “But you’re an angel, right? A good girl. You wouldn’t let me do those things to you.”

“I would.” You instantly respond, whispering only for him to hear.

“Use your words, angel. What would you like me to do to you?” He lets go of the grip on your hair and instead removes some hair from your face in a caring manner.

“Everything. Whatever you want.” You know you’re fully giving in to him, but you don’t care.

“Are you sure? I’m not sure you can handle it.” His thumb caresses your cheek.

“Try me,”

This changes something in Seonghwa’s eyes. His hand grabs the back of your head and his lips are on yours in a second. The feeling of his lips on you is like fireworks, and you can’t help but moan at the overwhelming sensation like you've been waiting for this forever. For the first time tonight, you finally feel like you can breathe.

His tongue slips past your lips, and you surrender in his grasp. Seonghwa seems just as hungry for you and starts kissing along your jaw and down your neck. You instinctively throw your head back, granting him better access. He goes in like a vampire thirsty for blood, kissing your neck, probably leaving marks. He knows what he’s doing, he knows how to make someone feel good. That makes you impatient.

“Upstairs. Come with me upstairs?” You try your best to get your words out, and you feel him smiling against your neck.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You waste no time going inside, quickly pressing the doors for the elevator to arrive. You feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, and you have to fight everything in you not to jump on him immediately.

The elevator comes, Seonghwa guides you inside, and you press the button to your floor. Impatiently, you press the button multiple times, hoping that will make it go faster.

The doors finally close, and not a split second goes by until Seonghwa has you pressed up against the wall of the elevator. His hands are on your body while kissing you down your neck and along your jaw. You want his lips on yours again, but when he starts sucking on the sweet spot on your neck, you feel your knees weaken. Fingers running through his black hair are everything you thought it would be. He continues moving his lips on your skin, leaving you thirsty for more. The elevator reaches your floor, and you quickly make your way to the apartment, Seonghwa trailing behind you. You find the keys to your apartment but fumble while trying to find the right one. While struggling, you feel Seonghwa stand close behind you, and it’s like the world is working against you.

“Patience, baby.” He grabs your waist and you feel his front against your back. A gasp at the feeling leaves between your lips, and he starts kissing your neck while you desperately try to unlock the door.

After what feels like years of getting the door unlocked, you drag Seonghwa into your apartment, and just as you close the door, Seonghwa pushes you up against it. He grabs both of your hands and holds them above your head with one of his.

“Am I terrible for wanting to drive you home, in hopes that this would happen?” He starts kissing your neck again, and you close your eyes at the way his tongue works on your skin.

“No.”

“Tell me, angel..” He moves further down and starts kissing your collarbones. “What was running through your mind tonight? And don’t lie to me.”

“I wondered.. what the others said.”

“What did they say?”

He makes it nearly impossible for you to speak as he continues kissing further down your chest.

“Not to let your nice personality fool me... That you made someone.. see heaven and hell at the same time.” Your words have him standing up fully, letting go of the hold on your hands above your head and he’s back to look into your eyes.

“Baby.. I’ll drag the angel in you down to hell with me. Can I?” He moved some hair out of your face again, and you’re shocked with his way of changing style. He could be dragging his lips and tongue all over you one second, and making sure you look pretty the next.

“Uh huh..” You nod, and a smirk forms on his lips as he studies the features on your face.

“I’m gonna feel bad for ruining this angel face of yours,” His smirk grows into a smile. ”But you’re gonna look so perfect after.” His index finger runs down the side of your face, and you quickly start to feel yourself go crazy. Seonghwa’s lips hover just above yours, making you desperate.

“Kiss me.” Your words come out like a cry for help, not being able to long for his lips against yours anymore.

It’s like he’s enjoying seeing you fumble. He loves to hear you beg for his touch, his lips, him.

He looks down at your parted lips and goes in. His soft lips press against yours, and instinctively, your body responds to him. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth, and you allow every move he makes. Hands cupping your face, yours decide to pull him closer. You need him as close as humanly possible.

Slowly, his hands travel down your body, testing the waters. Of course, he doesn’t want to do something you aren’t comfortable with, despite you verbally already telling him to do anything he wants with you. But little do you know. He has been thinking of this for a week straight, not being able to think of anything else but you under his touch. So trying not to rush this, wanting to enjoy every second, Seonghwa is taking his sweet time.

The kiss deepens, and you feel his hands travel further downward until they rest on your ass. A light squeeze makes you pull him closer, and not wanting to waste any more time, his hands travel under your thighs to pull you up. You do a small jump before wrapping your legs around his waist, and you take the opportunity to kiss his neck. A small grunt escapes Seonghwa from your lips on his skin, as he makes his way to your bedroom with you wrapped around him.

“Are you trying to drive me insane, angel?” He opens the door to your bedroom and you’re thrown on the bed a second later. Looking up at him from the mattress, you can’t wait for whatever is about to happen. The way he's looking at you, you know you’re in for something big.

Seonghwa crawls on top of you, leaving kisses all over your body on his way.

“You know how much I’ve been thinking about this?” His lips run over your chest as he unbuttons your shirt. “Last time I was in your apartment, after the party... You were looking at my lips like you were about to kiss me and I had to fight everything in me not to fuck you right then and there on the couch.”

Your fingers run through his hair, reminded of the first night you spoke to Seonghwa.

“I’m a horrible friend.” You say, reminded by your best friend’s admiration for Seonghwa. You’re letting a moan escape your lips when he kisses your sweet spot, not wanting him to stop. His lips leave your skin and he hovers over you, his hands on each side of your head as he looks down at you.

“Your best friend is fucking Mingi as we speak. Besides,” His lips softly press against yours in a gentle kiss. “I bet you’ve been thinking about me too, haven’t you, angel?”

He had been the only thing in your head for a week, of course.

You nod, looking up at him.

“Gosh, I wanna fuck you,” He smacks his lips against yours as his fingers open the rest of the buttons on your shirt. Shortly after, your bra is exposed, and a smile creeps up on Seonghwa’s lips. “So fucking beautiful.”

He helps you out of your clothes, and suddenly you're fully exposed in front of him. Your cheeks redden as he looks all over your body, admiring every single curve of your skin. Quickly, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. His other hand is busy massaging the other, and you feel every part of you starting to become sensitive to his touch.

Seonghwa slowly makes his way down, kissing you all the way until his head is right above your heat. He starts teasing you, placing light kisses on your thighs, purposely avoiding your pussy.

“Seonghwa, please.” You can’t stand waiting anymore.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for longer than you could imagine. I’m taking my time, but I do enjoy hearing you beg.”

Before you get to say another word, Seonghwa dives in and directly starts licking you between your folds. He holds your legs open to get the best access, and you feel your eyes roll back in pleasure. His tongue finds your hole and goes slightly in, making your hands grab the sheets.

“You taste so sweet, baby, like fucking dessert.” He says against your pussy, before slowly dragging his tongue up along your slit, enjoying seeing you squirm.

“Please Hwa,” You manage to say when he starts sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it, knowing that if he keeps doing exactly this, you’ll be coming in just a few seconds. "Your tongue.. It feels so good."

Seonghwa smirks at your words but seems to notice how close you already are and slows down.

“You couldn't even look me in the eyes earlier... Like after you knew how I fuck, you became afraid of me. Did you, angel?”

“No.”

“Then why did you look away?”

“Because-” Your words are cut short when he fastens the speed of his tongue again. “I got shy.” A loud moan escapes your lips when your legs start to shake and he enters a finger in your hole, curling it upwards so it hits a specific spot.

“I’ll make you a promise... When I’m done with you, you’re gonna be begging me to fuck you from now on. No more hiding or looking away. Okay?” Seonghwa brings his tongue back on you as he starts pumping his finger in and out of you. A muffled moan escapes you as you bite your lip. “I said; okay?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.” He adds another finger before the speed quickens once again, and you’re sure you’re about to cum at any moment.

“Seonghwa.. I’m-”

“Not yet, angel,” He doesn’t change the speed he’s going, only making it harder for you to hold back the overwhelming sensation forming in your stomach. “You can hold it back a little more, can’t you?”

You almost want to cry from the emotions you’re feeling, his tongue going in circles over your clit. The grip on your bed sheets tightens, and just before you’re about to give up and let the orgasm take over, everything stands still. Like you’re on a rollercoaster, seeing the big fall right in front of you, but you’re stuck at the top. You look down to see Seonghwa removing himself from you, and you throw your head back.

Your heart is pounding fast against your chest like you’ve been running a marathon, and you release the air you’ve been holding for so long.

“You did so well, angel. I thought you were about to go against my words for a second,” He crawls back on top of you, and you see that he’s only in his boxers. You had been too focused on him eating you out, you didn’t see what else was going on around you. “You’re a good slut, aren’t you?” His finger travels down the side of your face in a caring manner.

Never had someone called you ‘slut’ in this setting, but when it came from Seonghwa, it only made you even more turned on. Yet, he still finds a way to intimidate you with his words, and your eyes flicker away from him.

“Angel, are you getting shy again?” His finger travels down to your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. You’re completely under his spell as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you, do you understand?”

Not being able to wait any longer, you impatiently nod as you’re biting your lip.

“I can’t hear you, angel.”

“Yes!”

Seonghwa lets go of you before taking off his boxers, and your mouth starts to water when you see his cock pressed against his stomach. It’s bigger than you thought it would be, glistening with pre-cum.

“Get on your knees and turn towards the mirror.” He instructs, and your cheeks heat up from what is about to happen. You do as he says, your body turning against the full-body mirror facing your bed. You watch him through the mirror as he gets in bed and you feel his front against your back. His cock presses up against you, and you can’t wait to have it inside you, stretching you out.

You meet his eyes in the mirror and he sends you a smile as his hands travel on your body. “So fucking beautiful.” His lips leave kisses on your shoulder while he wraps his arm around you and runs a finger in between your folds. You respond with a muffled moan from how sensitive you are, and he slowly raises his finger to your mouth. You notice how glistening it is from how wet you are, and before you know it, Seonghwa has his fingers in your mouth.

The taste of yourself spreads on your tongue, only adding to your list of things you’ve never tried before, but are happy to do with Seonghwa.

“Have you been this wet since you heard how I fuck? You probably undressed me with your eyes while the others were around, wondering how I look as I fuck you stupid.” He removed his fingers from your mouth. “But no need to wait any longer, angel. You really think you can take it?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

A second later, Seonghwa enters you and you almost fall forward if he hadn’t held onto you. His arm wraps around your waist, steadying you while you get used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hips are touching, skin against skin when he slowly starts to pull out before entering fully again.

The feeling is overwhelming, and your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder.

“Holy fuck, angel,” His speed slowly increases, and both of his hands go to grab your waist, holding your sturdy. "You make me want to keep you all to myself. So perfect around my cock, don't you think?"

The sound of him fucking you quickly becomes the only thing in your mind, as you close your eyes to hold yourself from screaming.

He fastens the speed even more, and you let out a loud moan. One of his hands goes to your neck, and he slowly wraps his slender fingers around your throat to keep you in place.

“Open your eyes,” He demands and you do as he says, feeling his hips slam against yours. As soon as you open your eyes, you see yourself getting fucked by Seonghwa through the mirror. His eyes are so full of passion and lust as they keep their focus on you, while his dick pounds deep inside of you. You've never seen yourself while getting fucked, but you love the view of you and Seonghwa. “Do you see how beautiful you look with my cock inside you? So fucking obedient and good, you were made for me, angel.”

Seonghwa lets go of your neck and a hard thrust has you falling forward, not being able to hold yourself up any longer. He continues to thrust deep inside you, grabbing the flesh on your hips so hard, it probably (hopefully) leaves marks tomorrow.

You feel a tug in your hair, and you look up to see Seonghwa have his hand wrapped around your hair, forcing you to look into the mirror, and the sight turns you on to the fullest. Seonghwa is so deep inside of you, and you can’t help but look at how absolutely gorgeous he looks. His black, wavy hair is damp and a mess, sweat glistening on his chest, and a crease on his forehead from the passion he puts into fucking you. He grunts your name as he meets your eyes in the mirror, and you feel the thrusts deepen.

Your arms lose their strength and you fall down, face down, and ass up. This allows Seonghwa to lean over you, and you almost feel him deeper inside of you. He lets go of your hair and you feel his weight on you as he places kisses on your shoulders and your back as his cock works in and out of you. You moan his name into the bed, not being able to think of anything else but him railing into you.

“You take my cock so fucking good, just like the good little slut you are.”

His dominant side is so evident, that you’re wondering how he’s capable of hiding it normally. You didn’t ever think he’d be so controlling, but it turns you on seeing this nice guy turn into an absolute animal in bed.

You suddenly understand what the girl from the library meant. With the way he's fucking you into the mattress, you're not sure how you're gonna be able to walk tomorrow.

You feel yourself clench around him, quickly feeling your orgasm approach once again. A moan escapes Seonghwa at the feeling and he knows you’re about to have your orgasm take over.

“I wanna see you while you come on my cock.” Seonghwa pulls out of you and rolls you over so you’re lying on your back. Your legs wrap around his waist as he enters you again, another moan about to leave your lips when he leans down to press his lips against yours.

This takes you slightly by surprise, but in desperate need of his lips against yours, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hips start to move again, quickly picking up the speed to chase both of your orgasms.

“Fuck, baby.. I feel you clench around my cock. Are you gonna cum?” He says, looking down at you.

“Y-Yes!”

"I'll let you finish if you beg like a good girl."

He's killing you with his words, but you can't hold back anymore, You've been trying to hold back for so long, that you feel like you're going to pass out.

"Please, please!"

"Please what?" He keeps the speed, not going faster, not going slower.

"Please let me cum, Hwa!" You’re begging him to let you cum, not being able to hold back much longer.

As if something changed in him, he quickly puts your legs on his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You feel him even deeper, hitting the perfect spot in your cunt.

“You’re going to cum on my cock, alright? You begged so obediently after all.” He smirks down at you as the pace of his thrust quickens, hitting the perfect spot every time. “Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

Shortly after, you feel the buildup in your entire lower region spread like wildfire throughout your entire body. Your toes curl, fingers grab the bed and your head rolls back in pleasure. An uninhibited release of control runs through your entire body and you clench around his cock. You've never felt this intensity of an orgasm before. Moaning Seonghwa’s name along with your orgasm taking over you, has him quickly feeling his orgasm approach as well. You look up at him, pleasure written all over your face.

“Holy shit, baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Cum inside me, please.”

A smirk creeps up on Seonghwa’s lips. “Look at you, not so shy anymore, are we?”

He fucks you hard and fast, looking down at you as you still feel your own orgasm. You moan once again, clenching around his cock and that’s enough to send Seonghwa over the edge. One last deep thrust has him emptying himself inside you, and you feel the warmth from his cum. His movements stop as he takes his time to feel his orgasm, closing his eyes in pleasure.

The sight in front of you leaves you addicted to him, so you start wiggling under him, trying to milk more cum out of him. His eyes open and he looks down at his cock inside of you, grinning as he lets you wiggle under him. He then slowly pulls out of you, enjoying the sight of his cum leaking out of you. He helps your legs down from his shoulders before slowly leaning forward to kiss you gently on your lips.

His hand cups your cheek in a loving manner as the kiss deepens, but the kiss seems different from the others. This one is so full of care, protection, and softness.

He pulls back, looking down at you in a way that wouldn’t make you believe he just railed you into next week.

“So… Was I too hard on you?” He asks with genuine nervousness in his voice.

“No, you were perfect.” You smile, and he quickly looks relieved before he pecks your lips and gets comfortable in your bed.

“Come here, angel.” He opens his arms for you to lie down, and you immediately throw yourself into his arms. "Is it okay if I stay the night?" He asks softly as you wrap your arms around his stomach and he holds you close, resting his head on yours.

"Honestly speaking, I think I'd be pretty pissed if you just left." You smile, getting comfortable in his arms.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes, deciding to enjoy this moment with Seonghwa. “Goodnight, angel.”

You’re already half asleep, listening to the beating of his heart, wishing you could do this every night.

(I’ve been thinking about writing a part 2 of this fic, let me know if that’s something you would like!)

#ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fic #smut #female reader

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astraystayyh · 1 year

Text

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

6K notes · View notes

niningtori · 2 months

Text

supermodel | oneshot

part two

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after beomgyu ghosts you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, your close friend asks you if she can date him instead. you, being the pushover you are, say yes. but beomgyu's not done bothering you.

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! cheating (but it's lowkey justified if you ask me), unprotected sex (no!), oral (f. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, manipulative!beomgyu if you squint (lmk if you catch it lmao), if i missed anything lmk

word count: 6k (ouuu... definitely not 13k i'm sorry anon my love)

notes: ...hi. so, as most of my followers know, i primarily write angst. this is my first time ever posting smut on here and i genuinely don't know if it's any good. if it's bad,,,, i'm sorry in advance!! see ending for more notes :)

you do not like beomgyu. you don't like the way he keeps his hair so long, or the way he tucks it behind his ears when he's focused. you don't like that he has the same music taste as you and how much of a snob he is about it. you don't like the way he laughs obnoxiously loud and you especially don't like the way his cheeks dimple like little whiskers when he does it. no, you don't like beomgyu one bit.

it hasn't always been like this. there was a time, albeit brief and fleeting, that you really liked the aforementioned grievances you've grown to hate so much. in fact, you liked them so much, you even liked the boy himself. that ship has sailed, though. and it sails further and further as you watch him cuddle up even closer to one of your closest friends, hana. you aren't a bitter person, really. you're usually pretty laidback, all things considered, so when hana asked you if she could date the boy who ghosted you after three (what you thought were) really successful dates, you said yes.

do you regret agreeing? well, how can you regret it when hana looks so happy? in fact, she looks happier than ever as beomgyu discreetly places his hand on her inner thigh. oh man. you think you're gonna be sick.

meeting beomgyu was like a meet cute in a romcom. you were alone in a cafe (cliché, but true) when he pulled up a seat and sat next to you. he was cute, he was charming, and, most surprisingly, he was actually really funny. he made you giggle more than once and you almost couldn't believe someone so seemingly perfect wanted anything to do with you, but he did. he was extremely eager, if anything, because as soon as you gave him your number, he texted you asking if you wanted to go out sometime. you, with your innocent heart, could only agree.

your first date was at that same cafe. he had memorized your order, even though he had only met you once, and you felt so flattered your heart skipped a beat. you're a little on the shyer side, but he was able to pull you out of your shell with ease. you'd later find out he has the ability to do that with everyone, but back then, you were amazed by how naturally he pulled it off.

after your first date, you'd texted all your friends about it. they asked for pictures and details, but you said it was too early and you didn't want to jinx it. you're the type to try not to get too caught up in the moment in favor of being more realistic, so it had been a pleasant surprise for most of your friends to hear how excited you were. this could really be something special, you thought.

and special, it was. your second date had been at a nice restaurant you'd never heard of. beomgyu was pulling out all the stops for you and spared nothing when it came to giving you the royal treatment. he was courteous and kind, but still mischievously flirty. you were enamored with everything about him. you were used to being treated kindly on dates, of course, but you had never seen anything quite like beomgyu. it seemed like he couldn't get enough of you, which was a novel feeling, though totally welcomed.

you finally felt confident enough to tell your friends all about him. when asked, you had no problem divulging all the finer details of your dates. you had nothing but praises for him, and even sent one of his instagram pictures to show off his good looks. most of them were taken aback at how handsome he was. hana, however, was not at all surprised. it shocked you to find out that she knew beomgyu, and knew him well. she had floated in the same circle of friends with him in college and you were pleased to find out that he had always been a really nice guy, if a little flighty at times, but he had never been that way with you. plus, it seemed to you that he had matured quite a bit. for once in your life, you got your hopes up. but, like most things, you would come to regret it.

your third and final date had been simple enough. he had asked you to come hang out at his place, but said his friends would likely be coming and going. it was nice. it was intimate. his apartment was small and a little messy, but filled with personality. you smiled when you saw polaroids he had taken of (and with) his friends adorning his bedroom walls. he seemed really sentimental, actually, but you liked that about him. you liked everything about him, really.

so when he leaned in for a kiss while watching some dumb old slasher flick, you closed your eyes and prepared to meet his warm lips. this was real. you would have a boyfriend, a near perfect one. and he liked you. he really, really liked you. what more could you ask for? but you never expected that a phone call would pull you out of your daze. you checked the caller id and immediately became worried. hana very rarely called you, but she said she was having an emergency and you, being the good friend you are, had to bail on beomgyu. the emergency in question was her having a meltdown over some guy she had never even mentioned, but had apparently really liked. you had no choice but to go to her place, bringing a tub of ice cream and all of her favorite snacks in tow. beomgyu said he understood, because of course he did, and said he would text you with other plans.

when he, in fact, did not text you first with plans, you had opted to text him yourself. you figured he had just forgotten or something, so you simply greeted him and apologized again for having to leave. it seems so fucking stupid to you now — the way you waited so anxiously by the phone for a reply that would never come. you remember staying up all night and jolting every time your phone buzzed. you were anxiously awaiting a text, a call, fucking anything, really. but it was pointless. after a few days of radio silence on beomgyu's end, you had pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that he would never respond. what did you do to scare him away? you thought you had done everything right, but you must’ve come on too strong or something. you felt utterly humiliated.

you were in your head again. it wouldn't surprise you if you had imagined the whole fucking thing, actually. but a few weeks later, hana had texted you asking if you were okay with her dating the boy you'd been waiting for. she seemed so hopeful and so happy, how could you say no? just because it didn't work out between you two didn't mean that it couldn't work out between them. maybe, deep down, the ugliest parts of you kind of hoped it wouldn't, but when she texted you with all the filthy details of the first time they hooked up, you knew you were thinking too highly of yourself.

beomgyu doesn't like you, and even if his refusal to text you back wasn't enough of an indication that that's the case, his attitude towards you while dating hana tells you everything you need to know. the way he manages to antagonize you over what would normally be completely menial things should be studied. when you trip over your words, he makes a point to call it out and laugh, which results in you, of course, tripping over your words even more. when you look like shit, he makes sarcastic comments along the lines of "oh i see you've decided to really doll yourself up this evening". what's worse is you're so non-confrontational, you just let him chirp.

what you don't know is that the more unbothered you look, the more eager he is to elicit a reaction out of you. it drives him crazy how nothing seems to drive you crazy, so he pushes and pushes, but it's like a fist landing on cotton. he's on the brink of madness trying to get you to say something, anything. but you never do. you just smile or shake your head and it's all he can do not to snap.

you’re at your favorite bar when you meet him. you’re not alone, or at least you shouldn’t be, but hana has gone outside to make a call. usually, you’d be the first one to accompany her, but you’re honestly not in the mood to hear her flirt with beomgyu (or beomie bear, as she calls him) over the phone. you never are, really, but especially not now as you down another shot of whatever the bartender has deemed as “the strongest shit they’ve got.” you don’t think you look particularly attractive at the moment, but when jay sees you, he’s flocking towards you.

“hey,” he says with a smile as he slides onto the stool next to yours.

“hey,” you reply shyly. are you imagining things or did he seriously just blush at your answer?

“i-i’m jay.” you can’t help but giggle at how nervous he seems. cute.

you take the time to introduce yourself and jay seems relieved that you’re actually receptive to his awkwardness. you like the way it feels to be in control for once. you like the way it feels to be wanted so much. so when he asks you if you want to go out in the near future, you say yes.

in the midst of your conversation, hana comes sauntering back in with a dopey grin on her face. she has, no doubt, just gotten off the phone with beomgyu if her satisfied expression is any indication. her satisfaction turns into surprise when she registers who’s sitting next to you.

“jay?!” she exclaims, taken aback by the familiar boy next to you.

“hana? oh my god, how are you?” he asks, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “we went to college together,” he explains when they part. your previous happiness crumbles in an instant. the nasty part of you wonders if she knows fucking everybody you’re interested in, but you shut it down mercilessly. it's not hana’s fault she's so likable. it's your fault for not being more so, actually.

“i’m good,” she says with a light giggle. they catch up for a moment before she drops an atomic bomb. “you know, i’m actually with beomgyu now.”

“damn, really? i thought that would never actually happen,” he replies, genuine shock falling across his sculpted features. your interest can’t help but be piqued at this.

“what makes you say that?” she asks rather defensively. jay can tell he messed up from her tone and he backtracks immediately.

“o-oh nothing. i just never pegged you two as compatible, but congratulations! i know you’ve liked him for a long time.” ?... ??...???? what the hell?

“what is he talking about?” you can’t help but ask confusedly. hana looks thoroughly reddened as she fumbles for an explanation.

“i-i liked beomie back in college. n-nothing major!” she stammers. you can do nothing but stare. she liked beomgyu and she never told you? well, you were half in love with the boy after three dates and you’re still half in love with him, actually, so it’s not particularly surprising that she fell for him, but the fact that she never mentioned it feels iffy at best. jay can sense the tension, and he cleverly excuses himself with:

“shit, my friends are here. i’ll text you soon?” he says, looking to you for confirmation. you manage to muster up a smile and a nod, but you’re still disturbed by this revelation.

“... are you mad?” hana asks tentatively.

“n-no. of course not!” you say with conviction, but deep down, you know you’re uncomfortable. she probably knows it, too, but she doesn’t pry much further.

“i’m glad you’re not mad,” she sighs. “anyway, it’s not like you’re dating him now.” she pokes at the sore spot on your heart with ease. maybe if she were more sober, she’d see the hurt on your face, but as it is, she doesn’t register a thing.

so hana liked beomgyu back in college? why hadn’t she told you? well, you guess it doesn’t make a difference now. she’s with him. you’re not. what else is there to say, really? but in the back of your mind, gears start turning. you just don’t know it yet.

hana has been a lot nicer to you than usual after that night at the bar. she’s always nice, but she seems hellbent on making sure your prospective date with jay goes well. you suppose it’s her way of making it up to you for withholding her secret crush on beomgyu from you. to be honest, there’s no real reason for her to do so, but you accept her kindness graciously. now, the night before your big date, she’s practically hounding you with questions.

“what are you gonna wear?” she asks over the phone.

“mmm, i dunno yet,” you hum into the speaker. you really don’t know. jay invited you to a house party, which is not the most romantic place in the world, but hana convinced you that he’s just awkward and a group setting (with drinks, no less) would loosen him up. you realize that you want to impress him. you want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room, but nothing you have in your closet quite fits the bill.

“ooh, i know! you can just borrow one of my dresses. what about the black one? the one you complimented last time we went out! i won’t be home tomorrow night, but i’ll leave the key under the mat, okay? so just come grab it when you’re free!” she sounds proud of herself for coming up with that. you don’t have the heart to tell her it’s a little too scandalous for you, so you grit your teeth and accept her peace offering.

“mmm, yeah. that sounds good. thank you, hana,�� you reply.

“pay attention to meeee,” you hear a deep voice cut in from over the phone. beomgyu. you try not to think about the way your heart aches when you hear him (very loudly) plant a kiss on… some part of her body. you’re not exactly sure where it is, but you falter when you hear her reaction.

“beomie, ah, not there,” hana moans and you feel a pang in your chest. “hey, i’ve gotta go, okay?” you don’t have to imagine what they’re about to do and it hurts.

“okay,” you say with a bitter smile, but the call drops before you can even reply.

it’s finally the night of the date and you’re anxious, to put it mildly. you don’t know how long you spent trying to get your hair and makeup right, but an ungodly amount of time has passed. you’re almost tempted to skip getting the dress from hana’s apartment, but you really don’t have anything else that suits the occasion, so you begrudgingly hail a cab over to her place.

you enter her apartment and head toward her bedroom, where the pretty black dress is waiting for you. with a sigh, you strip out of your sweats and shimmy into the dress. you look in hana's bedroom mirror and you have to admit that you look pretty good. you feel a lot more confident going out with a guy as handsome as jay now. as you’re fixing up your hair one last time, you’re stunned to hear the apartment door opening. she’s home? weird, but welcome. you need a second pair of eyes on you.

“hey! how do i look?” you say with a smile as you exit her bedroom, but you’re not greeted with hana’s smiling face. instead, you’re met with beomgyu’s frown.

“w-what are you doing here?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

“this is my girlfriend’s apartment. what are you doing here?” you thought he had heard over the phone that you’d be here to pick up the dress tonight. but then, you supposed that he may have been a little preoccupied sucking the skin off of hana to really pay attention to much else. you’re so busy over analyzing this, you don’t even notice how intently beomgyu is staring at you now. even if you did, you’d probably misread it as ridicule rather than what it truly is.

“nothing, i-i’m on my way out,” you reply simply. with that, you start trying to walk past him. before you can, though, he’s asking you questions.

"you're seriously going out with him? in that, too?” he asks, disgust apparent. at least, that’s what it sounds like to you. your eyes survey your own attire and you feel extremely small in this moment, all things considered. normally, you'd shut down and second guess yourself. maybe you do look a little ridiculous in this tiny dress and maybe going out with jay is a bad in idea. maybe he's just fucking with your head and maybe he'll toss you away just like beomgyu did. maybe, maybe, maybe. but then? maybe not. and even if he does, you don't want to hear any of that shit from beomgyu of all people.

"oh, fuck you, beomgyu."

he looks perfectly scandalized by your comment. you’ve never talked back to him before, and certainly not like this. his eyebrows raise and his jaw drops before he can finally choke out the words "e-excuse me?"

"i said fuck you. i really don't give a shit about what you have to say anymore."

you're again trying to barrel past him but he steps in front of the door, scowl etched into his pretty features.

"what? are you mad at me now?" you say mockingly. "well, you don't get to be mad at me. move."

it is genuinely amazing to see beomgyu as he is now. he looks like a child who's floundering for a comeback.

"w-why are you mad? i'm just looking out for you!" oh, you can't help but laugh in his face at that one. he winces when you do.

"my god, that's rich coming from you. what's the worst that could happen? we go on a couple of dates and then he ghosts me? can't say it hasn't happened before."

"th-that's different!" he sputters, face flushing beet red.

"different how?!" you counter. he’s such a fucking hypocrite. you're not the type to get so riled up, but his words have you seeing red. his next words, even more so.

"you... you don't even like me!"

"and why exactly would i like the man who ghosted me, again? you can kick rocks for all i care!" you try to steady your breathing. blowing up like this right before your first date with jay can't be good for your head. luckily, it seems like beomgyu is still fishing for words when you regain your composure. "whatever. i'm done. goodbye, beomgyu." you reach around him for the door handle, but he slams it shut.

"what the fuck?!" you exclaim exasperatedly.

"you don't understand," beomgyu says, voice trembling and eyes scarlet. "hana said you didn't like me."

"hana? what does hana have to do with — oh." oh.

"she said you didn't like me and thought i was obnoxious. she told me she called and interrupted our date because you wanted her to.”

“why didn’t you just ask, beomgyu? i liked you!” you exclaim. he ruined everything all because of a few words from someone else?

“why would i ask when hana told me that you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

"so you believed hana instead of just opening your fucking mouth? what, does she wipe your ass and spoon feed you, too?

“watch your mouth,” beomgyu says lowly.

“or what?” you taunt with a smirk. “you’ll be mad? is beomie bear gonna lose his temper?” you’re on your tiptoes now, face mere inches away from his. where you got the confidence to provoke the man who towers over you even on the worst of days, you have no idea, but the idea of seeing beomgyu squirm is lighting a fire in you you didn’t know existed. is he gonna hit you? scream in your face? you’re excited to see how he reacts. when his gaze flickers from your smiling eyes to your lips, you don’t even get half a second to question his odd look when his lips come crashing down onto yours.

his big hands grip the back of your head, holding you in place as he punishes your lips with a force you’ve only ever dreamt about. his lips are chapped and you can taste a hint of his favorite lip balm, which he had smeared on just before his arrival. you’re too shocked to move, you’re too shocked to do anything besides gasp when he bites your bottom lip. he takes your open mouth as permission to shove his warm tongue into it. you want to say the kiss is full of fire, and it is, but there’s an overwhelming sense of gentleness, too. it’s hard to put into words, so instead of trying to, you let yourself melt into the feeling. he takes your acquiescence as a sign to go even further. at this point, he’s practically dragging you over to the couch. you’re surprised at how you don’t even attempt to resist when he pushes you down. you’re seated now and he licks his lips hungrily as he lifts your pathetic excuse for a dress off of your body and tosses it somewhere behind the couch. his eyes alight with something akin to raw anger when he takes note of the fact that you are, in fact, not wearing a bra.

“you were seriously gonna go out like that? what a whore,” he says menacingly. you’re now clad in nothing but your favorite pair of underwear. you would usually feel insecure in front of such an intense gaze, but beomgyu looks at you like he wants to devour every part of you. and he will, with time.

“i thought jay would like it,” you shrug. his eyes burn even brighter and he looks like he’s on the brink of snapping. god, fucking with him is so exhilarating. is this how he feels when he’s trying to get under your skin? maybe you do understand why he antagonizes you, actually. this shit feels amazing.

he kneels down before you and possessively kisses your neck until it's numb — pouring out hot kisses and sucking on the skin there like he’s staking his claim. it’s almost like he’s daring another man to touch you, and he doesn’t have to say anything because it’s like you already understand his intentions, and you revel in it.

his lips travel down to your breasts and they almost ache in anticipation. cruelly, he avoids your pert nipples and opts to circle his tongue around them, sucking on the soft skin and leaving marks in his wake. one of his hands move down to your underwear and he stops his teasing when he feels how wet you are.

“j-jesus, is all this for me?” you’re too embarrassed to respond. he’s trying to keep his cool, but he’s taken aback by how soaked you are. he was already hard just from the kiss alone, but now he aches. he slides your underwear to the side and actually groans when he sees your slickness for himself. slowly, teasingly, he finds his way to your clit and you let out a soft gasp when he finally touches it. you’re unable to stifle a moan when he gingerly takes one of his long, calloused fingers and begins to push it into your cunt.

“t-tight!” he hisses. “how am i gonna fit?” you’d roll your eyes in annoyance at his self-aggrandizing words if you could muster up anything other than the feeling of pure bliss as he slides another finger in. he’s kneeling between your legs, and you feel some sort of sick satisfaction as you watch the boy lick his lips before trailing opened-mouth kisses on your thighs as he inches closer and closer to your cunt.

you feel his cool breath against your core and you’re seconds away from begging him to continue, but he seems even more eager than you are as he quickly buries his face into your heat. his first lick is long and slow, but you can feel the vibrations from his moan and it reverberates through your legs all the way to your toes. as if he’s a man starved, he messily licks and sucks on your pussy while pumping his fingers in and out mercilessly. you have to hold onto his long hair, not because you want to hurt him, but because it’s the only thing keeping you sane. when he hooks his fingers, you can’t help but call out his name.

“b-beomgyu!” his darkened eyes snap up to meet yours while his pace becomes even more punishing and, before you know it, you’re spasming around his fingers. he should stop there, but he continues with little kitten licks until you’re begging him to show you mercy.

he reluctantly parts from your cunt and you can see evidence of your release dripping down his chin. his messy hair, his soaked face, his fucking everything looks like it’s been branded by you and you can’t help but gulp, heat pooling in your stomach again, far too soon after your intense orgasm. usually, a man would wipe his face and clean himself up, but he does nothing of the sort as he leans towards you and practically pleads with you to kiss him.

“so good, want you to taste it,” he says simply as he pulls you in for another filthy kiss. he looks possessed, almost, by your taste. by your scent. by you.

your cum mixed with the taste of beomgyu himself is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. he wraps his tongue around yours, as if he’s selflessly just trying to share this new discovery.

he unbuckles his own pants like a madman, hastily yanking them down. so hypnotized, he doesn’t even think to take them off all the way, nevermind his shirt. his cock springs up and it’s thick and long, the angry veins juxtaposing from his perfect, doll-like face. he was right. you don’t know how he’ll fit in your tight pussy.

still, he ruts his bare cock against your throbbing cunt and you both moan when it accidentally catches against your entrance.

“c-condom?” you ask breathily.

“p-please, please just let me feel you. i can pull out,” he whines. who are you to say no to a man begging?

“...o-okay,” you begin to choke out, and almost before you can even finish, he’s pushing himself in. you both groan at the feeling. he meets resistance before he’s even halfway in and his eyes redden with a lust so strong it almost scares you.

“s-so tight, so perfect for me,” he says before pulling out and harshly ramming himself back in, sheathing himself completely in you. your eyes begin to sting with pure pleasure. he sits for a moment, just enjoying the way your pussy sucks him in. nothing in your life has ever made you feel this heavenly. not that you’re going to heaven, especially after this, and certainly not if hana has anything to say about it. oh my god, hana.

“w-wait,” you interrupt before he can pull out again. “we can’t! hana—”

“don’t give a fuck about hana. j-jus’ want you,” he slurs with that lisp that you love so much. and that’s when he really starts. ruthlessly, he sets his pace. ramming into you as the filthy sounds of skin against skin and slick against slick permeate the room. his head lulls back in sheer ecstasy and you’re crying out his name over and over, like a mantra. it’s the only thing chaining you to reality. that, and his viselike grip on your thighs.

“so g-good, so warm. never h-had a pussy this good before,” he praises as he continues drilling into you. one of his hands snakes its way to your clit and you’re seeing stars. hot tears spring in your eyes and you’re literally crying as his cock pushes you further and further off the deep end.

“so fucking good for me. you wouldn't even care if i came inside, would you, slut? walking around in that tiny dress, just begging to be fucked.”

“n-no! i’m not begging f-for anything,” you manage to choke out.

“really? but you look pretty fucking desperate right now. should i stop?” he asks with a mean smile, slowing down the speed of his hips snapping into yours.

“please don’t! i-i’m sorry. please don’t stop!” you whimper. he wasn’t gonna stop, anyway, but watching tears pour out of your eyes at the mere thought of his cock not being inside of you brings him to another level of smugness.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i won’t stop. i’ll give you exactly what you need.”

“b-beomie!” you cry. “not gonna last much longer!”

“me neither, pretty girl. fuck, come with me, okay?” he hisses.

“come inside?” you plead. he almost stills at this, but his brutal pace never stops despite it all.

“fuck! i knew that good girl act was a sham. you want me to get you pregnant so everyone knows who you belong to?”

“yes! d-don’t care. just want you,” you whine, mirroring his words from earlier. that’s enough to make him lose himself. his resolve snaps and he’s painting the inside of your walls while you helplessly clench around him. it takes a minute to catch your breath and you can’t help but lock eyes with beomgyu as he stays buried in your warmth. his gaze is still lustful, that much you know, but there’s an unknown feeling teeming in his eyes, too.

gingerly, he pulls out and you both watch as his cum trickles out of you. his eyes are alight with fascination and you don’t doubt for a second that he wants to lap it all up and feed it right back to you, but he doesn’t. he simply grabs your cheeks and pulls you in for another heavy kiss.

“wanted to do this for so long,” he says after you part.

“how long?” you can’t help but ask.

“since i saw you sitting alone at the café,” he shrugs and smiles shyly. he’s wanted you since he first saw you, which is enough to make you grin, but the blissful smile is wiped off of your face when you remember beomgyu isn’t just some random guy who’s attracted to you. he’s hana’s boyfriend.

you know now that she orchestrated the downfall of your relationship with beomgyu, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty as hell for fucking her boyfriend on her couch. oh my god, what have you done? you fucked your friend’s boyfriend in her own home. not only that, but you fucked raw and even let him come inside. you shiver when you recount his nasty words about getting you pregnant, and he really might’ve. you’re not on the pill or anything. oh god.

“i-i need to get out of here,” you say frantically. you hurriedly push him off of you and wince when you feel his cum leaking out of your cunt. you stumble to the bedroom, legs still weak from what just transpired, and grab your sweats and snake them back on.

“what are you doing?” beomgyu asks, confused and somewhat annoyed that you’ve effectively ruined the mood.

“i’m getting the fuck out of here. this… this whole thing was a mistake,” you say, on the verge of tears. you don't even deserve to cry, honestly, but you want to, anyway.

“a-a mistake? why? wait, don’t go!” he says, stepping in front of you again.

“beomgyu, are you fucking with me? you’re with hana! why wouldn’t this be a mistake? oh my god, and i-i’m not — i don’t take birth control. we really might’ve… fuck just move, please!” you plead. you think you might be on the verge of a panic attack, tears and snot streaming down your face. you just wish he would fucking move so you could get out of here and start fixing everything because the guilt you feel just by seeing his face is all-consuming. there’s no way you can face hana again after this. you’ll cut her out of your life, and when you’re courageous enough, you’ll tell her what you did to her. you’ll lose hana and all the rest of your friends once they hear about what kind of person you really are. and as for beomgyu, well, knowing hana, she’ll stay with him and you’ll be the homewrecker in this story.

“hey, shh, it’s okay,” beomgyu coos softly, taking your tear-streaked face in his big, warm hands. “talk to me. what are you thinking?” “i… i ruined everything,” you begin with a sob. “i hurt hana. you hurt hana. a-and everybody’s going to be so fucking mad at me. god, she’s never going to forgive me.”

“listen,” he says softly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the tears falling down your cheeks. “she lied to you, and she lied to me, too.”

“because she loves you, beomgyu. she only did it because she loves you so much,” you argue, tearing your face from his grasp, but he only locks his arms around your waist instead.

“and what about me? what about how i feel?”

“what are you trying to say?” you sniffle.

“i’m saying i meant it when i said i don’t give a fuck about hana. i’m sorry, but i don’t. i never did,” he says as if he’s coaxing a child. you want to believe his words so fucking badly, but you’ve seen the way they’ve been attached at the hip these past few months and you can’t help but feel like he’s just a) full of shit and/or b) pussydrunk on you. he can sense your apprehension and wants to tear his own hair out in frustration.

“can i be honest with you?” he asks.

you nod in response.

“i… i only started hanging out with her because i knew she was close to you. i don’t know if it’s because i wanted to get back at you or if i just wanted to see you more. maybe a bit of both, honestly. i-i know that’s wrong, but it’s true.” you’re at a loss for words. all you can ask is:

“why?” he chuckles at this.

“because i like you, dummy,” he says sweetly while releasing one of the hands that grips your waist, using it to fix up your hair. he likes you? the same beomgyu who has effectively harassed you for the past few months… likes you?

“you have a fucking hilarious way of showing it. i thought you hated me,” you retort.

“i was just teasing,” he says softly. “i just wanted you to notice me and nothing i did ever seemed to bother you.”

“well, it did,” you scoff.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “i just like you a lot, okay? i’m sorry for being an asshole. and i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” you want to say okay, but the fact remains that he’s still very much hana’s boyfriend. regardless of his feelings, you still betrayed her and your friends aren’t going to be very understanding of your situation with him. the only chance you have of retaining your friendships now is to cut beomgyu off and beg on your knees for forgiveness. but you like him. you really, really like him. and the temptation to relent is even stronger as he begins to plant kisses on your face along with promises to dump her and, in his words, to “be good from now on”. when his innocent kisses turn lustful and begin to trail down your neck, what else can you do besides agree?

notes pt. 2: so...? i hope this was okay i really do LMFAOO. i have no idea how this will be received. if it's bad, i might delete it because i truly don't know what i'm doing. anyway, feedback is always appreciated! it gives me the confidence to branch out like this so i'd love to hear from y'all :)

permanent taglist*: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

*minors and ageless blogs on my permanent taglist were not added for obvious reasons. i made the taglist before i decided to make supermodel smut, so if you would like to be removed from this or any future smut works, please message me!

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kaicubus · 9 months

Text

Dating Rodrick Heffley

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warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, cursing.

pairing ✩° : rodrick heffley x fem!reader

authors note ✩° : this is so random but i was on tik tok and i saw an edit of him and i was slapped in the face with this idea!! yiPEEEEE!!!! this is the content i intended on posting when everything settled.

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Your parents are convinced that Rodrick is a bad influence on you, and they're right. Being with Rodrick has changed you for the worst and for the better, he’s seen you at your lowest and your highest. But he’s proud of you no matter what happens. In fact, he’s your biggest supporter.

Being over after school every day means you bond really well with his family, and they love you since you seem to have a better influence on him than anything else. I mean, ever since you two started dating, he’s actually been doing his homework and his attendance has significantly improved. That being said, you are definitely a celebrity to Rodrick’s little brother and his friend, Greg and Rowley.

Speaking of the two, you're like their saving grace when it comes to shielding them from the teenage angst that is Rodrick—or in their eyes, the biggest bully they've ever encountered.

There have been many times where Greg tries explaining to you just how bad of a brother Rodrick is, but he never gets farther than a few words before Rodrick slams the door in his face or spills some drink he’s holding onto him.

He’s not that open to listening to your kind of music (if it’s drastically different than the kind of stuff he would listen to) but in secret...in secret he kicks his feet and twirls around imagining you doing the same thing to all the lyrics. He’s a cutie patootie when he’s not being a resentful menace.

Despite that, you spend most of your after school days in Rodrick’s bedroom, garage, or his van just talking about things or listening to him play. He plays a kind of music you never thought you’d listen to before, but have grown to like because not only does he have CDs of all his songs burned into them, but plays other music similar to that genre.

He makes multiple efforts to teach you the guitar with you on his lap and the guitar pressing you both together, but all those times Greg comes in because he wants to try and get on your good side.

If you're not there at band practice, like how you normally are, Rodrick makes all these mistakes and fumbles with playing. Since you're the designated band girlfriend, it’s pretty much a necessity for you to be around him when he practices, otherwise he gets nothing done. Sometimes it’s a problem, but for the most part, you’re like his buff.

Rodrick’s banned from your house because he tried sneaking in your room through your window, but he ended up landing on your mom’s patch of freshly bloomed flowers. When she found out, she wasn’t happy, and even though she tried so hard to excuse his looks, his lack of direction, his rebellious nature, she just couldn’t excuse the sad death of her flower children. So she banned him. Now you guys have to meet in secret or at school or his house, just anywhere not near your house.

He still makes an awkward effort to get your parents to like him, but it never really works out. He either shows up late or shows up with half his clothes missing or drenched in strange fluids because of pranks pulled by his little brother on his way out.

“Mrs. and Mr. L/n—”

“Lime green paint...on my white porch. Can you believe it, honey?”

“Just go, kid.”

“Alright!”

He gives you rides to and from school in his janky ass van, but it’s your only form of transportation so you don’t complain. Everything pretty much happens in that van. Everything.

His form of PDA is wrapping an arm around you loosely and just walking with you, not so much holding your hand. He also really likes just resting his arm on your head or squishing your cheeks together to make funny faces even if it pisses you off sometimes, he thinks it’s cute.

Free band dates!! Meaning that, you get free access to Löded Diper gigs, and the best seats watching your boyfriend and his band mates thrash around. You also get free merch...teehehehehe...

Oddly enough, Rodrick ends up turning soft for you and doing things no one in his family would expect out of him. Like taking you out on drive in dates, or getting you flowers, or just smiling more. Not saying he’s emo or edgy, but he is pretty punkish and reluctant to show any sort of affection. It certainly is off putting to Greg at least.

He asks you to do his eyeliner because you have an unlimited supply of it, and at least he doesn't have to use his mom’s anymore. People can usually tell when you do his eyeliner and when he does it himself; it’s pretty easy to differentiate.

If Rodrick doesn't want to be someplace and is dragged along by his family, the mere mention of you attending the same event makes him suddenly excited to be there. More excited than the planner. He’ll go on tangents about you, and it really doesn’t matter who’s listening. He looks all bad and mean, but as soon as someone talks about you, his face changes completely.

#kaicubus #diary of a wimpy kid #dairy of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x you #headcanons #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley preferences

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bunnycobie · 1 year

Text

best friend's brother - choi san

pairing: choi san x f!reader summary: when your night with your crush doesn't go to plan, you find comfort in the person you'd least expect genre: smut, some fluff, some angst word count: 3k content/tw: nonidol characters, college au, san has a sister named mina (not meant to be mina from twice), other random idol names are used, fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex (don’t do this in real life) a/n: this may be a cringefest bc it was my first fic

18+ minors dni (masterlist)

you tap on jimin’s instagram story for an update on where he might be. he’s in a car with his friends, most likely on his way here. replaying the post over and over, you don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at his smile until you’re hit on the leg with a pillow, snapping you back into reality.

“are you even listening to me?” mina snaps. you grin and sit up against the pillows on her bed.

today is mina’s birthday, and she decided to throw a party at her house tonight. but even though she invited tons of people, she only cares about one guest. so much so, that she’s cycled through five different outfits just to look as good as possible.

“you look hot.” you say jokingly, grabbing and hugging the pillow she just threw at you. “jin is going to notice you, quit overthinking it.”

mina groans. “why aren’t they here yet?”

“they’re on their way right now, they’ll probably be here soon. can we please go now?” you whine. the party started almost an hour ago, but you’ve been waiting for your friend to finish getting ready.

“i just need a few more minutes. go ahead, i’ll find you later.” she says, looking in the mirror as she puts on a pair of earrings.

as you leave the room, your ears are instantly flooded with music despite the party only being downstairs. you head towards the bathroom and step inside to check your hair and makeup in the mirror.

you and mina invited jimin and jin to the party, and it’s the only thing you two have thought about all week. mina and jin are practically a thing at this point, but you can’t say the same for you and jimin. you’re always too nervous to hold a conversation with him. it’s nothing a little liquid courage can’t fix, though. you hope.

there’s a knock on the bathroom door. you open it expecting it to be mina. instead, you’re greeted by a large frame with silky black hair.

of course, it’s mina’s brother san.

despite being a player on campus, he’s really sweet and protective over you. presumably because you’re his sister’s friend. still, he’s always been respectful and never tried to make a move on you.

but you’ve definitely caught him staring once or twice, and youd be lying if you said you didn’t do the same.

“oh, hi y/n.” he examines your outfit, making you feel self-conscious. “i started to think i’d never see you guys come out of that room.”

“sorry,” you smile awkwardly, walking around him into the hallway. “she’s nervous about jin.”

“jin’s coming?”

“yeah, and jimin”. you reply.

san’s posture straightens. “so you actually like him?”

“i never said that.” you protest.

“i hear you guys all the time. you aren’t really discreet about it.” he smiles.

you can’t help but notice his dimples every time he does that. your relationship with him has only ever been platonic, but you’re almost always dumbfounded by his appearance.

“i mean, maybe. i can’t really tell if he feels the same way though.” you say, fidgeting with your hands.

san leans against the wall. “i wouldn’t waste my time on him,”.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i don’t like him. it doesn’t matter though; you can do better than him.”

who the hell does he think he is?

“you don’t even know him. why should i care what you think?” you say, furrowing your brows.

in reality, san knows jimin more than you’d thin. they’ve never been friends, but he’s spent enough time around him to know that he’s not worth dating.

san is well aware of his position in your life, but he still cares and doesn’t want to see you hurt. your words stung a little, but he wouldn’t let you know that.

san grins and lets out a soft chuckle that pisses you off a little.

mina’s bedroom door opens and she steps out in yet another outfit choice.

“it took you an hour to come up with that?” san says teasingly, gesturing to mina’s outfit.

mina’s eyes widen. “is it actually that bad?” she gaps.

“he’s joking.” you smile, despite the anger you felt a few seconds ago. “you look cute, can we go now?” you asked, grabbing mina’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs.

not only would she have actually changed her outfit again, but you would’ve done anything to get out of that situation. you’re an adult and can date whoever you want. why is san treating you like you’re his sister... or his girlfriend?

as you walk away with mina, you glance over your shoulder to see san still looking at you, except this time he’s more serious.

the party was open invitation, but you’re still surprised by the number of people that actually showed. you and mina grab two beers from the kitchen.

you feel a tug on your arm. “they’re over there!”. she points to jin and jimin sitting on a sofa with drinks and talking.

your stomach knots at the sight of jimin and you start to feel flustered. he looks so good you start to second guess your outfit just as much as mina did hers. you chug your drink, hoping the alcohol will set in soon.

mina laughs at your nervousness. “are you ready?”

“i think so –”

“hey guys!” mina yells over the music, interrupting you.

your heart drops even further than it already did.

jmin and jin look over as you and mina make your way to them. mina sits next to Jin, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to jimin on the opposite end. you were hoping Mina would be with you to ease the awkwardness, but that plan is instantly thrown out the window.

jimin turns his body towards you, and you start to wish you’d planned things to talk about.

“hey, you look nice.” he smiles.

“thank you.” you respond shyly. somehow you feel even more self-conscious despite the compliment.

“i haven’t seen you in class lately.” you mention, hoping your awkwardness doesn’t show.

“oh. i’ve been kind of focused on my music lately. i’m actually considering switching majors.” he says.

he continues speaking but as you glance around your attention is caught by san across the room.

he’s looking directly at you, while a girl is holding his arm and laughing. he’s pretending to listen, but he’s watching you and jimin. you can’t seem to break the eye contact, as if your eyes are glued to him.

you realize you’re mid conversation and shift your focus back on jimin, who’s still talking about himself.

“i think that’s great.” you smile at him, unknowing of what he spent the last 30 seconds talking about.

“y/n, can I borrow you for a sec?” mina leans forward into your gaze.

you nod. “sorry, one second.” you excuse yourself from the conversation and follow mina as she pulls you aside.

“jin and i are going to my room; are you gonna be fine on your own?” she asks lowly.

“what? you’re sleeping with jin already?” you exclaim.

mina shushes you and looks around the room as if anyone could’ve heard you over the music.

“i don’t know, probably.” she says, grinning like an idiot.

“i’ll be fine. be safe.” you smile.

she nods and waves over jin, and he follows her upstairs

you make your way over to where you previously were but realize jimin is gone. you scan the room for him but can’t find him. you start to regret letting mina go and feel awkward all over again. you look around for a familiar face and see san, still talking to the same girl and clearly uninterested. you find chaewon and yunjin and join them for a while.

almost two hours pass while you’re busy getting drunk and dancing.

mina comes back with jin, but you’ve been so caught up that you forgot about them and jimin.

“hey.” you almost cringe realizing what they might have just finished doing.

mina grins and rolls her eyes. “where’s jimin?”

you shrug. “he left after you guys did”

“that’s weird,” jin says.

“i’ll go look for him.”

you scan downstairs one more time, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. you realize the party extended to the patio and open the door to check outside.

you find him, but you’re practically frozen in place when you do. he’s sitting next to a pretty blonde girl, kissing and feeling her up. you start to feel sick. you know that the two of you weren’t exclusive, but you still had hope there would be something between you. you’ve been obsessed with him for months and the one night you decided to make a move, the universe betrays you. the embarrassment starts to set in when you realize practically everyone knew about your crush as well.

you can’t watch any longer, and head back inside. you don’t feel like looking for mina. you don’t want to ruin her birthday by forcing her to comfort you. you’re too ashamed to admit what happened, anyways. you’re too drunk to walk or drive home, so you go to mina’s bedroom to wait for the rest of the night.

you open the door to her bedroom but the unmade bed reminds you of what just happened in it. and as disgusting as you feel, you’d rather not fall asleep on a bed full of sweat and god knows what else.

standing in the hallway, you start to feel the frustration set in and tears begin to well in your eyes.

you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and immediately wipe your tears.

you don’t know whether to be grateful or upset over the fact that it’s san. as soon as you see his face, you’re reminded of the situation from earlier. and the last thing you want is to hear an “i-told-you-so”.

“what’s wrong?” he says, noticing your expression.

“nothing.” you reply, trying to contain yourself.

“why were you crying then?” he approaches you, practically trapping you in between him and the wall.

“i’m just tired.” you lie, looking down hoping to avoid eye contact.

“don’t lie to me,” san says, lifting your chin.

“did he do something to you?” he’s more intimate this time, and you realize you won’t get anywhere by hiding the truth.

“you were right.” you admit, removing his hand from your face. you start to feel the shame overwhelm you again

san sighs and looks around the hallway to make sure you were alone.

“are you happy?” you continued.

“of course i’m not happy,” san says, offended by the accusation. “you’ve had too much to drink. let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

you know he didn’t do anything wrong. none of this was his fault. to be fair, he did warn you. you weren’t mad at san, but you were overwhelmed and didn’t know what else to do. so, you took it out on him.

“you’ve been watching me like a creep all night waiting for something to go wrong. now you want to pretend you feel bad and take care of me?” you snap.

san sucks his teeth and grabs your wrist. pulling you to his bedroom, he shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

“can you calm down?” he asks in annoyance, folding his arms.

you start pacing out of frustration, trying to keep yourself from breaking down.

“he’s not worth crying over, y/n. I told you that you could do better than him.” he says, pulling you back to him. he snakes one hand around your waist and starts wiping your tears with the other.

something about his presence makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like you could cry if you needed to, but how could you when you’re around him? the realization that your body is pressed against his starts to set in.

you always knew san was good-looking, but something about the way he’s letting you be vulnerable with him makes him so much more attractive. he looked unreal, yet somehow, he was standing right in front of you.

you must have been staring for a while because his expression darkens. his thumb that was just wiping your tears starts to brush softly over your lips. you feel like you’re going to pass out from the way he’s staring at your face, studying you.

san’s lips press against yours and his arms wrap around your waist. you reach over his wide shoulders and around his neck as he pulls your body closer to his. each kiss begins deepen, with small moans escaping your throat. and as passionate as they are, his lips are still so soft and careful with yours.

san’s lips move from yours to your neck, and he’s holding you as if you’d slip away once he lets go.

you can feel warmth pooling in between your legs, making your legs go numb. he sweeps you up and moves his focus back to your lips as he carries you to his bed. laying you on your back, he hovers over you between your legs, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you let out a moan as reassurance for him to continue, so he slides his hand under your top. he squeezes and massages your breast, causing you to let out whines involuntarily.

“does that feel good?” he groans against your neck. you can feel him smiling against you, giving you chills in the best way possible.

you manage to let out a soft whiny “yes.”.

“i’m gonna make you feel so much better.” he promises. he plants a soft kiss against your collarbone before shifting his hand between your legs.

he circles his thumb against the outside of your panties, feeling the damp spots he caused. each feeling of him hitting your clit makes your breath hitch.

“fuck.” he groans. “my baby is so good and wet for me.” he moans, teasing you with his fingers.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, your forehead against his.

“could you please?” you plead softly.

“could I what? use your words, baby.” he teases, pushing more pressure onto your clit.

“fingers, please.” you babble, your head falling back from the sensitivity.

“you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” san smirks.

“mm-hmm.” you whine.

san pulls your panties to the side and pushes his thick finger in slowly, earning a whimper from you.

he can feel his cock growing feeling the warmth of you, wishing it was inside of you instead. the sound of his fingers slipping inside of you are audible from the wetness.

san can feel himself swelling up and leaking from the anticipation, but he wants to take his time with you. he loves the sight of you moaning and whining under his control with your head held back.

he pulls your head in by the back of your neck and snakes his tongue in your mouth while curling his fingers to reach your gspot. his tongue is warm and wet, and you feel yourself getting dizzy and falling apart.

“i’m gonna cum.” you manage to breathe out.

“wait a little longer for me,” san says, pulling his fingers out of your heat and kissing you before standing up.

he pulls his shirt off revealing his bare chest and smooth, toned skin. he’s practically sweating from the anticipation, making his abs and biceps look even more glossy. he looks like a greek god.

unzipping his pants and removing the rest of his clothes, his swollen cock reveals itself, already wet and leaking from the tip.

he pushes you back down and lets you wrap your legs around his waist.

rubbing his tip against your sensitive clit, he inserts himself, making you gasp. the feeling you felt from his finger was almost nothing compared to the size of him inside of you.

he groans at the feeling of you wrapped around and squeezing him and wastes no time before speeding up his pace. your moans can’t help but get louder, and he has to cover your mouth with his just in case someone may hear you whine.

he moves fast yet softly as if he doesn’t want to hurt you. still, the feeling of him inside of you is enough to make your eyes water. you feel your sensitivity from being edged earlier come back, and you’re close to your high all over again.

“i wish i could do this with you forever” he moans.

his pace starts to get sloppy, letting you know he’s close to finishing. you feel a wave of ecstasy take over your body as san releases inside of you, leaving you dripping. the two of you moan over the feeling of finishing on each other.

san collapses next to you as you both catch your breath. he gets up and slips on clothes to leave the room. you lay in confusion for a minute until he comes back with a warm towel.

he cleans you up and gives you one of his clean t-shirts to wear to sleep. you try to hide your smile from the thought of him being so sweet to you. when you put the shirt on, he falls in love at the sight of it being so big on you. he’s not super tall, but his muscles are enough to warrant his shirts being huge. san wraps his arms around you and gives you another kiss, but this time it feels more loving than the rest.

“do you feel better now?” he asks, embracing you.

you’d forgotten about what led to this in the first place. but you didn’t care enough to remember because you were in love with someone else now.

#choi san #choi san x reader #san ateez #ateez smut #jimin angst #bts jimin #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mingi smut #seonghwa smut #hongjoong smut #yunho smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #choi san fanfic

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golden1u5t · 6 days

Text

sober enough | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: suggestive

ꨄ summary: while out at a bar with the team the tension between you and spencer grew to be thicker until it was too much to stand.

The team, even Hotch, had went out for drinks after a rough case in Kansas. You all needed the break and luckily Hotch gave you all the next two days off to recuperate. Everyone took this opportunity to let loose, everyone threw back shots like it was just a glass of water. Well, everyone but Spencer and Aaron... they were being responsible and only having a few drinks.

You had been a few shots of tequila away from being "not being able to control what come out of my mouth" drunk.You weren't usually a big drinker, you usually ending up being only a bit tipsy on nights out but not tonight, tonight you needed to erase all of the horrible things you had seen in the past week. This serial killer had probably been the worst you've seen since joining the team.

That was the case for everyone else too, which is why Spencer and Aaron were in charge of getting everyone home safely tonight. Especially you, you were probably the drunkest of them all. Eventually the booth got smaller and smaller until it was just you and Spencer sitting side by side.

You were sitting in silence as you watched the team dance and sing karaoke, a smile on both of your faces because you had never seen the team so carefree before and it was a sight you wished you could see more often.

Spencer felt you shift around and his eyes immediately landing on you, you were reaching over the table to grab Emily's neglected drink.

Spencer immediately grabbed your wrist and put in back in your lap, you looked at him with a pout and went to grab at the drink again but he stopped you.. again. "No more."

You looked at him and scoffed, mumbling to yourself about how he wasn't your daddy as you sunk back into your seat. Spencer gave you a teasing smile and leaned down to whisper in your ear so you could hear him over Jj's horrible singing.

"Don't be like that. I'm saving you from an even worse hangover tomorrow."

A chill went down your spine and he definitely didn't fail to notice how your body slightly shook with each word he spoke into your ear. He pulled back and let go of your wrist, dropping his hand onto your exposed thigh instead.

A few minutes passes and jj has finally got off of the stage. Spencer took his hand from your thigh so he could clap for her and you did the same. Emily and Ju stumbles over to the table and sat down while the rest of the team either continued dancing or ended up at the bar.

"Why don't you guys join us? There's this cute guy that's been ogling you, Y/N." Emily wiggled her eyebrows and quickly drunk the drink Spencer stopped you from taking.

"Oh yeah! He-He's really cute! You should talk to him." JJ added. She pointed over to where she last saw the guy, he stood there with a smirk on his face staring at you.

Spencers eyes followed her pointing and he could feel his blood starting to boil at how the man was looking at you.

You gave the man a sly smile before turning back to the drunk women in front of you. "I think I will. I could use a wingwoman or two."

JJ and Emily quickly slid out of the booth and headed towards the man's direction. You looked back towards the man and took a good look over him. He wasn't your type at all, nowhere close, but you wanted to have some fun tonight, it's the whole reason you were there.

You started to slide out of the booth and that made Spencer slide to the edge along with you.

"I'm gonna go see if I can get a free drink, maybe get laid tonight too." You hiccuped. Spencer caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you down and made you fall onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips.

"You've had enough to drink and i'm not letting you go home with a stranger." His whispered in your ear so you could hear him over the loud music that started blaring through the bar. Spencer's voice was stern and authoritative, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Would you rather I go home with you instead?" You twisted your head to look at him, slightly "adjusting" yourself in his lap. "Hmm, Spence?"

His hands tightened on your hips and grounded you on his lap, forcing you to stop moving. Spencer brought his hand up and wrapped your hair around his fist, tugging it back harshly. "Stop it."

"What if I don't want to?" You replied, pushing yourself back. You could feel his cock stirring alive in his pants and his sanity was crumbling with each passing moment.

Spencer wished you weren't as drunk as you were, he would pull you out of the bar and take you right in his car if you weren't.

You would let him either way but Spencer wants to make sure that you would remember it, remember everything he did to your body. He wants you to remember it all.

Spencer let your hair go and brought his glass of water to your lips, mumbling a small 'drink' as he held your jaw. You huffed in annoyance but still complied.

"Good girl." He praised, setting the glass of water down on the table. Your body heated up at his praise and you quickly got off of his lap and pulled him out of the booth.

"Come on. I think i'm sober enough."

#golden1u5t #myrarants #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid imagine #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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astrologuzzy · 11 months

Text

★ MY ASTRO OBSERVASHUNS ★

Disclaimer before I start: I’m no professional astrologer so don’t come for me, mkayyy? MWAH 💋

♡ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, more specifically those with Gemini placements in their personal planets loveeeee playing around with their voice a lot. Just utilizing their voice to be a silly goobert. Like making voice impressions or funny sound effects is very natural for them. Which is why I think so many Geminis are comedians, artists and actors. Whenever I see someone who makes goofy sounds or is very into voice acting I instantly know they must be a Gemini/have heavy Mercury placements and up until now i was 100% correct each time lmao. (As someone who has Gemini placements myself: I love to make funny voices or impressions, sometimes I do it without realizing lol)

♥︎ Which actually brings my to my second point on 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 but those that are musicians; I noticed they frequently love to play around with different genres of music and different styles of singing/rapping in general, even all in one song simultaneously. Good example would probably be Kanye West or Kendrick Lamar. Their music and style tends to be very versatile and they tend to incorporate even very random notes/effects/sounds to it as well.

♡ Oh my goodness, all the 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 I’ve ever known have this damn thing where if you don’t ask them specifically for what you wanna know, they’ll never even tell you it. I had a friend with a full blown Libra stellium that I finally caught up with after months of no contact and this girl only told me about her having a girlfriend and getting into a car accident only 3 days later!? That was thanks to me for randomly mentioning romance and cars, otherwise she wouldn’t have even shared it. So if you wanna hear a Libra disclose something specific with you, just be direct with it.

♥︎ I haven’t met an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 that wasn’t impulsive and would jump from one relationship/project into another and then complain about how everything turns out a mess (but then get back up and repeat the cycle again smh).

♡ 𝟏𝟐 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 and their hidden enemies is actually very fukkin real. I got to witness it closely for the first time and oh boi am I shook lol. My boyfriend has a 12H moon and I’ve witness multiple times strangers come up to us, start a conversation and then just become insanely rude to him outta absolutely nowhere as if they been having beef with him since kindergarten?! Randoms tend to get mad or hostile so easily at him even if he doesn’t say anything bad... it’s so weird.

♥︎ Every person with an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 in their big 3 has this feistiness to them. Even when they’re super sweet and chill type of Aries I still notice that they have moments where they’re quite direct or don’t really care about what you think. They’re gonna say what they wanna say one way or another and it’s honestly so natural to them, I don’t think they even notice. Even the quiet Aries in my life have this demeanor to them that you just don’t fuck with because they’ll bite back at some point.

♡ In my experience, every 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 that I’ve ever known always expressed their appreciation and affection in letters/poems/metaphors very frequently. Very romantic, very abstract, Shakespeare who? Every time they’d send a whole ass paragraph like 🥀”you are like a rose that fell in this chaotic ocean and turned it into a tranquil lake” 🍂 just to describe my eyes or something. I don’t think my Aquarius moon is cut for such stuff lmao, it makes me cringe a bit but I do appreciate it! Although every Pisces mars guy I ever knew had additional water placements in their big 3 (like Cancer sun or a Pisces moon) which probably only doubled that sentimentality they had.

♥︎ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 and their anger issues is something and that something is very real... That’s it, that’s the Tweet lol

♡ Idk what it is about 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 men but they always make me wanna take care of them and like baby them when they’re in their feels and retract and act like they aren’t on the verge of tears... Make me wanna go and cuddle them lol. Especially Cancer moons for wtv reason really soften my Aqua moon when I’m around without them even doing/saying anything.

♥︎ Also 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 are insanely great at faking their true state of being. I’ve met so many Libras that on the outside look like they’re having a blast but when you actually get to know them you see that their house burned down, their granny died, they almost choked to death twice last week and their partner broke up with them for 15th time that day and now they’re homeless... And you’re like damn bro, I’d literally never guess. They really know how to mask everything, put up a great front for others and do it insanely convincingly. You literally would never guess what that Libra is actually going thru, it’s probably worse than you can image. Please check up on your Libra friends and Libras - it’s ok to ask for helpppp. You guys deserve it <3

♡ 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 are one of the funniest mothafukers everrrrr, they always make me laugh so much! Double points if they have Gemini or other Fire placements with it. Just hilarious individuals.

♥︎ 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 are actually pretty chill people, you won’t see them angry often (but they make sure you know when they do). Usually our anger and passion is more so hidden and works backstage. Compared to 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 that are loud with it and don’t hold back.

That’s it for todayyyy ☀︎

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multifandomwhore-003 · 8 months

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Random Hazel Callahan headcanons that have been rotting my brain for the past couple of days:

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x female! reader

Summary: Not needed

Genre(s): a little angsty at first, after that's it's just pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of trauma and maladaptive daydreaming

A/N: I'M GONNA WRITE MORE FOR HER BECAUSE I NEED IT SO STAY TUNED, also I listened to False God by Taylor Swift the entire time I wrote this.

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk , join tag list here

• She has horrible listening skills, usually her house has been a pretty noisy and chaotic place, even before her parents divorced, so she's learned to mute the outside world.

• It tends to annoy pretty much everyone else outside the fight club, the only exception being PJ, she perhaps got annoyed more than anyone.

• When you first noticed you had to repeat yourself at least five times whenever she was around, you tried to come up with different ways for her to keep up, like texting her as you spoke so she could read it as much as she needed to.

• Later on you found out it wasn't just about losing track of a conversation, as you asked to borrow one of her headphones one time, you were shocked her ears weren't bleeding right then and there.

"Fucking hell, Hazel! Are you trying to break your ears or something?" your ears hurt for a second.

"It's not loud at all" She placed them on her neck.

"Baby, I can hear the music coming out of those things like a concert speaker,"

• You decided to invite her over to your house as often as possible, demanding a no-headphones rule.

"Why not?!" she complained.

"Because you're gonna be completely deaf at the age of 40!"

"And you'll be there to teach me sign language, right?" she hugged your waist.

"You're saying you prefer not hearing my voice for the rest of our lives?" you lifted a brow.

• The realazation dawned on her.

• To this day she hasn't worn headphones a single day in her life.

• Maladaptive daydreaming is also something she struggles with, not as much now as she used to in middle school and the first two years of high school, but it still happens sometimes.

• You found out when you decided to surprise her by coming to her house one day

• Mrs. Callahan said she couldn't get in contact with Hazel, for whatever reason.

• Most likely her phone turned off since it was out of battery.

• So she texted you she was gonna be missing all night, permitted you to stay the night, and told you to take care of Hazel.

• You found her in the kitchen yelling, it sounded as if she was yelling at someone.

"Are you ever gonna choose me over a booty call?! How is it that Jeff's dick is more important than me?! Your daughter! You fucking pushed me out and you still can't even ask me how my grades are doing and shit!"

• Your first thought was —Her mom's plans must've been canceled—

• As you approached the room as quietly as possible, you looked through the rim of the entrance, there was no one.

"Hazel," you spoke quietly through her screams.

A shiver went down her spine, he face turned white, she blinked a couple of times before turnind her head, "How much of that did you hear?" she avoided your eyes.

"I've never heard you like that," was all you could mutter as you approached her slowly and then embraced her in a hug, "I know you're not insane by the way," you whispered in her hair.

She began to cry.

• She didn't want to talk about it for the next few days

• When she did, she stumbled upon her words, talked too fast, and teared up every once in a sentence.

"Call me first," you cupped her face, "I'll never judge you for whatever you have to say,"

• She wanted to kiss you right then and there, but just rested her forehead on yours, an act of ultimate intimacy.

• I could get into the divorced parents' trauma for hours because same

• But for now I'll move on to the happy part

• Physical touch is the absolute most pure form of love she can give

• If she's not hugging your waist at all times, she's holding your hand, resting her head on your chest, shoulders, legs, etc. pretty much everywhere she can

• If you have long or medium hair she'll attempt to braid your hair, keyword attempt

• If you have short hair she'll buy little elastic ponytails to tie them around your head everywhere she can

• Her reasoning behind this is that her favorite plants are cactuses

• That's it, that's all the reasons she needs

• If you happen to be bald she'll rub your head while singing the chorus to Diamonds by Rihanna

• She plays ukelele

• She knows how to make a few origami figures and if she tries a new one, as crumbled and sweaty as it is she gives it to you

• You have a whole shelf in your room dedicated to every piece of folded paper she's ever done for you

• If you're more of a fem! girl, she'll try something of yours whenever she comes over and stare at her reflection for hours

"Good thing, god didn't make me straight, she knew I would be a menace,"

• You can only roll your eyes and laugh at her twirling and pretending to dance ballet in your dresses and skirts

• If she happens to go shopping without you, she'll try something you'll like and send you the photo after

"If it looks this good on me, imagine how AMAZING it'll look on you,"

• She once asked you to put makeup on her, she'll say she was just curious how she'd look

• She wasn't lying, but she also didn't mention she just wanted to recreate this picture:

• If you happen to be more of a masc! girl, you'll trade clothes as often as you can think

• More than once you have arrived at school with something she likes and just drags you to the bathroom to for you to make the exchange

• It's not her clothes and your clothes anymore, everything you own is hers and vice versa

• More often than not you're no longer sure what used to be only yours

• This goes for accessories and shoes as well, even if they don't fit her, she'll fill them up with toilet paper until they fit just fine

• You'll match AT LEAST once a week, as per her request of course

• She tries all kinds of chips (or crisps for my British luvs) she has tried every flavor and seasoning, but her favorites and the flaming hot ones, even if she ends up chugging your waterbottle after finishing the bag

• Although her parents are rich and taught her from a young age to be a precise wine taster, she's a tequila and vodka girl

• She hates gloomy and rainy days because they bring down her mood, but spending the day binge-watching cheesy movies and stuffing her stomach with all the snacks o her house makes it up

• She's ABSOLUTE SHIT at Karaoke, but my god does she have the spirit

• Her go-to song is Lies by Fleetwood Mac, but if she's drunk enough to gain confidence she'll request Easy On Me by Adele

• If she insists for long enough and you decide to sing with her, she 100% will try to recreate the following musical numbers:

• Lay all you love on me -Mamma Mia

• Every duet there is in Teen Beach Movie, her favorite childhood movie

• The cellblock tango -Chicago and Ex-Wives -from Six, if the rest of the fight club joins as well

• Popular from Wicked, strangely enough, she's Glinda

• Seventeen -Heathers

• Candy Store -Heathers featuring Isabel as Heather Mc Namara, Josie as Martha Dunnstock, and PJ as Veronica (She was heavily forced to after Brittany suggested it)

• Smooth Criminal -The Glee cast cover

• If you're a good singer, or at least a decent one, at the end of the song she'll hype you up more than anyone in the crowd, even carry you (this also applies to my plus size! lovelies, DON'T YOU WORRY, she has muscles)

• If you're a bad singer, then you'll be shit together, the worse your voices sound, the better you'll enjoy it

• Onto the kissing and overall more stereotypical relationship stuff, aka the not-so-comfortable part of my asexual-spectrum girlies.

• As previously shown in the original material

• Kissing is slow and passionate, she likes to enjoy your lips as much as possible, taking in every movement, taste, and breath

• Hands on your jaw and neck EVERY FUCKING TIME

• The first few times you offered her some chapstick or lipstick, or lipgloss, or lip oil, or anything, she would kiss you making you chuckle in surprise

• Now you don't even need to ask, she'll just be like

"Hey, your lips look beautiful," and peck you on the lips

• If you're alone it definitely turns into a whole makeout session

• She just claims it tastes too good not to do it

• Every once in a while she'll hug you from behind and aggressively kiss your cheek

• Good luck kisses before every test

• Her favorite kind of dates are picnic dates

• She takes pictures of the sky whenever she feels it matches your vibe

• She takes A LOT of pictures of you ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, she even went as far as to buy a film camera because they make everything more magical

• She reads A LOT

• She obviously knows too much about social injustices and everything regarding that realm, but she likes other things as well

• Avid fantasy reader, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES,

• Going back to this need for escapism, she was heavily raised by George R.R. Martin and Leigh Bardugo

• Definitely screamed, jumped, and overall looked like she was in a sugar rush when both Game of Thrones and Shadow and Bone came out

• She wasn't exactly allowed to watch Game of Thrones at the time it came out, so she watched when she was 16 instead

• Shadow and Bone, however, oh boy, it was whole event

• She cosplayed Sturmhond and made you cosplay as Zoya

That's it for now children, if I come up with anything else I'll do a part two or even better write something more complete

#hazel callahan bottoms movie #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan angst

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adventuringblind · 6 months

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Viva Las Vegas

Landoscar x Reader

Genre: Fluff? Crack? Idek...

Summary: Two boys can't get a hint, and the female in the middle is just waiting for them to make a move. Preferably with her ending up between them.

Warnings: spicy, kind of panic attack? Allusions to sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of Lando's crash, and him being on pain meds.

Notes: Reminder that my requests are open for the 1000 follower celebration! Also, a certain someone put this idea in my head so now you all have to suffer.

Masterlist

Being the baby of the paddock really hadn't been that bad. A year younger than Arthur and having to put off with Charles was never on her top list of things she wanted to do, but she managed. Followed him around races like a lost puppy.

She was a perfect angel. Kind of. Not really, but she put on a good face when in public. Charles' perfect baby sister.

Lando Norris got to see a whole other side of her. The side that the cameras and public don't see.

The side that takes risks and tests the limits. The one nobody else has managed to pull out of her. The one Lando seems to make being so incredibly easy.

Charles adores the two of them. Lando would never hurt her. He may be impulsive, but he's loyal to a fault.

A couple of years later Is when Oscar comes along. Lando's new teammate. It's awkward for exactly two months into their work together.

Lando didn't like what happened to Daniel. He was still upset about it when word got out that Oscar had signed. It didn't feel real at the end of the year.

Then something shifted. Maybe it was the shared frustration of such a horrible start to the season? She may never know. But one thing is certain and it's that they like each other.

Oscar likes Lando. Lando likes Oscar. They both like her, and she loves them right back.

Yet she could not, for the life of her, forgire out why neither of them is saying anything about it. One can really only handle so much sexual tension before they explode. The sweet moments between the three of them. The fact she has attempted to get the both riled up with nothing to show for it except what Lando does to her later and Oscar's stupid smug face just playing alone with sarcastic jokes.

They are going to be the death of her. The two of them are attached at the hip, and she's excitedly making popcorn thinking it's going to turn into a romantic comedy. It doesn't, and she would like whoever is directing the movie to hurry the story along.

Both her and Lando are getting under his skin, and it's evident in every interaction they have. She takes it upon herself to invite Oscar everywhere with them.

They are happy all together. If they would just stop being so oblivious it would be perfect.

Then Vegas happens. The place where memories are made and forgotten. Lost in the music, lights, and alcohol.

The car isn't the best here. Both boys are frustrated. Lando crashes, and Oscar manages, but it's written on his face that he's disappointed with himself.

She goes to Lando at the hospital. Then, when he's released and thoroughly medicated, they head back to the paddock.

He's hilarious. Lando and his already unfiltered mouth are just saying everything. Including every feeling he has ever had for both her and Oscar. It started fine and then escalated Shortley after to the point where Jon had to promise he wouldn't ever mention it.

Oscar runs through media duties with an unholy speed. He looks relieved when he finds the two waiting around by his door because Lando didn't want to go to his own.

"I'm sorry it's been a lame birthday weekend." Sighs the Aussie who has collapsed onto the sofa.

"Well- it doesn't have to be."

Should the two not on any kind of medication used their clear judgment? Probably, but who are they to deny Lando?

They did decide on keeping it chill and just to go out for an hour or two after Lando at least napped off some of the meds. Neither of the sober minds had any intention of mixing alcohol with whatever Lando was on.

The Brit looked so excited to be out with them. He openly expressed he didn't need anybody else because his two favorite people were already with him. Oscar replied with a smile. She's going to have to force them to kiss at this rate.

Somewhere between three drinks in and Lando sipping on something not strong came blurred confessions. Whatever Lando had told Oscar he was drinking definitely was stronger than he'd made it out to be.

Her boyfriend keeps throwing her mischievous looks and suggestive eyebrow raises. What kind of game is he playing at? She would love if he let her in on it.

But alas, Lando does not, and she is left to her drink and her mind as she watches the two refuse to do anything about the tension they are creating. It's getting far too much for her. She either needs Lando to make a move on Oscar or to come help her because her imagination is going to places.

Somebody does kiss her, but it's not Lando. She would be concerned if Oscar hadn't just moved closer to her.

Everything goes fuzzy after that.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning is met with ridiculous hangovers and a cramped position on the couch.

The couch? How on earth did she end up here? More importantly, why is Oscar using her like a blanket and Lando a starfish on the floor?

Her breath quickens. Something must have happened for them to end up here. She pulls herself up and almost passes out in the process. She would like to - no - needs to remember what happened. She finds her phone laying on the counter and opens it.

Her hand hits the counter and there it the sound of metal hitting granite. She shakily moves her hands into view.

Of all the stupid and impulsive things, she could've done, it had to be getting married in Vegas and being too drunk to remember it. Looks like George, Alex, and Lily were there, the three people who really should've stopped her.

But it's not that realization that makes her finally curl up on the ground, It's the name on the certificate.

Oscar Piastri.

She can hear both boys starting to stir and wake themselves up. The light hitting their faces drawing them back to the land of the living. Into what has become her nightmare.

She ducks behind the counter.

"What happened last night? My head is killing me and- why are you on the floor?"

"Well, we all started on the couch and then I needed water, couldn't find my spot again so I just stayed on the floor."

There is a pause. "What do you mean 'we all'?"

"The three of us? You know, it's bad not to sleep together on the night of your wedding."

There is a string of mumbled words from Oscar that she can't make out. "Seeing as I married your girlfriend, you seem way too happy about this."

"Mate, you were literally trying to fuck both of us last night and then went on this rant about-"

"Okay! I get it! No need to embarrass me more."

Lando is laughing hysterically. "I was wondering if you were ever going to do it. I was getting worried about your wife having a stroke if we didn't do something about this. She talks in her sleep you know."

She squeaks and then covers her mouth. She curls further into her hiding place, but it's no use. They boys find her and join her on the floor.

"You been awake long, love?" How can Lando be so gentle at a time like this? Like she hadn't just betrayed him! She stares in disbelief and then shakes her head no.

It looks like Lando is about to say something else when there is a knock on the door. He gets up and opens it to Charles and Max. The former of which is yelling in French.

"Looks like you guys also had a rough night." Lando is keeling over laughing which inevitably puts him back on the floor.

"What do you mean?" Max is standing there looking completely sober.

Lando is in tears at this point, and nobody understands what he's laughing at. "The matching rings, mate? Do you not remember getting hitched right after your sister?"

There is a set of identical screams followed by more frantic French.

"Speaking of that..." Max turns his attention to the little Leclerc and Oscar. "... You going to explain this one Lando? I remember this still."

Lando then blushes, and it looks like he considers running. "So listen - I may have talked you two into getting married." There is this innocent smile on his face that makes her jaw drop.

"This was you?! I'm panicking for nothing?!" She trails with French mumbling, and Charles joins in with her.

They look through pictures for a while and get water into their systems before Max and Charles go to leave.

"So, are you two going to get a divorce?" Oscar looks at Charles and Max who shrug.

"Maybe, but who knows? Maybe it'll come in handy some day."

"I knew you guys were fucking! Lando you own me now."

"How did you know?!"

"Little sisters know all, dear brother."

When it's just the three, a tense silence false between them. "So, what now?" She finally breaks. No longer able to handle the staring.

"We get a lawyer?"

"Or, hear me out, we keep it. We can always do that later!"

It's true, really. This a backward way of confessing, but it's not like they don't want to be together.

"Then Lando needs a ring also!" They laugh.

The Brit gets a hold of the certificate and finds a marker to write his name on it. "I fixed it."

Then he looks at the other two. Bright smiles on all of there faces.

"Shall we consummate the marage?"

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frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months

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୨୧ ｓｔｒａｗｂｅｒｒｙｊｕｌｉｕｓ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x chubby!fem!reader x boyfriend!namjoon

୨୧ Genre: fluff, smut, rocker au/crime au combo

୨୧ Summary: The night of an event you've been stressing out about for weeks, you find stress relief in an unexpected but welcome place.

୨୧ Word Count: 2.4k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: unprotected sex, double penetration, double creampie, anal, light choking, dirty talk, pet names, strong language (I can be a potty mouth, sry), pet names (love, baby), dom vibes if you squint, & that's all I think.

୨୧ A/N: I really wanted to mix two of my favorite au's with two of my favorite people so here we are. There's definitely gonna be a part two because my brain won't shut up about this. Anyway, I hope you like it my loves 🖤

Punk music blares from the speakers in your living room, the distorted strumming of guitars and brutal drumming enough to shake the walls of your two story home. Playing your music as loud as you want whenever you want. One of the few perks that come with living on the edge of the city where your nearest neighbor's an elderly woman a mile down the road who never uses her hearing aid.

A hearing aid. You’ll need one any day now if you keep this up but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re having the time of your life fresh out of the shower, dancing around in your towel while you tear your closet apart to find an outfit for the party tonight. Everything has to be perfect. Your hair. Your outfit. Your makeup. Jungkook says you’re perfect already. That everything else is just decoration.

With all the effort he put into getting your band invited to this party, your “decoration” needs to be more memorable than ever. Everyone who’s anyone on the punk scene will be there tonight. From journalists to producers to some of the women who inspired you to start a band to begin with. The pressure to make a lasting impression is insane and the precise reason you’re running on 4 hours of sleep right now. You’ve been moving non-stop since this morning, trying to outrun your doubts and insecurities.

“Love, slow down. Let me help you” Jungkook whispered in those moments he caught you burning yourself out. You don't know what you'd do without the sweetheart that he is. Digging through your top drawer you pull out a pair of fishnets, the ones he can't get enough of, and you're instantly reminded of the other side of him. Thoughts of all the filthy things you’ve done in these fishnets bring a tingle to your cheeks that spreads between your thighs like wildfire.

“Not tonight” you say to yourself, tossing them back in, “I’ll never be able to focus.” Shaking off vivid memories of being fucked against the questionably clean mirror of a dive bar last weekend, you continue to raid your closet, carelessly making a mess that’ll be a problem for future you to deal with.

“Baby!” Jungkook shouts, stepping through the front door twirling his keys around his fingers. His heavy black combat boots hit the hardwood like the steps of a giant as he marches over to the speaker and turns the music down. “Baby! Where are you?” There’s an adorable pitter patter of feet from above before your voice sounds from the top of the stairs. “I’m here! Get everything you needed from the store?”

His brain glitches. The store? Oh, yeah. That lie he told you about needing to run to the store for something. You never pressed him for specifics. A testament to the level of trust you have in him. Trust that hopefully won’t be shattered by the fact that he lied his ass off. He cuts his eyes at the tall man looming by the door, knowing that his presence is the only thing that’ll redeem him.

“Uh, yeah, I did” he lies, appearing at the bottom of the stairs, “Could you come here for a second?” Without bothering to answer, you skip down the stairs, only hitting the second to last step before he has his arms around your plush figure. The towel bunches up around your waist, raising your towel just enough to allow your ass to poke out the bottom. He can’t resist brushing his fingers along the softness of your ass.

A move that reignites that tingling you felt earlier and has your lips latching onto his before he can say another word. Jungkook dives right in, shoving his hands beneath your towel to hungrily grip handfuls of your curves. There’s no time for this but he’ll make it. He has to. Something about you drowns out his reason. He’d postpone his own funeral if it meant he got to touch you one last time.

“Does everyone who comes over get to watch or am I just special?” Namjoon teases, slamming the front door shut. Jungkook’s stomach sinks, suddenly remembering what he’d actually left the house to pick up. Yours sinks even lower. That voice. It hasn’t lived within these walls for years. Jungkook steps back, waving Joon over. “I, uh, got something extra from the store.”

A half dozen emotions brew inside of you, none of them identifiable. You only know that your feet are glued to the ground. That your mouth is drier than it's ever been and your heart’s beating in your throat. Joon approaches you, his arms outstretched to welcome you into a hug. When you don’t budge, your pouty bottom lip the only part of you able to move, he pulls you into his arms anyway.

The strength of his hug, the love laced within it, heals something inside of you that has your vision going hazy with tears. Lifting you from the stairs, Joon brings you between him and Jungkook. They hug you from both sides the way they used to before Joon went away. 4 years in prison. Light work for washing dirty money but an eternity for your close knit trio. You haven’t laid eyes on him since that last day in court.

He’d only let Jungkook come visit, insisting that you shouldn’t be in a place like that. You lost count of the hours you spent in tears hating him for keeping you away but loving him too much for the feeling to ever stick. Your Joon didn’t belong locked away with killers and god knows who else. Everything he did, everything you did together, was to survive. He'd never hurt anyone and knowing he might be surrounded by people who would made being kept at a distance sting that much more.

There was no way you and Jungkook would’ve survived without each other. Him losing his best friend and you losing one of your loves. No matter how far your careers advanced, how nice this house was, or how much money you had tucked under the floorboards in the attic, nothing could change how incomplete you feel. How incomplete you felt.

“Ouch!” Joon cries, jumping when you pinch his side, “What was that for?” “What the fuck are you doing here?” you shout, wiping the tears from your eyes. Joon just laughs, “I still live here don’t I?” “Duh, you idiot! But you’re not supposed to—your release is months away—I thought—” You turn to Jungkook who grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours before you pinch him too.

“Early release. I was gonna tell you, I just thought it’d be a fun surprise. Plus you were so freaked out about tonight. I just didn’t wanna psych you out. You mad at me?” Jungkook pouts, those brown puppy dog eyes pulling you in like they always do. “I’m not mad” you huff, rolling your eyes while leaning in to let him peck you on the cheek. Joon kisses you on the neck from behind, his large smooth hands massaging your tense shoulders.

You reach back, running your palm across his buzz cut hair, “I like the new hair. It’s kinda hot.” “Only kinda?” he asks, nipping at your neck, revenge for that pinch earlier. His hands slide down, patiently rounding your curves to reach your exposed thighs. “Stop” you giggle, a chill running up your spine, “I have to get ready.” Jungkook pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. “We can always help you get ready” he grins, pushing his knee between your thighs to make enough space for Joon to run two fingers over your slit.

“It’s so wet down there” Joon hums, “Is that just from the shower or—.” Twisting free, you rush back up the stairs, stopping halfway up to glance back at them. “I still need to do my hair.” Jungkook shrugs, taking two steps toward you, “I’m pretty good with hair.” You swallow hard, wiping your sweaty palms on your towel. “And…and my makeup.” Joon tilts his head to see you better, “I can do that.”

Why are they like this? So annoyingly persistent. It’s not like you don’t want it. The thought had crossed your mind to have a quickie with Jungkook when you were standing in your bedroom zoning out with those fishnets in your hand. With Joon back you find yourself wanting it even more. Those feelings that overcame you are much clearer now. Passion. Love. Lust. Joy. All fighting for dominance and right now one in particular’s winning.

Look at them. They’re both so fucking handsome. And the closer they get the harder it is to ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in. “Just a kiss” it whispers as Jungkook catches up to you, his lips dangerously close to yours. You close your eyes as your lips meet, his tongue snaking against yours. One kiss. Just one.

Joon dreamt of being with you like this again. Him lying across the bed, pillows beneath him to keep him at the perfect angle to lower you into his lap. Fingers digging into the plush of your hips, he guides his length, coated in lube from base to tip, to that gorgeous ass he got a few nibbles of when you first took your towel off. “Joon…ah” you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip as the warm tip penetrates your tight hole.

Anal was never Jungkook’s thing. Seeing those cute heart shaped butt plugs you liked to wear when he had you bent over was the extent of his interest. Joon on the other hand had always been insatiable and time hasn’t changed that. “Fuck, still so tight for me” he groans out in pleasure, the tightness of your ass choking his dick the deeper he goes.

When he finally bottoms out, you fall back onto his bare chest moaning weakly, drool already leaking from the corners of your mouth. Earlier your body wouldn't even move. Now you can’t stop it from trembling, the fullness overwhelming you enough to turn your brain to soup. Joon locks an arm around your waist, the other coming around so he can palm your breast.

“Missed you” he whispers, rocking beneath you at a pace slow enough for his and your sanity. Your hand skims his forearm, nails digging in when he does a slight bounce to mess with you. He’s definitely put on some weight while he was away. Whatever they were feeding him, whatever weights he was lifting, you approve because he’s stronger than you ever knew him to be and you’re loving it.

“You sure you can take both of us?” Jungkook taunts, shifting his weight on the bed to hover between your legs. He places a hand on your knee, dipping two fingers into your core. He's achingly hard, twitching, leaking precum on the blankets at the sight of how wet you are. Your pussy glistens so beautifully, your walls clenching around his fingers while Joon fucks your other hole. Jungkook awaits your answer but he’s only met with your needy moans and cries.

“You have to say something, baby” he says, his thumb strumming your clit, “Tell me what you want.” The hand on your knee comes around your neck, his hold on you firm yet gentle. Joon slows his movements, offering you a second—and only that—to get your thoughts together. “Come on, you can do it. Tell us what you want.” Jungkook’s fingers are still working inside of you, mercilessly milking your g-spot.

“I…I can take it” you whine, forcing the words from your throat, “Fill me up. Please. Want it so bad. So bad.” “That’s my girl” Jungkook smiles, popping his fingers out of you. You watch as he strokes himself, using your arousal as lubricant. Joon’s hips begin to move again, leaving you pulsing in two places at once. Your clit stiffens as Jungkook rubs his tip between the silken folds of your warmth, sinking into you without warning.

They take turns thrusting into you, one then the other, making sure you feel every arch and defining vein along their shafts. This perfect dance of pleasure and overstimulation has you crying out, tears leaking from watery eyes. Incoherent moans flow out into the ether and it’s not just you, it's them too. You can’t get enough of it, rotating your hips as best you can to pull the dirtiest noises out of them. Joon pulls your head back to kiss you and the moment you break for air Jungkook’s kissing you too, suspending you in a constant state of breathlessness.

You’ve forgotten all about the party, your worries reduced to nothing by the ecstasy of this unexpected reunion. There’s nowhere else you want to be but here between the men you love, tension winding in your belly. You whine something between Joon’s lips and they just know what it is. Letting go of your throat, Jungkook slips his hand between your waist and his, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” you scream, ears ringing as juices stream from your core, making the sound of your bodies snapping together even sharper.

You feel weightless, disembodied, floating above yourself, jerked back to reality only by the pressure of Joon coming inside of you. You hold his hand, pressing down onto him as you kiss him over your shoulder. At the same time you’re tugging at Jungkook’s hair, keeping him flush against you. “Harder” he begs, his thrusts growing sloppier the harder you pull. One final tug has him unraveling, another wave of warmth filling you just as the other fades away.

The energy in the room gradually comes down, heavy panting turning to light breaths as you cuddle beside each other, your sweat slicked bodies still tangled together. “Still need help with your hair?” Jungkook asks, lovingly petting your head. Joon peeks over to find you sleeping more peacefully than you have in years. He kisses you on the forehead, pulling the blanket over you. “I don’t think so.”

#jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #poly bts #jungkook x you #namjoon x you #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts au #chubby reader #plus size reader #chubby smut

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wintaerbaer · 5 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊