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hanniluvi · 4 months

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( 🚋 ) NOT OUR LAST GOODBYE — KOGA YUDAI FIC

[ DAY THIRTEEN ] of the advent calendar !

( 🚋 ) SYNOPSIS . . . after a heated argument with K, little did you expect that the last time you’d see him would be at his departure, after leaving you in silence for days.

( — ) PAIRING . . . best-friend!k x gn!reader FT. EJ &TEAM

( 🚋 ) GENRE . . . angst lolz, misunderstandings, friends 2 …?

( — ) WARNINGS . . . INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE “20TH CENTURY GIRL” (sorry guys), k and reader kinda frustrating ..

( 🚋 ) NOTE . . . Hi!! Super late Sorry!! but originally this wasn’t even gonna be angst if i be honest … but train station … 20th century girl … so yes!!! also pretend the pics above give christmassy vibes LMAO it js seemed right to keep it like this and yes i can hear u quivering miles away Ms Sonata 😊

Once again, and unsurprisingly, K had missed yet another hangout. You really tried waiting and being considerate, but not even him in sight. Seated alone in the cafe with two drinks you bought with your own money, frustration grew. The plans had been made two weeks prior, and despite K's assurances, he was nowhere to be found.

Unable to bear it any longer, you navigated to your contact list and pressed on his icon, hoping for an explanation. Anxiously biting your nails, you waited through two beeps until he answered with a casual, "Hello?" Your scoff was loud enough for him to hear, a response to his nonchalant greeting after ditching another hangout without any warning.

"Again?"

"Huh?" Did he genuinely believe he had the right to question you after what just happened?

"Are you serious right now? You just missed another hangout, K." His mumbled apology reached your ears, sounding like he was cursing himself for even forgetting. "Damn it—I'm so sorry, YN. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?"

"You've got to be kidding me." You couldn’t help the anger slowly rising in you. “I’m here, waiting in the cold for you just to not show up again?” The hot air escaped your mouth as you scoffed. “You know, you shouldn’t suggest ideas for a winter hangout if you’re just going to not appear.”

"It—it just slipped my mind! I'm sorry," K explained, but you weren't buying it. You've let him slide too many times.

“It just ‘slipped out of your mind’? We planned his hangout 2 weeks prior—you even promised to show up today! Do you think I’m really going to buy that bullshit?”

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that but—”

“You say this all the time. What the hell have you been doing?”

“Listen—I just…” You could hear him trail off, as if restraining himself from saying more. What could he be hiding that's so important? “I’ve been busy.”

“And so have I? But I've always spared time to hang out with you and show up to everything you schedule. And suddenly you can't show up to something we both agreed on? K, you're slowly becoming distant with me.”

“It's not like I'm trying to!” He lowered his tone, recognizing his anger taking hold. “I just couldn’t do it today. It’s just—it’s not something I can tell you that easily.”

“I'm your best friend, what the hell do you mean?”

“I—I can't say. Not right now.”

“You really have to be an idiot if you think I'm gonna believe that. This friendship can’t work if you’re like this.” You pushed your hair back in frustration. "I get it, you're busy. But this is a pattern, K. A pattern I can't keep ignoring," you stated firmly.

"I know, YN. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you," K continued apologizing.

"I've heard enough apologies, K. You're not the only one with a busy life," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Please, just give me another chance."

But the more he apologized, the more irritated you became. "I need some space, K. Figure out what's going on with you. We'll talk later."

“But YN—”

“Just leave me alone, will you?” You angrily said, clearly sick of his pleading. “You clearly have no problem doing so, it seems like, anyways.” Without another word, you hung up, leaving K with the dial tone and a realization that he screwed up real bad.

And you’ve made it your goal to make him feel how you felt every time he ditches you.

DAY ONE. K attempted to act as if everything was okay, anticipating that you'd eventually give in and talk to him as you always did. Little did he know, you were determined to make him feel the weight of his actions—even if it felt harsh.

“Hey YN,” he greeted, met with your silent response.

“You need help?” you simply shook your head.

“Wanna go together?” He tried once more, but you walked away without a word.

Undoubtedly, a sense of guilt crept in, but the memory of that night kept replaying in your mind, fueling the anger you harbored toward him. K seemed to notice the shift, creating awkward moments and growing distant—much like that regrettable day.

You didn't care; in your eyes, it was deserved.

DAY THREE. You're enduring the silence longer than you initially thought. Ignoring him, refusing to even cross paths, felt strange considering how inseparable you used to be. School had become a bit dull without him, but you were determined to hold out for a week…right?

“Are you seriously not going to talk to him?” EJ asked, straw twirling between his fingers. “You're really creeping me out.” He says, as if you aren’t supposed to be the one creeped out by him instead for drinking an Iced Americano during the first days of winter.

“What do you mean?” you blew onto your cup, closing the lid back to take a sip of your coffee.

“You never hold grudges like this—what's up with you?”

“Okay...but he messed up.”

“Did you hear him out?” EJ maintained eye contact, sipping his drink. “Not blaming you or anything, just wondering.”

“Well…no.”

“YN…”

“Well—if he wanted to, he would’ve reached out by now!” you tried defending yourself, but he was already sighing.

“You’re both too stubborn, aren’t you guys?” EJ shook his head, smiling a little. “Give him another chance—oh look, he’s right there,” he pointed, making you whip your head around, only to turn back to EJ when your eyes accidentally met.

“I have to go,” you hurriedly grabbed your bag, saying a quick goodbye. “Thanks, EJ!”

“YN, your drink—” But you were already running off, footsteps following closely behind. You wanted him to reach out, yet here you were, fleeing and feeling like a loser. But facing him seemed unbearable in your current state of embarrassment.

“YN,” a familiar voice called out, a hand on your arm, pulling you toward him. His warmth had such a contrast from the chilling weather today. You turned around, finding K with a serious expression. “Can we please talk?”

You wanted to be petty. For some reason, having K reach out first, you weren't going to make it easy for him. “I don't think there's anything we need to talk about.”

“Can you stop being like that and just talk to me?”

“Like what? Just some lame excuse about why you're missing time with me?”

“It's not useless—” K scoffed, running his free hand through his hair, locking eyes with you. “Do you really think I'm just here to tell you the same stuff I've been saying all the time?”

“So you've been lying?”

“That's not what I'm trying to say—”

“I've heard enough.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held on, disappointment evident in his eyes. “YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?”

You took a deep breath. “Me? How about you, huh? Have you ever listened to me? Do you think you have the right to say that to me with all this shit you’re doing to me?”

“YN—”

“Here’s your answer then. Because I've spent so much time waiting for you to explain, and you only choose to do it now.” You give him a stern look. “I’m tired of hearing your bullshit—your constant, useless reassurances when you clearly don’t keep your word!”

“I'm tired of waiting for you.”

“YN! Please–”

You turned on your heel, determined to walk away and put an end to the conversation. As you took your first steps, a part of you hoped he would chase after you, while another part was tired of hoping for something that seemed uncertain.

K stood there, conflicted. He debated in his mind whether to let you go or chase after you once again. He longed to. He longed to reveal everything to you. Yet, was it the right moment? Were you even in the proper state of mind to even grasp onto his words? Letting out a substantial sigh, K pivoted, reluctant as he was, and proceeded to walk away from you, leaving you both to walk on two different pathways.

DAY FIVE. K hasn't been showing up to class for the past two days. You felt guilty – you didn't know why, but you had this nagging feeling that it was somehow your fault. EJ quickly picked up on your changed demeanor, his face reflecting concern. As you walked home together, he blurted out, "Did you say goodbye to him?"

You turned to him, confusion etched on your face. You had no idea what EJ was getting at, and he wasn't sure if you even understood the gravity of his words. "Say goodbye to who?"

"To K...?" he hesitated, confirming his suspicions when your expression shifted to one of shock; you were completely unaware. EJ wished he could vanish on the spot.

"EJ, that's not funny." You looked at him, not seeing his joking face he’d usually have. “You’re joking…right?”

"Well, I'm being serious. I'm not the type to joke about that."

“Why did I have to say goodbye?”

“He’s leaving today, YN. Did he not tell you?”

“Can we please talk?” You didn’t hear him out.

“YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?” He wanted to tell you something important. It was your fault.

“YN! Please–” It was your fault. All yours. No one to blame this time.

“You mean like…right now?” You looked at EJ, hoping you still had time to make things right with K. With glossy eyes, you could see his hurt expression, knowing what you had put yourself through. “Yeah. About to leave at the train station nearby.”

“I have to go.”

“YN! Be careful; you might get hurt–” You didn’t care. You didn’t care if you were going to get scrapes on your legs, you didn’t care if EJ was yelling your name—nothing could hurt more than losing a best friend that you didn’t leave off on good terms.

You ran as fast as you could, disregarding the chill in the air and the sting in your lungs. The train station came into view, and there he was—K, standing with a suitcase, staring into the distance. Your heart raced as you approached him, a mix of relief and fear coursing through your veins.

"K!" you called out, breathless.

He turned to you, surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "YN? What are you doing here?"

"I... I heard you were leaving," you panted, trying to catch your breath. "I had to see you before you go."

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I messed up, YN. I messed up big time, and I'm sorry."

"Let's talk about it," you urged, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I thought it was too late for a conversation," your heart shattered upon hearing those words. "But it was my fault anyway. I should've been truthful with you."

"Quit blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault—it was mine. I should've been more empathetic." Tears threatened to spill over as you maintained intense eye contact with him, your insides twisting with emotion.

“I didn’t mean to avoid you,” K began, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“I know I messed up too,” you admitted. “I should have listened instead of shutting you out. I should’ve not said those things to you either.”

He nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips. “We both made mistakes, didn't we? But, let’s not worry too much about it—we’ll get over it like we always do. I’m leaving for a while, but I don’t want us to end like this. I care about you—damn, I even like you, YN," he said, causing you to gasp a little. "I’m sorry if this is too sudden—I just don’t know if I’d be able to tell you this any other day."

As you stood there, absorbing his unexpected confession, the reality of the situation sank in. "K, why didn't you tell me earlier?" you questioned, a mix of emotions clouding your mind.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I was scared, afraid it would ruin our friendship. But now, facing the distance, I couldn't hold it back any longer."

“K—” The train's arrival interrupted your conversation, and K looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I'll be back, YN. Let's talk when I return, okay?" he pleaded.

You nodded, and he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, it felt like everything might be okay. “You should go,” K whispered, releasing you from the embrace.

“Take care, okay?” you said, holding back tears.

“You too, YN. I hope we can figure things out when I come back,” he said, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes.

"You promise to come back?"

"You know me. Who am I to fail to keep my promises—well, besides about the hangouts," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled, finding comfort in his smile. "Then can you promise me on this one, and try not to break it?"

"I promise," he extended his pinky finger, waiting for you to interlock with him. Once you did, the warmth of his hand—similar from last time—transferred to yours, making it such a bittersweet moment. He brought his hand closer, kissing the side of your hand. "Hope that wasn't too sudden."

He smiled at your blushing face, releasing your hand. He had noticed how little layers you were wearing—did you really run like this just to see him? Taking the scarf of his neck, he wrapped it around yours, looking at you lovingly. "I'll do something sweeter next time. See you later, yeah?" You nodded, and he finally carried his bags to the train.

As K stepped onto the train, you stood there, gazing into his tear-filled eyes. How badly he didn’t want to cry in front of you. Waving, you declared, "I like you too, K!"

His heart warmed slightly. "I can't hear you," he teased, as he would've done by your side. Smiling, you shouted, "I like you so much!"

The doors closed, and you glimpsed K crying. Witnessing his tears always tugged at your heartstrings, and your own tears flowed uncontrollably. The train started moving, and as K disappeared from view, you stood there with tears streaming down your face. The reality of his departure hit you hard. "Come back soon," you whispered to the wind, as if it could carry your message to him.

Your heart felt heavy, and you couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of loss. As you wiped away your tears, you realized how much K meant to you and how the abrupt end to your argument had turned into a farewell.

Walking away from the train station, you carried the weight of mixed emotions. The confession, the unspoken feelings, and the promise of a future conversation lingered in the air. Most importantly, the emptiness lingered, but the promise of a reunion kept you going. Determined to make things right when he returned, you whispered to yourself,

“I’ll wait for you, K.”

ADVENT CALENDAR MLIST — @en-dream @i-yeseo @yizhoutv @yuma-is-mine @wtfhyuck @sansfransisco

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flwoie · 5 months

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RIGHT AT MY HEART — KOGA YUDAI

─── ❝ YOUR GESTURES HIT RIGHT AT MY HEART ❞

☆ in which k randomly pops into your dms and tries rizzing you up ¿ k x f! reader smau romcom strangers 2 lovers !! profanities, pinterest couples used for visualization & gen alpha humour in slide 9

💭 was listening to mansae at 3 am and thought of a oneshot smau series for &t

[ 🏷️ ] &TEAM PERM TAGLIST @hanniluvi @giantkeroppi @haruavrse @stealanity @s00buwu

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byeuijoo · 7 months

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brave enough 𐀔 k

genre : fluff ⋆ warnings : alcohol consumption ⋆ wc : 1018

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

« hello? » you say as you pick up the phone, squinting at the time on your alarm clock. 1:35 a.m. who dared to call you at such a late hour?

« y/n? i'm sorry, did i wake you up? » on the other side of the phone, you could recognize euijoo's soft voice, one of your best friend's friends. a sigh left your lips as you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, « yea, but it's okay. what's happening? »

a loud crash in the background of the call made you open your eyes wide, until you heard someone swear, followed by a long sigh of exasperation from the boy on the phone. « uhh.. well, the 4 of us went out to have a drink, and it was planned that we would all sleep at nico's, but yudai categorically refuses to sleep if he's not at your place so.. »

pinching the bridge of your nose, a long, long sigh left your lips. sometimes you really hated that your best friend loved you that much. « alright.. give me 20 minutes and i'll be there. » — after a short chat, you dropped your phone and hurried to put on a sweatshirt and sneakers, grabbing your car keys before you hit the road.

after a quarter of an hour's driving, you finally arrive at the door of nicholas' apartment, behind which you could clearly hear someone singing — or rather screaming in agony. knocking a few times against the door, you wait no more than 2 seconds before coming face to face with nico's panicked gaze. « i can't tell you how happy i am to see you. » a scoff left your lips as you entered the room, waiting patiently for yudai to come. and in less time than it takes to say it, he appears right in front of you, literally falling into your arms with a silly smile on his lips.

« oh my lovely y/n, you're here ! » you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was completely drunk, which made you sigh even more, euijoo's desolate eyes finding yours across the room. « how many bottles did he drink to end up in this state? » you asked, hooking your arm around his waist to hold him close. fuma slid in beside you to support your best friend's nearly asleep body, guiding him with you to your car, before seating him on the passenger side.

« we lost him at some point, he got mixed up with other people... i think he must have consumed more than he should have during that time. » he explained as he closed the door. you nodded at fuma's words as you walked around the car to get behind the wheel, waving to the three boys who waved back at you.

resting your forehead against the top of your steering wheel with a sigh, you looked up at yudai's face, who seemed to be dozing. leaning over him, you grabbed the belt and hung it up, « what am i going to do with you? » you said in a whisper that you were sure he hadn't heard. after making sure he was safe, you started the car and drove back home.

once parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards yudai. in a fit of annoyance, you punched him in the shoulder, waking him up slightly, his eyes moving from right to left in a lost way. « little bugger. » you drop as you got out of the vehicle, slamming your door before finding yourself on his side of the car.

now facing him, his eyes explored your face as you frowned. « what? » you say almost aggressively, rising on tiptoe to unhook his belt. « you're cute, » he tried to articulate, playing with a lock of your hair, « and a bit blurry. but definitely always so cute. » — rolling your eyes, you shook your head negatively, ready to flick him on the forehead, but remembering his condition, you suddenly felt sorry for him and decided to simply help him to find his way to bed.

pulling him out of the car, you helped him as best you could to reach your building's elevator, tapping on number three and waiting desperately for it to reach your floor. « i'm seeing you twice. » he said suddenly, losing his balance slightly.

« yes. you're drunk. » you sighed, grabbing his waist with both of your arms. his chin rested on the top of your head, and his long fingers clung to your sweater. and you could swear you weren't ready to hear the words that left his mouth right afterwards.

« yes. and hopelessly in love with you. »

gently raising your face to his, you didn't have time to lose yourself in his deep brown eyes, as the elevator door opened. shaking your head as if to regain your composure, you grabbed him gently and pulled him towards your door, unlocking it in the blink of an eye. « come on, let's get you to bed. » you whispered, helping him off with his shoes, before leading him to the bedroom.

yudai instantly dropped onto your mattress, as you stripped him of his jacket, helping him to wrap himself in your sheets. « okay, g'night. » you say suddenly, ready to get up and leave the room, but his hand grips your wrist. « y/n, » he whispered, straightening up to reach your ear, « don't tell my sober me that i told you i love you. it was a secret. »

a gentle smile took place on your lips, before nodding, watching him fall back onto the mattress, closing his eyes for a well-deserved night's sleep. « okay, i'll keep it a secret until you're brave enough to tell me sober. » and with one last kiss planted on yudai's temple, you left the room for your sofa and spent the night thinking and imagining scenarios in front of the television.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

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forlix · 4 months

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· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.

“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

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dirtyyoungthing · 10 days

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scribble— nngh! scribble— nngh! scribble— nngh!

“d-dad, i c-can’t color the right way with you doin’ that—!” i sob. you yank my pigtails back roughly, causing me to yelp and cry as you pound into me. i’m lying on my stomach in bed and clutching my pastel markers tightly in my little fingers. i whine and wiggle under you, trying to get away.

you lean down and bite my neck harshly. “stay. fucking. still.” you growl as you press my face to the coloring book. the marker on the page mixes with my tears and leaves colorful splotches on my face. “color in your fuckin’ book.” you raise my head back up by yanking my pigtails. the thrusts get harsher, somehow. i can’t stop crying.

“p-please, s-stop dad!! i-it hurts!!”

“you think i— ghh, you think i give a shit?” your left hand reaches to choke my little neck, the grip so strong it makes my face turn red and i can’t help but feel dizzy. “you— hfff, you’ve been—shityoursotightwhenichokeyoulikethis— such a little sh-shit lately. dad’s pent up. frustrated. fuckin’ mad.” the tip of your cock bashes against my cervix again and again, like a battering ram. “you begged and begged and begged me at the store to get you that stupid. fuckin’. coloring book. and now you’re going to be a good little whore and color in the lines while i take out all this anger on you.”

#jess.txt #was coloring earlier and a dear friend said smth that made me think of this lovelyyyy scenario #i hope the ending is ok bc i rly couldnt figure out how to like. properly end it #ahshdhdbfbnfnfjf #fauxcest #cnc k!nk #fauxc3st #cnc free use #1cky princess #1cky daddy #1cky thoughts #r@pe kink #r@pe fantasy

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justforfunsiespost · 1 month

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oh to be thrown around like a fuck doll and pinned down by my throat <3

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wonryllis · 2 months

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☆ MY PRETTY DOLL ! ( enhypen hyung line reaction to you in a lingerie )

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen losing their sanity 𖥔 ݁ SMUT MDNI, requested fem!reader LIB? word count ` 1074 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"my pretty little slut, you did this on purpose didn't you?" heeseung's fingers thrust in and out of you at an animalistic pace. the wet sounds echoing in the room, adding onto the arousal of watching yourself on the mirror. your back rests against his chest as he holds your legs apart with his own. one hand fingering the fuck out of you and the other grip your throat to force you to keep your eyes at the vulgar image infront.

"falling asleep on my bed with this on, baby you're so dirty and desperate," he grunts at the lewd sight, mentally drooling over the scene of you trying to push your hips forward to meet his fingers when he slows down a bit.

heeseung swears he almost stopped breathing when he came across you passed out on top of his covers, dressed in the prettiest lingerie. more like pretty you making the lingerie look so pretty. the thought of you waiting in his room like that to give him a surprise fueling his inner sex demons. feeling more turned on than ever. grinning sheepishly over his intentions.

"come on now, ride me baby," his arms hook around you as he manhandles you onto his lap. carressing your trembling thighs and slapping your pussy. he rests his palms on the bed, watching you struggle to put his cock inside after all the edging he put you through. cooing at your whiney protests to let you cum, cute and pathetic and hot. so cruel but you loved it and he knew you loved it.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

"fuck baby, i can see your pussy from here," jay groans, feeling his dick twitch hard in his pants. the sleep lolling him from the previous night he spent gaming, immediately vanishing. he is so wide awake right now, orbs bulging out at the sight of you twirling in the middle of his room, showing off the lingerie you just got, for him.

it barely covers your ass, and it barely— wrong it does not cover your pussy at all, he can see it so clearly he thinks he'll grow crazy. frozen in his seat, gulping at every thought that comes to his mind, things he'd do to you right now.

"is it pretty?" you ask, looking at him with doe eyes, he feels he'll bust a nut right then and there. his cock throbbing with anticipation as he gets up from the chair, walking over to where you stand. calloused hands gently brush against everywhere, taking his time to admire your look, trying to imprint the image of it in his brain. "jayyy, do i look pretty? do you like thi—"

"yes baby, so so pretty. so fucking pretty," he's immediately grabbing you by the waist and throwing you on the bed. impatient all of a sudden as he rips the pathetic thread of a panty and shoving down his pants, thrusts his impossibly hard dick so rough into you, it's like he lost control. you drive him batshit crazy and jay doesn't know if it's good or worse that you fucking know it and use it to get what you want.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

"give me a little show, princess," jake's hands twitch with desperation, so restless to touch you. though the need to savour the sight of you in that racy lingerie is strong he can't help but be seated, tense and aroused, eyes locked on your figure.

"shit, you're beautiful," the way the lace hugs your skin with the little sneak peaks of skin showing him exactly what he wants to see but not entirely what he wants to see and it makes him feel feral.

"won't you touch me?" you whine sultrily, and jake feels like a hybrid in rut, his body heating up beyond sane, dick throbbing every other second, feeling hyper aware of his surroundings and possibilities of all that he could do to and with you. he pulls you against him lips landing on yours in an instant, the messiest kiss you have ever shared, rushed and gasping for breath. there's just so much he wants to do right now he can't seem to decide what to start with, malfunctioning poorly.

"fuck, jake," yet he finds it in him to begin with rubbing you over your pretty panties, quick circles with his fingers pressing hard against your sensitive folds,"yes baby, gonna make you feel so good," he pushes you to lay on the edge of the bed before forcing your legs far apart in a snap. getting on his knees and leaving fluttering kisses on you inner thighs. shoving your panties aside and diving in to eat you out at once. from kitten licks to lapping at your slick, from tiny kisses for a tease to lips harshly sucking at your engorged clit. jake was absolutely crazed.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

"sunghoon! what are you doing!" you squeal, squirming in place as sunghoon suddenly grabs you from the corridor into his dark room, and cornering you against his desk roughly pulls your oversized shirt(his shirt) up. door slightly ajar, an open chance for anyone to peak in.

"couldn't help but wonder if you're still wearing it," he whispers, hands fondling your breasts harsh and sloppy over the lace material. just an hour earlier, while he was out with jay you sent him a picture of you dressed in the most gorgeous set of lingerie ever. looking so innocently sexy he felt his breath knocked right out of him, dick hard and leaking in the middle of the mall.

"mhp— they'll h-hear us," but that is least of sunghoon's concern right now, they have heard him fuck you before, multiple times. all he cares about is that you're here, putty in his arms, adorning the hottest thing you have ever worn, fabric barely covering your intimate parts. just touching you like this makes him feel so high on cloud nine, the rush of pleasure in your little whimpers and moans trying to be quiet. nothing is more important than this.

"let them hear, fuck you're so damn pretty i'll cum just from this," his breath is ragged, fast and shuttering as he watches your face contort into the prettiest of expressions while his hand stuffed in your panties, plays with your pussy. fingers switching between flicking and pinching at the little bud and plunging into your slicked hole in slow thrusts.

taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle

#enhypen smut #k-labels #THIS TURNED OUT SURPRISINGLY HOT????#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jake smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines

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hyunniesgirl · 4 months

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My cat likes you

Pairing: Lee Know x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: your cat is behaving strangely lately and a walk outside your apartment shows you exactly why.

Warnings: none

A/N: I saw a video on Instagram with a cat rubbing on the floor when they saw a cute guy and I was like "why is this so Lee Know coded?" And had to make something like that with him heheheh

It's been a few days since your cat started behaving strangely, she'll wake you up early in the morning meowing at your room’s door. At first you thought she did that because she was hungry, but when you put food in her bowl she ignores it and keeps meowing.

You realized then, that she wanted you to follow her as she twirled and rubbed on the floor. She would wait for you at the door and would keep scratching it, waiting for you to open it.

“It's too early for a walk, Bo-mi”, you tell her, shaking your head and turning around, going back to your bed to try and sleep a little bit more before work.

She keeps insisting on the early morning walks, but you don't give in, you can't have her get used to going out when it's still time for you to be sleeping.

After a few days, Bo-mi starts having that same behavior late at night, when you are already in bed, ready to go to sleep. She meows for minutes straight until you get up and walk with her to the door.

“Bo-mi, we can't go out now, I'm already in my pjs”, you sigh, patting her. But she keeps scratching the door and meowing for you to go out. “Tomorrow is Friday, okay? So I can stay up late to take you out for a walk”, you tell her before going back to your room.

You spend the next day trying to figure out why she's acting this way. You think about the possibility of her being sick, but she's eating and drinking water normally and she's sleeping the same amount as she always did. Her last check up wasn't even two months ago, even so, you should definitely make an appointment with the veterinarian.

You arrive at home and Bo-mi comes running to you, purring and rubbing herself on you. After you pet her, she goes back to the couch, getting comfortable there again, she doesn't even try to go to the door. Why does she just want to go out when it's late? Or early in the morning? It’s just strange.

Thinking too much about it won't help you find out what's going on, so you give up on the thoughts and just go to the bathroom to take a shower and put on some comfortable clothes since you have to take the lady of the house for a walk in a few hours.

Everything kind of makes sense when you open the door and Bo-mi goes running to the corridor, however, she stops at your neighbor's door, sniffing a bit. The sound of the elevator takes you out of your thoughts and your cat walks in that direction finding a strange man coming out of the elevator.

He looks at her and smiles, trying to go past her but she throws herself in the ground, showing her belly to him and rubbing herself on the floor.

Before you can speak, the guy bends down, petting and making her meow. You look at your watch to see that he's arriving at the exact time that Bo-mi tries going out every night. The weirdest thing is that she hates strangers, especially men.

“I’m sorry”, you finally get out of your head to say something, “she has been acting strangely lately”

“It's okay”, he says, without looking at you. Hypnotized by your cat's little meows and cuteness. “I actually saw her on the balcony one of these days, but couldn't pet her because of the distance”, he chuckles. “What's her name?”

He finally looks at you when asking that and for a moment it seems like the world stops for the both of you. He's the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life, with cute boba eyes and an innocent look.

“It's Bo-mi”, you tell him, feeling your cheeks a bit warm.

He clears his throat, petting your cat for the last time before standing up again, fixing his clothes. He didn't look at you at first, but you are so pretty it actually left him speechless and that is a hard thing to achieve. He was even going to make a joke about cats, but couldn't even manage to get that out while looking at your face.

“I'm sorry to ask, but do you also go out around five a.m.?” You ask out of nowhere, making him look at you suspiciously.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I think my cat is in love with you”, you tell him, pointing at Bo-mi, rubbing herself on his legs. “She always tries to go out around five in the morning or at this time of the night, I guess she wanted to see you again”

You really understand Bo-mi on that, you would also want to see him everyday if you had the chance.

“Oh”, he smiles, “I'm Minho by the way, I moved here two weeks ago”, he says pointing to his apartment.

“I'm y/n”, you give your hand for him to shake, “I know it's weird to ask this, but can I bring her out sometimes so she can see you?” You ask, shyly, making Minho chuckle.

“Yeah”, he nods, “maybe you can also meet my cats”, he says, feeling his ears warming up. “I mean, in a housewarming party, of course”, he completes.

“I would love that”, you smile and he feels like he could melt just with that, “I'll take her home now”, you catch Bo-mi in your arms even though she struggles to get out of your grasp and go back to Minho, “I'll wait excitedly to meet your cats”

Minho watches you go into your apartment, waving to him before closing the door. Now, how the hell does a housewarming party even work?

#lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x reader #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee know scenario #lee know imagine #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #k-labels #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #lee know fluff

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changbinlov3r · 1 month

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We can't be friends | H.H.

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Genre: ANGST, smut

Summary: you have been in love with your best friend for a long time. On a night where you were supposed to comfort him after a break up, things heat up and he finally looks at you the way you wanted.

Words count: 2,957

THIS WORK IS FOR +18 AUDIENCES ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: biting, protected piv, hickeys, blowjob, hair pulling, cursing(I think that's all)

A/N: I wanted to write something to "we can't be friends" by ariana grande, I was thinking so hard about what to write and this idea came to me so suddenly and I knew I had to write it.

Hwang Hyunjin was everything you ever dreamt about. You didn’t realize that right when you met him in your first year of college, to you he was just a friend until he wasn’t anymore. You started noticing every little thing about him, how his eyes turn into crescents when he smiles, the face he makes when he eats something good, what are his favorite drinks and snacks. Suddenly everything about Hyunjin sounded so interesting that you didn’t even realize you were in love. You didn’t realize how happy you got every time he sent you a message, how touched you felt when he went to pick you up at work because it was raining and you forgot your umbrella, how calm you felt when you were with him, watching a movie and chilling.

The moment you realized you were in love, you knew you couldn’t be best friends anymore but you liked to pretend. Hyunjin never even looked at you twice so your mind never went to dark places, wondering what it would be like to tell him how you feel but even though that was the case, he didn't make it easy for you to stop liking him.

He would bring you snacks and medicine when you were on your period, when you felt down about anything he would be there to cheer you up and you could tell him just about anything, you knew he wouldn’t judge you — well, almost anything. Could he ever understand you about this, though? How could you fall in love with your best friend?

When he got his first girlfriend it was a shock to you, the pain in your chest felt like it would burn you whole, but you kept fighting with your heart, telling yourself that it wouldn’t do you any good for him to know about your feelings. His relationship didn’t last long but it also wasn’t the last you heard about a relationship of his and you thought you were okay with it. That is, until he met his last girlfriend. Hyunjin was head over heels for her and that killed you time and time again. Your heart broke more and more every time he talked about her, every time you slept over and heard him calling her late at night, telling her how much he loved her. A month went by, then three months, then a year.

Of course you didn’t want them to break up because you knew he would suffer and that was the last thing you wanted, even if in that case you would be the one hurting. You tried to date other people, but you always felt it was wrong because deep inside you didn’t want to get over him, not when you were still hopeful that one day he would look at you.

It was late at night when Hyunjin called you, it was clear in his voice that something was not right.

“Can you come over?” He asks, voice hoarse and tired.

“Give me ten minutes”, you tell him, jumping out of bed. You were already in your pjs, ready to sleep and no one other than Hyunjin could make you go out this time of the night.

You don't even change your shirt, putting on sweatpants and brushing your hair quickly before grabbing your keys and your coat, walking to the door. The chill air of the night blows your hair, messing everything up and making your face grow cold. Winter has been killing you for a while now, you have been avoiding coming to the cold outside since you started to work from home.

You get into your car, turning on the heater, putting on some light music so you can stay calm and not freak out about what happened to your best friend.

You don’t even knock when you get to his apartment, pressing the password to the door lock and entering the house. A strong smell of liquor comes straight to your nose, stopping you in your tracks. There are so many soju bottles on the floor that you can’t even count and you hear the sound of the shower, so you can only conclude that Hyunjin is taking a bath.

Sighing and taking your coat, you throw it on the table, going to the kitchen to find a plastic bag and starting to collect the trash around the living room. What the hell happened? Hyunjin is usually pretty neat, it’s rare to see his house this messy.

You hear the sound coming from the bathroom disappear while you wash the dishes, drying your hands on a towel and leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for Hyunjin to show up.

He looks awful, clean but horrible. He has eye bags under his eyes and seems tired like he hasn't slept in days.

“What happened?” You ask him, walking to him to take a closer look.

Hyunjin pouts, looking at you. You swear he’s almost crying.

“Jisoo broke up with me”, he says, running his hand through his hair.

“She did what?” You scowl, eyes widening and he sighs. “What happened? This came out of nowhere”

“I don’t know, she’s been acting weird lately and she didn’t want me to pick her up at work anymore so I asked about it and she felt offended that I was being suspicious of her, but I was not”, he whines, “I was just asking if there was something wrong”

“When did it happen? Are you drunk right now?” You recall the amount of empty bottles of alcohol you found when you arrived.

“She ended it yesterday, I thought she was gonna come around”, he cries out, “but she even blocked me on social media”

Hyunjin turns around, walking to the sofa and sitting, supporting his elbows on his thighs while he covers his face.

“I'm not drunk, I ran out of booze a few hours ago and just couldn't get myself to go buy more”, he sighs, “I have no energy”

You feel that pain in your chest, you never wanted to see him suffering like this.

“Look, you have today to cry and tomorrow you're gonna forget about her, okay?”, you groan, the last thing you want is to comfort the guy you like because someone else broke his heart. “You have me, you’re gonna be fine” You walk to him, sitting by his side and patting his back. Hyunjin sighs, nodding begrudgingly.

“Thank you for coming”, he says, leaning down and putting his head on your shoulder. “I know it's late”

“Don’t worry about it”, you assure him, “I'm always here for you”

Hyunjin nods, looking up at you before you glance down at him, his dark eyes watching you like he can see right through you, all your emotions. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes strange, you both fall into silence and you feel something deep inside you, something you don't think you have ever felt before as he glances to your mouth and then your lips are on his.

For a few seconds you can't fully understand what's happening, are you two really kissing? And is he reciprocating? Hyunjin’s lips are just like you thought it would be, soft and sweet. Are you a horrible person for doing this when he just broke up with his girlfriend? His hands move to cup your face, deepening the kiss but yours go straight to his chest, pushing him away.

“We shouldn't do this”, you shake your head, trying to get back to your senses. “This isn't right”

Hyunjin scowls.

“It's fine, I want it”, he tries kissing you again but you stop him again.

“You were drinking earlier, you are not thinking straight”, you try keeping your cool.

“I'm sober now”, he insists, “please, y/n”, he pleads, making your heart melt.

It's not like you don't want to have him, you really do.

“You won't regret it later?” You ask, biting on your bottom lip and when he shakes his head, you turn off the side of your brain that makes good decisions, kissing him again.

You grab his face, deepening the kiss, delighting yourself on his plump lips. His long hair falls around your fingers, tickling your skin and the brush of his tongue on yours makes you sigh. Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it lightly while his hands slide down to your hips, pressing his fingers with such force you think it might cause a bruise.

He kisses you again, hungrily, leaning over and making you fall back on the sofa as he hovers over your body. You feel tiny beneath him, like he holds all the power in the world and you’re just there ready to make all his wishes come true.

As he trails kisses down your neck, you sigh and slide your hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him and throwing it somewhere in the room. You kiss him again, eagerly, not capable of staying away for too long as his hands slide down your shirt grabbing at your breasts, making you let out a moan. Your hands go down his abs, sliding inside his pants, pressing your fingers around his hard cock. You start massaging it up and down and Hyunjin bites on your bottom lip, pulling it slightly just enough for you to feel a slight pain.

He slips his hand down your bra, kneading at your breasts and pinching on your nipples.

“Fuck”, you murmur, not able to hold up anymore as you pull your on shirt off to give him the view of your chest that's bare in a few seconds since you work fast to undo your bra.

He watches you for a moment, mesmerized by your beauty. You feel your cheeks grow hot, trying to cover yourself but he blocks your movements, holding your arms above your head. Hyunjin kisses your neck, leaving a trail of bites that are going to cause you to use turtlenecks for a while but you are not complaining, he trails down your collarbone till your breasts so he can suck on your nipples, rubbing his hard cock against your tight while he enjoys his time at your chest.

You can't hold yourself back anymore, so you put your hands on his chest, pushing him away enough for him to sit down. You throw one leg over him, sitting on his lap, brushing your core against his hard cock, moaning to the delicious pressure. You kiss him again, rubbing yourself against him a few times, his hands go straight to your hip forcing you down.

You pull away when you can't breathe anymore, trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, giving him a bite right on top of his collarbone, not stopping until he hisses.

“You're going to leave a mark”, he groans, opening his eyes that were shut in pleasure, just to look at you, seeing the smirk you have on your lips.

“That's the point”, you say, finally detaching your lips from his skin, enjoying the view of it turning purple.

You get down from his lap, getting on your knees in between his legs, pulling his pants and underwear down to find his painfully hard cock, glistening with precum. You grab the base of his cock, pumping it a few times before you get close enough to lick the head, circling it with your tongue, listening to him moan while he grabs the sofa, knuckles turning with the strength he's using.

You hold one of his hands with yours bringing it to your head and letting it rest on your hair, as you look at him sharply, sucking up and down on his cock even more eagerly.

“Fuck”, he grabs a handful of your hair, pressing your head further down his cock, the head reaching the back of your throat, making tears escape your eyes. “You look so pretty gagging around me”, he murmurs, throwing his head back, groaning to the intense feeling of the orgasm approaching.

You feel his grip tighten on your hair and he cums a few seconds later, letting go of your hair and breathing heavily, trying to recompose himself. You stare at him from the floor, not sure if he's going to want to keep going, but he soon looks back at you stretching himself to the side of the sofa till he reaches the drawer in the rack, pulling a condom out of there.

“Do you want to-”, he begins to say.

“Yes”, you nod frantically not even letting him finish.

“Good”, he smiles, tearing the package and putting on the condom, his cock hardening again. “It's pretty difficult not to get hard again seeing you fucked out like that for me”, he teases. Your hair is disheveled, your lips are swollen and there are tears marks down your cheeks.

You smile sheepishly watching as Hyunjin offers you his hand, pulling you down to sit back on his lap. You grab his cock, teasing your entrance lightly, closing your eyes to the feeling. When you sink down you swear you can see stars, his cock is just perfect, the stretch feels so good you can't even begin to describe it. He's reaching places you didn't even know you wanted to be reached, the way he grabs your hips, pushing you down on him while he makes you grind makes the sensation a thousand times better. You can already barely breath when he kisses you again, bringing a hand to your hair and pulling it while he bites on your lips, you can feel him thrusting into you, faltering movements showing that he's almost reaching his second orgasm. He trails kisses down your neck, kissing the hill between your breasts and licking on your right nipple while he curses under his breath.

“I'm gonna cum”, he announces, detaching his mouth from your chest, glancing at you just to see you nod, murmuring ‘me too, I'm almost there’ over and over until a loud moan escapes your lips. Your legs tremble and you hug Hyunjin looking for some kind of support, he wraps his arms around you, fucking into you while he cums too.

You don't have any strength left to get up when you come down from your high, resting your head on his shoulder. Hyunjin gently picks you up, holding your legs around his hips while he carries you to his room, laying you down on his bed. He murmurs something but you're too groggy to understand him, falling into a deep slumber as soon as you feel his lips meeting your forehead.

It's already afternoon when you wake up, there's no one by your side though and you feel the pain of regret beginning to find its way to your chest. You could ignore it, you really could, if it wasn't for Hyunjin’s voice coming from outside the room. You dress up fast, walking to the door to hear what he's talking about and then you realize he's not alone.

“Do you have any idea of how much you hurt me?” You hear his voice.

“I'm sorry”, you hear Jisoo’s voice, “I know I went overboard this time but I wasn't thinking clearly”

You feel your stomach sinking in, your heart starts beating on your ears but you make a huge effort to keep listening to them.

“What do you want me to do about it now?” He asks, sighing.

“Let's get back together”, she suggests, “we can pretend we never even broke up in the first place”

You want to believe with all you have in you that he's gonna deny her, that he's going to think about you and tell her he's not interested anymore.

“Fine”, he says, “but I'll need some time to think”

You wish you could say you're surprised with his answer but you're not, it's not even sad, it's just pathetic. You really thought that he would really look at you this time, didn't you? That he would fall in love with you after one night together? That's embarrassing to say the least.

You scoff to yourself, walking around the room and collecting your things, you want to get the hell out of there and disappear from this world.

You hear the front door being closed and you know Hyunjin is gonna show up at any time now.

You're already ready to go when he opens the door, stopping on his tracks to look at you.

“I didn't know you were awake”, he says, sheepishly.

“I am”, you say walking past him in the direction of the front door.

“Y/N, about yesterday-”, he starts saying but is interrupted by you spinning around to look at him, trying to contain the tears that are threatening to escape your eyes.

“You're a fucking asshole”, you tell him, making him scowl.

“I- look, you don't understand”, he tries but you laugh, scoffing at him.

“What don't I understand? That you fucked me one night and went back to your girlfriend the next morning?”

“I wasn't on my right mind yesterday”

“Fuck you”, you feel your face hot with anger, “you said you wouldn't regret it”, you cry out as you run your hands through your hair, “I guess that's on me for really believing you”

“Let's not let this ruin our friendship okay? We can take some time apart to clear our heads but we are still best friends, y/n”

“We can't be friends”, you inform him, “I have known that for a long time now but I liked to pretend”, you sigh, waiting for him to say something, anything that could make you stay, but Hyunjin just stares at you in shock and watches as you leave him.

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bywons · 1 month

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DREAM GIRL — LHS

SYPNOSIS ► being single for too long doesn't suit the playboy lee heeseung of decelis university, especially when he's about to attend his best friend's brother's wedding. but he promised his friends of his promiscuous nature, that he'd stop this when he'll find his dream girl. but what if she's too hard to get and ignorant? lee heeseung is not used to that.

or where, lee heeseung tries to let go of his playboy tendencies to get a hold of his dream girl.

GENRE ► smau (+ written), fake dating, stangers to lovers, non-idol au, college au, crack, fluff, romance, angst, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS ► SLOW UPDATES age gap (heeseung is 1-2 years older than reader), all the characters are in college, cursing, de3th jokes, kys jokes, cheating allegations, alcohol consumptions + more tba

PAIRING + CAST ► playboy! lee heesung x f! reader ++ all of enha, ningning (aespa), haerin and minji (new jeans), kazuha (le sserafim) and other cameos

STATUS ► ON GOING! ( started : 30/04/24 ended : ??/??/?? )

SRU'S NOTE ► all my moots influenced me (fomo) to write a smau tbh 💀 plus these days im not being able to find time to write a fic :(( but i really hope ya'll enjoy this my pooks pls don't let this flop yall TT PLS REBLOG!!

TAGLIST ► OPEN! send an ask/dm me/comment below this post to join the taglist for "dream girl" ! or even better, join my perm taglist (linked in my pinned post!) and never miss out a single work<3

READ MORE ON — CATALOGUE?!

SPAM LIKING = BLOCK! | SPAM REBLOGS/COMMENTS = OK!

PROFILES ! the ultimate rizzlers | it girlz | sssh,, privates!

CHAPTERS !

OO1 : duration of bitchelessness

OO2 : it was a cannon event

OO3 : ???

OO4 : ???

more tba

(📌) :: PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN! ( rebloged ) nets! @/k-labels

(🐚) :: DREAM GIRL TAGLIST! (1, 2 is rbed!) @natsukee @sainns @jayhoonvroom @hexoolio @yenqa @autumn583 @oldjws @defnotfertilizedtoesw @eleanorheartschishiya @rosas-in-the-garden @wonifullove @ak-aaa-li @jayujus @wvnkoi @enhacatalog @river-demon-slayer @luv4cheol @stilesks @eneiyri @enhastolemyheart @grah127 @rosie-is-everywhere @jiawji @hizhu @yunjinsbbg @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @winuvs @nicholasluvbot @lhspeachie @wonyofile @rainyjy @pkjay @en-gelic @ckline35 @sophi-ee @rikizm @ahnneyong @suhiiiiiii @blockbusterhee @seunghancore @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @heyniki @myheartfeelsapain @sunghoonsgff @90steele @llvrhee @jadedgem @yeokii @iheartjayke @sumzysworld @enhaz1 @letmein2urheart

(send an ask/dm me/comment under this post to be added)

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urszn · 28 days

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SUNGHOON BF TEXTS

♡ ｡ﾟ idol!sunghoon x idol!fem reader

genre : fluff, comedy ( want more check pt.2 )

warnings : cursing and that literally it i think (lmk if there’s more)

note: my first time doing these text thingys 😭 that’s crazyy anyways hi

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desperate-baitmeat · 3 months

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Dad told me he had an extra special dessert for me tonight. Just come see him at night when Mom’s gone to bed and I can have it. After I hear the door to their room close, I know she’s in bed, and I sneak downstairs. I am so excited to see Dad waiting for me!

“I made us some Daddy-daughter brownies,” he says gently, “just for us to share tonight while we watch your favourite movie, sweetie.”

I thank him and take the biggest looking piece off the plate as we settle onto the couch and turn the tv on. After 30 minutes sitting together watching the movie, i start feeling kind of strange.

“Dad, my body feels weird and I can’t focus on the movie anymore,” I whine.

He tells me not to worry and how much he’s enjoying our movie night together. He brings the plate over and offers,

“Have another brownie, kiddo. That should help you feel better.”

While eating more, I vaguely notice Dad’s hand caressing my leg under the blanket. He probably just likes spending time with his daughter..nothing to worry about.

As the movie continues, he gently runs his fingers up my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to my pussy.

Now anxious and having a hard time gathering my thoughts, I ask him, “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Shhh sweetheart, I just want you to feel good,” he replies softly as his hand finds the top of my pjs and slips under the waistband.

His fingers reach my clit and he starts delicately playing with it under his fingertips. I don’t know what to do other than sit there and let his hands touch my body. Soon he grabs my hand and leads it under the blanket, reaching towards his legs. I feel his hard bulge under his pants as he uses my hand to rub himself.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praises while putting my hand inside his pants. “Show me how much you love me, sweetheart, rub Daddy’s cock for him.”

Frozen in place and feeling warm and fuzzy in my head from his fingers continuous stimulation, I wrap my delicate hand around his thick cock and start moving up and down. As soon as my hand starts in motion, his fingers move further into my pjs and find the entrance of my pussy. He feels how wet he’s made me and laughs softly.

“Is Dad making your little cunt feel nice?” He asks.

I barely know what’s happening anymore more. I’m just focused on doing what Dad says and getting through our movie night. My nod indicating a yes makes him smile.

“I’m not going to be able to sit still very long, kiddo. Don’t you feel how happy you’re making me?”

He pulls my hand away from him and gets up from the couch. He’s got a more serious look on his face as he says,

“This might not make your cunt feel as nice, sweetie, but I really can’t help myself right now. Lay back on the couch for me and just relax, okay?”

#1cky daddy #1cky daughter #1cky d@d #cnc drugging #dad k!nk #thank you to anyone who reads this I hope it’s enjoyable to at least one person #and if you want to continue with the scenario you already know you can send me messages

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daydreamingyuta · 19 days

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[10:12 PM] | Mark Lee

summary: fluff, drabble, mark loves it when you wear his clothes. wc: 200

“Mind if I borrow your shirt?” You ask, already putting it on because you know Mark never minds sharing anything with you. You get your head through the neck hole fast enough to see Mark nod his head as he makes his way off the bed and towards you. “Cute.” He says quietly, as if only talking to himself.

The ends of your hair were still stuffed into the shirt and he takes it upon himself to gently pull it all out, tucking a few strands behind your ear. He tugs a little at your collar, “Did you take your necklace off?”

You didn’t remember taking it off but you scan the room looking for it when Mark sees the gold chain peeking out underneath his shirt. “Found it.” He says, pulling out the ‘M’ necklace that he bought you for your first anniversary together. He toys with the pendent for a second before his eyes meet yours again. You’ve been with him for so long but his stare still manages to make your cheeks hot. He smiles and his eyes make their way down to your lips, pulling you in close so he can show you just how much he loves seeing his girl in his clothes with his initial on her necklace. "My girl..." He whispers in between his sweet kisses.

#mark lee #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #fluff #k-pop #drabble #imagine #nct scenarios #fanfiction #fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n

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forlix · 7 months

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𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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sluttywoozi · 17 days

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The Hair Tie Test

Jihoon didn't mean to classically condition you to get wet every time he puts his hair up, but he can't say he minds the result.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.5k | Pairing: ljh x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: implied consent, oral reader rec., somnophilia mention, fingering, jihoon is in love w u and ur pussy

Reader notes: uses hair ties, has breasts and a vagina, wap

Jihoon first started keeping a hair tie on him when his hair was still short and the relationship was still new.

He picked up the habit after noticing that you always have at least two, one for you and one for anyone else who might need one. One night about three months in, you gave both away to people you didn’t even know, and then later when you got warm, you had nothing to put your hair up with.

So before Jihoon saw you next, he bought a pack of the brand he knew you liked and tried to get used to the feeling of the elastic around his wrist. It was tight and constricting at first, but soon enough, he grew accustomed to the sensation and stopped perceiving it at all.

The next week when you gave both of them away again, he was prepared. He acted nonchalant as he brandished his wrist, but the joyful gasp and squeal you responded with had him biting back a grin the rest of the night.

Now that he’s let his hair grow so long, he’s started keeping two hair ties on him as well, one for you, and one for him.

There are a few reasons why he might tie his hair up in the day to day: he gets too hot, the wind blows it into his face, he needs it out of the way to work out.

At night, there’s only one: he’s getting ready to eat your pussy till you cry.

You laughed the first time he stopped to pull it back in the middle of his descent, but by now, you know exactly what it means when he reaches for that hair tie.

He’s almost sure he accidentally conditioned you, because every single time he gets between your legs after putting his hair up, you’re wet. Even if you’re fresh out of the shower, or winding down in bed, or tired after a long day of work, you’re ready for him as soon as his hair is tied back.

He wonders if that happens during the day too. When he answers your facetime call after a workout and you see his hair is up, do you get wet? What about when he picks you up from work on a hot day? Or when he took you on that picnic date last weekend and it was particularly windy? Did you want him then too?

Today, he’s decided to find out.

You’re having a relaxed day at home, just lounging on the couch together and catching up on shows, so there’s no ostensible reason for him to tie his hair back.

Which is exactly why he does.

He doesn’t say a word as he starts to gather it up in his hands, brushing the strands back with his fingertips and forming a pony before looping the hair tie around it one, two, three times. He can feel your gaze on him but he keeps his eyes on the TV and returns his hand to the leg you’re resting in his lap, rubbing soft circles around your ankle bone with his thumb.

He sees you shake your head in his periphery as if to clear it, and lets the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk on the side you can’t see. You’re restless for the next few minutes, checking your phone and wiggling your foot and tapping your fingers on your thigh, and he decides he’ll only make you suffer till the next commercial break before checking the results of his little test.

As soon as an ad starts to air, he’s turning in place and tugging one of your legs to rest behind him, shifting to lay on his stomach between them and tucking his fingers in the waistband of your pajamas. You look at him with wide eyes but raise your hips when he starts to pull them down, bringing your knees up to your chest so he can take them all the way off.

He gently pushes your legs apart, waiting for you to let them fall open the rest of the way, and feels a grin stretch his lips as soon as he sets eyes on the mess of your pussy.

You’re glistening with arousal already, so wet and so fucking pretty, and he’d laugh at the fact that he accidentally Pavlov’d you if he wasn’t already busy sucking open-mouthed kisses up your thigh.

Usually, he’s desperate to get you on his tongue, but on a lazy day like this, he feels like he should take his time, work you up slowly, tip you over the edge gently.

So he doesn’t rush as he licks a fat stripe up the center of your cunt, languidly dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit. He exhales a soft moan at the taste of you, lifting your left leg over his shoulder and wrapping his arm around it to reach your pussy.

His fingers push your lips further apart so he can lap more directly at your clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue up and down before pursing his lips around the bud and sucking lightly.

You let out a delicate sigh, one of your hands coasting down your body to pet his head, your nails scratching at his scalp and making him shiver. His other arm winds around your right leg, his hand resting on your stomach where you intertwine your fingers with his.

Jihoon loves the quiet intimacy of moments like this, loves how you want to make him feel good when he’s doing the same for you, loves that you and him don’t need words anymore, not when you have tender hands and an unbreakable connection.

He loves your pussy too, you’re so warm and soft and fragrant, and getting to put his mouth on you is one of a great many privileges in his life. Getting to make you cum is another, though he’s not in a rush to make that happen.

It will, of course it will, but before that, he wants to savor you, treasure you, cherish you.

Today, he’s about the journey, not the destination.

You don’t seem to mind, thankfully, just laying back and letting him explore you like it’s his first time between your legs rather than his five hundredth. He’s meticulous in his study of you, his gaze traveling up your body to watch your face as his tongue glides through your folds. Your eyelashes flutter when he ever so slightly digs the tip under the hood of your clit, so he does it again before wrapping his lips around it and taking slow, deep pulls.

That makes you gasp, makes your brows pinch together and your pretty eyes grow hazy, makes him want to abandon his plans and go faster, harder, make you cum now. But he can be patient, he will be patient, because he knows that his slow and steady perusal of you will be all the more rewarding when he finally guides you into your release.

But if he keeps sucking your clit, that will happen before he’s ready. He moves down a bit, firming his tongue and pushing it into your entrance, groaning quietly at the heady essence that coats his taste buds.

Jihoon loves to eat, that’s a fact everyone knows, but whenever they ask his favorite meal, he always has to lie. He’ll say steak or salmon or some kind of pasta, but if he could be honest, his answer would be your pussy. Not just pussy, but yours, specifically.

There’s just something about the way you taste that sates his every craving, that has him thinking about it even when he shouldn’t be, that makes him want to enjoy you loudly, messily, voraciously.

That’s how he usually is when he goes down on you, today being an outlier.

It’s a welcome one, though, and perhaps long overdue, because he can tell how much you love it at this pace. You’ve got a dreamy look about you, and your thigh is so relaxed on his shoulder, he can feel it weighing him down. Then there’s your sounds, your sighs and hums and muted gasps telling him he’s doing something very right.

It almost makes him want to put you to bed like this, eat you out so leisurely, you fall asleep with his head between your thighs and cum without even knowing it. He can wake you up the same way, pull you out of your dreams and push you straight into pleasure with just his tongue.

Your pussy is luxury incarnate; beginning and ending the day with your taste in his mouth would be both a privilege and an honor.

But then, this is too. The way you gave yourself over to him without even a word exchanged, let him get you naked and spread you out right here on the couch in the middle of the day. You’re not rushing him as he takes his sweet time relearning every inch of you, and oh, the time is sweet.

Your pussy is sweet too, but not sweet like candy. It’s sweet like falling asleep in a patch of sunlight, like coming home after a long time away, like flowers blooming again once the frost of winter fades.

He could live and die here, with his tongue inside of you and his nose buried in your folds.

He’s sure he could subsist on just your pussy. Food isn’t a requirement when he has something he loves to eat even more, and your arousal wets his throat just like water does, flowing generously enough that he can drink you down and tasting so luscious that he won’t have need for anything else.

You probably wouldn’t be opposed, you love his mouth on you as much as he loves to put it on you. He’s still obsessed with how responsive you are, even after almost two years together.

You don’t hide a thing from him, always let him see and hear the way he makes you feel, unselfish with your noises, your reactions, and your desires.

When your fingers tighten in his hair and you sigh out his name, he knows that means you want more, and he’s inclined to give it to you. Slow and steady wins the race and all that, but his aim is always to give you what you need, and if you need him to go faster, to go harder, he will.

It helps that his hunger is beginning to overtake his patience. He was hoping to work you up softly, methodically, lead you into gentle waves of pleasure rather than the crashing tsunami you’re both used to, but he doesn’t have the fortitude to make you wait when he wants it just as bad as you.

It turns out he can be disciplined in every area of his life except for eating your pussy, and maybe that should feel like a defeat. Instead, it just feels right, like he’s worshiped at your altar and now he gets to revel in your benediction.

He shifts his greedy mouth back up to your swollen clit and starts to suck hard, his sights now set on making you cum all over his face. His bangs fall over his forehead into his eyes, obscuring his view of you, and you push them back for him, staring down at him with parted lips.

You watch as he devours you until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the falling of your lids telling him you’re starting to get close. You’re making the prettiest sounds, your little moans and whimpers going straight to his cock, which is already achingly hard for you.

This isn’t about him though, so he ignores the throbbing and doubles his efforts, groaning into your clit when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling slightly at the roots. He’s got a sensitive scalp, not in an ‘ouch’ way but in a ‘moan when you play with his hair’ way, and that’s something you discovered very early on with how tactile and affectionate you are.

You take advantage of this discovery often, but this isn’t one of those times, no, you’re just so close to the edge that you can’t control your hands anymore. The one holding his is squeezing his fingers, and he can’t help but think about how your pussy would do the same if he slid two inside.

Having something filling you up makes your orgasms stronger anyway, so he decides to take back the hand holding your pussy open, giving your thigh a loving knead on his way to your cunt. He primes one finger at your entrance, and when you feel it, you sigh out a long, “Yes,” like it’s something you’ve been waiting for.

You clench down as soon as he slips it inside, your walls fluttering as you grow closer and closer. He’s quick to sink in another, curling the tips up toward your belly and pressing them into your sweet spot. He doesn’t fuck them in and out, just rubs that ridged patch and sucks your clit until your back arches and your moans rise in volume. Your thigh starts to quiver on his shoulder and he knows you’re right there, that it’s only a matter of time before you-

“Jihoon,” you whine as your pussy contracts around his fingers in pulses, wetness seeping out around them as you tremble and buck into his mouth. He uses your combined grasp to hold you down so he can carry you through to the other side, his lips still suctioned around your clit, taking deep pulls to prolong your pleasure. He watches you the whole time, watches the bliss play out through your expressions, the look on your face combined with the feeling of your pussy swallowing around his fingers almost enough to make him cum too.

You melt into the couch when it’s over, your face and your hands relaxing, a sleepy hum escaping you as you pet his head in thanks.

“What was that for?” You ask drowsily, blinking your eyes open just as he pulls his fingers out and slides them into his mouth. He never wastes a drop when it comes to you, and that’s something you know well.

Something he knows well is that you love tasting yourself on him, so before answering, he gently lifts your legs off his shoulders and rises up to press his lips to yours.

“Do I need to have a reason?” He murmurs into your mouth, kissing you again so you don’t question him further.

The test can stay his little secret for now, especially when he’s gathered so little evidence.

He’ll have to try it out a few more times, just to be sure.

AN: fully inspired by this ask thank you anon ily

My Masterlist

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hyunverse · 1 month

Text

wherever you are ☆ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst. suggestive. a hyunjin birthday special.

wc: 12.9k words.

warnings: reader often referred to as "girl," suggestive. mentions of sex.

note: this fic is my baby. it might be one of my favourite things i've ever written so far, please treat it well <3 feedbacks are very much appreciated.

playlist.

Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.

one.

“Happy Birthday, Hyunjin.”

It was Hyunjin’s 10th birthday.

Despite already singing him a happy birthday song, you muttered the wish once again in the comfort of his tree house. He sat adjacent to you, feet dangling over the platform, the large leaves hovering over the tree house’s roof providing shelter from the blinding sunlight.

He hummed in gratitude, eyes busy watching Kkami running around below the tree house. Afternoons with Hyunjin were often spent like this — hanging out in the tree house as Kkami played around on the grass, its barks mirroring its happiness. For years, you’ve spent enjoying the fact that your afternoons were spent like this — were spent with Hyunjin, in childish innocence.

After letting the silence take over for a while, Hyunjin turned his head towards you, a little surprised once he saw that you were already looking at him. He tried his best to not let his surprise show.

“Why did you want to come up here? I thought you were enjoying the party inside.”

Indeed, you were enjoying the birthday party, a little too much for Hyunjin’s liking. The boys from Hyunjin’s school came to the party, and you seemed to get along with them quickly, despite being the only girl at the party. Hyunjin hates to admit it but he was a little envious. He told himself that he’s jealous because he’s your number one best friend, so you should pay more attention to him. It was true, but only partially — he was jealous because they were all boys. Not that he would ever admit that to himself.

To Hyunjin’s question, you responded by extending your arms to him, revealing a white box in your palm. He took it, quickly recognizing it as a jewellery box. He’s received one of them after purchasing a Mother’s Day gift. Quietly, he examined the engravings on the box, and the pristine look of it. Honestly, he was impressed by how clean you have kept it. You had always been one to dirty your white clothes.

“What’s this?” he asked, answering his own enquiry by opening the box with you sitting close, peering over his hands.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat.

In the box laid two necklaces, black strings with Lego pieces as pendants. They were matching necklaces. The Lego piece of each necklace formed a heart when joined together. His brown eyes widened, in disbelief of the gift. He’s never received something like this — something matching. It made his heart flutter — no, it beat faster than it does while playing soccer. Hyunjin turned to look into your eyes, and it was as though he had found a new revelation in yours. The more Hyunjin looked at you, the more the realization seeped in, until it overtook his senses.

You’re a girl.

You weren’t just the kid from next door, you weren’t like his other friends — you’re a girl. You like Disney princesses, you have a pretty face, you like Sanrio characters, you have soft hair, you like painting nails, you have pink lips from your strawberry lip balm, you like matching necklaces — you’re a girl.

A very pretty girl.

It felt like a revelation after having been friends with you for over five years. As though the necklaces in the box held some sort of power to snap one from a trance. Hyunjin realized that you were different from his other friends. For one, you have softer hands. Moreover, you’re someone he can develop a crush on — or whatever girls call it.

His finger traced the pendants, feeling the bumps of the Lego pieces. He smiled, one that reached his ears. You felt yourself releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I love it soooo much. Thank you.”

Unlike other boys (the stinky ones from your school), Hyunjin didn’t cringe at the gift. The way he gently examined the necklaces mirrored the appreciation he felt towards it. If he was any other boy, he would’ve probably laughed at the gift, then poked fun at you.

Then again, Hyunjin had never been like the other boys you knew.

He was different in the way he spoke softly to you (softer than he would to his guy friends), and how he would let you change the TV channel from Snoopy to Totally Spies. He had always been different, that being the reason why you were so fond of him.

“You like it? Really?” you queried, staring at him. You watched his expressions carefully, trying to sense for any lies.

“Really! Which one do you want?” he answered, absolutely no hesitations. He wasn’t lying.

Hyunjin panned the box towards you, prompting you to pick which necklace. One was in black, the other in white. As always, he gave in to you, letting you be the one to choose.

“White!”

The sun was setting when you both swayed your legs, wearing the matching necklaces. Hyunjin was genuinely happy, one of his hands wouldn’t stop fiddling with the pendant. The party was still lively inside, but he much preferred sitting with you — his one and only best friend.

“Yn,” your best friend’s voice broke you from your trance. “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Hm,” you pondered, tapping your pointer on your chin in a cartoonish manner.

He was looking at you, an expectant expression on his face. You pulled up your legs to cross them as you thought.

“I think…” your voice trailed, “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “at least make it something I could give you!”

You pouted, “but that’s what I want!”

The boy sighed, laying back on the rough surface of the tree house. He looked up, observing the little glow-in-the-dark stars plastered onto the tree house ceiling. He recalled putting them up with you. You were impossible to deal with. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know your wish — something he could give you for your birthday. Your gift to him made him really happy, and he wished to return the favour.

“Then, I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris with you.”

It was such an innocent, child-like answer — straight from a 10-year-old’s desire. Untainted by the boulevard of broken dreams. As if anything in the world was possible, and that the universe was kind all the time.

“Really?” you chirped, looking at him with disbelief in your eyes. You giggled in glee and plopped yourself down beside him. “Really really? You really really really mean it, Hyunnie?”

At that point, Hyunjin could only giggle and nod. “Of course! I’ll be wherever you are.”

The manner in which you hugged him expressed your excitement. You were practically suffocating him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing tightly.

“You’re my best friend in the world!”

Hyunjin felt like he could die.

His heart continued beating rapidly, worsened by you nuzzling your face into his neck. Hyunjin knew, it was just you being your usual self. However, the revelation he experienced minutes earlier made the tips of his ears turn red.

“Hyunjin! Come down here! Your friends are about to leave!”

At that very moment, Hyunjin silently thanked his mother for saving him.

two.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

A question which had you staring into space — the walls of Hyunjin’s bedroom for a while. The blue walls were plastered with posters of numerous musicians and self-made artworks.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know the answer. You knew. Ballet had been a part of your life since small, it was your everything. It wasn’t that you were unsure if you wanted to do ballet, you were unsure if you should be doing ballet.

Uneasiness settled into your stomach, but you tried to keep them in. You were in no mood to be going through an identity crisis.

“Ballerina,” you stated, matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows furrowed when Hyunjin chuckled.

“What?”

“Your answer hasn’t changed,” Hyunjin laughed, but not in a humorous way. Rather, it was in an expectant way, as if he knew that’s what you would answer.

You straightened your posture and tilted your head. Hyunjin laughed even more, making a comment that you looked like Kkami.

“Have you asked me the same thing before?”

He nodded, “sort of? Kind of. On my tenth birthday, I asked you what you wanted.” Hyunjin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, mimicking the voice of younger you. “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”

“Oh, shut up!” you rumbled, hitting him with his bolster repeatedly. “That’s not how I sounded like!”

“It so was!”

Truthfully, you couldn’t quite recall the memory. You didn’t doubt Hyunjin though, it did sound like something you would’ve said.

You queried again.

“What did you answer then?”

Hyunjin turned silent. He didn’t like where this was going, not fond of recalling the cheesy answer he gave you. As he looked away from your gaze, you pressed him further. Even threatened to dog-nap Kkami.

“Fine. I said… I said I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris too…” his voice trailed, getting smaller, “said I’ll be wherever you are…”

Your eyebrows raised, scooting closer to him in mock confusion. “Sorry? Didn’t hear you.”

A pillow hit your head, and you burst out into peals of laughter. It was hilarious, the cheesy answer little Hyunjin gave, but what amused you even more was his face turning red.

Touches of laughter echoed in the room, and Hyunjin found himself praying the moment would last forever. The conversation quickly escalated into a pillow fight, ending up in Hyunjin leaning against his headboard, exhausted, and you laying on his lap.

You looked up at him, eyes fleeting to the stubble growing. Mindlessly, you grazed his cheek, feeling his sideburns prickling against your thumb.

He was growing, you realized it then. You were growing too. Neither of you were little kids anymore.

A fact you didn't want to accept.

It’s the softness of your fingers that froze Hyunjin in his tracks. He held his breath, as if you would stop if he moved. He didn’t want you to, wanted to let your fingers linger, to etch the sensation into his memories.

In a soft tone, you spoke, “Did you really mean it?”

“Hm?”

“Would you be wherever I am?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a lump growing in his throat. If he spoke, he feared his feelings would become too real. For as long as he could, he wanted to bury his feelings deep down. Life was already risky as it is, he didn’t want to take any more.

It’s platonic. It’s platonic. It’s platonic.

They repeated in his brain like a mantra. Maybe if he chanted it, it’ll manifest to life.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallowed, “of course I will. You’re my best friend.”

Like magic, your worries about the future disappeared into thin air. Would it be foolish to trust Hyunjin so much, that you believed life would be fine as long as he was with you?

Dear universe, be good to me.

You smiled, one that Hyunjin swore could light up the entire sky. The stars must envy you, for the way you could brighten up darkness effortlessly.

“I’ll be wherever you are too.”

Yeah, Hyunjin would love it if time froze.

three.

Don’t be a coward.

Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage.

It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you.

Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could.

Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could.

Okay, step number one failed.

“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.

“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”

“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.

“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin.

Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.”

Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him.

“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.

“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff.

Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.

It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell.

Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.

“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”

Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.”

The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.

Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked.

Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”

He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.

“Hyunjin, what’s up?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.

Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”

Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered.

“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”

The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You were saying?”

Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin.

“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.

So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.

“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”

four.

The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue.

It may be because the bitterness has seeped into his head.

“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after.

“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger.

Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next.

Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.

“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper.

On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over.

“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”

“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.”

Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you.

“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are.

He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now?

Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.”

A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug.

“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.

When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself.

“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”

You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.”

How was he meant to tell you about Paris?

“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”

Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more.

Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall.

“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.

“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.”

You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.”

Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts.

His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead.

Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck.

Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need.

“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

The exact words he did not need to hear that day.

How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now?

Especially when he was leaving — oceans away.

five.

Hyunjin had always loved soccer.

Whether it be being in the bleachers, or playing in the field. He loved doing both. There was something about the thrill of watching people play, and the adrenaline as he chased around the field.

Sitting in the bleachers, Hyunjin watched as his soccer team played. The sounds of his teammates laughing made the blazing sun a little more bearable. He lowered his cap to prevent the sunlight from getting in his eyes, chuckling when he saw Beomgyu falling face-first onto the grass.

He loved his soccer team. Every time he observed them play, Hyunjin’s heart always got overwhelmed with pride and joy. At that moment, he felt melancholy taking space too — the thought of not being able to play with them anymore hurting him more than he thought it would.

Hyunjin allowed for the melancholy to take space, allowed himself to feel — so much so that he didn’t feel Minho’s presence. Not until the older cleared his throat.

Minho sat beside him, “Why the long face, Hwang Hyunjin?”

“Huh?” startled, he looked up, face softening when he saw Minho. “Oh. Nothing. You’re not playing?”

“Nah,” Minho replied curtly. He silently analyzed the younger’s facial expressions before speaking up again. “For someone who’s going to Paris in two weeks, you sure don’t look too happy.”

Of course, Minho out of all people would notice the change in his mannerisms. Always the analyzing one, quick to notice changes in demeanour. There was no point in lying, not with Minho — so he let out the sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.

“It’s bittersweet, you know?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’s Yn, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to part ways with her. It’s what’s holding you back.”

Right on. It was as though Minho was a mind-reader. A heavy weight pulled on Hyunjin’s heartstrings, made his heart even heavier than a few minutes prior.

“Yeah,” he didn’t lie, again. He looked at Minho, and the older could clearly see the uneasiness written all over his face. “If you were me… would you tell her about your feelings?”

“The fact that you like her?”

“Yeah.”

Minho fell silent. He pondered over the question, looking at the sight before him. The sun was setting, orange hues painting the sky. Hyunjin wondered if Paris sunsets would look the same.

“I think…” Minho turned towards the younger. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell her.”

“Why?”

“Won’t benefit you, I don’t think.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Listen. If you were to tell her, and she accepted, do you think you could get into a relationship with her?”

“I mean —”

Minho cut him, “Realistically, do you think the relationship would succeed? I mean, the time zone between Seoul and Paris is pretty big. The distance, too. I don’t think it would work out. And that’ll be bad, you know? You’ll both be left wondering what could have been.”

The truth hurt. The distance, the time — none of them were on Hyunjin’s side.

“And, if, God forbid, if she were to reject you… do you really want your last memory with her to be the hurt you’ll feel?”

Hyunjin shook his head. The other sighed, and patted him on the back.

“There are things better left unsaid. You should take her out. Spend your last time with her nicely.”

Despite Hyunjin’s stubbornness, he took Minho’s advice. It took him a lot of contemplating (and crying), but he followed it anyway. Whether he liked it or not, Minho’s advice had a lot of truth in it.

Bitter truths, but true regardless.

six.

“Where are we going?” you whined, trailing behind your dear friend. The sun was setting in two hours, orange hues were beginning to paint the sky. “Hyunnie, if you don’t tell me where we’re —”

“Please, stay patient. Will you?”

Hyunjin looked behind. He was wearing a blue knitted vest. In one hand, he held a picnic basket. The other, is your handbag. You never have to carry your own with him.

“But we’re literally in the middle of nowhere!”

“Please just trust me,” he pleaded. One hand was stretched towards you, a silent offer to hold his. “Come. If you’re too tired, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

Ever the opportunist, you took up on the offer. Alas, Hyunjin was left walking the remaining distance, you happily singing road trip songs while clinging onto his back. To butter him up, you told him that he must’ve been a blessing sent to you by God. Although he groaned at the remark, you couldn’t see the small smile on his face.

After a few minutes, you understood why Hyunjin was adamant about going out that day. Before you, green plains stretched as far as your eyes could see. Scattered across viridian shades were wildflowers. Some yellow, some pink.

Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field.

The picnic basket, and the Polaroid camera finally made sense.

Without any more words, you jumped off his back and ran into the field. The yellow sundress you wore matched that of the wildflowers. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you blended right in.

You were as pretty as the flowers.

“Careful, Yn! Don’t fall!” He called out, his voice echoing in the space. He watched you from afar. There was an urge to run among the flowers too, but he was much more content with watching you.

From a distance, in silence, he observed your every move. He couldn’t help the giggles that left his lips. The smile that lingered on his lips. He wanted this memory to last, to be ingrained in his brain forever. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to witness your happiness.

“Hyunnie, you need to come here! It’s so nice!”

Chuckling, he carefully placed the picnic basket on the ground. Hyunjin was done with setting up the picnic spot. He ran towards you, lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You broke out into giggles and held onto his arms.

Among the flowers, two silhouettes danced with each other. Swaying to the same melody as the peonies. Despite being a ballerina, you kept stumbling onto Hyunjin’s feet, giggling each time he elicited an “ow.”

Like a scene from a movie.

Like he wasn’t going away soon.

Before the sun could set, Hyunjin convinced you to sit on the picnic blanket. He wished to dance with you longer, but alas, time awaits for no mortal.

“How do you want me to pose?” you asked. You were facing him, legs tucked sideways.

Hyunjin scooted closer to you, and wiped breadcrumbs off your lips. He commented on you eating messily. “You can pose however you want.”

You nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Okay. Make sure you get my good angles, yeah?”

“You look good from any angle.”

Crimson crept up your face. You hadn’t expected that remark. You hoped he wouldn’t see you blush, you would just tell him it’s the sun then.

“Okay…”

Two clicks, then a flash went off. Your eyes widened, caught off-guard.

“You didn’t even count to three!”

Your whines were responded to with a giggle. The camera whirled, apprising you of a Polaroid developing. Hyunjin took it, fanning the Polaroid with a grin. He was excited to see it.

“I wasn’t ready!”

“Candid photos are better,” he sighed. “Don’t you know? Everything’s prettier when it’s genuine.”

“So you’re calling me pretty?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Have I ever said you’re ugly?”

Right. He has never.

You prayed to God the heat on your face was from the sun and not from blushing.

Once the Polaroid fully developed, Hyunjin made sure he was the first to see it. To your dismay, he held it close to his face, shielding it from you. His cheeks dimpled, illustrating his happiness. You looked so pretty, the sunlight on your face giving you an angelic glow. If he looked closer, he was sure he’d see a halo.

Hyunjin wanted to keep this forever.

If he couldn’t freeze the time, he figured he’d trap the memories in photographs.

“Let me see!” you whined. “It’s a picture of me! I have the right to see it.”

Scampering towards him, you waved your hands, trying to get the photograph off his hand. To no avail, Hyunjin had quick reflexes much thanks to his soccer experience.

“No! You can’t — it’s for my eyes only!”

“Ridiculous! That’s my face, Hyunnie!”

“It’s my camera film. So it’s mine!”

Neither one of you would let up, legs entangling against each other as you fought over the photograph. He was determined to not let you even see the picture. One of your palms pressed against the picnic blanket, the other reaching up towards his hand. Hyunjin used his free hand to push you gently but alas, he underestimated his own strength. In one swift move, you lost your balance, toppling over him.

“Ow,” he fell back and winced in pain. He looked up, and all the back pain was suddenly replaced by shyness. There you were, on his lap — face just as flushed as his.

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do now.

Pathetically, he just stared into your eyes, finding himself getting caught in them. He could feel your hitched breaths against his chest, he was very aware of your trembling fingers on his arms. There was a strong urge to kiss you as his eyes fell onto your lips. He wondered how they’d feel on his lips. He imagined it in his head — missing the way your eyes stared at his lips too.

If you were a flower, Hyunjin would be a bee. He desired you, eyes tracing the shape of your lips. Over, and over. If he kissed you, would your lips taste like honey?

He ought to find out. Hesitantly, he inched his head closer to yours. The warmth of your breath against his skin marked the closeness between you.

Numerous scenarios flashed in Hyunjin’s mind. Of him kissing you senseless, then whispering a love confession in your ear. Of your cold fingers pressing into his skin as he tells you each perk of yours that he loved endlessly. The more he imagined, the closer he was. You shut your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally press onto yours.

Paris. The one-way plane ticket to Paris.

Against his heart’s desire, his fingers cupped your chin instead. Subtly, he pulled back, eyes trailing back up to your eyes. He ignored the look of confusion in your eyes.

Reaching down, he pocketed the photograph. His heart clenched as he spoke, but he did anyway.

“I win.”

The two words pulled you from your trance — they tore off your heart like paper. You blinked, watching the playful smirk that graced Hyunjin’s porcelain face.

“Oh.”

The whole journey home, bitterness sat on Hyunjin’s tongue like the aftertaste of tangerine pulp. Did you want the kiss too, or had his libido fabricated things?

Nevertheless, he couldn’t kiss you. Not when he had suitcases packed for Beaux-Art de Paris. Not when it’s all his parents could talk about.

Minho’s words played in Hyunjin’s mind like a broken record. They served as a reminder of what could not be. For the sake of his heart, he told himself that it had all been a figment of his imagination.

Tension cloaked the front door of your house. Neither of you made a noise, save for the jingling keys in your carabiner. You observed Hyunjin, who was busy looking at his shoes. Once again, his mind wasn’t in his head. It had been that way for a few weeks.

“See you soon?” you mumbled.

Hyunjin looked up, nodding at your words. He pulled you into a hug, one that almost crushed your bones. Shakingly, he nuzzled his head into your neck, burying his face into the skin like you would dissolve if he didn't. It must’ve hurt his back but you made no comment, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, in hopes it'll give him solace. By the front door you held him, so tight that it was as though the two of you were one, the curves of his fingers burning through your skin.

You didn’t know that it was a goodbye. It had to stay that way.

Once more, his heart clenched in his chest. Two hands cupped your cheeks, as gentle as he could be, like you would break. He engraved this version of you into his memory — kind eyes boring into his with a soft smile plastered across the face he'd grown to adore. He vowed to always remember this face.

Deeply, he inhaled his breath. Preparing the next words — lies to say to you, no matter how tight his chest felt.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

The last words Hwang Hyunjin muttered to you.

seven.

One day before your birthday.

It had been two days since Hyunjin brought you to the meadow. You hadn’t seen him much, just glimpses of him as he played around with Kkami in his backyard. You figured that he was busy.

“Hello, I’m home!” you said in a sing-song voice as you stepped into the Hwang household. Kkami who’d usually greet you wasn’t in his usual spot, so you trudged straight to the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s mother was sitting. “Hi, Mrs Hwang.”

She looked up, lips twitching into a smile, a cookie-cutter of Hyunjin’s. Under the kitchen light, you don’t miss the dried tears by her eyes. You pursed your lips, wondering if she was watching a sad drama. Hyunjin inherited his trait of easily crying from his mother, after all.

“Hi, sweet girl,” she looked at your outfit from head to toe. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Oh,” you muttered, giving her a little twirl. “My birthday outfit! Is it pretty?”

“Of course.”

You smiled at her, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. Keenly, you looked around the kitchen for any traces of Hyunjin. You realized that the house seemed much quieter than usual, emptier than normal.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked. The reason why you’d come over was to show your best friend your birthday outfit. Now that you were there, he was nowhere to be seen. “Is he home?”

Sympathy materialized in the mother’s old eyes. She tilted her head at you, lips pursing as she thought of the correct words to say.

“My girl, did he not tell you?”

Confusion would be an understatement. Hyunjin told you everything, everything — from pointless thoughts to his deepest, darkest secrets. You were his secret keeper, his companion — there was nothing he wouldn’t tell you.

Was there?

It had to be something unimportant, right? Perhaps he was off to an art workshop and forgot to tell you. But looking at his mother, it felt like something big. You grew anxious under her sympathetic gaze.

“Tell me what?” you questioned, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“We just came back from Incheon Airport. He’s on a plane to Paris,” the lady replied. She stood up, inching closer towards your trembling figure. “Did he not tell you, Yn? I thought he did.”

“Paris?” you asked, blinking. “Like. For a vacation?”

“No, sweetheart. Beaux-Arts de Paris. He got into the school.”

The words felt like bullets on skin, penetrating and chagrining you deeply. It felt unreal — a hoax.

You scoffed, “What? He wouldn’t go without telling me.” Your eyes searched for humour in his mother’s eyes. “Is this like, a birthday prank?”

Her eyes saddened even more. “No, sweetheart. He really went.”

Another betrayal came in the form of tears cascading down your eyes without warning. The emotions hit you faster than your brain could process things. Speechless, you took steps back from his mother, before running up the staircase to his room.

He had to be there. Sitting in his swivel chair and laughing at your face. He’ll tell you it was a prank and wipe away your tears.

Hyunjin was your best friend of a lifetime. He wouldn’t do this to you. He had to be there.

When the door to his room swung open, a sob was knocked out of your mouth.

All traces of life in the bedroom were gone, save for the soft purrs of Kkami sleeping on the bed. The bed was stripped of its bedsheets, and the towels hanging behind the door were gone. The laundry bag was empty.

All traces of Hyunjin were gone.

The realization hit harder than his mother’s words. If the words hurt like bullets on skin, the sight of Hyunjin’s lifeless room felt like a knife twisted in your gut. It felt like sanguine dripping from wounds, and Hyunjin’s holding the knife. It felt like a betrayal.

“Hyunjin,” his name slipped from your lips like a plea. “Hyunjin.”

More choked sobs escaped your windpipes as you searched around the room. First, it was his wardrobe. The oak material was practically empty, all that remained were a couple of sleep tees and the shirts you’ve left over the years. You rummaged through the hangers, finding that he had brought one of your sweatshirts along.

The confirmation of his departure was the emptiness of his study table. Each nook and cranny of his table used to feel like Hyunjin, from the stacks of sketchbooks to eraser dust. Everything was Hyunjin — but at that moment, there was nothing. There was only a void — that of his desk and your heart.

Your best friend was truly gone.

“Hyunjin,” the name wrestled its way past your lips again. This time, it was out of longing. “Hyunjin.”

The manner in which you walked to his bed echoed your feelings. Quivering, like a toddler’s first time walking. Your body fell onto the bed, earning a soft whine from Kkami. Gently, you held Kkami in your arms, letting a stream of tears cascade down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to cry, to feel, to mourn.

If someone were to tell you that Hyunjin out of all people would make you cry that much, you would’ve laughed. Never in a million years, you’d say. The only times he had made you cry were from laughter.

“Kkami,” you cried. The chihuahua nuzzled its head into your arms, as though it could feel your sorrow. Perhaps it could. “I miss Hyunjin.”

The dog whined. It looked up to you, placing its paw onto your arm. You cried even more.

“I wanted to tell him about how I feel today,” through sobs, you managed to speak. “How could he make me feel so many things in one day and disappear the other? He didn't even say goodbye.”

It felt like the chihuahua was mourning with you — the way it nudged its head onto your arm, letting out soft whimpers. As though it was telling you that things will be okay.

You weren’t sure that it would. You spent your whole life with Hyunjin by your side, you had never known life without him. Now that he was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t know how to go on. No — he voluntarily released himself from your grasp, without warning. It was worse.

Physical traces of Hyunjin in his room were gone. There was only his scent — the smell of his shampoo, and his cologne. It lingered in the room, mocking you.

In your melancholic state of mind, you could only weep.

eight.

“Coffee, or tea?”

A female voice broke Hyunjin from his trance. He looked up at the stewardess standing by his seat, the sweatshirt doused in your scent crumpling in his tight grip.

“I want to get off this plane,” sat on his tongue and dissolved. He took a deep breath.

“Um,” he looked at the cart, “Plain water, please?”

Coffee would only force Hyunjin to stay awake, forcing him to listen to his own brain’s torments for 14 hours straight. Tea reminded him too much of you, of the times when you were little and would make him play tea party with you. He’ll think about the times you’d cheekily kiss his cheek, an attempt to woo him into playing with you. It worked each time.

The stewardess nodded, handing him a water bottle branded with the aeroplane’s logo. He muttered a thank you, yet the stewardess still didn’t walk away. She looked nice, her eyes analyzing Hyunjin told him that he must’ve looked like the epitome of a wreck.

“First time flying?” she questioned. It wasn’t his first time, having gone on many vacations before yet he nodded. “I see. It’ll be fine, just sit back and relax.”

The woman, whose name tag said Chaewon flashed Hyunjin a hospitality smile — one he didn’t think he deserved — then walked away. Hyunjin pursed his lips, wishing that she hadn’t walked away. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be in this plane — there were a lot of things he didn’t want to do, but had to do.

Hyunjin wanted to turn back.

Silently, he looked out the window, watching as the landscapes of Seoul grew smaller, slowly becoming covered with clouds. He desperately wished to get out, praying to God that the plane would miraculously turn back and the tableau of Seoul would become bigger. Had he told the stewardess named Chaewon he wanted to get off, would they have let him? Had he told his parents he didn’t want to go to Paris, would they have understood?

If he tells you he’s sorry, would you forgive him?

Regrets and memories clouded his mind, tears making their way down his cheeks. Each thought strangled his heart, and he could feel it physically aching. In a melancholic state of mind he sat, clinging onto your sweatshirt like it was his lifeline, allowing slumber to slowly take over.

The break from his own thoughts did not last long enough.

Seven hours later, Hyunjin woke up to dried tears on his cheeks. He straightened his posture and glanced at the window, feeling a wave of emotions at the change of landscapes. Hyunjin wasn’t sure in which city they were flying over, but he could say with certainty that it did not look like Seoul. It did not feel like home, it did not feel like you.

Unable to fall back to sleep, he couldn’t help the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Looking over the landscapes, he came to a realization much too painful for his heart to bear.

You and him — you were the Sun, and he was the Moon. Two people of different circumstances, who’ll never meet, ripped away from the merciless hands of time. For your timezones were different — horizons even more.

As a wave of new tears descended, Hyunjin wondered if he would ever forget about you.

The answer came to him one afternoon three years later, as he laid on the couch in his Parisian apartment.

No, he’d never forget about you. At least not in three years. Maybe not even in five.

Sunlight seeped in through the balcony, providing Hyunjin the warmth he wasn’t able to receive from a person. His roommate was a French guy who was always out and about, leaving Hyunjin to soak in his own company for hours on end. Sometimes, for days. Hyunjin loved and hated it at the same time.

His limbs stretched across the burgundy couch, a yawn eliciting past his lips. Brown eyes stared at the canvas in front of him, black and white hues scattered on white, forming a half-finished painting of you.

Years later, and you remained at the back of his mind — his muse.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

nine.

There are five stages of grief.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. Denial was the hardest for you, having spent your entire birthday staring at the front door of your house, praying Hyunjin would walk in. When your friends sang you a Happy Birthday, it sounded like a morose ballad playing from a broken record. Without Hyunjin, gloom sat at the centre of even the happiest things.

Then came a sixth stage — one that seemed to exist for you.

Motivation.

After coming to acceptance that your best friend had gone, without any farewell, you spent many hours a day in the ballet studio. Pirouette, arabesque, plié — you managed to polish each move with the amount of time you spent cooped up in the studio. You weren’t born with ballet feet, but the times spent in pointe shoes had somehow moulded you into having them.

Perhaps, it was distraction, disguised as motivation.

Nevertheless, the tireless hours of practice granted you a position in the Paris Ballet School.

Paris felt bittersweet when you first landed. It was the city of your dreams, but the reminiscence of the person it took from you made you loathe it.

Withal, life had to go on. To cope with the Parisian lifestyle, you managed to get a job at a cafe near your academy — Desir Cafe. You worked night shifts as a kitchen crew but if traffic was overwhelming in the afternoons, your shitty excuse of a boss would make you come in anyway.

Unfortunately for you, it was one of those days. Clinks and sizzles reverberated in the kitchen, the peg board overwhelmed with sticky notes of orders. You were everywhere in the kitchen, from piping icing on cupcakes to sprinkling chocolate rice on pastries.

“Yn,” the main baker yelled, “Tell Double C’s we can’t stock up on macarons! We’re out of almond flour!”

The Double C’s — Charlotte, and Colette. They were a duo who worked as waitresses, always gossiping. Birds of the same feather, attached by the hip.

Exasperated, you headed to the front, swinging the kitchen door open to see the duo gossiping. Charlotte was leaning in towards Colette, whispering into her ear, earning giggles from the other. You sighed, wondering what the topic was that afternoon. Curious as to who they were gossiping about, you looked towards the direction they were looking.

Seated alone at the corner of the cafe was a guy, blonde hair gleaming golden from the sunlight seeping through the big window. His utmost focus was on the sketchbook in front of him, frail fingers dancing across paper, entrancing any eyes which fell upon him. You couldn’t help but stare, your face gradually contorting into disbelief.

He resembled too much like Hyunjin — your Hyunjin.

Your gaze lingered on the man, analyzing each crease of his face, matching it with the one you had in mind. He looked just like Hyunjin, from the shape of his nose to the mole under his eye. The only difference was the hair. Hyunjin’s hair was raven black, but the person in the cafe had golden blonde hair. You felt your throat tighten. If the man sitting at the corner was him, then time had done good on him. He was beautiful, face sculptured beautifully by time’s gentle hands.

“Ooh, look who’s ogling!” a high-pitched voice interrupted you. You looked up to see the Double C’s looking at you, wiggling their eyebrows mischievously. Charlotte smirked, “Think the guy’s cute?”

“Huh? What guy?” you lied, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Colette rolled her eyes. “The dude over there! Don’t lie, you think he’s cute.” The brunette wiggled her eyebrows even more, subtly pointing at the man.

You didn’t say anything else, but your eyes travelled back to the familiar silhouette. The sense of familiarity tugged on fragile heartstrings the more you looked at him. Colette could sense your curiosity, so she parted her lips to speak.

“That’s Hyunjin. He’s a student in Beaux-Arts de Paris,” she muttered, unbeknownst to her the mixed emotions that dawned upon you. “He comes here almost every afternoon. Maybe that’s why you’ve never seen him before. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Excitedly, Charlotte nodded her head. “A total heart-throb, honestly.”

“I mean…” your voice trailed, “He’s quite alright.”

How were you supposed to react to finally seeing the one who got away? Were you supposed to feel excited, or upset? It was like the moon had suddenly dropped down onto your lap.

You were confused.

Charlotte continued speaking, not realizing the mixture of emotions in your face. “Sometimes, the students have exhibitions about ten minutes from here. His artworks always make it to the exhibitions. I’ve seen them, and they’re really beautiful.”

You turned towards her, “Exhibitions?”

She nodded, still naive as to your shift in behaviour. “I think the school has an exhibition every three months or so.”

Unfaltering, your eyes bored holes in Hyunjin’s back. He was in his own little world, evidently absorbed in whatever piece he was working on. Just like that, the memories you spent years suppressing came rushing back.

It was unfair, the impact he had on you. There he was, lounging in a corner while your heart grappled in your chest. He looked older, better — and you were still the little girl in the tree house. Swaying your feet as they dangled, as though you had all the time in the world.

Charlotte and Colette exchanged looks as you stared at him. To them, you were simply developing a crush on a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the conflict brewing in you, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the ache that stirred in the depths of your heart.

“What? You’re interested in him?” Charlotte spoke, breaking you off your trance. You looked at her, blinking. “Don’t even try. I’ve tried. I think he’s gay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“He’s not gay — oh my god, Lottie!” it was Colette’s turn to speak. Playfully, she smacked the other’s arm. “I asked that guy he’s always with, the songwriter — Felix. Cute guy, that one. Felix told me that he’s got a secret lover or something.”

“Secret lover?”

“Yeah. Apparently, he likes to draw this one girl. His sketchbook’s filled with her,” Colette murmured, glancing at Hyunjin. “Felix asked her who she was, and he said it’s a girl of his dreams.”

Your heart dropped. You weren’t sure to which news you should react first, either Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin, or that he has a secret lover. Either way, it made you pathetically jealous. Your heartstrings thrummed in anger as you imagined a beautiful French girl spread out on his bed, and Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin.

How could he go on with his life when you spent years mourning him?

Crimson tainted your lip as you bit on it hard, the taste of metal at the tip of your tongue.

Perhaps, you never made it past the anger stage of your grief.

ten.

You truly tried to be happy for Hyunjin.

For days, weeks — you spent convincing yourself that you had to be happy for him. Sure, he hurt you three years ago. Sure, you spent years in agony, regretting not telling him how you felt earlier, wondering what could’ve been. Sure, you hoped that you’d see him in Paris and he’d tell you that he’s in love with you and kiss you senseless — but those were just desperate prayers, weren’t they? Those were simply hopeful scenarios. You hadn’t expected them to come true, had you?

Hyunjin was your best friend of years. He deserved happiness, even when you didn’t feel happy. You had to let things go. You had to be happy for him.

Clearly, you failed at convincing yourself.

In front of a building you stood, the sound of people walking past becoming white noise. You stared at the banner standing in front of you, the words Autumn Exhibition displayed, with the logo of Beaux-Arts de Paris at the top. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

A week ago, Charlotte told you that the university would be holding another exhibition, and Hyunjin’s artworks most likely made it into the exhibition. You knew then, that you had to go. If you didn’t get to see him, then you at least wanted to see his pieces. To not be a part of his life was devastating, you wished to at least witness glimpses of it.

9:45 p.m. was displayed on your screen, people were beginning to leave the exhibition. There weren’t many people around, which was what you were hoping for. Visiting the exhibition in daylight meant potentially bumping into Hyunjin, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

One day you ought to meet him, but not today. Not when the fragments of your heart have yet to be mended.

After taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to step into the exhibition. A gust of wind hit your face, and you shivered, clutching your coat tight. The art display seemed to be painting-themed, the way frames of canvases were scattered around the building. Baroque paintings were displayed all over, each piece as beautiful as skies at dusk.

The tapping of your heels against the ceramic tiles sounded as you walked, the romantic lighting of the room providing you with a sense of comfort. Wildly, your eyes observed each piece, letting your heart be swayed by the beauty.

They were all beautiful — but they didn’t feel like Hyunjin.

Until your eyes trailed to a certain piece.

It was the centrepiece, the piece — little bulbs of lights were installed above the frame, making the piece feel alive. The moment your gaze fell on the artwork, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, taking hurried steps towards it. You stared, unable to take your eyes off the hues on the canvas.

There weren’t many hues, just black and white. It depicted two figures on swings. You couldn’t see the figures clearly but you could tell they looked happy. You could see through the strokes of paint that they were happy — though the artist not so. There was a certain sadness in the painting, one that screamed nostalgia.

The longer you looked at the piece, the more you realized.

It was a fragment of your memory.

Your breath hitched. In came a memory of you and Hyunjin — running around the park before playing on swings. It was a particularly memorable day, you could recall falling off the swing and Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, kissing the bruises on your knees with the tenderness of a feather. It was the first time you felt so protected, and so loved.

A rush of emotions overcame you, you wondered if that was how Hyunjin felt when he painted it. Had he thought of you, and wept by his easel? Had he stained his cheeks with charcoal as he wiped stray tears off his face?

You wondered, so much so that you failed to realize a silhouette entering the display.

Hyunjin didn’t enjoy art exhibitions in daylight. They felt pompous. The people who visited the exhibitions would usually walk around casually, and took photos. They didn’t harbour any sort of deep appreciation towards art, they didn’t sit and admire.

Therefore, Hyunjin loved revisiting exhibitions in the comfort of twilight. When the expositions were empty, he enjoyed revisiting them, taking his sweet time to admire each piece.

When he spotted a figure standing before his piece — his most vulnerable piece, he felt his heart drop. He watched from afar as this person observed the artwork, body as still as a mannequin. He had never witnessed someone admire a piece this intensely, especially with it being one of his pieces. He felt flattered, his heart swelling in pride and joy.

Silently, Hyunjin approached the figure. Usually, he was shy, not the type to approach people first but somehow, he felt the strong urge to this time. Fate was pulling him by his heartstrings.

“That’s my painting,” Hyunjin spoke, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible.

The sudden voice startled you. You whipped your head towards the source of the noise, eyes widened in shock. They widened even more at the sight before you.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. His heartbeats escalated, taking in the figure standing in front of him. His fingers dug into the skin of his thumb, lips quivering. Brown doe eyes mirrored yours.

“Wh — what?” he spoke again, breathless. “Yn?”

A few steps were taken, inching closer towards you. His eyes scanned your face, lips quivering even more when he realized that it was you — you were real, and you were standing in front of him. You looked the same as you did three years ago, except more beautiful. How’d you get more beautiful? The passage of time had seemingly been good to you, the way it had carved your face into one Hyunjin could imagine himself filling his canvases with.

“Hyunjin,” you willed yourself to speak. You ignored the way your eyes watered. “It’s you.”

“It’s you, too. You’re here.”

Another few, brave steps were taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch.

“I hate you,” the words spilt past sanguine mouth before you could stop them, its venom contrasting the hushed tone of your voice. They crushed Hyunjin’s heart, though he knew he deserved them. “But I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all that he could say. Hyunjin meant it. He really was sorry. He was sorry as he sent you back from the meadow, too cowardly to bid you goodbye. He was sorry when he packed his bags, stealing one of your sweatshirts for solace. He was sorry when he was on the plane, wishing he could turn back time. He was sorry when he painted numerous portraits of you. He was sorry as he stood before you, watching tears flow down your cheeks because it was the least he could do — a form of punishment for what he had done to you.

You shook your head, palms rushing towards your face to wipe away tears.

“It’s not enough, I know,” he mumbled, moving closer towards you to wipe your tears, like it was instinct, feeling his heart clench when you took steps back. “But I truly am sorry.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you sobbed, vision blurry. “You didn’t even contact me.”

“I know, Yn, I know — I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t,” he rambled, cupping your cheeks and rubbing on the skin. You allowed him to. “I swear, I wanted to write to you, but I was too embarrassed, and by the time I had enough courage it was already too late.”

Sobs wrestled their way past your lips, barely able to form coherent words. You kept shaking your head, blurting out the words you’ve kept for years.

“You just left me, Hyunjin — you left me. A day before my birthday,” your whimpers got louder, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, on my birthday. Hell, three years later and I’m still in love with you.”

Hyunjin’s face paled. He had expected curses, and cries — but he hadn’t expected that. Anything, but that. His limbs moved before his brain could process things, lifting your chin to meet eyes. Your eyes were tinted with tears, but you were still beautiful. You’re always beautiful.

“What?” he squeezed your cheeks, “Yn, what?”

“You heard me. I’m not saying it again. It's fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Hyunjin knew he was supposed to feel remorse, but God — his heart bloomed at the words you had whispered to him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him, the same way he was in love with you. “Fuck, Yn. You can't just say shit like that.”

Feather-like touches grazed your lips. There was a certain look in Hyunjin's eyes, one that you couldn't quite figure out — they were a look of longing. How could you know it was longing when you had never bear witness to them? You could feel his breath against your face, warm like his fingertips.

“You have no fucking idea how long I've been in love with you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Fuck, I think about you every fucking day,” he whispered, “You have no idea how much I regret getting on that plane.”

At that moment, all you could feel was Hyunjin. His deep, brown eyes staring into yours and his thumb pressing onto your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered back, “Kiss me, Hwang Hyunjin.”

And kiss you, he did. His lips crashed against yours with fervour, moving his lips to the same beat as his racing heart. You kissed back in the same manner, letting out the emotions you had bottled up.

I love you, I love you — each movement of his lips was a love confession, etching his adoration onto the curves of your lips. You caressed his cheeks akin to holding stars in your palms — careful, precious.

Finally, you pulled apart to catch your breaths, bodies heaving against each other.

“Please, give me a second chance.”

It’s odd the way human minds work, because at that very moment, you were reminded of Colette's words. Ones that mentioned a rumoured secret lover.

“But,” you felt silly for saying it, “Your secret lover?”

“My secret lover?” the boy's eyebrows furrowed. He then chuckled upon realization. The rumour must've spread to you. “Ah, that secret lover. It's you, idiot.”

He smiled. You didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as he did.

“It's always been you.”

eleven.

“Careful — come on, get under here.”

Giggles echoed in the alleyways as two shadows lingered in the darkness of midnight. It was raining, the pavements darkening with wetness and the wind howling a sweet melody. At that particular hour, under the moonlight, Paris looked like the city of love.

You rushed out of the exposition hall, getting under Hyunjin’s leather jacket. He’d promised you the date of your lifetime that night, and he wasn’t one to break his promises.

Hyunjin’s back was damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter as long as not a droplet landed on your body. It only took a few minutes (and a lot of giggles in between) to reach Hyunjin’s so-called secret spot.

Streetlights shone on a bench, and clusters of flowers surrounded a little pond. The spot overlooked the city, you could see the city lights from all the way up here. You gasped in awe, it’s no wonder Hyunjin insisted on coming here.

“So beautiful,” you whispered. Hyunjin smiled softly, moving closer towards you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your waist.

While fondly looking at your visage, he muttered. “Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“How’d you find this place?”

“I found it while I was walking one night,” he explained, resting his head on yours. You could smell his shampoo in this closeness. “I was sad. This garden reminded me of the one we used to go to when we were kids.”

Your heart swelled at the confession.

“It does resemble that one a lot.”

The skies were still drizzling rain, but you were both a little sheltered much thanks to the oak tree above you. Only droplets dripped, falling onto your head but it was a nice sensation. Besides, you couldn’t feel the cold when you’re nuzzled in Hyunjin’s arm, blanketed in his familiar warmth. You allowed silence to third-wheel you, eyes busied with observing the sight. Silence was always comfortable with Hyunjin. The time spent apart hadn’t changed that.

He wouldn’t leave you alone, his skin constantly touching yours. It burned against you. You didn’t mind it. Instead, you basked in his love, listening to the sounds of his heartbeats as your head rested on his chest. He intertwined your fingers together, his thumb rubbing against yours. He wouldn’t let go of you, not even when he bent down to pluck a flower, slipping the daffodil onto your ear.

“I missed you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure how much he’d repeated that phrase but you liked it. “I truly did.”

For the thousandth time that night, you responded. “I missed you too.”

The conversation changed into one about your lives, catching up on each other’s shenanigans. It was comfortable, being with Hyunjin. Topics changed seamlessly. You didn’t have to put much effort into talking to him, you just had to be there.

Softly, his hands moved towards your feet, taking off one of your shoes. He held onto your ankle, tracing his pointer across your sole. You giggled, the feather-like touches tickled.

“You still have the feet of a ballerina.”

“Of course, silly,” you scoffed, “I am one after all.”

“I’m so glad that your dreams came true,” he whispered, putting your leg down. He cupped your cheek, showcasing a fond smile that stretched to his ears. “I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“Of course,” you repeated. “You told me you’d be wherever I am. It’s only fair I returned the favour.”

The words knocked out Hyunjin’s breath, and it filled his soul with so much adoration, he felt like he could burst. A pleading expression was written all over his porcelain visage, the way in which he squeezed your hand expressing his feelings even more.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I need to be yours.”

You kissed him, for the second time that night.

“I’m already yours, Hyunnie.”

twelve.

Things with Hyunjin had been going exceptionally well.

After the fated night, you carried on with so much happiness that you practically beamed everywhere you went. One time when you clocked into work, the Double C’s made kissy noises at you, and Charlotte had whispered, “You must’ve had crazy good sex last night.”

You couldn’t deny it, of course.

Date nights with Hyunjin happened thrice a week, with coffee runs in between classes. The Paris Ballet School and Beaux-Arts de Paris weren’t that far from each other, allowing you to sneak lunches together almost daily. Though you had to admit that even if the universities were far, Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t mind spending extra time just to see you. Sometimes, he’d watch you dance, and sometimes, you’d watch him paint.

It was like you were both making up for the lack of each other the past three years.

After just two weeks of your relationship, you were acquainted with the comfort of Hyunjin’s home. His roommate was barely home, so you felt comfortable with coming over often. Most weekends, you’d spend the night over.

Morning birds chirped a jolly ballad, waking you from your slumber. You stretched, feeling the heat of Hyunjin’s skin against yours. You couldn’t help the smile that grazed your face when you looked at him, fast asleep under the duvets beside you. Sleepily, you pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder, then traced the memories of last night, tattooed on his skin in the form of bruises. It pulled a whine from him, moving under the duvet to press himself impossibly closer towards you.

“Flower,” he mumbled, morning voice husky, “I'm cold.”

“Then come cuddle.”

He did as told, wrapping strong arms around you. You felt his fingers ghost against your naked spine, sending heat straight to your core. You couldn't help the whimper that left you, earning a playful grin from your boyfriend.

“It's too early to get in the mood, no? Baby?”

Flushed, you smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Hyunjin giggled, leaning towards you to press kisses onto your face. Mornings with him were often spent like this — limbs entangled, as if you were one.

“Need to shower, baby,” he sighed, “Have an exhibition today.”

To your dismay, he slowly pulled away from you, missing the warmth of his body.

“You coming to the exposition?”

“Of course,” you hummed. “Go shower. Can I borrow your laptop while you're in the shower?”

“Yeah, baby. The password's your birthday.”

He got up from the bed, and you flushed as you looked at his bare body. Unluckily for you, your boyfriend quickly noticed your flushed face, taking it as an opportunity to throw a pillow at you and call you a pervert. You rolled your eyes, watching him enter the bathroom before getting up, wrapping the duvet around your naked body.

You walked towards his study to retrieve his laptop, smiling at the artworks displayed on his peg board. One was of you — a painting of the Polaroid he took of you back in the meadow. The Polaroid itself sat at the back of his phone case. He had never taken it out since the first time he put it in back then.

Whilst humming to a melody, you kicked in the digits of your birthday. The laptop unlocked, showcasing the unclosed tabs.

Your eyes widened at the words written on the screen.

Congratulations, you've been chosen for a student exchange programme to Rome.

Your heart skipped a beat. Repeatedly, your eyes skimmed the words on the screen. You didn't mean to pry but you scrolled through the email, feeling your heart sink upon seeing the date it was sent.

Over a week ago.

Yet Hyunjin hadn't told you anything.

After all these years, he was still keeping secrets from you. You couldn't handle it, and so for the sake of your heart you exited the tab, and shut down the laptop. Careful as to not make much noise, you got dressed.

“Hyunjin,” you knocked on the bathroom door. “Need to be at the academy now. Bye.”

You needed to be away from him — you needed to clear your head.

thirteen.

You hadn't seen Hyunjin for a week.

The texts from him you didn't avoid, responding each time he sent a message. However, you'd been dodging his requests of meeting, under the guise of practice when in truth, you hadn’t gone for classes in a week. You spent your days moping in your apartment.

Perhaps it was a little childish of you to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of going through what you did before. You'd tasted a life without Hyunjin, and you were certain you didn't want to live through it again. This was your way of mentally preparing for that life again.

Your limbs lazily stretched across the cotton duvet as a vinyl played in the background. A melodramatic song played, matching the current tune of your heart. You weren't entirely sure what time it was, but the sound of the apartment bell ringing hinted that it was afternoon. It must be the takeout your roommate ordered.

“Reine,” a familiar voice reverberated in your apartment. “Where's Yn?”

“In her bedroom,” your roommate, Reine replied in her thick French accent. “She's been in there moping all week.”

Damn you, Reine.

Quickly, you buried yourself in your duvet, anticipating the footsteps which approached your room. Soon, your door swung open, and you could smell the white gardenia in his cologne.

“My flower,” his voice tempted you to look, “What’s going on, sweet girl?”

It didn’t help that each syllable that slipped past his lips felt like honey.

You felt his hands pull down your duvet before you came face to face with your boyfriend. He stood before you, hair slicked back and the white blouse he wore accentuated his shoulders. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, patches of peonies and daffodils peeking from the wrapper.

You didn’t utter any words, simply looking at him with watery doe eyes. He didn’t miss the glint of tears, immediately setting the bouquet on your nightstand to get onto the bed. Tenderly, he pulled you onto his lap.

“You look so sad,” he mumbled, “Can my sweet girl please tell me why she’s so sad?”

Damn, him. How were you supposed to stand a chance when he was so ridiculously handsome and sweet?

Trembling, you parted your lips to speak.

“You’re hiding things from me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What things, baby?”

Your eyes shot daggers at him, bottom lip forming into a pout. Hyunjin had to stop himself from leaning in and biting it.

“You got offered to an exchange student programme,” you finally bit the bullet. “You’re planning on keeping it a secret and just leaving me again, aren’t you?”

Ah.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened. He sighed, caressing your cheek in his hand. He shook his head as his free hand rested on your thigh, massaging the supple skin.

“No, I’m rejecting it,” he answered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought there was no point in telling you if I didn’t even want to go.”

“What?” you responded, voice a little higher than you intended it to be. Your eyes scanned his for any lies. “Hyunjin — it’s a good opportunity.”

“What, you don’t want me here anymore?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Baby, Paris is already enough for me. I don’t really want to move again.”

You nodded at his words. A huge part of you felt relieved — and you felt awful for feeling that way.

Love, sometimes, is about being selfish after all.

“Were you sad because you thought I was going?” your boyfriend queried, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shrugged. “A little. I was more mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just didn’t mention it because it felt insignificant.”

“I want you to tell me things,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. It left goosebumps in its wake. “I want to know these things.”

“Okay," he mumbled. Something about his compliance made you feel fonder of him. "I'll start telling you these things."

A sigh of relief left your lips. You had known Hyunjin for years, but being with him was different. A good kind of difference. It would take you a while to adjust to these changes — but it was the kind of changes you'd want to adjust to.

Hyunjin's fingers trailed to your hips, ghosting over your skin until they reached your thighs. He traced the stretch marks there, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn't help the whine that left your mouth, and the heat that arose, tainting the tips of your ears in crimson. Hyunjin enjoyed this — flustering you with his ministrations. He allowed you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he felt your lips litter kisses on his most sensitive spots.

"I love you," he confessed, like honey dripping from lips. "Promise I'll be wherever you are."

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