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magicshopaholic · 1 year

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So Many Signs (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara tries to ignore the obvious, while Taehyung finally loses his cool.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, sexism, mention of assault, infidelity, longing, heartbreak

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be posting this so soon but I do want to reach a certain point in their story before I continue posting for other members. This one’s long, but I hope you like it! It takes place about a week after Chingu.

This is also a submission for the 2023 K-Pop Fanfic Bingo Event “The Sound of Music”, using the square with one of my favourite childhood songs, Moon Glow by Benny Goodman.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “moon glow” by benny goodman

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

It’s close to the end of the calendar once the Portuguese GP rolls around. It seems to have awoken both PR teams as well, for the schedule suddenly tightens up and two photoshoots, one advertisement and a Run episode filming are all squeezed into a single week.

The first of the photoshoots takes place in a nice, leafy garden in the outskirts of Portimao, rented for the entire day for the shoot. For once, the participants from the F1 side of things nearly match the BTS members in number, with not just the Red Bull drivers there, but also the AlphaTauri ones, along with Max’s girlfriend Kelly accompanying them.

Maybe it’s the peace of the outdoors; maybe it’s the fact that on the plane ride over, Dilara had a front row seat to the view of Taehyung sleeping as he hugged a pillow. Either way, for the first time in forever, Dilara realises she isn’t counting down the minutes until the shoot is over.

The next day, the Thursday before the race weekend, the same day BTS is meant to join as well, she goes for an early morning run at the paddock before her own team PR begins for the day. A Run episode is meant to be filmed on the circuit and wrap up before the other drivers arrive, and Dilara watches as the crew sets up at top speed, even before the members arrive.

After her run, she’s getting a glass of water in the Red Bull enclosure when she feels someone come up behind her. When she turns, she almost spills the water on herself when she sees maybe three inches of distance between her and Jaden Park.

“Shit!” she mutters, taking a step back right into the water cooler. Jaden grabs her arm to steady her and, when she tries to take it back, doesn’t let go for a moment. Dilara’s heart skips a beat but then he drops her arm and sort of forces a smile onto his face.

It does nothing to comfort her, and she suddenly wishes more than ever that Chris or Fred were here. “Hi - hi… Jaden,” she stammers, taking a deep breath to slow her heart.

“Hey.” Jaden shoves his hands into his pockets. “I, um… I saw you last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“At Albert’s Bar?” He nods, assuming her acknowledgment. “You were with BTS, right?”

Fuck. Aside from the fact that she had stepped out for drinks with her housemates the previous night that now seems to have been seen by people, she thinks she can predict what Jaden’s line of thinking is with this.

“Um… yeah, Max and all of us did a photoshoot with them yesterday, so we went out for a drink after,” she tells him, pleasantly surprised at how normal she sounds.

“That’s nice. Feel up to going again?” He cocks one eyebrow and gives her a small smile.

Unsurprised and unimpressed, she exhales. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaden,” she says firmly, not in the mood to try and let him down easy. She moves to walk past him but he blocks her way. Heart hammering, she looks up at him, slightly incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“So you can have a drink with seven guys but not one with me?” he asks, that strange frown still on his face.

Dilara scoffs. “I wasn’t having a drink with seven guys, I went out for drinks with a few colleagues,” she clarifies through gritted teeth, part of her wondering why she’s even giving this guy an explanation. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You really made up your mind about me after one date?” he demands, frowning. “It's… I mean, you're free to reject me if you don't like me but…" He shrugs, "... this just seems unfair."

She raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Jaden," she continues quickly, now reaching the end of her fuse, "I told you, alright? It's nothing to do with you. I'm just not dating. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't have this conversation again." She moves to walk away again and, yet again, he steps in front of her.

"Then what is it? The least you can do is give me an explanation, Dilara." He's dropped all pretense of politeness, practically glaring at her now.

She stares at him, contemplating. There's a hundred things she can rip into this guy regarding his behaviour, but she knows there's only one thing that will work with a guy like him - she hopes.

"Look, I…" Dilara exhales, heavily resenting that she has to do this, "when you asked me out, I'd just got out of a relationship, okay? It was complicated and - and I was still working my way through it. There’s - there’s another guy," she clarifies, disgusted yet unsurprised at the sudden understanding on his face.

"So… I was, what? A rebound?"

"No," she says immediately, sensing a bruised ego. "I didn't realise I was still… not over it until we went out. And I didn't want to lead you on any further," she explains, suddenly realising she’s not totally lying.

"Right." Jaden nods, jaw clenched. "And, uh… this guy. Your ex. Is he here? Is he in F1?"

It's a complicated answer, but Dilara is out of patience with him. "I don't think that's important," she says hastily, wanting to shut down whatever man-to-man ape nonsense is going on in his head at the earliest. "And, uh… yeah. So I think we can just put this behind us now? And be colleagues? Great," she says in one quick breath, and without waiting for him to respond, she sidles away, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It rankles Dilara all day, how entitled some men are and how only the mention of another man can get them to back down. She takes it out on all the men around her, refusing to pass Max a bottle of water when he asks, and later in the afternoon, sniping at a reporter for asking her how she manages her personal life. She knows she’s not a good person to be around right now so when she goes back to the house, she heads straight away to the home gym to work out some of her frustrations before she snaps at someone else.

It works; she over indexes on the weights and barbells, working up a good sweat. She loses track of time, too; when she glances out of the window towards the end of her session, the sky is a dark indigo, almost black, and she feels a light and cool breeze blowing in, feeling incredible against her damp skin.

She runs into Jimin as she’s leaving, who offers her a can of beer and a smile.

“It’s a race weekend,” she says in explanation, her hands still in her pockets.

“You drank last night,” he points out.

“Exactly. I think I maxed out my quota of booze for the week. Especially booze with this many calories,” she adds, tapping the can and moving to walk past him.

“No worries,” he says easily, falling into step beside her. The walk to the house is a few minutes away; Jimin manages to keep the silence going for about half a minute before speaking again.

“I don’t mean to… what’s the word? Pry?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I don’t mean to pry, but… you and Taehyung seemed to be getting along well yesterday.”

Dilara looks up after a moment, surprised to see how hopeful his smile is. “Was that a question?” she asks after a moment.

“Um…” He looks mildly confused for a second. “Not really. It was nice, that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wants is to mislead anyone - especially when she has no idea what she wants herself.

“Does that mean you’re…” Jimin trails off but when Dilara doesn’t respond, he sighs uncomfortably. “Do you think you might… I mean, will you two be okay?”

Deliberately not looking up at him, she responds carefully. “What does okay mean?”

“Just…” The leaves under their feet crunch in the silence. “Will you go back to normal?”

They’ve almost reached the house. She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the porch. “And by normal you mean… before we broke up?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it’s apparent he’s already regretting bringing it up. “Maybe? It’s just… I mean, what more needs to happen? He can’t take it back, you know… what he did.”

“I do know,” she says forcefully. “And, yeah, a lot more needs to happen. Starting with him having this conversation himself,” she mutters, starting to walk away when he pulls her back. Startled at the second time today, she jerks back.

“S-sorry. Just… God, please don’t tell him about this,” he begs, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you? Is he that miserable to be around?”

“Oh, yeah.” A brief smile flashes across his face before it fades. “But it’s not just him, okay? When I said it was nice seeing you together yesterday… I mean it was nice to see you like that, too.” His gaze falls slightly. “I think we’re friends, too, right?”

Dilara frowns, for she hasn’t the faintest where this conversation is going. “I - sure. But if you’re asking me if us having a conversation yesterday without breaking down means we’re going to get back together… then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jimin sighs and nods. “I know it doesn’t. But… I don’t know, are you waiting for something?”

There’s something about that question that makes her bristle. “Waiting for something? Like I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to prove himself and pass some test so I can take him back? Do you think I’m having fun or something?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Because the answer is no, Jimin. No, I am not waiting for anything. I waited enough, alright?” she reminds him. “I waited a long time for him to say something before I blocked him and made sure he never could. All I’m doing right now is just… I’m just trying to not be so angry anymore. Because it’s not helping anyone.”

She starts walking backwards towards the house as Jimin processes this response, hoping he gets it. Just as she’s about to turn, he looks up.

“I’m sorry, Dilara. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry. That’s my whole point.”

He raises his eyebrows but thankfully lets it go. “Fine. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Dilara nods. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she repeats after a moment, a little calmer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not… hoping for something.”

Jimin frowns. “Like what?”

She bites her lip before sighing. “Like - like a sign. Maybe. This is not an easy decision - not least because I don’t even know what he wants. It’s -” But she’s interrupted by his scoff.

“Come on, I’m sure even Max Verstappen knows what Taehyung wants,” he tells her, laughing softly.

Dilara narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t take his word about this. He’s too complicated for me to guess.”

“Max?”

“No, T- you’re… V,” she stutters, rolling her eyes at the blatant slip. “He can’t just waltz back into my life because a PR plan forced me to let him back in.” She starts walking backwards again, careful not to miss the steps on the porch. “That’s what’s always happened. He’s just had to sit back and everything has fallen into place for him. I need an indication, at least, that it’s different this time. I don’t know what that is, I don’t know what it’ll look like… but I need -”

“A sign.” Jimin nods, looking at least somewhat as though he understands what she means. “I get it.”

“Good.” Hoping the conversation ends here, she turns on the spot and opens the door, almost getting a heart attack when she sees Taehyung standing there and pulling on a jacket.

“What - How did you -”

“Gwaenchanha?”

It takes her a moment to be able to answer as she catches her breath. “No, not really,” she gasps, wondering if all the men on the planet have planned to constantly startle her wherever she is. “I - were you standing here this whole time?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. A lock of blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead, the rest of his face absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

Dilara stares at him, suddenly mortified at the thought of him overhearing her talk to Jimin about this, or worse, her need for a sign. “I mean… you know what I mean,” she finishes lamely.

“Not really.” He glances at Jimin behind her and nods in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “The team wants to take a couple of extra shots at night, so I’m heading there with Jungkook. You want to come?”

He asks so casually, as though he’s asking her if she wants to go to the grocery store with him, that her heart flutters unexpectedly. “I - your staff won��t like that,” is her first response, before she cringes inwardly. “And also… no. No… thank you.”

Taehyung nods, looking as though he expected it. “No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Dilara watches him leave in silence, his gait cool and smooth as he passes by Jimin, murmuring something in Korean before heading out. She tries to count herself lucky; it doesn’t seem as though he’d overhead her - but if he has, she may as well just begin avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of her life.

Jimin, apparently waiting for Taehyung to be fully out of earshot this time, grins at her. “That kind of sign?”

“No,” she says immediately, entering the house. “Never that kind of sign.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, following her into the house and shutting the door behind him. “It’s him - he’s the sign,” he explains dramatically.

Dilara gives him a pointed look, stopping at the door to her bedroom. “Never that kind of sign.”

—

The next day when Dilara sees BTS in the paddock, her gaze goes straight to Taehyung and Jimin. They're walking next to each other, albeit talking to members on their other sides. She tries to look elsewhere; it's officially race weekend again and she can't afford to be distracted. It's hard, though, because her situation with Taehyung is complicated enough; the last thing she wants is for a private conversation to have been overheard by him, however accidental it may have been.

So Dilara avoids them all day, all of them. She tries not to make it obvious because she’s glad that they’re all finally getting back on decent terms, so she opts to spend time in the garage with the rest of the team, going over free practice times and tyre strategies for Qualifying tomorrow. Even when Jaden Park, who's supposed to be in Max's garage and not hers, accidentally-on-purpose bumps into her and she notices Seokjin looking at them and frowning, she keeps her goal in mind and handles it herself.

It’s a success, for the most part. Her car feels fantastic and the paddock generally seems more lively this weekend for some reason; she doesn’t know if it has to do with the nice weather or the fact that Portimao is generally an exciting race every year. Either way, it’s good for her because in her effort to avoid BTS and give them their space, she ends up spending time with all the other drivers.

Later in the evening, when the paddock is emptying out, Dilara is on her way to the Red Bull conference room for a team briefing when she gets a notification from Jimin. Heart hammering slightly, she swipes it open.

Jimin [19:52] Dilara. Please stop avoiding him because of me.

Dilara [19:53] I’m not? Why would you think that?

Jimin [19:53] Have you said anything to him at all today?

Dilara [19:54] I have gone many many days without saying a single word to him. Did you by any chance tell him what we talked about yesterday?

Jimin [19:56] Of course not. Please don’t avoid him because of that. He’s really confused - I can tell.

Dilara [19:56] Jimin. I’m not avoiding him. Really. I just don’t know what to say to him, to be very honest.

Jimin [19:57] What? Things were getting so much better between you two.

Dilara [19:58] Well, sure. We weren’t throwing things at each other and screaming anymore. That’s a pretty low bar.

Jimin [19:58] Fair enough. Will you be joining us for dinner?

Dilara [19:59] Not sure. I have to go for a briefing. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jimin [20:00] Want me to tell him to pick you up? You guys could talk.

Dilara [20:00] Omg NO. Jimin!

Jimin [20:00} What? He’ll be happy to do it.

Dilara [20:01] I’m sure he would. Look, Jimin, I know you feel guilty about your part in this, okay? If this is your way of trying to help - you’re off the hook. I forgive you.

Jimin [20:02] Really?

Dilara [20:02] Yes.

There’s no response. Dilara slows down slightly, wondering if her hunch is actually right. She’d only said that to shut him up, but his silence seems to indicate otherwise.

Then -

Jimin [20:05] Did you kiss last week?

Dilara [20:06] I fucking beg your pardon?

Jimin [20:07] Hobi hyung said he saw you guys hugging. If I remember correctly, you two had no problem going further than that in public.

Dilara [20:08] Jimin. Shut up.

Jimin [20:09] Just a question. Jeez.

Dilara [20:09] I dare you to go ask him this.

Jimin [20:10] Well played.

Dilara [20:11] Look, Jimin, I have to go. Just… I’m not avoiding him, okay? And even if it seems like it, it’s probably for the best.

When Jimin doesn’t reply, she breathes a silent sigh of relief. She’s almost at the conference room now and she’s getting late, but she needs to know this conversation is closed. Then, just when she thinks she can move on with her day, a picture pops up on the chat. It’s of Taehyung, shockingly, in the backyard with his blond hair catching the setting sun as he points - her heart skips a beat - the Polaroid she’d gifted him at the horizon.

Realising with a start that she’s been staring at it for almost a minute, Dilara types out a reply, fingers shaking slightly.

Dilara [20:15] What am I looking at?

Jimin [20:15] He’s been out there for an hour now. He looks like he’s in a k-drama.

If by that he means that Taehyung looks tall, handsome and tragic all at once, he’s right. Dilara feels a familiar rush of mild envy and pride all at once, and knows she needs to nip this in the bud.

Dilara [20:16] Well, he certainly acts well enough to be in one. I have to go. I’ll see you later.

All through the briefing, Dilara can’t help but think that her decision to avoid them is for the best, if Jimin’s reaction is anything to go by. Even after the briefing, she dilly-dallies near the enclosure, wondering how to kill even more time before she has no choice but to head back to the house.

Dilara sighs and glances down at her phone. It’s barely seven; she can’t hang around here for five hours… she looks around, wondering if she can possibly hang around with her pit crew to fix her car or something, when she suddenly catches sight of a small group of them and sees Jaden Park in the middle of it. Her heart in her mouth at how narrowly she’s avoided him, she turns the opposite way and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Then, a miracle happens.

Dilara’s phone pings and she groans softly, not in the mood for more of Jimin’s guilt trip. Honestly, she’s glad that her confession of sorts seems to have indeed been kept from Taehyung, but she’s more convinced than ever that both of them need this space to clear their heads.

Max [22:40] Komyshan. Heading out for a bite with Daniel, Lando and Charles. You’re coming, right?

Her heart leaps and she thinks if her taste were slightly different, she could kiss Max Verstappen. She types out a reply, not even trying to suppress the relieved smile she can feel on her face. Rapidly saying a quick yes, she skips over to the parking lot.

As she nears it, she feels something nagging at her, tugging at her heart. She reopens her chat with Jimin, slowly scrolling up until she finds it.

He’s really confused - I can tell.

There is no reason this should evoke any sympathy in her. She should want him to feel bad for everything he did, but that angry part of her feels like a past version, like a person she used to know. If anything, she knows how he feels, with the confusion - and she realises it’s not sympathy, but empathy she’s starting to feel for him, especially if he’s had Jimin breathing down his neck the entire time as well.

Dilara scrolls further down to the picture Jimin sent her of Taehyung; of course he looks like a model, like a stock photo. Perfect body proportions, perfect jawline silhouette, perfectly falling hair, capturing perfect pictures, looking perfectly heartbroken.

She sighs again, struggling. Things were getting so much better with you two. It’s the validation she didn’t know she needed. She recalls how his unexpected appearance behind the front door had taken her breath away last night.

Feeling apprehensive, she opens her chat with Taehyung to see only two messages, from the night Chris visited. She bites her lip, deciding that she needs to tell someone where she is anyway or they’re bound to get worried. Thumb hovering over the keyboard momentarily, she types out a message.

Dilara [22:50] I’m going out with some of the guys. Not sure when I’ll be back but let’s talk later?

Dilara hits send and immediately panics. Talk? Talk about what? She groans out loud, attracting the attention of her fellow drivers. When Max calls out “Komyshan!”, she waves back tiredly and walks towards them. After they’re all strapped in and Charles is reversing out of the parking lot, she receives a reply.

Tae [22:52] I’ll be waiting.

---

He isn’t, not exactly.

It actually ends up being an extremely late night for them; Dilara and her friends go back to the same club that she’d gone to with BTS two nights ago and although they don’t drink nearly as much and definitely don’t dance, it ends up being a pretty fun night overall and actually succeeds in making her forget about her love life for a couple of hours. When it’s finally time to go, it’s almost one in the morning, just as she’d hoped.

Dilara is pleasantly surprised when Max drops off the other three before driving her back to the house, remembering that they can’t let the group’s location be revealed to anyone. They don’t talk about it, thankfully, but when he stops the car and she’s about to open the door, he finally speaks.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Max points to the house. “Are you two good now?”

She shrugs. “No idea, honestly.”

He frowns, looking mildly curious. “Oh. Looked like everything was fine at the photoshoot the other day. You two looked like you were sneaking around again.”

We were? Dilara’s confusion must show on her face, for Max chuckles. “Obviously, I’m wrong. Anyway,” he says abruptly, and she takes that as her cue to step out, “good luck for tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

When she enters the house, it’s to see all seven members huddled on the sofa, with Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the back of the couch. She frowns and stares as the door clicks shut behind her, wondering why on earth they feel the need to pile on top of each other while there are two more perfectly comfortable couches right next to them.

Then she spots the laptop perched on the coffee table in front of them and when Jin says something in Korean and a couple of them laugh and Jimin replies, she realises they're live.

All their eyes flicker up to look at her, though, before quickly darting back to the screen, their expressions carefully unchanging - all except Taehyung.

He meets her gaze; with his long hair brushing his ears and a green cardigan making him look warm and inviting, it’s no wonder she doesn’t look away for a couple of seconds before he tears his eyes away to look back at the screen.

Sensing this as the ultimate opportunity to avoid whatever conversation he has in mind, Dilara swiftly makes her way into her bedroom and quietly shuts the door. Hesitating for exactly one second, she crosses her bedroom and opens her tablet, the only device she has that still has the Vlive app, and joins the stream.

Taehyung looks up again in the direction of her room before turning his attention back to the screen, and for a moment it feels like he’s looking right at her. He glances vaguely over at the rest of them before he locks eyes with Namjoon and - it happens in a split second - Namjoon gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

Dilara lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, somewhat thankful yet regretful that she won’t hear a knock on her door right now. The next moment, though, she sees Taehyung look down at his lap again and pick up his phone this time, fingers flying over the screen. Right on cue, her phone buzzes next to her.

She scoffs quietly, ignoring how her heart leaps in spite of itself, unsurprised to see a message.

Tae [01:10] How was your night?

Dilara [01:11] Tiring.

Tae [01:12] Still up for that talk?

Dilara [01:13] Aren’t you live?

Tae [01:13] I go live a lot.

Dilara [01:14] Namjoon looks like he could kill you if you left.

Tae [01:14] Hold on, are you watching?

Dilara feels like slapping herself. When she looks up at the screen, she sees his cheeks pulled back slightly, head still bent over his phone.

Dilara [01:15] Just a guess. Can we take a raincheck? I’m pretty tired and I have Qualifying tomorrow.

On screen, he freezes for a moment and she thinks she notices his shoulders fall slightly. He types something before locking his phone and looking up at the camera, tossing his hair out of his eyes, face completely unreadable. Her phone pings, and her heart thuds softly at his reply.

Tae [01:16] Of course. Sleep well.

The next day, the flaw with her proposition comes to light when Dilara, once again, sees them in the paddock. She’s been in the garage for nearly two hours by the time Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon arrive. Given the public setting, the most she can do is wave to them from afar and ignore Jimin giving her a pointed look.

She’d thought long and hard about it as she fell asleep last night, the content of their “talk”. We need space, she’d rehearsed in her head. Just to think. Just to figure this out. Short and vague, the best way to go.

Of course, talking about space isn’t the best decision, especially since none of their conversations have ever gone as planned. They either fight or cry or both, and she’d really rather avoid any of that. As a result, she avoids all of them, specifically Jimin’s texts and even Jungkook when he comes up to her car, eyes shining in admiration. She engages with him while the cameras are on them but the moment they drift away, she immediately excuses herself and hurries into her changing room.

It’s Qualifying day, though, so there’s enough to do in any case. Dilara goes out for FP3, having long and serious discussions with Christian, all his attention on her for once since Max will start tomorrow from the back of the grid due to his penalty.

Dilara feels strangely stressed, still. Part of it is Qualifying, part of it is having Max all the way back in P20 and therefore of no support to her, part of it is Jimin’s continuous texts, Taehyung’s presence, their impending conversation, and Jaden bumping into her yet again - except this time, he’s openly cold.

“Good luck,” he says shortly, brushing past her.

“Thanks,” says Dilara automatically, stumbling slightly while he continues walking.

“Pity you didn’t get the new engine,” he adds, turning around and walking backwards.

“Bite me, Park.”

She shakes her head as he disappears around a corner, the competitiveness emerging in full force. One date, one date and this is the fallout she has to deal with. She makes sure to continue thinking about it, enjoying the anger she knows will help when she gets into the car and zooms into Q3, eventually qualifying P3 for the race tomorrow.

Everyone’s happy; Christian hugs her, Max comes from inside the garage in jeans, hugging her for the cameras, and Natalie Pinkham interviews her, Lewis and George, all the top three qualifiers, one by one.

Dilara still evades the group, though; she sees Namjoon smile at her from across the garage and tentatively smiles back, but looks at no one else. She’s aware of what a terrible job she’s doing with this; she doesn’t even want to imagine what Taehyung’s face looks like when she ignores him. But there’s only so much she can focus on during a race weekend, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Dilara does have one moment of pleasure, though; on her way back inside for a shower, she passes Jaden again.

“Looks like I won’t be needing that engine after all,” she says innocently, mimicking his shrug and ignoring his scowl as she walks away.

She manages to sneak away from the paddock without the group. There’s a sponsorship meeting they have with the Red Bull marketing team, which was the reason they even showed up today, and the moment she spotted them shuffling into the conference room between engineers and press officers darting about, she hurried away, keen to get back home and lock herself up in her room until she has to go to sleep.

The house is a fifteen minute walk from the paddock. Dilara tries to let go of everything else for a while and just enjoy the weather in silence, along with her P3 starting position and her jab at a bitter ex-flame. It’s peaceful, the last rays of the sun lighting up the sky while the cool breeze makes autumn leaves crunch under her shoes. The house is two minutes away now, within her view, when her phone pings yet again, followed by a series of pings.

Frowning - and panicking, slightly - she opens her phone to see eight messages on the most ridiculous WhatsApp group she’s a part of: Taehyung’s true loves, courtesy Jimin, who added her and Jungkook in an effort to convince her that their friendship is independent of her relationship with Taehyung. Neither she nor Jungkook had ever said anything on it, too awkward to, so eventually after a series of whiny messages, Jimin had stopped as well.

Dilara has no desire to start becoming an active participant now. With all the strength in her, she locks her phone and is about to slip it into her bag when it buzzes, the ringtone loud in the quiet of the street.

Huffing, she answers it. “What?”

“Dilara? Uh… have you left?”

“What… Jungkook?” Unexpected, to say the least. “What are you - I mean, yeah. I have. Why?”

“You should come back,” is all he says. “Taehyung hyung kind of… it’s a bit of a situation.”

This explains nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Jungkook’s voice moves away, as though he’s speaking to someone else. “I think he - I think punched your ex? That guy? Or - or he tried to, anyway. He’s not the best at -”

“He what?”

“Yeah, no, his stance wasn’t very good either and -” There’s a shuffle and she hears the phone transferred to someone else.

“Hey, Dilara,” comes Jimin’s voice, calm - and smug. “Remember when you said you needed a sign? I think you just got one.”

–

Her legs are starting to cramp but Dilara doesn;t stop, not until she gets to the garage. She spots Jimin and Jungkook hovering at the entrance, shoulders relaxing in relief when they see her.

“What - the - hell?” she pants, stopping for the first time since the phone call.

“Holy shit, did you run all the way?” Jimin asks, ignoring her shake of the head as she tries to catch her breath. “Here, have some water first.”

“What happened?” Dilara asks desperately, reaching for the water anyway and downing half of it in one go. “What do you mean he - and who’s -” There are so many moving parts to it that she falters, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her chest.

“Jaden,” answers Jungkook. “The pit crew guy. He said…” He swallows and looks at Jimin apprehensively.

Her heart skips a beat. “What? Jungkook, what?” Then she remembers. “Wait, where the hell is he?”

“The medic is trying to stop his nose from bleeding,” answers Jimin, sounding repulsed. “Hope it hurts,” he adds savagely.

Her eyes widen and she slaps him on the shoulder. “Not him!”

Jimin blinks, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Oh. Taehyung’s over there - but he’s really angry so be careful when you -”

But Dilara ignores him, brushing past both of them into the changing room he’s pointed at. Kicking the door open, she sees Seokjin standing next to Taehyung, who’s sitting holding an ice pack over his limp hand, while Jin speaks rapidly in Korean, sounding rather like he’s lecturing him. Taehyung looks up mid-wince, face going slack when he sees her, as though he can’t quite believe she’s here.

Seokjin mutters something when he sees her and pats his shoulder before walking out past her, giving her a small nod as he does. Dilara doesn’t look away from Taehyung, though. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other, him with apprehension and defiance, and she with an overwhelming sense of anger… and fear. There’s so much she wants to say, yell, scream that she can’t choose.

She walks forward until she’s standing right above him. “Give me the icepack.”

Taehyung’s face reacts minutely before smoothing back out. He looks back down at his hands and shakes his head. “No.”

Dilara stares at him, incredulous. “Give me the icepack,” she repeats. “And you better start explaining while you’re at it.”

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he mumbles, twisting his body away from her. When she lunges towards him, livid and missing his hand by inches, he looks up in horror. “What are you doing?” he cries. “Do you have any idea how much this hurts?”

Her chest constricts. She reaches forward and takes off his snapback, just for something to do. “Then give it to me!”

“What the - no! Go away!”

“No way. You don’t get to cause drama on my paddock and then tell me to -”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“Goddamnit, Tae! Why do you have to make everything so difficult!” she shouts in frustration. “Just give me the fucking icepack!”

Taehyung stares up at her, eyes wide. He takes a shaky breath and she realises with a jolt that for the first time since they broke up, she’s addressed him by his name. Tae… She hasn’t said that name out loud in months, not to Jimin, not to Lexie, not even to herself.

Silently, he raises his hand and hands her the icepack. Taking it, she kneels in front of him and takes his right hand, gingerly placing the icepack on it. He hisses but keeps his hand steady, and she carefully continues, trying not to think about how close they are, how she can feel him looking at her.

His knuckles are red and bruised, but thankfully not bleeding. She tries to hold his hand as gently as possible, but firmly enough that he can’t pull away because she really, really doesn't want to let go of him right now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands in a low voice, not looking up. “How could you -” she breaks off, shaking her head.

It’s a moment before Taehyung answers. “It’s not important.” When her head snaps up to look at him incredulously, he frowns and looks away, shrugging stubbornly.

“How is it -” Dilara pauses with the icepack for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “You hit him. You punched him - apparently.”

He frowns. “What do you mean apparently?” he asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically, holding up his hand and ignoring his dramatic gasp. “Look at this. Have you ever punched anything before?”

“Jungkook taught me once. Kind of.”

“That’s great. And now Jaden is with the medic getting his nose fixed! How is why not important?”

Taehyung scoffs in disgust. “There was barely any blood. Don’t worry, his stupid face will be fine,” he mutters scathingly.

Dilara glares up at him again, fighting the urge to smack the back of his head. “I don’t care about him!” She ignores how he suddenly looks up, as though surprised. “What about you? You - you hurt your hand!” She takes a deep breath. “What if he complains? He - he will complain and then Red Bull -” She gasps as something horrific occurs to her. “What if they - what if Big Hit gets involved? This - this is a PR disaster!”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have heard most of what she’s said. “It - it will be fine,” he says finally, but she can hear an undertone of worry in his voice. “Namjoon hyung is talking to the team.” He swallows. “I trust him.”

Don’t we all. But Red Bull is a whole other matter. “God, Tae…” She drops her head before raising it slowly to look up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t about what you overheard the other night.”

He says nothing for a moment but then frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign. When I told him that -” But it’s too much to explain and she doesn’t have the patience to get him to admit something he doesn’t want to - if he indeed has something to admit to. “Forget it. What did he say? Jaden?”

Predictably, Taehyunglowers his eyes again. “I can’t tell you. But he deserved it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I mean that there’s no point if I tell you. He said a lot of stupid stuff but if I tell you, then it’s not - it’s not…” He sighs and looks away, and she knows he’s searching for the English word. “It doesn’t mean anything if I tell you,” he says finally, giving up.

Dilara stares. “Are you telling me… you punched a guy - badly - and hurt your hand and you can’t tell me because you’re trying to be chivalrous?” When his eyes light up at the sound of the word he was looking for, she snaps. “You - what? You jeopardized your career to - to defend my honour? Are you actually serious?”

“You didn’t hear him,” he states, frowning down at her now. “You don’t know what he was saying. And no, I’m not telling you,” he adds before she can ask again. “But, yeah. What he said was horrible. And…” He shrugs defiantly. “I didn’t like hearing that about you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. She should be flattered, and she thinks she is, but it pales in comparison to how worried she is for him right now. He has no idea the power Red Bull holds - none at all. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispers. “He could press charges. How are you not more worried?”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker. “I don’t think he will,” he says, but his fake confidence doesn’t fool her. “I - I don’t regret it.” He meets her gaze. “Everything he said was bullshit,” he blurts. “He doesn’t know you at all. Seriously, I can’t believe you went out with him.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. “You really want to go there?”

He frowns churlishly. “He’s an asshole. He -” Taehyung stops himself, biting down on his lip. “You are so out of his league,” he says eventually, looking away.

After a moment, she dips the icepack onto his hand again, slowly, concentrating on nothing else. “You’re an idiot,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her. “Such a drama queen.”

Taehyung rests his other hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb lightly against her jaw. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but she doesn’t think she’s the one that needs it right now. “I still can’t believe you did this. You’re going to be in so much trouble, Tae,” she repeats, looking up at him again. His eyes soften when she says his name again, and she can tell it means the world to him. But right now, she doesn’t care about that.

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I told you, I trust Namjoon hyung,” he reminds her, eyes flickering to her mouth momentarily. But then a shadow passes across his face. “I just hope I haven’t got him in trouble.”

To that, Dilara has nothing to say. The ice has almost melted now; they’re basically just holding hands, but even the realisation doesn’t make her want to let go. “What did he say?” she tries again, deciding that disdain towards Jaden is better than this worry for his leader. “Jaden?”

Taehyung’s face twists in disgust; somehow he still manages to look handsome and sexy all at once. “I told you, I’m not telling you,” he says obstinately, a slight smirk appearing when she rolls her eyes.

“I can’t think what would be so bad that you’d do this,” she confesses, shaking her head. “You never struck me as the violent type.”

He frowns. “I’m not. But you make me step out of my comfort zone quite a bit,” he adds, cracking a smile.

Dilara holds his gaze, not sure what about the situation today could have required it. It’s not surprising that Jaden would’ve said something, maybe even something really bad. Did he call her a bad driver? A slut? A whore? She’s mildly shocked at how little those words affect her, especially when it’s in comparison to the sheer terror she’s feeling for Taehyung right now.

She’s just contemplating how she will face him and the rest of the group if it turns out that she’s the reason BTS goes from seven to six members, when he bumps her forehead with his. “Stop worrying,” he chides gently. “It’s happened now. We’ll see how it goes.”

Even as her heart races at the momentary proximity of their faces, she glares up at him. “I can’t stop worrying. You should be worrying,” she points out, jabbing him in the chest with the hand holding the icepack.

“You - ugh, you’re getting water on my shirt…”

The door behind them swings open then and she sees Taehyung’s head snap up, face going smooth, before she turns to see Namjoon walking in, Seokjin right behind him. Both of them stand up in unison and before she can register what’s happening, Taehyung is ushered out and into a meeting room.

“Wait, wait,” she says quickly, grabbing Namjoon’s arm. “What’s - who’s in there?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of people from Red Bull and Big Hit,” he replies, in what she presumes is meant to be a reassuring tone. “They just want to know what happened. Although, Jaden is…” He trails off, and he winces uncomfortably.

“But what’s going to happen to - to Tae? What are they going to -”

“Dilara, relax,” says Namjoon hurriedly, starting to walk out of the room. “We have our reps. It should be over soon.”

That doesn’t sound comforting at all. “What is that supposed to - do they know it was Jaden’s fault? Apparently he said -” Here she breaks off, remembering suddenly that even she don’t know what he said.

Apparently taking advantage of her momentary silence, Namjoon starts to slip out. “He’ll be out soon,” he promises.

“Stop making it sound like prison!” she says loudly as they leave. Alone once again, she trudges out of the changing room to see…

“Shit,” she mutters, spotting her across the garage. “Vicki.”

Dilara’s press officer raises her eyebrows before beckoning her exactly like Namjoon did Taehyung, and just like her ex, she silently follows her into a secluded corner of the garage.

“Alright,” says Vicki, somehow managing to sound stern, knowing and worried all at once. “Please tell me you did not go out with someone from Max’s pit crew.”

—

“... and then he cornered me again yesterday to ask me why I wouldn’t go out with him -”

“Again?” Vicki shakes her head, incredulous. “Jesus, Dilara. Why didn’t you tell someone he was bothering you?”

“Because -” Dilara shrugs uncomfortably. “We’re racing. And it wasn’t a big deal.” When she catches sight of Vicki’s expression, she backtracks. “Okay, honestly? If he’d come up to me one more time, I probably would have.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for that,” she declares in her usual business-like fashion. “But maybe you didn’t because he’s a member of the team…?” Vicki tilts her head knowingly.

Dilara’s face heats up. “I know it’s not technically against the rules,” she murmurs, only slightly guilty as she looks down at the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

Vicki observes her for a moment before nodding. “Still doesn’t give him the right to talk like an arsehole.”

“Okay, what did he say?” Dilara asks for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why won’t anyone just tell me?”

“Well, firstly because he said it in Korean,” she points out. “And secondly… you should ask your friends,” she adds, tilting her chin at something behind Dilara. She turns to see Jimin and Jungkook waiting at the end of the corridor, trying to look nonchalant but clearly waiting for her. The rush of affection she feels for them in that moment is overwhelming.

Dilara turns back to Vicki, not meeting her eyes. By the way she said “friends”, it’s clear she knows they aren’t just any friends. Or it’s because one of them hit a guy a member of the team. “What’s - what’s going to happen to - to Jaden?”

Vicki shrugs sympathetically. “They’re both in there,” she answers, and Dilara is grateful for how she includes Taehyung in it, too. “We’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Dilara. You have a race tomorrow,” she reminds her.

Dilara nods and watches as Vicki leaves after patting her shoulder, before turning around and walking towards Jimin and Jungkook. Suddenly aware of how much taller they are, she buries her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “You guys want to go for a walk?” she asks in a small voice.

Even though they both nod instantly and Jungkook simply puts an arm around her shoulders, they only end up getting as far as the garage before Seokjin, who’s still outside the conference room, shakes his head silently as soon as he spots them. From this, she gathers that they’re still not in total privacy and she can’t be seen alone on a street with just two members and no production crew.

They slowly drift apart, taking seats on opposite sides of the garage. For the first time ever, Dilara initiated a conversation on Jimin’s silly WhatsApp group. Both of them reply immediately and she finally, finally gets the whole story.

They tell her how after their meeting, a couple of engineers had come in to use the printer for some data. One of them, Jaden, recognised them and greeted them in Korean, after which everyone else left, leaving only the eight of them in the room. It was small talk for a bit initially, with Taehyung hanging in the back and not participating at all, before Jaden really opened his mouth.

At this, Jungkook hesitates, wondering if Taehyung hyung should be the one to tell her. She informs them about the weird chivalrous trip Taehyung’s on and that she’s not getting a single answer out of him. After some silent begging and pleading from across the garage, Jimin visibly rolls his eyes and spills.

Jimin [19:41] He said he thought you were hot and it was good to finally having something nice to look at on the paddock

Jungkook [19:42] And he said that he went out with you in Yeongam and you… did stuff.

Dilara [19:43] Oh god. Seriously? He actually said that?

Jimin [19:44] Yeah. And then Namjoon said that we’ve all known you for a long time now and then Jaden asked if any of us had ever hooked up with you. Obviously we all said no.

Jungkook [19:45] Except Taehyung hyung. He just didn’t answer.

Jimin [19:46] Yeah, but Jaden didn’t notice. He said he thought you were cool initially but then you became kind of mean and you didn’t want to go out with him anymore.

Dilara [19:46] He said I was “mean”? That’s the word he used?

Across the garage, she can see Jimin look up at her apprehensively before glancing at Jungkook, who simply shrugs uncomfortably.

Dilara [19:46] Come on, what did he really say?

Jimin [19:47] He called you a spoiled brat… and a bitch. And he said that you turned him down after one date because you were still hung up on your ex.

Fuck. Dilara groans inwardly, Taehyung’s suppressed happiness and gentle yet confident caresses suddenly making sense. When she looks up at them, cringing visibly, she spots both of them biting back smug smiles.

Dilara [19:48] Shut up.

Jimin [19:49] Hilarious. Anyway, then Jin hyung tried to change the subject but Jaden brought it back to you again. He said if he’d known you were just good for one date, he would’ve gotten as much out of it as he could right then.

Jungkook [19:50] And then he… did a thing with his hand.

Dilara [19:51] So he’s a creep. Tae hit him because of this? Really?

Jimin [19:51] Well he said it in a lot more detail. But I can’t type that out.

Jungkook [19:52] Yeah, he called you a really bad word. And I can’t tell you. It’s in Korean and I can’t say it. It’s too horrible.

Huh. Dilara looks up to see Jungkook frowning at the screen, apparently troubled just at the thought of it. She wracks her brains for the worst thing a guy could call a girl in English. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds she doesn’t really want to know.

Jungkook [19:56] Anyway. Then out of nowhere, Taehyung punched him. Jaden got knocked back into the wall and I think his nose was bleeding.

Jimin [19:56] He deserves it. Who the fuck talks like that?

Dilara [19:57] And Tae? I saw his hand.

Jimin [19:57] Yeah, he was quite pissed. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.

Dilara [19:58] Do you know what they’re talking about in there?

Jungkook [19:58] Not a clue. I think they’re just working on a way to keep it quiet.

Jungkook and Jimin launch into a discussion speculating what will happen now, whether their lawyers will get involved or whether they’ll try to resolve it right here, and if Jaden will try to make it a bigger deal. Dilara can’t participate; all she can think about is Taehyung in there, no idea what they’re talking about or what frame of mind he’s in. He’s smart and clever, but he’s also impulsive with his words. One wrong question or remark and he’ll respond with the snarkiest comment he can come up with, making the situation worse than it already is.

Jimin [20:03] Don’t worry, Dilara. This wasn’t your fault.

Dilara shakes her head, not caring that she’s this transparent. Jimin’s words, while technically what she needs to hear, don't help at all because, really - isn't it her fault? Wasn't Jaden a dick because of her, because she turned him down? Wasn't Taehyung being reckless because of how far she’s pushed him? Because she entered his life in the first place? Her thoughts spiral as she imagines being the sole reason for BTS's negative publicity, for their hate, for their disbandment -

Her phone pings again, but from a different contact. The moment she sees Namjoon's display icon, she dives for the phone.

Namjoon [20:08] Hey. You alright?

Dilara [20:08] What is going on in there? How are you texting?

Namjoon [20:08] Hard to say. And Christian got a phone call that he had to pick up.

Dilara [20:09] Damnit. How's Tae?

Namjoon [20:09] Pretty calm.

Dilara [20:09] That’s… not good. Right? Or is it?

Namjoon [20:10] No, he's not going overboard. I was there - I kind of get why he got so mad.

Dilara [20:10] Really?

Namjoon [20:11] Yeah. I mean, not mad enough to punch a guy in the face.

There’s a rolling eyes emoji at the end of the message. Dilara feels a tingling in her fingers and a prickle of defensiveness.

Dilara [20:12] I guess if a guy had said that about Kaya, you wouldn't have done the same.

She doesn’t phrase it like a question; she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s challenging him… even though she kind of is. Dilara watches the ellipses appear to indicate that he’s typing. He types for a while, nearly a minute, pausing constantly. Finally, the message appears.

Namjoon [20:14] Yeah, I would’ve broken his face.

Mildly satisfied, she places the phone down and waits. Jimin and Jungkook have stopped their bickering on the group, too, but she makes a mental note to thank them later, genuinely and profusely, for being so nice to her when she’s been anything but.

It’s nearly thirty more minutes of excruciating waiting, with Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook sitting with her. She hasn't the faintest where Yoongi and Hoseok are; she’s about to ask Jin about it, just to distract herself, when the door opens and Christian comes out.

Dilara leaps to her feet automatically, thoroughly relieved when his eyes land on her instantly and he beckons her to follow him. She jogs after him until they’re out of earshot and he turns to her, suddenly looking taller.

“Has Jaden been harassing you, Dilara?” The first question out of his mouth throws her for a loop.

“Has he -” She swallows, biting her lip. “Why - um, what have you heard?”

“That he’s been harassing you.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “Vicki just told us. It changes everything.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Changes what? What - what do you mean? What happened? What’s going to happen to -”

“Well, Jaden has been fired,” he begins, placing his hands on his hips. “He was a good engineer, but…” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a person on the team who treats a woman like that. It would be a publicity nightmare.” His eyes snap up to her. “And it’s incredibly disrespectful to you, too, of course.”

Dilara nods, somewhat in a daze. “So, he’s… fired? Just like that? What if he goes to the press?”

“He’s signing an NDA. If he wants his severance and doesn’t want to be blacklisted, he’ll sign it.” Christian’s confidence seems dangerously unbalanced. “Plus, Big Hit would lose millions if they broke the contract now. And also, apparently, the negative publicity would be enormous if it got out that their employee was being punished for defending his… friend.”

By the way he says it, she knows she’s been made. “Christian…”

“He was the same bloke that miraculously found you on the middle of the road in Monza, was he not?”

Dilara swallows. “He was. Look, it’s not -”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t -”

“No, I genuinely don’t want to know.” He looks at her knowingly - too knowingly. “It’s better,” he says, slower this time, “if I don’t know.” When she nods hesitantly, he pats her shoulder once. “Right. Your friend… I think he should be fine. But in the future, Dilara,” he adds, suddenly sounding tired, “do let us know if a team member is creating a hostile work environment, will you?”

Dilara nods silently as he walks away, at the last minute telling her to go home and rest for the race tomorrow. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, not until she hears from Namjoon himself that this is over. Not Christian, not even Taehyung - Namjoon. Only him.

The next two minutes are unbearable. She walks back slowly to where she was seated before to see Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook waiting for her expectantly.

“Well?” Jimin prompts urgently.

“Um… he’s - he’s signing an NDA,” is all that comes out of her mouth. When all three of them look completely confused, she doesn’t know where to begin. “He said Jaden - Jaden signed an NDA and I think he said that Tae -”

At that moment, the conference room door opens and three people spill out: Taehyung, with a Korean man in a suit next to him, and Namjoon a step behind. To her immense relief, the latter strides over to them first thing. He says something in Korean, to which all three of them sigh loudly in relief. Heart hammering, Dilara looks up at him and tugs on his sleeve.

“What?” she asks quietly, desperately.

“He’s off the hook,” says Namjoon in English, clearly trying to keep his own smile under control, even as the dimples pop on his cheeks. "He's going to get a warning from the company, but since it won't get out… it'll be okay. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

Dilara swallows with difficulty, the words suddenly making no sense. “He’s -” She clears her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from Taehyung. His eyes meet hers for a fraction of a second over the man’s shoulder, but his expression is as unreadable as ever. “He’s not kicked out of the group?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You would think… but no.” He chuckles. “I’m kidding. We have some pretty good lawyers, you know?”

She doesn’t comment on how ominous that sounds. Next to her, Jungkook is rubbing his eyes, smiling in embarrassment. She can’t see what Seokjin and Jimin are doing behind her, and she only vaguely registers someone patting the top of her head.

Ahead of them, the man in the suit is finally walking away. Taehyung says something to him as he leaves but she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She turns to Namjoon.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if we…”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at this unfinished request. He glances at Taehyung, who’s now slowly walking up to them, and nods. “Just… I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but…” He shrugs apologetically “… one minute. We need to get on a conference call after this.”

She nods mutely and waits for all of them to vacate the garage before finally, finally facing Taehyung.

He stands before her, a respectful few feet between them, his hands in his pockets and looking breathtakingly handsome. He looks expectant, defiant - but above all, he looks relieved. It suddenly reminds her of how he’d looked at her nearly two years ago in the Suzuka paddock, before they’d ever exchanged a single word.

Taehyung exhales shakily, and something snaps in her. All the anxiety of the weekend rushes into her chest at the same time and she tilts her head slightly, taking a step forward as though on autopilot. He nods silently and meets her halfway, and they wrap their arms around each other in an emotional hug.

Taehyung displays none of the hesitation he’d shown in the kitchen a week ago. His long hair brushes against her cheek where he’s buried his face in her neck, breathing now slightly uneven and she knows that despite his cool exterior, he was worried, too. She tightens her arms around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Taehyung,” she murmurs shakily, savouring the familiar scent of lotion and spicy cologne. Christian Dior Sauvage, she remembers, tilting her face and inhaling slightly.

Taehyung nods, squeezing her waist with one hand. “I know,” he whispers against her skin, voice deep and reverberating in her ear.

Every bit of frustration, exasperation, gratitude and all the unnamed feelings she’s pushed deep down threaten to resurface. There’s so much she wants to tell him, and this is it. She doesn’t know how to tell him more; when she feels his lips press against the skin just below her ear, as though instinctive, she feels an old familiar warmth in her abdomen and she doesn’t want it to go anywhere.

Dilara vaguely registers voices, a cue that causes them to begrudgingly separate. There’s some bustling; a phone call, some instructions in Korean, and Namjoon beckoning to his members. Dilara quietly takes her leave, trying not to think about how tightly she and Taehyung held each other or how her fingers slipped out of his hand when she left.

—

Dilara is woken by the sound of raucous laughter outside that abruptly dies down when someone shushes them. She groans softly; it’s still dark outside and the time on her phone indicates that she’s been asleep for less than an hour.

She hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the paddock. Too buzzed to be by herself, she’d headed straight to the hotel where the rest of the drivers were staying. A couple of the drivers had been playing FIFA and she’d piled on, making every effort to distract herself from the events of the day. She’d come back to the house an hour ago, sneaking in and going straight to her room and crashing.

It was a fairly uncomfortable sleep, mostly because there’s something nagging on her mind, something she’s forgetting. Dilara can’t put her finger on it; she knows it has to do with Taehyung and what happened today, but everything else escapes her. She shifts restlessly in her bed, trying to go back to sleep - but the damage is done, and she’s wide awake..

Even after the voices outside dwindle down one by one before disappearing altogether and the light under the door turns off, she still can’t sleep.

It’s after midnight when she checks her phone again, opening WhatsApp and checking for new messages. Apart from three messages from Jimin timed around the time they reached the house (Hey we got piri piri chicken! Okay Yoongi hyung just said you’re probably asleep. Good night :)), there’s nothing else.

She thinks for a second, then goes onto the Taehyung’s true loves group. The last message is a joke from Jimin that he’d cracked to try and cheer her up.

Dilara [00:09] Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around but you guys were really there for me so�� thank you.

Jimin [00:15] No need to thank us but fine, you can buy us ice cream tomorrow.

Dilara [00:15] I can? Aren’t you both dieting?

Jungkook [00:16] We can give it up for one ice cream. And you can join us in the gym when we burn it off.

Dilara [00:17] Deal. And um

Jungkook [00:17] What?

Jungkook [00:18] Oh yeah. Taehyung was looking for you when we got back.

Dilara [00:19] Oh. Right. I was asleep.

Jimin [00:19] You’re not anymore.

Dilara [00:20] And?

Jimin [00:20] And he’s awake too.

Dilara can almost picture Jimin’s smirk as he dances around the topic. Fortunately, Jungkook comes to her rescue.

Jungkook [00:21] Yes but you have a race tomorrow, Dilara. You should sleep.

Dilara [00:21] I will. Thank you Jungkook.

Jungkook [00:22] You’re welcome. And while we’re on the topic of thank yous, I think Taehyung hyung is the one you should really be saying that to.

Oh. Of course. Dilara sighs as it finally clicks, what she’s been forgetting. She’s snapped at him, confessed her worries to him, dropped her defences and embraced him - but she hasn’t thanked him, not yet.

Now that she’s realised it, she knows she can’t sleep. She considers texting him, but she doesn’t know if that would seem too impersonal, especially after the emotional hug they shared. What does she do instead, though? Ask him to meet her outside? That feels like far too much pressure.

Jesus. Dilara climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen, silently opening the fridge and taking her first drink of water in hours. This is Taehyung, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen island. Nothing about him warrants this much overthinking. Pulling out her phone from her pajamas’ pocket, she texts him.

Dilara [00:30] Hey.

Tae [00:32] Hey.

Dilara [00:33] How’s your hand?

Tae [00:33] Hurting a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?

Dilara [00:34] I couldn’t. You should stop texting though, if your hand hurts.

Tae [00:35] I can type with my left hand. Don’t you have a race tomorrow?

Dilara [00:36] Yeah. I’ve raced with less sleep though. Why aren’t you asleep?

Tae [00:36] I’m in bed.

A familiar flutter erupts in her chest, and her toes curl on the wooden floor. Without warning, an image of a shirtless Taehyung in boxer shorts, glasses on, lying on his side with his phone in one hand appears in her mind. She’s willing to bet a thousand bucks that that’s how he looks right now, before she remembers that a lot of things could have changed in a year.

Dilara [00:37] That’s too bad. We’ll talk tomorrow then.

Tae [00:37] We can talk now too.

Dilara [00:38] Nah, it’s more of an in-person conversation.

Tae [00:38] You know we live in the same house, right?

Dilara bites her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading on her face. She starts walking towards her room, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stopping in front of her room, she leans against the closed door.

Dilara [00:39] I’m aware.

Tae [00:40] But no. You need to sleep.

He’s flirting. It’s been so long since Kim Taehyung has flirted with her this confidently that she’s forgotten how much of a blushing mess she becomes, being thankful only for the fact that it’s never visible on her face. She gazes absently at the closet door in front of her, trying to think of a response.

Dilara [00:41] Yeah, I do. I’ll probably need to sleep after the race tomorrow too, because it’s always so tiring.

Tae [00:42] You can sleep on the train to Amsterdam. It’s going to be a long trip.

Dilara [00:42] Probably. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company.

Tae [00:43] Seven of us not enough for you?

I really only need one. But she doesn’t say it. It’s far too risky.

Dilara [00:45] That's a lot of talk for someone who barely escaped getting in trouble today. Or who knows how much you would've regretted it?

Tae [00:45] I won't regret anything I do for you.

Dilara closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door, suddenly feeling warm. She wonders briefly if the conversation is venturing into unfamiliar territory - or, rather, an all-too familiar territory.

She stares at the closet door in front of ber, hoping for inspiration, when it suddenly opens to, once again, reveal none other than Taehyung himself, pulling on a white t-shirt as he steps out.

The combination of her surprise, his presence and the generous glimpse of lean, honey-coloured torso is enough to make her stumble and drop her phone. “Shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes and bending to pick it up. She looks up to see him frowning, knees bent as though about to help her up.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung glances between her and his door. “What were you doing outside my room?”

“I - that’s your room? I thought it was a closet,” she admits in slight embarrassment, feeling her heart rate slowly go back to normal.

He nods, looking amused. “You really couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Dilara tilts her head, twisting her mouth to hide her smile. “I thought we already discussed that.” She can’t stop looking at him, privately admiring how incredible he looks even in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, hair unstyled, face bare with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. I was right, she thinks, mildly victorious.

“We did. But now that you’re here…” He trails off pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows at her until she stifles a laugh. He grins, and her stomach does a backflip.

"I was just going to get back to bed," she tells him, and he simply nods. She doesn't move, though, and neither does he. His gaze is his usual intense one: unmoving, like a laser looking into her soul. She tries to hold it for as long as she can but when it becomes too much, she drops her gaze. "Can I see your hand?" she asks, mostly for something to say.

Wordlessly, he raises his right hand and she takes it. She can't really see anything; she brushes her fingers extremely lightly over his knuckles but he still hisses softly.

"Sorry," she mutters apologetically. "It's too dark here… can we go to the window?"

He follows her a few steps away to the end of the hallway, where the house splits into a T, one room on either side. There's a window on the wall, though, wide and tall, with a near full moon causing a silvery light to stream in.

Dilara picks up his hand again and it makes sense now why he flinched. His knuckles are still an angry red, with scratches on the third and fourth joints. Her fingers ghost over his hand, but she’s careful not to touch him. When she hears his sharp intake of breath, she pauses before bringing both their hands down, fingers lightly intertwined momentarily before separating.

"I still can't believe you," she murmurs, shaking her head, but the disapproving tone is gone.

"I'm good at surprising people," he replies. He leans his side against the window and folds his arms across his chest, careful to keep his injured hand on the outside.

"Not just you." She doesn't look away from him. "Jimin and Jungkook told me what Jaden said." Predictably, his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze but the rest of his face stays unmoving. “I knew he was a jerk, but… yeah, I guess I’m surprised by how far he went.”

Taehyung observes her for a moment. “You still think he didn’t deserve it?”

Dilara reaches for his hand again, pointedly looking at his bruised knuckles. Thanks for defending me, she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Can you even hold a mic with this hand? You’re performing in a few days,” she reminds him, referring to the charity concert in Amsterdam scheduled for the coming Friday - one she’ll be missing because of her race in Russia.

“Hm, let’s check.” Taehyung gently pulls away to pick up her hand, wrapping his injured hand around her wrist and showing her how his fingers easily meet.

“Is that how you hold your mic?”

He smirks and tugs, bringing ber hand right up to his face… right up to his mouth. “This is how I hold my mic.” There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her hand and she feels her heart race in anticipation. But after a moment, he lets go, smiling wider as though he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind.

Dilara wants to playfully smack him. Thanks for making me laugh. He’s flirting so blatantly, and she has to remind herself that amidst all the shit Jaden said, he did basically confirm to Taehyung that she’s not over him.

“Your fans will be very worried when they see you’ve been injured. I can almost see the hashtags on Twitter,” she continues, gesturing grandly. “Stay Strong Taehyung, or We support Taehyung and his gorgeous, injured, sexy hand.”

He laughs, and it suddenly feels warmer. “They will be worried,” he agrees, cocking his head, “but I’m sure even they’ll agree that it was worth it. You know, given that he’s been bothering you for weeks now, and today was just the finale.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Vicki told you,” she guesses, sighing when he nods. “Well… yeah. Like I said, I knew he was a jerk.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jinjja, Dilara,” he says, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh, really? So I was supposed to come to you and tell you that this guy I hooked up with suddenly won’t leave me alone?” She scoffs. “That would’ve gone well.”

He shrugs. “Why not? Whatever happened between us, it doesn’t matter if something is making you uncomfortable. And besides, it didn’t have to be me, you know.”

She barely hears his last sentence. Thanks for caring about me. “Fine. The next time a guy starts bothering me, I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fists ready,” he says wryly, bringing his thin fists to his face and blowing on them.

“Maybe I’ll actually get Jungkook to teach you how to punch by then.”

“I’d rather you teach me.”

It’s predictable but Dilara’s cheeks heat up anyway, and his face breaks into a gorgeous grin. She looks down at their feet, and realises they’ve sub-consciously moved closer to each other. The moment she thinks of it, the scent of lotion and faint cologne suddenly grows stronger, and she gets the urge to sink into his chest and spend the night curled up in his arms. The thought of waking up warm and cuddled makes her yawn, and she quickly covers it up.

“You really should sleep.” Taehyung reaches over and gently ruffles her bangs, his old way of playfully banter before doing something really soft, usually beginning with pulling her to him and hugging her while she jokingly protested.

It makes her heart ache, the slow realisation that she still cares so much about him, that there’s nothing that can take away from the once-in-a-life-time connection they found with each other.

She still needs to thank him. Dilara can’t say the words, though; it seems inadequate somehow, given the risk he took, the impulse to do something so unlike him. She reaches up and slowly brushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, touching the corner of his glasses.

They’re close enough now, enough that she won’t take him by surprise. She hopes she’s right when she brings her other hand up and gently holds the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, long hair.

Dilara gives Taehyung a moment to catch on, noting how he swallows and all traces of joking disappear, leaving only an almost childlike hope and vulnerability. Then, rising on her toes, she gently pulls his head down and presses her lips to his.

Like the time they reached their understanding of sorts in the kitchen, it takes him a moment to respond, almost as though he can’t quite believe this is real. Dilara waits until he kisses her back, tilting his head and leaning in, before opening her mouth. His lips part with a sigh and she wants to do the same - so familiar and addictive is his taste. His king hair tickles her cheek as his hands come up to hold her, gently and tentatively.

Taehyung’s lips are everything she remembers them being; soft, energetic, loving. It’s a slow, savouring kiss. With how unexpected it was, they simply take the time to reacquaint themselves. Dilara is glad, she thinks as they separate to catch their breath and she presses a last kiss to his lips before pulling away, for if it were anything more, she doesn't think she’d be able to stop herself.

Taehyung looks… overwhelmed. His lips are slightly swollen and he absently bites his lower lip, his eyes shining with ten times more hope and pleasant shock than the photoshoot earlier this week.

“Thanks,” she says softly, not specifying what for. Taking a step back and trying to ignore how her heart is zooming, she starts walking back to her room, still aware of him watching her go. Just when she reaches her door, she remembers something.

“Oh, and, uh…” This is awkward, and her heart thuds. Trying to be casual and shrug it off in the face of his motionless figure, she speaks once more. “You can… Dilara sounds a bit weird. Lara is fine.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanoasis #musicbingo23 #kvanity #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #wkcnet #bts v fanfic #bts v angst

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moccahobi · 1 year

Text

Hello, Goodbye

Summary: “Hello.” That was the start of the most profound relationship Jungkook has ever had. Now graduating, he finds himself reminiscing on his love: Yoongi.

Pairings: Jungkook (BTS) x Yoongi (BTS)

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Shadow loss, grief

Genre: angst

Word count: 1k

A/N: This is part of @kpopwritingbingo. The prompt is Onewe’s Eraser! It’s a beautiful song. Also big thanks to @sugarwithtea for betaing this for me!

"Hello. What are you doing here?" Jungkook's head shot up, his eyes struggling to see through his tears. The world around him was vignetting white as he cried in the hideout he found. He thought that no one else went to this place and that he’d finally get some alone time to soothe his breaking heart.

“I needed some alone time.”

The dude didn't get the message Jungkook was trying to telepathically communicate and sat down, "This is a good spot for that."

Jungkook hummed. In the two months he's been at college, it's been his only reprieve. Communal bathrooms, shared bedrooms, & large windows left Jungkook no privacy. His descent into isolation and depression had been on display for everyone to see.

"I needed alone time too."

"Ah. Want to be alone together?" Jungkook asked after a beat of silence, not having energy to tell this man to leave.

"Sure."

The two sat in silence for an hour, the world passing them by all the while. If they cried, no comments were made. The other man introduced himself as Min Yoongi the second meet up, and by the fifth, Jungkook knew Yoongi was a 2nd year psychology student with a shitty roomate & now only one friend. Jungkook had lost all he thought were friends.They’d found each other when both had barely anything and together, they’d build everything.

By the time he graduates, Jungkook will understand that the people he tried to befriend hadn't meant to hurt him. They hadn’t meant to leave him begging for their help. Like Jungkook, they were just trying to make friends & hadn't quite clicked. They were fresh adults, trying to make sense of the world, and Jungkook just hadn’t fit into the salve of comfort they needed in that confusing time.

Besides, losing them gained him Yoongi. Losing them gave Jungkook the one person he loves more than anything. By Jungkook's 2nd year the two started dating. The first date was a shy one where they ate lamb skewers in a park, sharing gentle touches & soft gazes. Yoong even gave Jungkook his last lamb skewer, claiming that he was full. Later he admitted that that was a lie.

Jungkook, the sentimental man he is, saved a clean napkin from that date. It's now framed in a collage, hanging beside his desk, soon to be packed away. The collage also has an instruction paper from a shoe rack they got and made for their on-campus apartment. Yoongi, mister skilled, made it all on his own with Jungkook supplying moral support through kisses. Six dates into their relationship and they had to plan for housing and although Jungkook was scared of having a roommate, Yoongi had amounted enough academic credits to get them high in the apartment draw. Without Yoongi, Jungkook would’ve been one of the last in the general housing draw, stuck getting a random roomate.

Yoongi didn’t go back to his hometown that summer and Jungkook lived close enough that the two had more dates together. Picnics in the city that rested between college and home. Yoongi would “happen” to have some of Jungkook’s favorite food with him during those picnics or “happen” to have been given tickets to an event that was happening. Jungkook treasured every moment from that summer. Slowly, Jungkook found his thoughts of home shifting. No longer was it where he grew up or his neighborhood. It became a person.

That was Jungkook's 3rd year. Yoongi was swamped & spent most of his free time applying to grad schools, attending interviews, and crying when they turned him down. Jungkook saw how academia tore Yoongi apart, critiqued everything he did and believed in, and yet academia seemed to be Yoongi’s home. He desperately wanted to get into a PhD program. It was a busy time for Jungkook as well. Pressure to declare his major mounted and he found himself stuck in classes that assigned too much reading and expected too much from him.

Despite their stress and busy lifestyles they still found moments together. Attempting new recipes, working together, and snuggling in the moments between snoozed alarms became their norm. Their romance flourished in the small cracks, like a dandelion on a sidewalk. Jungkook even managed to create a small cookbook filled with their recipes, their thoughts, and even photos of them cooking together. He had a copy and gifted one to Yoongi

It was his graduation gift.

The two walked to their special spot, where they'd first met, and cried together. Once again the world passed them by as they sat there. Yoongi had his program. Yoongi was leaving. Sitting here now, at Jungkook's graduation, feels all wrong. Youngi isn't here. He's across the country working his ass off in a clinical program. When is the last time that they’d talked? Yoongi is still the last contact he called but that’s because Jungkook only ever called him.

Yoongi isn’t here physically.

Yet Jungkook feels him all around.

Jungkook takes a deep breath of the air around him, flower petals and pollen drifting in the wind. Yoongi isn’t here physically.

And Jungkook needs to find a new home now.

If only Jungkook knew back then then how this would all end. All the caring moments, tainated by the present. Would Jungkook be able to handle it all? Would he be able to handle their first words if he knew what their last would be?

"Goodbye."

#musicbingo23 #wkcnet #rainingmxmnet #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts mxm #bts jungkook #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts college au #bts yoongi angst #bts yoongi x jungkook #bts yoonkook #bts suga angst #bts jungkook angst

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limjaeseven · 1 year

Text

Brewed Love

Pairing: Mark X Jackson

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Coffee Shop!AU, s2f2l

Rating: General

Word Count: 1,518

Bingo Prompt: Hocus Pocus - BVNDIT

Summary: Jackson is comfortable working at the cafe Jaebeom owns. He expects to earn a living there, he doesn't expect falling in love.

Warning(s): Jackson being comically whipped, nothing more!

[a/n]: Happy Valentine's Day @sweetestofchaos! Sorry for this being late but I really hope you like it! It was pleasure talking to you and getting to know you. This fic is also my first entry for the Kpop Bingo project. I was struggling to come up with something for Hocus Pocus but I tried to make it work.

Jaebeom was both the first and last person Jackson thought would open a café. His parents did own a yogurt place so he was clearly knowledgeable on the issue but something about how fierce his hyung could be made it seem really unlikely. The only thing that could explain it to him was the fact that Jaebeom was married to their mutual best friend, heartthrob-cum-pain-in-the-ass Park Jinyoung. He was the only one who could really cool Jaebeom down and bring out the more domestic sides of him, him and their cats.

Whatever the cause, the opening of the café was a blessing for Jackson, wannabe star who was working his way up the ranks at a dance academy and crew, while making basically no money. Jaebeom had told him to join them whenever he was ready because he knew Jackson needed a way to make ends meet. The job was fun, the café was small, decorated classily and with a loyal clientele.

Jackson knew most of their customers by name and had their orders memorised, and loved to get to know the new ones, because it would be inevitable that they’d return in no time to Jackson’s megawatt smile, Jinyoung’s charming face and Jaebeom’s quality confectionery.

While most customers did a double take when they saw a handsome man like Jackson talk to them so sweetly, what was rare was Jackson being rendered speechless at the sight of a patron. He couldn’t blame himself though, it wasn’t a man who had appeared in front of them, but an angel, an angel who was speaking to him but he heard not a word of it.

“Excuse me?” Jackson snapped back to his senses when he noticed the slightly exasperated look on the angel-man’s face.

“Oh I’m so sorry, how can I help you?” He cringed internally at saying the wrong thing to the customer but he seemed to not notice and rattled his order out, which Jackson noted down diligently, his hand shaking through all of it. “You can find a seat, we’ll be there with your order in no time!” Jackson tried to ignore how his voice raised a pitch with the nervousness coursing through his body turning away as soon as he could to catch a breath.

The moment Jaebeom saw the look on Jackson’s face he knew something was up. “Saw a ghost?”

“Angel,” Jackson murmured, pointing in the direction of where the man sat.

The cogs turning in Jaebeom’s head was visible and it made Jackson feel even more jittery. The owner quickly flagged Jinyoung down and whispered something in his ear before grinning at Jackson. He snatched the order and got it done at lightning speed, depositing it on a tray and into Jackson’s hands.

“Serving duty!” A hard shove to his back had Jackson stumbling out of the kitchen. Jinyoung sent him a thumbs up from the spot at the register before turning to take orders. Jackson took a moment to straighten himself, praying that he hadn’t made a mess of his apron that day. Putting on his best smile, he made his way to the angel sitting by the large windows. The soft early evening glow of the sun made his skin glow in supernatural ways and Jackson would have been happy spending the rest of his life just staring at that image.

“Here you go!” He said, a bit too loud, as he set the tray in front of the man and bolted back before he could make more of a fool of himself. He heard the angel chuckle behind him and filed that sound into his folder of “Heavenly Sounds That Beat Music Any Day.” He tried not to think about the fact that the folder had a content count of one.

He tried not to stare too much but he didn’t do very well. Jinyoung had to make sure he was working properly, not wanting to anger customers with incorrect orders because Jackson was too busy writing poetry about the man by the window in his notepad.

Jackson watched with a look of despair as the man stood up, a little over an hour after he’d come, but did a double take when the he walked straight towards him instead of leaving.

“Are you the owner of this place?” Jackson could only shake his head and grab Jaebeom by the back of his shirt to drag him to the counter, too afraid of saying something dumb.

“What are you doing Jacks-” Jaebeom quickly caught himself once he saw the man across the counter, “Oh hi, how can I help you?”

“Would you have a moment?” The man asked, to which Jaebeom nodded and just as they were about to start talking, Jinyoung pulled Jackson away, telling him to take over the register again.

Anticipation brimmed within him as he kept glancing back to where Jaebeom was standing, his frown turning into a big smile by the time the conversation ended, concluding with a firm handshake.

Turning to catch Jackson’s eye, Jaebeom shot him a wink before disappearing back into the kitchen.

An exasperated sigh left Jackson as he tried to talk to Jaebeom but the owner wouldn’t budge. “Hyung,” he whined, “What did you two talk about? Heck, at least tell me his name.”

“Be patient, Jackson. You’ll find out soon enough,” Jaebeom said with an air of finality. Jackson pouted but nodded, packing up his bag and wishing Jinyoung a good night before heading home.

Jackson didn’t know whether to curse at Jaebeom or thank him because seeing his angel-man first thing in the morning was nothing short of a blessing. “Good morning,” The man greeted when he saw Jackson walk in, “I’m Mark Tuan. I look forward to working with you.”

“J-Jackson, nice to meet you too,” He stuttured before running to the kitchen to see his two friends looking supremely smug.

By some stroke of luck, Mark ended up getting along with them really well, fitting into their rhythm with little trouble. He turned out to be a really fun person to be around and it wasn’t long before the four of them became pretty inseparable.

Jackson’s little crush on Mark brewed as he got to know the older man better. Their shared knowledge of Mandarin made Jackson feel like he had just a bit more of an insight on the man, hearing his thick accent utter words he knew his friends wouldn’t understand.

He couldn’t tell when the crush turned to something more, but he definitely thinks it happened at the same time the two became friends. Working next to each other everyday, casually judging customers, trying to remember their names and orders, laughing in the kitchen with Jaebeom and Jinyoung as the two tried making new recipes. Mark became from the angel-man he met one day at the cafe to his best friend to the man he loved so easily that Jackson couldn’t even be scared. It felt so right, he knew it just had to be.

“So, when are you going to ask him out? After he gets sick of waiting for you and falls for someone else?” Jinyoung asked him one night as they were closing up shop. Mark had left early that evening sighting prior commitments and a part of Jackson prayed it wasn’t a significant other he didn’t know about.

“I know I should be I just don’t know how to do it,” Jackson lamented, draping himself in his best friend’s arms.

Warm hands wrapped his waist from behind as Jaebeom joined their hug. “You’re Jackson Wang. You can do anything. You managed to get into an elite Korean dance crew without knowing anyone or speaking a word of the language.” He pulled away, patting Jackson on the back, “Go get your man, Seunnie.”

The flowers were probably a bad idea, Jackson thought. What if Mark was allergic to pollen or something? His palms were sweating as he gripped the stalks in his hands, waiting for Mark to join him. He had asked the man out for lunch on their day off with much support from Jaebeom and Jinyoung (read: they snatched the phone from him and wrote the text themselves and sent it to Mark because Jackson had forgotten how to form basic sentences).

“Jackson!” Mark called out and Jackson looked up to see the man walk towards him and he was transported back to the first time he laid eyes on the man. He was so screwed.

“Hyung,” He said breathlessly as he thrust the flowers towards the man.

Mark looked surprised for a moment before smiling, “For me? They’re so pretty.”

“Hyung,” Jackson repeated, receiving a hum from Mark, “Do you wanna be, like, you know…” he trailed off.

Chuckling, Mark leaned down to place a soft kiss on Jackson’s cheek, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

#ahgaseadmirer23 #musicbingo23 #got7writerscollective #klibrary #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #jaebeom #jay b #jackson wang #mark tuan #park jinyoung #got7 jayb #got7 jackson #got7 mark #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios

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here4theheartbreak · 1 year

Text

Heaven Sent, Hell Bound (2Min)

AO3 | AsianFanFics

Relationships: Minho x Taemin Genre: smut | fluff | angel/demon AU Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~15.7k

Tags: Smut, Fluff, Angel/Demon AU, Corruption AU, Alcohol, Angel Choi Minho, Demon Lee Taemin, Getting Together, Dirty Talk, Rough, Bottom Lee Taemin, Top Choi Minho

Summary: Taemin has one final assignment to complete before he can move up in the ranks of Hell's Army. A trifle really, easy. Seduce and corrupt an angel. And he just so happens to know where one is on earth.

Square: Lee Taemin; inspired by tear Of gOd by OnlyOneOf ( @kpopwritingbingo )

The first thing that Taemin learned when he stepped foot on earth was that it stunk. Not in the amazing, eye watering way that his level of hell did, no. This place smelled like rot and despicability that even a demon would grimace at.

The second thing he learned was that angels smell amazing. He should have found it repulsive. The sickly-sweet purity, cutting through all of the decay and depravity. As a self-respecting demon – anything that pure should have made him want to vomit in the most Exorcist manner possible – ideally all over the nearest unsuspecting nun or expectant mother. But not Taemin. As soon as he neared the location of the angel he was hunting, the most delightful, overwhelming joy came over him. He had to physically stop walking to calm his racing heart and keep from rushing toward the source of that delectable scent.

Taemin was a young demon, working his way up through the ranks of their militia. This would be his final promotion, into the ranks of King Asmodeus’ legions – if he could pass this one final test. While most demons in his position waited generations for the opportunity to advance, Taemin’s promotion came with a stroke of celestial luck. In order to advance his rank, Taemin would need to corrupt the incorruptible – a pure blood angel. Of course, with the inability to enter the realm of said angels, it often took years to obtain one to complete the task. Taemin, however, was given the task just as a recently promoted angel was given his own task; to spend a month on earth without the use of his powers, in order to experience the “beauty of humanity”. Taemin knew nothing about his mark, aside from the fact that he would likely be beautiful and smell awful. He was excited about the work ahead, however. Seduction had always been his strong suit and the challenge of a supposedly chaste and perfect angel was exactly what he craved.

Before leaving hell, Taemin had asked some of his friends where they thought an angel on earth might hang out. The answers ranged from churches (duh) to gardens, to Kibum’s droll response of “probably screwing a nun”. None of them had gotten it correct, however.

Bartending, apparently, was where an angel sent to earth chose to spend their time. Specifically, bartending at a tiny little hole in the wall bar, where Taemin was pretty sure he’d seen a rat in the bathroom having dinner with the roaches.

The angel was just as beautiful as Taemin had been led to believe. He had a small, neatly semi-symmetrical face, with dark, emotional eyes. His hair was styled in a simple, unassuming way. His shoulders were broad, and Taemin could see his muscles under the tight black t-shirt he wore, flexing as he cleaned glasses. Though he was quiet for the hour that Taemin observed him from his corner table in the bar, he drew humans to him like moths to a flame. Taemin listened to at least fifteen people spill their woes over a few drinks, all while the handsome man nodded sympathetically.

How he wasn’t losing his mind was beyond Taemin. Didn’t this angel know that this stuff meant nothing in the long run? These humans would live an insect’s span of existence in the greater scheme of things, then die and be judged accordingly. Their tears were wasted over the random men and women they were in “love” with.

Halfway through the second hour, Taemin was ready to out himself as a demon just to give the poor handsome angel a break. Instead, a far more brilliant plan emerged in his mind. He rose slowly, walking carefully toward the bar to avoid drawing too much attention from the humans. He was created as an incubus, which meant that even when he didn’t want it, he tended to draw people’s interest.

Taemin made it to the bar without incident and settled onto a stool a fair distance from the other patron, a young woman who’d been flirting with the angel to no avail for the past twenty minutes.

The angel approached Taemin, his easy smile wavering when he made eye contact. “H—Hi,” he said after a minute. “Need a refill?” He jutted his chin toward the beer bottle in Taemin’s hand.

“No… I actually have a question.”

“Shoot.” The angel leaned down, fixing something under the bar near Taemin’s seat.

“What’s your name?”

The angel glanced up. He smiled brightly, his teeth perfect and straight. No wonder the woman had been flirting with him; that smile alone was to die for. Taemin swallowed hard, mentally scolding his heart for picking up speed.

“Minho. Yours? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Taemin. I’m new in town. Which was actually what I wanted to ask. How long have you been around? The bar patrons seem friendly with you.”

“A few weeks,” Minho said. He leaned on the counter and faced Taemin. “I’ve just got a way with people. Good listener.”

“I guess that’s important for this job.” Taemin took a sip of his beer. “Do you know if there might be any openings in the bar?” He asked as casually as he could.

“You looking for work?”

Taemin nodded. “Yeah. I’m sort of moving around right now, but this town seems nice. I wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit, so long as I found a place.”

Minho nodded. His gaze lingered on Taemin’s a little too long, brows furrowing for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, a bit distracted. He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, um… I don’t mean to stare, but you look… Really familiar. Are you sure you’ve never been around?”

Taemin shook his head, shifting his features just enough to give himself an innocent, youthful expression. “Never. I guess I just have one of those faces.” He smiled brightly then and leaned more over the bar. “Is it a pleasant familiarity at least?”

“Oh—” Minho hesitated, confusion crossing his features. Taemin locked gazes with him, letting a whisper of his magic creep out and surround Minho. Minho reacted instantly, straightening up with a grimace. “What?” He asked, a little more sharply.

Taemin withdrew his magic, pouting softly. Well that wouldn’t work. “Sorry, I asked if I was familiar to you, to a good person you knew.”

“Oh.” Minho nodded after a second, seeming to shake off the fog that covered him due to Taemin’s magic. “Yeah, I’d guess so. Most people are pretty good.”

“You have an optimism about yourself,” Taemin said. “Doesn’t it get hard to keep that, working in a bar?”

“Nah.” Minho shrugged. He nodded to a man who entered before looking back to Taemin. “People are inherently pretty great. They just struggle sometimes. Place like this… I see everything.”

Taemin bit his tongue, struggling not to argue about humanities flaws with Minho. That would be the last thing that would make the angel interested in him. He nodded instead, smiling in a way he hoped was understanding and pleasant. He watched Minho walk over to the other end of the bar, leaning forward to chat with the new man that had entered.

Taemin finished his drink and quietly slipped from the bar. The sun was shining warm on his skin, not nearly warm enough to feel comfortable, despite the lack of clothing worn by all the humans around him. He wandered down the sidewalk, doing his best to blend in as he considered his next move.

Minho’s time on earth was meant to be spent living as a human, learning about them and taking those lessons back to heaven. Taemin had misunderstood this as having no powers, but Minho still had some residual celestial power, as evidenced by their conversation. He was able to sense – and reacted negatively – to Taemin’s own seduction power. He likely had some form of angelic charm, drawing the humans to him to spill their guts – though this may have been the alcohol consumption. Not being able to use his power made Taemin’s work in seducing him more of a challenge, but not one he wasn’t happy to take on.

The first thing he needed to do was establish himself as a presence in the handsome angel’s life. Which meant being around him, and being human – at least in appearance. Taemin followed the lingering traces of Minho’s scent to various locations around the small town.

First, a café that stunk of coffee beans and sweat amid the sugar and chemically altered flavorings. Minho must drink this stuff. Taemin made a mental note to determine which flavor he liked.

Next, a small grocery store. Taemin grabbed a basket absentmindedly, following the scent around the aisles and pausing where it seemed stronger, trying to determine what Minho may have grabbed. Did he need to eat? Was his power that removed? Or was it all for show? Another question that Taemin would need an answer to. He purchased a small bag of cinnamon candy, absently chewing it as he wandered to the next location.

This one was a small apartment building. Where Minho lived, possibly? Taemin touched the knob, reaching out with his magic to unlock the main door and slip inside. He traced the scent up to the second floor, lingering at a door emblazoned with a bronze 12 on it. Taemin touched the knob once more, unlocking it and pushing it open carefully. The apartment was sparsely furnished and obviously empty. A chair and table and a small rug were present in the front area. Taemin could see a kitchen, just as sparse – the counters were entirely empty. He crept into the kitchen and opened the fridge, surprised to see it properly filled with food enough for one person. A quick peek through the rest of the cupboards revealed that the kitchen was far less sparsely stocked than the empty counters implied; the angel was apparently just a neat freak.

Stepping deeper into the apartment, Taemin peeked into a clean bathroom, glancing in the medicine cabinet. Basic skincare, toothbrush, things that one would expect to find in the bathroom of a human man equal to the age Minho appeared. Taemin nodded in approval. The angel had done his homework, apparently; he wondered how many humans Minho anticipated coming over to see this façade. Not many, if the lack of a couch was any indication.

The bedroom was the final room Taemin entered. The bed was large and the blanket was white and soft looking. There were a row of pillows in soft blues and purples along the headboard, and a nightstand, empty save for a lamp and a notebook stood at the right. The closet was neatly organized, with an array of shirts and jeans hanging, and a small dresser that was filled with socks and underwear. A few pairs of sneakers and a pair of snowboots were present as well. The boots made Taemin scowl; how long did Minho intend to stay on earth? He pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, unsurprised to find a Bible tucked into it. He was far more surprised, however, to find a bottle of lubricant and a small pile of condoms next to said holy book. Taemin grabbed one of the condoms, smirking at the size; he’d assumed Minho was well endowed – it was nice to have confirmation. However, he’d been under the impression that angels on these sabbaticals couldn’t partake in human acts of sin. Unless he was intending on marrying a human in order to experience sex… Taemin’s scowl deepened. He dropped the condom back into the drawer and shut it with his hip. He crept out of the apartment and locked it back up, sneaking down to the front and exiting once more.

Once outside, he looked over the buzzer box, spotting the one marked ‘Office’. He pressed it and waited. There was an uncomfortable crackle before a tinny woman’s voice answered.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m wondering if you guys have any available apartments?”

“How many bedrooms?”

“Just one. Single person.”

“Come in, follow the first floor signs for office, we can talk.” A louder buzz sounded, and Taemin smirked, pulling open the door. He walked into the office, allowing his powers to envelop him as he smiled softly at the woman sitting behind the desk. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at him.

“Oh—Good morning,” she said, rising.

“Morning, ma’am. My name’s Taemin. I’m new in town. I heard from a friend that you might have an open apartment?”

She rose, nodding. It took her a few seconds to make noise despite her mouth moving, her eyes never leaving Taemin’s.

“Yes, of course,” she said in a rush of breath.

Taemin could smell her arousal from where he stood, thick and pungent as she undressed him with her eyes. Humans. So easy to manipulate. He stepped forward, hiding his laugh behind a cough when she moved backwards in surprise, falling ungracefully into her chair. Taking a seat, he leaned forward and smiled again. “What do I need to do to rent one?”

The woman rattled off a list of requirements, fidgeting with papers in front of her as she did. He could see her squirming in her seat as Taemin pulled the required documents from his pocket for her inspection. He knew he could have just as easily presented her with a piece of paper torn from a year-old newspaper from another country and still gotten the apartment – but why risk it? Minho had done well, presenting as a human; the least Taemin could do was match that energy for his own assignment.

“We have an opening down here,” she said, finally gathering her bearings enough to flirt back. “Right next to my door.”

Taemin smiled, leaning a little closer to her. “Lovely… But I prefer the second floor. Apartments near the number twelve, actually… Old suspicion of mine. Anything there?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding. “Twelve is taken, but thirteen is available. Next to it. An unlucky number, but…”

“It’s perfect,” Taemin said quickly, flashing a bright grin and watching the woman’s eyelids flutter as her arousal spiked.

“H—Here. Just need the deposit.” She placed the keys in front of him, her hand shaking visibly.

Taemin pulled his wallet from his pocket, withdrawing a handful of paper money and sliding it across to her. Her eyes widened. “Oh—”

“I prefer cash. Old soul, I think,” he lied easily. “That’s okay, I hope?”

“Of course, let me write you a receipt. This is well over three months of rent…”

“That’s good. I would like to keep myself advanced on bills.” He grabbed the key and tucked it into his pocket.

When she held out the receipt Taemin took it, sliding his hand over hers. When he did she shuddered, unable to suppress the moan that slipped out as came instantly. Taemin smiled, letting her hand slip from his grip when she slumped back in the chair, barely able to keep her eyes open. A little surge of power spiked his pulse, the energy from her pleasure a delightful treat. Though he didn’t need sexual energy to survive, it was absolutely delicious when he was able to pull it. He wondered how Minho’s energy would taste. Would it have that same floral, delightful pureness? Or would his sinning sour it to something rich and dark? Taemin could barely wait to find out.

Taemin stepped out of the apartment building, taking a moment to gather his bearings. The sky had turned a lovely, fiery orange as the sun began to set. He headed back toward the bar, allowing his magic to extend back to furnish the apartment that he’d rented next to Minho’s place. No reason he couldn’t be comfortable while he completed his assignment, he figured.

The atmosphere around the bar was far livelier than when Taemin had left it earlier in the day. Though he wouldn’t call it exciting, it was far louder and more boisterous, both outside and inside. Minho was still at the bar, his bright grin contagious as he laughed over something a baby faced young man said to him.

Taemin stepped up to them, catching Minho’s eyes. He nodded. “Be with you in just a sec,” he called before stepping down the bar to pass a drink to another customer.

Taemin’s brows rose, surprise cutting through him. He’d never been told to wait before. He pouted a little, leaning on the bar. The boy that had been talking to Minho touched his arm.

“I’m Sungho. I’ve never seen you around before.”

Taemin hesitated, biting back a snide comment. He smiled instead, relaxing the hold he had on his magic instinctively. Sungho’s shoulders slumped a little, his gaze going a bit unfocused as it affected him.

“Taemin,” Taemin took the hand Sungho held out, pressing a kiss boldly to the back of his hand. Despite the spark of energy he gained from the easy seduction, something troubled him. Sure, he could seduce anyone with his magic. Even the most pious of nuns and priests were no match for his power. But that was all it was. Magic. Magic that he couldn’t use to seduce Minho, who had instinctual barriers against it. Even letting it free here, in Minho’s presence, ran the risk of him being outed as demon before he managed to even get a kiss out of the pretty angel. But what was Taemin without that magic? Could he seduce a human – let alone an angel – without the use of his power? The question made Taemin uneasy. He pulled back on his magic, quickly clamping it deep inside of himself, and settled onto the stool next to Sungho.

“I’m new in town,” he said, keeping his voice gentle enough that Sungho had to lean forward to hear him.

“What brings you here?”

“Work. As in, I’m looking for a job. My last one fell through.”

“What do you do?”

“Singer,” Taemin said after a barely noticeable pause. He wasn’t – really – but when it came to human jobs, it was one of the few he knew he could do without problems or excess magic use.

“You’re a singer?” Minho’s voice cut through their conversation. Both Sungho and Taemin looked at him.

Minho smiled sheepishly, taking a step back from the bar. “Sorry, that was very rude. I didn’t mean to listen in.”

“It’s quite alright,” Taemin said smoothly, smiling gently. “I am a singer. Sometimes, when I’m needed as one.”

“You should’ve said that earlier,” Minho said. “We just lost our last performer.” He motioned with his head to the back, where a small stage sat empty. “I bet my boss would be more than happy to talk to you about a job.”

“Yeah? I’d love that. When is he in?”

Minho glanced at his watch. “She usually comes in around ten, so if you’re willing to wait around for an hour?”

“That’s fine. I was gonna have a drink anyways.”

Minho nodded. “What can I get you?”

“You pick.” Taemin grinned brightly. “I trust you.”

Minho’s gaze narrowed a little, his mouth curling up into a smile of his own. “We just met, how am I so trustworthy?”

He shrugged, putting his chin on his hand. “Just a vibe I get. Am I wrong?” He looked at Sungho for confirmation, who smiled and shook his head no.

“Minho’s the best bartender we’ve had in a long time. Very trustworthy guy.”

“Now you’re just flirting,” Minho teased, tossing a cardboard coaster on the counter and setting a glass on it. He grabbed a few bottles and a shaker, setting to work. Taemin watched him for a few moments, drawn in by the way he worked, his movements fluid and precise despite his size.

Their gazes met when Minho poured the vibrant red drink into the glass. He slid it over to Taemin by the coaster, smiling. “Here you go.”

“What is it?” Taemin asked, picking it up.

“A red devil.” Minho said. He tapped the bar. “Lemme know how you like it.” He said before heading down to where an older woman called his name.

Taemin’s brows furrowed. Did Minho know? There was no way. He wouldn’t be relaxing and chatting with him like this if he did. Especially not flirting. Was that flirting? Taemin’s scowl deepened for a moment. Did he even know what human flirting was these days? He’d relied on his magic for so long…

Sungho nudged him. “How is it?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh.” Taemin took a sip, surprised at the fruity flavor with the level of alcohol he’d watched Minho pour into the shaker. “It’s really good,” he said, grinning. “Wanna try?” He offered the glass over.

“Sure.” Sungho took a sip, his eyes widening. He licked his lips. “Oh wow, that is good! I’ll have to order one when he gets back. What’d he call it?”

“A red devil.”

Sungho snorted. “Cute name.”

“How long has he been around here?” Taemin asked, watching Minho move.

“About a month. Feels like he’s been here forever honestly, he’s really fit in fast.”

“Do you know much about him?”

“Not really.” Sungho shrugged. “He rolled into town about a month ago, ended up coming into the bar and talking to the boss. She loved him right away and gave him a job. He said he was looking for a quiet place to settle down for a while, didn’t specify why. Of course, it’s a small town, there were rumors. He was some insane serial killer, he was a government agent, you know.” Sungho snorted. “But he’s just a sweet guy. I know it’s his job to listen to bar patrons complain, but everyone I’ve talked to that’s spoken with him – myself included – he makes you feel really important. He’s very good at his job, I guess, or he just… Loves everyone.”

Taemin smiled softly at Sungho’s description. “He sounds amazing. Are you and he a thing?”

Sungho laughed brightly. “Oh God no, I wish. Me and half the people in this place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone not flirt with him, even our local pastor makes excuses to come in and flirt.”

“Does he have a partner yet?”

Sungho shook his head. “Not that we know of. Always goes home alone too, sadly. Guy like that…” He slumped his cheek into his hand and sighed heavily. Taemin chuckled into his glass. He knew the feeling.

Taemin nursed his drink for the next hour. Though he wouldn’t get drunk from something as simple as a human alcohol, it was good to keep up appearances. While he did, he watched Minho work, listening into his conversations with various patrons to try and learn anything he could that would help him in his seduction.

Sungho had been correct; everyone flirted with Minho, and while he remained polite about it, he never played into their flirtation, seemingly unaffected. Even the most intense flirting from some of the more beautiful humans, Taemin couldn’t sense a whisper of arousal from him.

Minho’s boss was a handsome older woman that Taemin immediately liked. If this were any other visit to earth, Taemin would have sought her as a bed partner immediately. She sized him up across the table they chose in a quieter corner of the bar.

“Do you have a resume?” She asked.

“No.” Taemin did his best to look chided. “Most of my jobs have been kinda as needed.”

“What have you done in the past?”

“In other towns I’ve worked as singer in bars, kinda like this. I’ve done some maintenance work, some sales work.”

She nodded. “What do you sing?”

“Pop, usually. But I’ll try whatever’s put in front of me.” He grinned at that, relieved when she cracked a small smile at his joke.

“You have confidence for sure, which can be good. Or horrible.” She smirked. “But you’re charming too. You’ve certainly charmed our new bartender, he seemed pretty eager to have me talk to you.”

Taemin smiled brightly at that, glancing at Minho across the bar. “He’s a sweet guy.”

“Do you two know each other?”

Taemin shook his head. “Met today. I came in earlier to ask for work and then later tonight. He overheard me talking to one of the other patrons about singing.”

“So that is impressive. He’s nice, but hard to please. I guess I should give you a shot on that alone.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint.”

She nodded. “I am sure you won’t. Would it be too forward to ask you to start us off on karaoke tonight?” I can bring in a musician if you need one next week, but just to see how you do?”

Taemin nodded. “Of course, I’m up for that.” He grinned. “Anything you want me to sing in particular?”

“Something that will impress me.”

Taemin’s grin shifted into a playful smirk. He turned his head a bit, narrowing his eyes. “You’re setting me up to fail with that,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I feel like you are one tough woman to please. For good reason.”

“Oh?” She put her chin on her hand and tapped her nails against her cheekbone gently. “And why do you think that?”

“You have high standards,” Taemin said. He leaned back, waving his hand absently around the bar. “It’s obvious to see. You run a good place. You’re clean and you make sure your servers aren’t slobs. You’re a person of class and you know it, you expect the best from people because you only hire the best.”

She smiled at that and nodded. “Astute assessment from someone so young. Mostly accurate as well. Do you have a psychology degree?”

“I just like watching people. You learn a lot from just listening.”

“My thoughts exactly. And you are right. I am very tough to please. But I feel like you’re up for the challenge.”

Taemin rose and bowed, smiling coyly. “I’ll do my best.”

He stepped up onto the stage, hesitating a moment to let his eyes adjust to the lights angled toward it. It only took a few more seconds to scroll through the song options on the small screen nearby and select a song that he knew well. The music began almost immediately and he grabbed the mic smoothly, smirking at the nearest bar patron. He began to sing, letting his eyes roam over the small group that began to form. He didn’t need his magic for this, and it felt good; despite not being human, he had been blessed with a number of human talents; music was something he’d always had an affinity for. It was an easy way to draw in his victims – willing participants in this case – and it soothed him deep down.

As he sang, the bar quieted, everyone listening to him. Taemin chose a second song quickly, riding the high of adrenaline and joy that being the focus of attention in this way brought him. He could feel eyes on him, and hear murmurs from the various people as he hit each note with ease.

As the song finished, Taemin spotted the young man he’d first smiled at taking a few tentative steps toward the stage. He crouched to be eye level with the man. “Wanna have a go?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s easy. And if you’re bad, who cares? You still got to try, right?” He grinned warmly and pulled the man up, helping him figure out the karaoke machine before hopping off the stage. He was immediately approached by a handful of people, asking if he was a professional singer, who he was, where he was from, the voices overlapped to the point even Taemin struggled to understand.

“Hey! Let him breathe!” Came a stern voice from behind them. The group separated immediately, revealing Minho, his arms crossed over his broad chest. The boy on stage began to sing, giving the patrons something else to focus on while Taemin made his escape with Minho.

“That was great,” Minho said as they approached the bar. The owner was behind it, tapping various bottles with the back of a pen as she took notes on a small pad in her hand.

“I told you I can do that,” Minho said, his voice taking on a note of anxiety as he circled around the bar.

“Nonsense, I own this place. If you keep doing everything for me, what should I do? Put on a dress and look pretty? Serve drinks?” She slapped Minho playfully on the chest and turned to face Taemin, who’d stopped in front of the bar.

“Plus, you were rescuing our new resident celebrity. You said you could sing – not that you were that good at it.”

“I’m okay,” Taemin said, smiling softly. It was a strange feeling, Minho’s gaze on him. It made him feel almost modest.

She snorted. “Understatement of the century, kid. You have the job, if you want it.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Sing. Just like that. Starting off karaoke like that at night would be great. The more they sing, the more they drink. But I want some real performances from you too… Once a week to start. If you’re willing to come in at least three other nights to work karaoke and…” She drifted off. “I think he could be behind the bar a bit. Not serving drinks, but he could help you take orders when it gets busy. Keep the customers happy and talking… Would that work for you?” She asked, looking at Minho.

He nodded. “I think that would work. Minho met Taemin’s gaze, smirking softly. “He certainly has a fanbase already.” He nodded behind Taemin. Taemin glanced back, spotting a few of the people that had come up to him after he left the stage. They were watching him closely, talking in one another’s ears. He flashed a bright grin and shook his head, turning back to the two.

“I’d be happy to come in, that all sounds great. Do you want me to give you a list of songs I’m good at singing? For a DJ or someone?”

“Yeah. You can write it out and bring it to Minho tomorrow. For now, come to the back with me. Contracts, legal stuff, gotta work it out with you.”

Taemin followed her to the back room, listening politely as she explained the legal aspects of the job. It didn’t really matter to Taemin; he wasn’t going to be staying long enough for any of this to be relevant, and he didn’t need money when he could just conjure it, but making a good impression was everything – especially since this woman had just given him his in to getting that handsome angel in his bed.

After everything was signed and agreed on, the boss offered her hand. “I’m so rude. I never introduced myself. I’m Jian.”

“Nice to meet you.” Taemin shook her hand firmly. “Can I ask you something that might be entirely out of line?”

“Shoot. Now’s the time to ask, you’re not officially my employee until tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “I suppose not. Um… Minho.”

She smirked. “What about him?”

“Is he… Um… You know. Are you and he…”

She laughed brightly then and shook her head quickly. “Oh God, no. No, he’s available for you.”

“F—For me?” Taemin did his best to look bewildered. She smiled, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh, as if I didn’t notice the way you two were looking at each other. He is far too young for me, plus I don’t date employees. He is a handsome man though. You could do worse.”

Taemin smiled sheepishly, lowering his gaze to the desk.

“I don’t have a ban on employees dating, by the way… If it comes to that. Just don’t let it affect work if you do, okay?”

“I doubt it’ll… You know.” Taemin rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he was doing a convincing job of looking shy. “Sungho said he was kinda distant in that way, not really into dating.”

“Not into dating customers. Which is a damn good mindset. One I hope you take to heart. But I’ve never seen him act like he did tonight.”

“How so?” Taemin asked softly.

“That boy nearly ran around the bar to save you from your gaggle of new fans. You’d think you were some idol and he was your body guard with the way he protected you. It’s cute.”

Taemin’s smile grew then, and his heart gave a little flutter. Strange – he didn’t recall it ever doing that before. “Yeah?” He asked, realizing it was far easier to sound hopeful.

She nodded. “Yeah. Trust me. I’ve got a good eye for these things.” She patted Taemin’s wrist. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Remember to bring Minho that list so I can get it looked over. I have a few different musicians that like playing, but they prefer playing for a singer, so, a list will help me figure out who can come in and when, that’ll help us narrow down your schedule too.”

“Of course, I’ll bring it tomorrow afternoon, so he can give it to you right away.”

She nodded again. “Good boy. Come on. Things will be busy for the rest of the night, I’ve gotta help out Minho. You’re welcome to stay, watch how we do it. It’d be great if you could pick up a few things yourself, start helping him with basic drinks.”

“I’m happy to learn.”

Taemin walked back out with her, surprised to see that the bar had filled far more in the thirty minutes they’d spent in the back. He circled around, spotting a seat at the bar that he could slip onto and watch Minho work. There was little time to talk through the remainder of the night, as Jian had implied; they seemed to draw a lot of business for being in such a small town.

Taemin could feel the energy drifting through the bar in waves – all of the emotions clashing together in a loud orchestra that made every nerve ending light up. He wondered if Minho felt the same way; if angels could pick up on the little energy changes the way demons were taught to. It would make sense, he supposed. But he knew very little about angels, on purpose; they guarded their secrets closely lest they be found out and brought down by some hellspawn. Taemin smirked into his glass at the thought. Demons hadn’t given any serious thought to angels in many millennia. They’d moved onto bigger and better things; it was angels that were stuck in the past. Aside from these occasional silly tests, demons could care less about angels and their comings and goings.

Taemin slipped out of the bar before closing and headed back toward his apartment. He didn’t want to have Minho find out about his living situation quite yet – let them develop a friendship first, then have it be a lovely coincidence. He grinned when he entered his now furnished apartment. While the angel’s next door was minimalist and white, Taemin had gone with a far more drastic pattern. A large black and red rug filled the living room, with a comfortable black leather couch and a large television, as well as a dark cherry wood coffee table. The curtains were heavy and crimson, blocking out all light when closed. His bedroom was similar, the king-sized bed covered with black silk sheets and a deep red comforter.

Taemin stripped nude and slipped under the cover, sighing contentedly. Sleep was voluntary as a demon, but he’d never turn down the excuse for rest. It was one of those human things that he simply couldn’t get enough of. His dreams that night were filled with an entirely different view of the world than he was used to. Instead of death, sex, and flames, Taemin found himself walking through a meadow with Minho, his wings vibrant white to Taemin’s sleek black feathers. Their fingers were laced together as they walked, settling down to rest near a babbling stream.

Taemin could hear Minho’s heart pounding as he rested his head on his chest, and his own matched the rapid beat. Contentment, Taemin realized in his dream. That was what he felt here. Contentment and peace… And something entirely new. A strange feeling that made his heart patter against his ribs and his stomach flutter like a thousand flies were trapped in it. A feeling he didn’t quite have a name for, though it was on the tip of his tongue. A feeling that he finally named, waking with a jolt as the sun rose in the sky.

Love.

Despite the uncomfortable wake up call, Taemin brushed it off as he got ready for his day. Eating was voluntary – but Taemin couldn’t resist the allure of an aggressively sweet bowl of sugary cereal as he researched common flirting practices of humans – through some popular television programs, of course. Afterward, he took a moment to write out some songs that he wouldn’t mind performing to give to Minho. Though this was all a part of his ultimate task, he found himself somewhat excited about the prospect of performing like this. He’d never been on earth this long before; normally he only came to visit to seduce his quota of innocent souls before slinking back to his home in hell. He hadn’t realized just how much there was to do up here.

When Taemin had determined he’d wasted enough of the day on research (and binge watched that particular program because he needed to see if they ended up together), he changed into a pair of form fitting jeans a black t-shirt and boots before heading down to the bar once again.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, the bar was just as busy as it had been the day before. Taemin recognized many of the faces, though there were a number of new ones as he made his way to the bar. Minho smiled when he entered, jutting his chin toward Taemin in greeting as he listened to the customer in front of him. Taemin approached quietly, taking a seat at the bar.

Minho nodded to the customer, making a quick excuse about having another patron, and hurried over to Taemin.

“You’re welcome for the escape,” Taemin teased softly. Minho smiled gratefully.

“He’s nice. Just talkative. Want a drink?”

“Sure. The one you made last night was great.”

“I’m surprised it didn’t knock you on your butt; that drink is strong.”

Taemin shrugged. “I’ve got a high tolerance.”

Minho snorted. He pulled out the bottles, beginning to make the drink. “I’d say. You sounded really good last night by the way. I was impressed.”

“Thank you.” Taemin smiled softly. “Oh, I brought the list.” He pulled out the paper and slid it across the bar. Minho took it, his eyes moving back and forth as he skimmed the songs. He nodded and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll get it to Jian when she comes in. Are you gonna be here tonight? We could use another karaoke starter,” he teased. He slid the vibrant drink over to Taemin.

“I’d be glad to. Any requests?” Taemin leaned over the bar a little, putting his chin on his hand.

Minho’s gaze narrowed, his mouth thinning. He tapped his chin in thought. “Something sweet. I like happy songs.”

“Songs about falling in love?” Taemin asked,

Minho smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, those ones are good.”

Taemin nodded in agreement. “I’ll sing one just for you tonight then.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Minho said, holding up a finger as he walked toward the other end of the bar.

Taemin finished his drink and paid before stepping outside. Having nowhere in particular to go, but not wanting to linger around the bar for longer than necessary, lest Minho find something suspicious, Taemin wandered down the sidewalk, following traces of Minho’s angelic scent as he did. This trail led him to a beautiful park, tucked away behind an office building. The center was filled with a lush garden of flowers, and around it was a beautifully kept meadow. Taemin’s heart skipped a beat, his skin tingling with déjà vu as he walked through the meadow. It ended at a small stream, winding lazily around and disappearing under a bridge. Recognition hit Taemin like a brick. His dream; he’d seen this exact meadow in his dream. He spun around, half expecting to find Minho – or some other angelic presence – watching him, outing him as a demon. But the park was empty, save for an elderly man walking along the trail surrounding the meadow.

The uneasy feeling of being watched didn’t stop even when Taemin left the field and headed back toward his apartment. His skin tingled, nerves further fraying whenever someone glanced at him, no matter how innocently. He hurried back toward his apartment, this new feeling of insecurity one he didn’t relish. A part of him wanted nothing more than to disappear, fly back into hell and curl up in his warm home, forget about the angel and earth and the promotion. But something held him back, kept him from turning tail and running. A part that kept thinking of the promise he made to Minho, to sing a love song, and the remembering the way Minho’s hand felt in his in the dream, how the new fluttering sensation in his tummy and heart tickled like nothing he’d ever felt before. Maybe it was the thrill of a new experience, maybe it was something wholly different, but whatever it was, it made Taemin want to see this through.

He returned to the bar that evening, his motivation renewed. As he’d assumed it would be, the bar was far busier, and he barely had a moment to say hello to Minho before the other was stepping away to take another order. Jian was behind the bar as well, serving drinks and chatting with patrons. She waved Taemin over when she spotted him.

“I got your list, I sent it out to the musicians I know, they should be getting back to me throughout the week. I’m pretty confident that we’ll have you sing a formal set, about an hour or so, this upcoming Friday, but I don’t know who will be playing with you. Is that okay?”

Taemin nodded. “I’m easygoing with it. Just let me know whenever you find out.”

“Would you be willing to do a little tonight? We have an older crowd on Sunday nights, so we likely won’t get much, but a few might want to sing after you.”

“I can give it a shot. Should I go now, or wait?”

“Give it about an hour. Wanna come back behind the bar and let me show you some of the basics?”

Taemin nodded. He rose and circled around the bar, easily dodging Minho’s arm by ducking under him. Jian chuckled. “A natural. Those fast reflexes will come in handy back here.”

The evening passed quickly while Taemin worked to learn the ropes of the bar. Though it would have been just as easy to pull from the infinite knowledge his magic could give him, there was a fun little thrill he felt in learning and succeeding in these new things. They were simple, he knew, given what he was, but it brought a feeling of joy he’d not felt in many years.

As the night drew on, Taemin climbed onto the stage once more, choosing a few older songs to appeal to the crowd that filled the seats that night. A few individuals came up after him, but more asked him to sing another song, even requesting he sing this or that that they liked. He humored a few requests, singing every little while between bursts of heavy business at the bar.

Though he hadn’t intended to, Taemin stayed until close, helping Jian and Minho clean up the tables and close down the bar. She clapped her hand on his shoulder as they stepped out into the early morning air, cooled off with the lack of sun.

“Thank you for your hard work tonight, Taemin. You did so much more than was expected.”

“Honestly,” Minho agreed, locking up the back door of the bar. “You were a massive help; I don’t think we’ve ever gotten orders out so fast.”

“He picked it up so quickly too. You’re sure you’ve not bartended before?”

Taemin smiled sheepishly, his stomach fluttering with excitement over their praise. “No, I haven’t. I’m a quick study though. I’m glad I could help.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Jian asked, motioning to her car in the parking lot.

“No, I live walking distance,” Taemin said. He bit his tongue. “Just up a few blocks.”

Minho cocked his head to the side. “What building?”

Taemin told him, trying to sound casual as he spoke.

“Hey, no kidding? That’s where I live.”

“Really?” Taemin grinned. “What a crazy coincidence. Wanna walk home with me?”

Minho nodded. He gave Jian a quick hug. “See you on Tuesday?”

“Of course. Night.” She squeezed Taemin’s shoulder again before walking to her car and getting in. Minho and he waited until she drove off before heading down the street toward the apartment building.

Taemin had about a hundred things he wanted to say to Minho while they walked, but for the first time in his very long life, he found himself entirely unable to speak. Nothing his mind helpfully supplied sounded right or good to start with, and nothing he wanted to ask seemed appropriate as they walked in the quiet early morning. It was ultimately Minho that broke the silence first.

“Your singing tonight was really something. Some of the folks that were there until we closed usually don’t stay for more than a drink or two.”

“Thank you,” Taemin said, smiling softly. “I don’t know if it was entirely my singing that caused them to stay though.”

“Oh, it was, trust me. I’ve been working there long enough to know some of these folks very well.”

“How long have you been there? Everyone seems to know you and be comfortable with you.”

Minho shrugged. “I’ve just got that way with people; can make them open up and relax.”

“That’s a good quality. Have you always been able to do that? Little boy Minho talking to the grown-ups like he was a psychologist?”

Minho’s smile softened a little. He shrugged. “It’s an inborn gift. Same as you seem to have a way with your own gifts. You’re very charismatic. Even when you messed up tonight, nobody seemed to mind. I’ve watched some of those patrons rip our waitresses a new one just for looking at them wrong.”

“People are complex,” Taemin said. “Sometimes they react without thinking.”

“And sometimes certain types just… Work for them.” Minho agreed. He unlocked the door to the building and let Taemin step in. “I’m on the second floor. You?”

“Me too. Apartment thirteen.”

Minho’s brows furrowed. “Thirteen?”

“Yeah? What… Did you know someone who lived there before?”

“No, it’s… Always been empty since I’ve been here. It’s weird, actually. I’m twelve.”

“Really?” Taemin feigned what he hoped was an appropriate level of pleasant surprise. “What a crazy coincidence! I should’ve stuck around last night, we could’ve walked back together like this.”

Minho nodded, still watching Taemin. He turned away only once they ascended the stairs. Taemin tried to remain relaxed in his posture, keeping a gentle smile on his face. Minho’s expression was unsettling; like he knew more than he was letting on.

“I’ll see you later,” Minho said when they reached their doors.”

“Jian said the bar isn’t open tomorrow?”

“No she’s closed on Mondays.”

Taemin leaned against his door, facing Minho. “What do you plan on doing tomorrow?”

Minho inhaled deeply, glancing down the hall. He shrugged. “I usually just walk around town. There’s a church I visit, volunteer a little time there. Wanna come with me?”

Taemin hesitated. Though there would be no actual physical harm in him going into a church – they made him distinctly uncomfortable for very obvious reasons. He pursed his mouth in thought.

“What time?” He asked finally. Minho smirked. He leaned back a bit, his gaze nearly sizing Taemin up as they stood.

“I’ll come get you around eleven.”

“Sounds good. Should I dress in any certain way?”

“No, it’s usually not too bad of work, helping out sorting papers or cleaning up the parish.”

Taemin nodded. “Sure, I’ll be up.” He unlocked his door and opened it. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“No problem.” Minho hesitated for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something further. Instead he nodded once, entering his own apartment and shutting the door softly. Taemin heard the lock click before entering his own apartment, barely able to hide the smile that appeared on his face as he got ready for bed.

Though Taemin was anticipating hours of discomfort the next day at the church, it was far calmer than he expected. The pastor was a young man with a warm smile. Taemin would have gladly seduced him at another time, but his focus was solely on capturing Minho’s affections in the far slower human manner.

They spent four hours at the church, working with a few other people that Taemin recognized from the bar, including Sungho, to clear out the basement for an upcoming charity sale. Taemin found himself relaxing as he worked, chatting with the humans and forgetting for periods of time that he was there for only one purpose. This was actually nice, he realized; and humans weren’t as boring or awful as his schooling in hell would have led him to believe.

After finishing at the church, Minho left, stating that he needed to help someone with some indistinct chore. Though Taemin was ready to offer his assistance, Sungho grabbed his shoulder. “You wanna come to the diner with us? Our treat. Welcoming you to town, and a thanks for helping us today.”

Taemin agreed easily, waving goodbye to Minho without a second thought until he’d already sat down at the table with the humans. He was here for Minho… Yet he was not only willing – but even happy – to socialize with humans that did not influence his job at all. It was nearly as unsettling as the field the day before had been. What was happening to him?

The answer to that question became clear as days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. Humanity, friendship, and a newfound understanding of mortal life – Taemin was experiencing a new side of existence, one he’d so long overlooked. He tried to keep his mission in mind, seduction, moving up the ranks, the power he would receive after sleeping with this angel, ruining him… But as the days passed, the assignment drifted further to the back of his thoughts until, after a few months, Taemin only thought of it late at night, when he wasn’t so tired from his work or hanging out with Minho, Jian, Sungho, or any of the other friends he’d made in the town that he went to sleep right away.

He hadn’t forgotten that he was a demon – nothing could make him lose that part of himself – but he no longer required his powers to live. He’d been spending money that he earned through the bar work, rather than conjuring it. The week prior, he and Sungho had gone shopping a town over, and he purchased some antique statues to put on shelves he’d bought and Minho had helped him set up. His kitchen remained stocked through shopping trips, and he often replenished drinks and food after nights with friends coming over to watch a human sport, play cards, or just to chat. As demonic as the blood was that ran through Taemin’s veins – he had never felt more human.

Minho was still a very present force in his life, but it was easier to see him as a human that Taemin was interested in, rather than an angel. That interest had changed as well, Taemin knew. While he started the assignment seeing Minho as a means to an end, an experiment, a tool, now he saw him as a friend. A dear friend that he wanted so desperately to be more. Not just sleeping with him either – though the thought of that sent a delightful thrill down Taemin’s belly, stirring up the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence there, it seemed. No, he wanted the dream he’d had his first night on earth. Holding hands, affection… Love.

But he knew he couldn’t. As human as he felt, he wasn’t one, and neither was Minho. A relationship like what Taemin craved would ruin Minho, and while that was, ultimately, Taemin’s original goal, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Part of him knew he’d failed in his mission. He should have gone back to hell the moment he realized, without a doubt, that he would never corrupt Minho in such a way. But going back to hell meant leaving the friends he’d made, his job, Minho. And that was almost worse than having to report his failure. So he stayed, promising just another week, another month, and then he’d go back.

Seven months after Taemin had stepped foot on earth, he and Minho were sharing a table at the bar, having a few drinks on a night that they weren’t working. Jian had recently hired a third bartender, giving Minho more days off, despite his unwillingness to take them at first.

“Will you sing tonight?” Minho asked, motioning to the stage where a couple of college age girls were crooning off key to some popular song. Taemin shook his head.

“Not tonight. Just wanna chat with you.”

“Just chat?”

Taemin’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” He asked after a moment when he was unable to process the implication. Minho smiled softly.

“It’s been seven months since we met.”

“Has it been so long?” Taemin smiled in return. “Feels a lot longer in a good way – and not that long at all.”

“I know. We had a pretty quick friendship, didn’t we? Especially for what we are.”

“What we are?”

Minho’s smile returned. He rested his chin on one hand. I know, Taemin. What you are. Where you’re from.”

Taemin’s heart clenched in a vise of panic. He smiled despite the sudden urge to run from the bar. “What are you talking about? You know where I lived last or something? Little creep. Stalking me?”

Minho’s patient smile remained. “Taemin. Drop the act. You’re a demon.”

Taemin pouted full force. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

Minho sighed. He waved the hand his chin wasn’t on, and the entire bar stilled.

Taemin whipped his head around, surprised at the rush of energy he felt. Every human sat frozen, mid-drink, laugh, even the beer being poured at the bar was locked in time.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to use your powers while you were on this sabbatical,” Taemin said softly. He looked back at Minho, his throat clenching. The burst of energy had revealed Minho’s truer form, beautiful wings emerging from his back, and a glowing pale blue aura that matched the natural color of his eyes. He smiled. “We’re not. But you were being stubborn.”

“I hoped you were joking.” Taemin sighed softly, disappointment creeping into his voice as he spoke. “When did you realize it?”

“The first time I saw you.”

“What?”

Minho shrugged. “I was informed that there might be demons out. Trying to make me break my vows. That it’s a special thing, an angel like me. I was taught what to look for. And when I smelled you in my apartment that night, it confirmed it.”

“Ah – I thought I covered my tracks better.”

“You did. But I was already on high alert.”

“Why didn’t ranks of your superiors come to throw me back into the pits of hell?”

Minho remained silent for a moment. “Because I didn’t tell them. I still haven’t.”

“What?” Taemin shouted, surprised. “Minho—You have to.”

“Says who? Demons roam among humanity constantly. How was I to know you were after me and not just out to corrupt humans? As an angel meant to learn how humans live, wouldn’t it make sense to study the demons who influence them?”

“But I was in your place.”

“You were.”

“And constantly around you.”

“You have been,” Minho agreed, his lips curling up into a smile.

“So… It’s pretty obvious what my intentions were.”

Minho leaned forward, cupping his chin in both hands this time. “What are your intentions then, Taemin?”

“To…” Taemin’s cheeks warmed. He looked away, shame eating a hole in his stomach. “To corrupt you. Make you fall.”

“And how is it that you do that?”

“You know how.”

“Mm. I do.” Minho leaned back in his seat again and took a sip of his drink. “I also know you’ve had more than enough time to do the job. You’re stalling. Why?”

“I’m not stalling,” Taemin mumbled. “I’m waiting for the right time. Plus, you already knew what I was supposed to do, you’d never let me succeed.”

“True. But you didn’t know that. So what’s been stopping you? You’re a sex demon, I can tell that much. But you haven’t used your powers. On me or anyone else, since you’ve been here.”

“I didn’t want you to smell it.”

“Fair. But after this long. Taemin… I have given you plenty of opportunities to try.”

Taemin swallowed hard. Minho wasn’t wrong. Especially in the past few months, lingering touches, glances, even a few close, slow dances – he had had more than enough time to steal a kiss, begin the seduction process properly. He hung his head.

“I can’t do it. I’m a failure, is that what you wanted to hear?” He snorted. “Spent years trying to work my way up the ranks, and at the last step I fell down. Because I let myself feel something for the one thing I couldn’t.” He shook his head, meeting Minho’s gentle gaze. “I’m sure that’s a story your superiors will love to hear. A demon who fell for an angel.”

“I’m sure they would, if I spoke to them still.”

“What do you mean?”

“When’s the last time you checked in with your superiors?”

“You know I can’t divulge that—”

“I don’t need details.” Minho sipped his drink again and waved his hand. His wings disappeared, his form shifting ever so slightly back into the human looks as the bar burst with life and energy once more. He sipped his drink. “Just a vague time.”

“About three months ago,” Taemin said.

“It’s been two months for me.”

Taemin scowled at him. “Why?”

Minho hesitated. He spun the now empty bottle in his hand, thumb picking at the label. “Finish your drink, then come take a walk with me. We’ll be able to talk better if we’re alone, I think.”

Taemin did as he was told, swallowing the last mouthful of his drink before rising. They tossed the bottles away and waved to Jian as they walked out into the cold night. Snow had begun falling months ago, and was now starting to melt away with the impending spring.

The two walked in silence for some time, heading in the vague direction of their apartment building, but taking a meandering path through the streets. Finally, Minho spoke.

“I haven’t spoken to them because I don’t want to go back.”

“To heaven? Why not?”

“How much do you know about it? Heaven?”

“Not much. Honestly, we don’t really care.” Taemin chuckled. “Angels love to think we’re trying to get some secrets or something. Take over heaven or ruin earth, I don’t know. Really we’re just… Doing our own thing. We know about you, and when rare things like this assignment come up, we know more, but… The details don’t matter.”

“Well, it sucks.” Minho said simply enough that Taemin stopped walking, his eyes widening. “You—But you’re an angel.”

“Yeah? And you’re a demon. How’s hell? Honestly.”

“Hot,” Taemin admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“Do you love it? Can you wait to get back there, go hang out with your demon buddies and torture souls?”

“That’s… Not true, we don’t… Actually do much torturing,” Taemin mumbled. “But I’m in no rush to get back, you’re right.”

“We’ll go back to the torture thing, but, right? It’s fine where we’re from, but here is so much richer. It’s not so black and white.”

“People don’t expect things from you just because you’re this or that,” Taemin agreed.

“Exactly. So yeah, compared to earth, heaven is boring. And I’m sure hell is too. I don’t want to stop my sabbatical yet, because I don’t want to go back up there. Same reason you haven’t told your superiors that your assignment failed. And why I don’t think you will any time soon.”

They reached their apartment building and Minho grabbed Taemin’s wrist. “And what’s more… I don’t think you’re used to feeling this way in hell. About someone else.”

Taemin looked down. Those now familiar butterflies scattered in his belly again. He nodded. “I know what it is. But we don’t… Really discuss or admit to it in hell.”

“It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?”

“Once you get used to the butterflies, yeah.” Taemin looked up, letting his gaze linger a moment on Minho’s soft lips, curled up into a soft smile, before meeting his gaze.

“Come up to my apartment,” Minho offered. “We can talk some more. Better than standing in the cold.”

“Have you redecorated? Last time I was in there you had zero places to sit.”

Minho laughed softly. “Fair enough. I still really don’t. Yours then.”

Taemin nodded. They walked up in silence, stripping out of their winter damp clothes by the door before Minho entered the living room and settled onto the couch. Taemin lingered in the kitchen, instinctively beginning to pull out food before hesitating.

“I really have gone native,” he commenting.

“How so?”

“I was about to offer you food and drink.”

“I will take a drink, actually. Might not need it, but humanity got it right when they started making these consumable items.”

“Right?” Taemin laughed a bit. He grabbed two fruity drinks and a box of cookies before entering the living room. He sat down next to Minho. “Honestly, their idea of sweets and their use of sugar is the best thing I’ve experienced.”

Minho laughed and nodded. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. It was Taemin that spoke first.

“So if you know what I am, and that I like you… What about you? I mean, we’re friends, I think, but I don’t know anything more. I can’t get a sense of what you feel. Can you feel anything? Do you?”

Minho cleared his throat. He picked at the label on the bottle in his hands, bottom lip moving slightly as he chewed the inside of it. “I do feel things for you. Things that my superiors would have my wings for. I didn’t mean to start liking you. I knew what you were, at first I kept you close just to make sure you didn’t hurt someone but… Then I realized you’re not a bad person. Or… Demon, I guess. And then I really started liking your friendship and that turned into something else. At first I worried I was being seduced by your magic, but I know you haven’t been using it.”

“Not for seven months, honestly,” Taemin admitted. “I knew it wouldn’t work on you, so I had to practice not using it. Then it just became easier to do things the human way.”

“And you made friends. Real human friends.”

“I did. Our friends are important to me. I know a big reason why I’m sticking around still is because of those friendships. So, you actually like me? Even though you know what I am?”

Minho nodded. “I do.”

“What do we do about it?” Taemin asked.

Minho sighed. “I don’t know. It’s a catch-22. As much as I don’t want to go back to heaven… I don’t want to fall.”

“And intimacy with a demon is grounds for falling.”

Minho nodded, his face twisted up in discomfort. “So I mean, we could date in the human sense – going out together for dinners and stuff like that but… Any real intimacy…”

“Would be off limits.”

“Yeah, for the most part. There are a few loopholes.”

“Like what?” Taemin tilted his head.

Minho smirked. “You’re the demon, you don’t know?”

“No, and I’m both offended that you think I should just because I’m a demon… And concerned and surprised that I don’t.” Taemin said, grinning as he spoke to let Minho know he was joking.

Minho leaned back on the couch, his smirk shifting into a more relaxed, albeit just as smug, grin. “Apparently, I learned… I can touch myself, even to the point of orgasm… Without falling. No matter who I’m thinking about.”

“Really? I thought good God-fearing people weren’t supposed to spill their seed.”

Minho shrugged. “Some of that book is… Wildly misinterpreted. Biologically, these bodies just… Ejaculate. It’s nobody’s doing, not a demon or an angel. It’s science. So pleasuring yourself isn’t some big sin. Now… What you think about does matter. I have a few feathers that have… Darkened in the past few months.”

Taemin leaned forward. “You’ve jerked off? Thinking about me?”

Minho squirmed, and Taemin watched his cheeks redden.

“Don’t try to lie, I can smell that you know. I’m a demon. How much?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t?” He mumbled.

“I have. More than a few times. But I’m a demon. It’s kinda my thing. What were you imagining?” He pressed.

Minho squirmed again, looking anywhere but at Taemin.

Taemin sighed. “Fine, keep it a secret. But I expect details at some point. So, okay, you can touch yourself.”

“And I can touch myself thinking of you. Which would imply that as long as you aren’t touching me sexually, we’d be okay.”

“I suppose that makes sense. So that gives us a few avenues.”

“And hanging out together obviously doesn’t do any damage. We’ve slow danced together before and it was fine too. I think that it’s limited to actual sexually intimate things.”

“What about… Kissing?” Taemin asked softly.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to risk it. Since it is a more intimate thing.”

Taemin nodded. “I understand. So we could date, sort of.”

“It doesn’t feel fair to you.”

“You aren’t getting a much better side of the deal though, it’s not like it’d be easy for either one of us. I think we just need to decide if it’s worth it.”

“I stayed on earth for you. Partly for you, I mean. It’s worth it for me.”

Taemin smiled softly at that. “And I guess I stayed for you too, partly so… It’s worth it for me too.”

Minho set his bottle down and took Taemin’s, setting it on the coffee table. He took Taemin’s hands in his own, making the other meet his gaze. “I just have one thing that you need to promise me.”

“Of course.”

“You won’t use your powers. Those ones, you know. On anyone. If we date…”

“I won’t. I’ve been the most celibate sex demon in existence lately, I’m sure. I have no problem keeping it that way.”

Minho smiled at that, his entire face brightening. “I wish I could kiss you,” he whispered.

Taemin leaned forward, moving his head to the side and placing a kiss on Minho’s cheek. “There. It’s better than nothing, right?”

Minho closed his eyes and nodded. He placed a kiss on Taemin’s cheek as well. “So I think this means you deserve a real date from me, right?”

“I would think so. If we wanna do things like the humans do.”

“Next week, when we’re off work. We’ll go to the next town. There’s that restaurant Sungho mentioned he took Junhyung to. We should go there.”

Taemin nodded, grinning at the thought. “Yes. Good, that sounds like a great first date.”

“But until then… I should get back to my place,” Minho said softly.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”

“Of course.” Minho finished off his drink and rose. Taemin followed, walking with him to the door.

“I’m glad we talked. But you could have told me earlier you knew what I was. I wouldn’t have fought so hard to hide it.”

Minho smirked. “What would the fun be then?”

“You’re conniving for an angel.”

Minho’s grin grew wider. He leaned closer to Taemin, their noses nearly brushing. “You have no idea.” With that he walked out, leaving Taemin gaping at the spot he vacated. He heard Minho’s door close before he snapped out of it, laughing softly in surprise.

Dating an angel was surprisingly easy, at least for the first few months. They went out on dates at least weekly – sometimes doubling with the other couples in their friend group, sometimes alone. They maintained a polite distance at work, despite Jian’s constant teasing about their affectionate looks across the bar, and Taemin’s sudden uptick in love songs during performances.

But as spring turned to summer and the weather warmed, so did their needs. Taemin found himself having to actively resist kissing Minho far more often than usual, and even Minho’s touches became more lingering and heavier with implication than they had before. Once they’d attempted to stay in the same room while masturbating, testing the theory that it was only touches from Taemin that would corrupt Minho, but both realized it was far too much temptation to cross the room and help each other that they never tried it again.

Even sexting was off the table, as their proximity in living spaces was just too risky. They prided themselves on their ability to keep calm heads regarding intimacy, but it was a visible struggle on both sides.

The two went out on the one-year anniversary of the day that they met, going into the next town for dinner and a concert that they were both interested in. As the night passed, that ache in Taemin’s chest seemed to grow so much larger. He desperately wanted Minho in every way, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist. But he knew why Minho was reluctant, and he respected that.

When the two arrived back at their apartment building, Minho lingered by his door.

“Wanna come in for a while?” Taemin offered.

“I do,” Minho whispered, but made no move to approach. Taemin waited, smiling gently. He pushed his door opened, beckoning Minho forward. Minho hesitated further. He wet his lips, looking down at the ground a moment.

“What’s the matter?” Taemin asked. He reached out, touching Minho’s cheek. Minho leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He set his hand over Taemin’s, lacing their fingers together. The familiar tingle of his magic ignited the nerves down Taemin’s arm, drawing goosebumps to his flesh as his own magic rushed back toward Minho; a gentle intimacy that they were allowed despite their forced distance.

Minho opened his eyes suddenly, his pupils wide and dark. He went forward suddenly, pushing Taemin into the apartment as he did. The door slammed behind him as he turned them, pressing Taemin to the wall with his body.

Taemin gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs. “Minho—”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Minho whispered, leaning closer to him. Taemin gasped again, realizing what he was about to do. He braced his hands against Minho’s shoulders and shoved, using just enough of his powers to force the angel backwards.

“We can’t.”

Minho gritted his teeth, baring them for a second. “Please, Taemin – I know you want it to.”

“I do.” Taemin said softly. He relaxed, stepping forward and setting his hands on Minho’s broad shoulders. “I do, you know I do. Take your shoes off, I’ll get us something to drink, and we can talk. I think it’s time for us to do that anyways.”

Minho nodded, closing his eyes. He took a second to compose himself before leaning down to remove his shoes. Taemin stepped back, doing the same before heading into the kitchen. He heard Minho shuffling through the apartment, and the soft whoosh of the couch as he sat. Taemin tried to keep his actions slow and even, not wanting to rush back into the room. He wanted to give Minho a second to gather himself, recover from what had nearly happened, before they approached it. Things could only go one of two ways tonight, Taemin figured, and he wasn’t sure which would make Minho the happiest.

He settled onto the couch next to Minho, remaining quiet as he set two glasses of wine in front of them. Minho was leaning forward, his eyes closed and his hands clasped into a fist over his mouth, as if he were praying.

Taemin leaned back, folding one leg under him and raising the other onto the couch. He clasped his hands around his knee, watching Minho patiently.

After what felt like hours, Minho sighed heavily and opened his eyes. He looked at Taemin, his expression stoic.

“I poured the wine you like,” Taemin said carefully.

“Thank you.” Minho took a sip, staring into the dark red liquid.

“Were you praying?” Taemin asked.

“Yes.”

Taemin nodded. He brought his leg down, crossing them and leaning forward. “Did your God offer any advice?”

“No. He’s been quiet for quite some time. I think they’ve given up on me up there by now.”

“That doesn’t sound much like the religion I know of.”

Minho smiled briefly. “No, it doesn’t, but… It feels that way. I understand now why humans can be so easily swayed away from it. His silence is… Unnerving.”

“If you had kissed me tonight, Minho… You would have fallen.”

“I know.”

“There’s no coming back from that.”

Minho nodded. “I know,” he said again. “You pushed me away.”

“Not because I don’t want to kiss you,” Taemin assured him. He smiled when Minho looked over at him. He shrugged. “I pushed you away because you didn’t look like you were thinking right. I wanted us to talk before we made a decision like that one, so we both knew we were… Ready.”

Minho chuckled. “Ready. As if we’re school age humans instead of centuries old celestial beings.”

Taemin laughed once and nodded. “In a way we are. When it comes to this sort of thing, right?” “I suppose.”

“If you fall… You’ll never be able to go home. Four months ago, you weren’t ready to accept that. What’s changed?��

“Do you still consider hell your home, Taemin?” Minho asked instead of answering the question. “I—I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“Please do. I’ll wait… This is important. When you sit and think about what home is to you, what it means, how it feels, how you feel about it. Where is home for you right now?”

Taemin remained quiet as he mulled over Minho’s question. It was a valid question, and his gut told him an answer he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. But the longer he considered it, the more he realized it was indeed the correct answer.

“No,” he finally whispered, shame coloring his cheeks a deep red.

“No?”

“No, you’re right. Hell isn’t my home anymore. It hasn’t been for a while, I don’t think.”

Minho nodded. “I thought so. Where is?”

“Right here.” Taemin said. This apartment, maybe. Earth. My friends, you. My job… I’m happy here, where I am.”

“If someone told you that you’d never be able to go back to hell…. You’d lose your connection to it. What would you say?”

“I’d be a little sad but… Right now the thought of going back there makes me nervous. I don’t want to face them, the demons I mean. Not because they’ll be upset. They will, but I’ve handled demonic wrath before. I don’t want to hear them tell me I’m wrong to enjoy this life.”

Minho smiled softly. “You answered your question. What changed from when we started dating. My fear about not being able to go home. I realized I am home. And if I have to fall to be happy with you, then I’m ready to accept that.”

“But falling won’t just mean leaving heaven… You’ll become a fallen angel. You’ll be a destined for hell if you ever want to leave earth.”

“Good thing I know someone from there. And I heard that he’s about to get a pretty big promotion too.”

Taemin’s heart skipped a beat. “We don’t have to.”

“No, we don’t. You’d never force me to. But I want to. If you do.”

He laughed. “Of course I do. God, I want to so badly.”

Minho grabbed Taemin’s wine and set it on the table. He leaned forward. “Then what’s stopping you?” He murmured.

“Just one thing,” Taemin whispered, setting one hand on the side of Minho’s neck, the other on his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

Taemin smiled softly, their lips nearly touching. He pulled back, laughing when Minho nearly fell into his lap. “We need to move to the bedroom.”

“Why?” Minho asked breathlessly.

“Because I have wanted to take you apart for months, angel. I’m not going to stop once we start, especially not for something as simple as a location change.”

He stood up quickly and grabbed Minho’s hand, nearly dragging him toward his bedroom. Minho laughed brightly, rushing to follow. When they hit the bedroom, Taemin felt strong arms wrap around his middle, and Minho’s lips hit the back of his neck, pressing kisses along to the side of it. “I’ve never been in your bedroom before,” he murmured between kisses. “That bed looks so soft.”

“It’s amazing,” Taemin agreed. He pulled from Minho’s grip and threw the covers back, turning and stripping out of his shirt.

“Let me.” Minho stepped up, pushing his hands away and beginning to undo the buttons. Their foreheads pressed together, and Taemin could feel Minho shaking. He set his hands lightly on his wrists.

“We don’t have to do this right now. Even though we decided, we can take our time.”

“That’s not why I’m shaking,” Minho admitted.

“Then why?”

“Because it’s taking every ounce of my power not to just rip this shirt off you and steal our first kiss this very second.”

Taemin laughed softly at that. “Rip away. I don’t mind.”

Minho groaned. He gripped the fabric and tugged. They both laughed when the buttons popped off easily, and Minho shoved the shirt down past Taemin’s shoulders. He yanked at the button on his pants while Taemin treated his clothes with the same aggression, tearing the shirt open and sliding his hands over Minho’s broad, bare chest. The stepped apart to finish undressing, both climbing into bed and immediately grabbing ahold of one another, drawn by invisible magnets.

“Are you sure?” Taemin asked one final time, brushing his nose over Minho’s.

“Yes.”

Their lips met with a surprising gentleness, and Taemin felt a bright spark. Minho’s magic, he was sure. It increased quickly in aggression and intensity, their bodies reacting to the touch of their mouths. Taemin rolled them over, straddling Minho’s hips and gently grinding their hardening cocks together. He deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into Minho’s mouth. Minho’s fingers tangled in his shaggy hair, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

They kissed until Taemin’s lips were numb and his body ached desperately for more. He pulled back, leaning up and splaying his fingers over Minho’s chest.

“Do you want me to use my magic to get ready for you? Or the human way?”

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut. He wet his kiss swollen lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly. “I’d say human - but I don’t think I can wait,” he admitted. Taemin smirked. He slid his hands down Minho’s chest slowly, curling his fingers to let his short nails scrape the skin as he did.

“I’m so glad you said that,” he admitted. “But you still need some lube.” He leaned forward, ghosting his mouth over Minho’s as he dug in the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lubricant. He dropped it onto the bed before moving down his body, folding his own body over to kiss along his chest and stomach.

Minho’s cock was thick, curving ever so slightly upward, a perfect example of male anatomy. Taemin lifted it, running his tongue along the underside before wrapping his lips around the tip. Minho shouted, covering his mouth with his hands.

Taemin pulled back, stroking gently. “Go ahead and make noise. My room is soundproof. That was a necessity for me when I moved in.” He sank back down on Minho’s cock, easily taking it into his throat with minimal effort. Minho moaned openly, burying his fingers in Taemin’s hair and thrusting up toward his face.

He swore softly when Taemin pulled back, licking his lips. Taemin grinned. “Don’t wanna get you too worked up.” He teased.

“As if I wouldn’t be able to come more than once,” Minho complained.

“Oh… Well it’s funny that you think I’m going to just make you come once tonight.” He moved back up to sit on Minho’s hips again, gently sliding his ass along his spit slicked cock. “Did you forget you’re about to fuck a sex demon? I can go all night, angel.”

He grabbed the lube and opened it, leaning forward and catching Minho’s mouth in a kiss as he reached back to slick his hole up. Minho’s hand caught his wrist.

“Let me,” Minho murmured against his lips. He scraped the lube from Taemin’s fingers with his own, bringing them to his ass.

Taemin gasped when Minho slipped two fingers in. Even with his own magical preparation, he hadn’t been expecting the thickness of Minho’s digits, or the graceful finesse he used to spread the lube inside him. His cock twitched between their bellies, and Taemin moaned softly, feeling Minho smirk.

“You gonna fuck me, angel?” Taemin teased, beginning to grind against Minho’s fingers. “Make those dirty dreams come true?”

“Taemin—“ Minho gritted through his teeth.

“Oh, we both know it’s true,” Taemin whispered. He whined when Minho pulled his fingers out, but relaxed at the sound of the lube bottle again, and the wet sound of Minho stroking his own cock. “You’ve dreamed of it, haven’t you? Fucking me, making me moan. Taking me just like this I bet. Have you woken up covered in come from a dream, Minho? Or do you just wake up with an aching cock, desperately wishing you could come over and sink into my ass like you want to?”

Minho growled. He grabbed Taemin’s head with his free hand and dragged him into a rough kiss that made Taemin giggle. The energy in the room was positively electric, and his body was drinking it in eagerly. He felt the blunt tip of Minho’s cock nudge against his hole, and pushed toward it.

“That’s it,” he whispered against Minho’s lips, “take me. Make us feel so good.”

Minho pushed his hips up, guiding his cock into Taemin for the first time. Taemin lowered his body at the same time, sinking onto it with a gasp.

He pulled back as soon as Minho was nestled inside him and sank down again, throwing his head back in a delighted moan.

Minho cried out as Taemin began to ride him, his grip tight on Taemin’s hips.

Taemin leaned down, kissing him gently. “Is it good?” He panted.

Minho moaned, grabbing Taemin’s ass with one hand. He wrapped the other around his shoulders, dragging him into another deep kiss. “Amazing,” he panted against his lips. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Taemin giggled. “It’s cute when angels swear. Do it again.”

Minho smirked. He leaned up, nipping his earlobe. “I wanna fuck you so hard you scream,” he whispered.

Taemin shivered. “That’s sinful, angel. Do it.” He pulled off Minho suddenly, his body aching at the loss. He moved to the side and laid on his back, stuffing a pillow under his hips. It only took Minho a second to catch up. He rolled over and pushed Taemin’s legs open before bringing them up to his shoulders. Lining up his cock, he sank to the root, tilting his head back as he moaned Taemin’s name.

Taemin shouted happily, his back arching as Minho began to thrust, hard enough that it would have hurt a human. It was exactly what Taemin craved. He screamed happily, holding onto Minho’s arms as his body was forced open again and again on the thick cock.

“Yes! More! Oh fuck, it’s perfect!” He sobbed. “Keep going, I’m so close, oh!”

He clenched around Minho’s shaft as his cock throbbed, semen spurting onto his belly and chest.

Minho moaned, thrusting harder into him. The rough strokes against his prostate drew his orgasm out, milking his body until his stomach ached.

They kissed again, and Minho grabbed his shoulders, dragging him down against his cock even as he thrust into him.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped. “Oh God, Taemin—“

“Come for me,” Taemin whispered. “Give it all to me.”

Minho moaned low in his throat. He continued to rut into Taemin, stealing his moans with soft gasps. His cock throbbed deep inside Taemin, and a delightful bloom of energy filled his body, a sure sign that Minho was spilling inside him. He closed his eyes, gasping and sighing as it washed over him, dragging him to a second orgasm with the intensity of it.

Minho whined softly, shuddering. “I can’t—“ He whispered as his cock throbbed once more. Taemin dropped his legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist as a second orgasm washed over Minho, immediately following his first. Minho shouted brokenly, overstimulated. Taemin milked his cock, stroking his back and ass as purple sparks bloomed behind his closed lids. The energy shifted around them, the sweet purity of Minho’s light fading, darkening into a rich, deep velvety feeling. He was falling. He was falling fast and hard and every drop of his release was pushing him further, held securely in Taemin’s arms.

Taemin rolled them over and gently pulled off Minho’s softening cock, giggling at the rush of come that dribbled down his thighs. He moved forward, gently rubbing his cock over Minho’s lips.

“Open.”

Minho obeyed, his eyes rolling up to look at Taemin as he took his cock into his mouth. Taemin caressed his cheek, gently thrusting into his warm mouth. “Swallow when I come,” he said, his voice soft but demanding. Minho nodded as well as he could, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. He swirled his tongue around Taemin’s cock; delightfully talented at this despite Taemin knowing he likely wasn’t experienced. He sighed happily as his orgasm neared, burying his fingers in Minho’s hair. “Deeper.”

Minho lifted his head, letting Taemin push deeper, until the tip of his cock bumped his throat. Taemin shivered, moaning. “Perfect, take it… Doing so good,” he murmured. He began to move quicker, nudging Minho’s throat on each thrust. Minho moaned, his throat clicking as he struggled to stave off his gag reflex. Taemin whined softly.

“Here, Minho - Oh fuck, swallow it for me.”

He thrust twice more and stilled, shivering as his cock spurted into Minho’s awaiting mouth. He gulped quickly, his eyes slipping shut. He reached around, sliding two fingers easily into Taemin’s hole. He fingered him hard as Taemin groaned.

“That’s it,” he whispered, pulling his cock free. He squeezed himself, working one last dribble out and onto Minho’s lips. Before Minho could lick it up, he leaned down, kissing him hard and driving his tongue into Minho’s mouth. They shared his come as they kissed, their bodies sticking together with sweat and semen.

Taemin pulled away and rolled off Minho, flopping next to him on the bed. He reached down, finding Minho’s hand and lacing their fingers together as they laid in the suddenly oppressive silence of the room.

“Wow,” Minho whispered, breaking the silence first. Taemin’s breath escaped in a rush; he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. “You okay?” Minho asked.

“I’m great, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Minho drew in a deep breath. “I’m sore. And I definitely… Feel different. Magic wise. But I’m okay. I’m good.” They looked one another in the low light.

“We should shower,” Taemin said. “Then we can talk.”

Minho nodded. The two rose quietly and made their way to Taemin’s bathroom, stepping into the shower. Though it wasn’t a necessity; he could have easily cleaned them up with his power, it gave him – and Minho – some time to process what they’d just done. Thankfully, if Minho’s gentle touches were any indication, he didn’t regret it.

The two stood under the hot water for a while after they cleaned one another, Taemin’s face buried in Minho’s neck as they embraced.

“I’ve fallen,” Minho whispered.

“You did. I’m right here thought. I won’t let you be alone in this. I don’t know a lot of fallen angels… But I know their powers are similar to a demon’s. I’ll help you learn, if you get confused or don’t know what to do.”

“I know you will. I’m not upset.”

Taemin pulled back, meeting Minho’s gaze. “You’re not?”

“No. It’s overwhelming. I feel so different… Free, somehow. But not bad. I’m happy, actually. What we did was amazing, and I never would have been able to experience that if I wasn’t willing to take that leap.”

Taemin smiled softly. He kissed Minho’s mouth gently, sighing. “I’ll never get sick of doing that.”

“Me neither. Hey… You completed your assignment. Doesn’t that mean you get to move up in your rank now?”

Taemin nodded after a moment. “I do. When I go back. If. If I go back.”

“You aren’t planning to?”

“Not any time soon. I meant it when I said I was happy here, this was home. Unless you want to go see what hell looks like, I… Don’t think I’ll go back any time soon.”

“I’m perfectly fine waiting until these bodies waste away to go visit. I’d like to experience growing old like a human.”

“Yeah?” Taemin grinned brightly. “With me?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stepped out of the shower and went back to the bedroom. Taemin dressed first, slipping out of the main door to Minho’s apartment. He grabbed a pair of sweats for him, knowing none of his would fit Minho. When he returned, Minho was standing in the bedroom, his wings out on display. Instead of the bright white that Taemin was used to seeing, they were now a rich, velvety black, intermixed with purplish hued ones.

“I’m beautiful,” Minho said, turning to face him. His eyes had changed as well; instead of a vibrant, sky blue, they were now dark brown, tinged with red. They were similar to Taemin’s, but just a bit lighter, a sign of his fading purity.

“You are,” Taemin agreed. He stepped up, stroking one of Minho’s wings. “This looks lovely.”

“Thank you. I wanted to see… If I’d like it. I do.”

“They suit you.” He handed Minho his sweats, looking around the messy bedroom. “Why don’t you try out your powers. See if you can clean up the bedroom. A good practice.”

Minho nodded once. He chewed his bottom lip, and Taemin could tell he was trying to figure out how to draw from the new power budding deep inside him. He went around behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Relax,” he whispered. “This power is different. It’s a part of you. Just let it come out, you know what you want done.”

Minho took a deep breath and released it, nodding once. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist. With a rush of energy, the bedroom shifted. Taemin laughed softly when he realized what Minho had done. He succeeded, mostly; the sheets were clean and the piles of ripped clothes were gone. Except, instead of the sleek black silk that normally adorned Taemin’s bed, it was now the same baby blues and soft white cottons of Minho’s room.

Minho made a small noise. “Sorry. I can fix it…”

“No.” Taemin pushed his hand down. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, really.” He went around and kissed Minho’s mouth. “If we’re going to end up living together at some point, we’ll need to figure out how to make our design ideas work anyways so. This is good practice. Come to bed with me.”

The two curled up together under the blankets, their arms and legs twisted together as one. Minho sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I can’t fall sleep.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. I can feel the last bits of my angelic purity. Deep down, they’re fading but holding on. It’s like I can feel the angels I left. I know they know what happened, we can feel it when one of ours dies or changes like this. I know they’re crying over it, even though I’ve been away so long.”

“Are you upset?”

“No. I’m sad that they don’t understand it. That they’re shedding their tears when they don’t have to. They can’t understand how happy I am. How this… This loss gave me paradise in so many ways. But I still don’t regret it. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Hopefully they’ll understand someday,” Taemin said, holding Minho’s hand over his chest. “We’ll just need to work on it here, showing our paradise, how nice it can be. Why tears don’t need to be shed.”

Minho nodded in silent agreement. Their lips met once more, and Taemin felt that blossom of energy deep inside him. It was a unique feeling – so different from the butterflies he felt, or Minho’s purity. This was something entirely new, a dizzying sensation that he couldn’t wait to explore hand in hand with his fallen angel.

#shinee fic #minho x taemin #2min #angel/demon au #choi minho fic #lee taemin fic #taeminho #taemin smut #choi minho smut #mywriting #musicbingo23

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thearmyprof · 1 year

Text

Hubba Bubba

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Word count: 6,450

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol!AU, One-Shot

Warnings: No major warnings, language, soft smut, see full tags below for more details

Summary: Your coworkers insist on meeting at Club Hubba Bubba for a social outing. The night starts out miserable with clique-ish colleagues and a outing that is very not your scene. However, everything takes a turn when you run into a stranger named Yoongi, who proceeds to sweep you off your feet.

TLDR; very soft one-shot with some steaminess.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45192469

This work is also part of the Sound of Music bingo on tumblr for the squares: Butter & Min Yoongi

Tags: Light Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sexual Content, soft smut, Bullying, Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of panic attack, a lot of laughter, Giggling, soft, so soft

As you stand in the brisk night air of February, you think about all your life choices that led up to this moment. You watch as one of your coworkers giggles cutely behind her hand and then immediately shifts your eyes away when she side-eyes you. They are all laughing at you, at your expense, you realize. Maybe it hadn’t been a silly mistake after all. Maybe this had been intentional.

You look down at your jeans, torn generously at the knees, your black combat boots, and your iconic Nirvana tee underneath an oversize purple plaid button up, hanging loosely, unbuttoned, off your shoulders. You knew there had been a fuck up somewhere when you approached your group of coworkers at the club line and they were all in neon colored spandex. Their hair was poofy and frizzed out. You had even double-checked the group chat: “meet at Club Hubba Bubba at 8! 90s fashion night, don’t come without a costume!” Judging from the entire line of people waiting to enter the club, everyone had gotten the “1980s”—not 1990s—memo, except you.

Now that you’ve worked out that it wasn’t a mistake, you realize they must have a separate group chat even—without you—where a clarification of the decade took place. It’s too late to bail though, as the doorman looks you up and down.

“It’s a 30 dollar cover,” is all he says, his lips making a thin, displeased line across his face.

Your colleagues busily all push forward to pay with their phones, as you get yours out of your purse. You briefly think that 30 dollars feels like a steep price to pay for this utter humiliation, but running away now might be even more humiliating.

The inside of the club is dark, save for the strobing lights on the dance floor. Your group makes their way to a u-shaped table along one side of the room. You drag your feet following them so that you can be on the edge of the u, for a quicker escape if need be. However, your colleagues seem to be aware of your game, calling you out immediately and shoving you in between several of them.

They order a round of drinks and sit back to chat about work. You half listen, half zone out. You imagine what you could be doing right now—including, but not limited to, taking a bubble bath with that pretty bath bomb you bought on impulse last week, listening to music from literally any other decade than the 80s, and certainly not thinking about work outside of working hours.

“Oh, but did you hear that Bradley had a meeting with HR last week?” one of your colleagues says. You squint at her pretty face, trying desperately to remember her name.

If you’re honest, you don’t really make an effort with your coworkers socially-speaking. They are loud, clique-ish, and bubbly. You are none of those things. You prefer reading or a nice long walk along the river. At the beginning, you chalked the vague bullying as a kind of hazing ritual for being the new person. But, nine months at this position and nothing much has changed. You have been type-cast as the weird loner and now that’s who you are.

Still, company-encouraged social outings seem to be extremely important for some reason. The first time you tried to bow out, you had a manager having a “talk” with you the next day about not being a team player. So, here you sit, squashed between two loud, twittering social butterflies, pretending to nurse a shot of some kind of clear alcohol.

“Bradley is not gonna be around long, just watch,” another person adds to the conversation. You rack your brain for a “Bradley” and get nothing.

“Well, good riddance, he’s gross,” someone else chimes in.

A chorus of giggles erupts with someone shouting, “You can’t just say that.”

You have no idea what’s going on. You feel yourself sink lower on the cushion of the bench. Would they notice if you just kept sliding right down under the table?

You watch the dancers out on the dance floor. There’s a group of men dancing like it’s their livelihood. You feel kind of mesmerized with their fluid rolls and sharp hip thrusts. The bass booms, vibrating the floor underneath you, adding to the otherworldly feel of the moment. As you watch, you feel your cheeks heat and the close press of the women on either side of you suddenly feels that much more claustrophobic.

“Aw, look at our Miss Wrong Decade, see something you like?” shouts one of your coworkers. The giggles and shrieks erupt all around you.

You stare at the table and will yourself to just vanish into thin air. Suddenly everyone is moving.

“Come on, you should dance with them!” the person next to you is shrieking at you and yanking you by the arm.

“Bet the hot guys would give her a pity dance!” someone else yells.

You feel yourself slide along the bench and are pulled up by your arm. Most of the group has already left for the dance floor and your feet feel like they’ve been made of lead.

“I- I’m not interested in dancing,” you stutter out.

Despite your protests, they pull you into the throng of dancers. Soon, there are bodies all around you, bumping and rubbing up against you in ways that make your blush more furious. It’s very public and you can hear the teasing giggles of your coworkers echoing in your head. You hate this.

You wiggle and slide through the crowd, pulling yourself free from your colleague’s arm and step backwards toward the table again. You keep your eyes down on the floor, avoiding the scathing looks of your coworkers.

You hear their faint protests and mocking your being a wall-flower. Your back bumps into something hard, which you assume is the table. So, you step to your right until you can feel the bench of the “u” behind you and you sit down.

You watch the feet of your coworkers walk away back to the dance floor as you sit frozen in your panic.

“Are you okay?” you hear a deep voice, right in your ear. You jump and whirl around to find the source.

You recognize two things at once. One, the man, with his dark, cat-like stare and dark hair pulled into a half bun on the top of his head, in front of you is the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. Two, you’ve sat down at the wrong booth.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was sitting,” you say. You push yourself up to a standing position immediately, bowing your head in apology.

You startle when you feel a warm hand wrap around your shoulder pulling you up from your bow. The man has stood up and is looking at you with the utmost concern etched into his features.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and say again, “I’m really sorry for intruding.”

“I don’t mind,” he says with a soft smile. “You didn’t want to dance?”

You swallow again, calculating whether this means he is asking you to dance—is he flirting with you—no, wait you sat at his table, not the other way around, or is he just a concerned citizen? You realize you’re just staring at him. You jump a little as you say, “Ah, it’s a lot of people.”

He nods at this, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Would you like to sit? I could get you another drink?”

“Oh,” you say. “I, uh, am just drinking club soda tonight, actually.”

He nods again and looks at you like this is a perfectly normal drink to have in a club. He waves his hands back to the booth, guiding you to sit, which you do in a sort of daze. Then he powers off towards the bar, presumably to grab the drinks.

“Who are you?” a tall man with black hair running to his shoulders asks, stepping up to the table. You realize he’s one of the dancers you were ogling earlier. Now would be a great time for someone to pull the fire alarm.

“I, uh,” you glance around for some kind of excuse or explanation. “I think I’m at the wrong table.”

You get up quickly and look around, pretending to look for your table while wildly debating how to escape this whole damn night.

“Hoba, she’s my guest,” says the man coming back with your drinks.

“Oh, your guest,” the new man, ‘Hoba,’ says with a raised eyebrow. He turns back to you and says, “I’m Hoseok. Nice to meet you.”

He looks at you expectantly, while your eyes flit between him and the other man. You take a deep breath and say, “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“You want to come dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asks with a dazzling smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m okay. Thank you,” you say. The first man hands you your club soda, which you gratefully take just to have something to do with your hands.

“Alright, well, have fun, kids,” Hoseok says with a cheeky click of his tongue and another sensational smile.

You watch as the first man slides into the booth and looks up at you with hesitance. He says, “I’m Yoongi, by the way. Sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself sooner.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say as you slide down next to him in the booth.

You quickly find your anxiety and fears about awkward flirting or stilted conversation are all unfounded. He nurses his whiskey and you your club soda and you talk about a range of subjects from latest reads to work to the quirks of life in the city. You are fascinated by his job as a music producer and are pretty sure you could listen to him speak on the subject for hours. Occasionally, your conversation lapses as you both listen to whatever song is on and just enjoy each other’s presence.

You find out that it’s actually Hoseok’s birthday, which is why Yoongi is at the club at all. He is there with his group of friends, humoring the birthday boy with his wish to have everyone together for the evening. It seems allowing Yoongi to “guard the table” was the compromise to ensure everyone had a good time.

Yoongi even laughs while showing you the e-book he has loaded up on his phone. It’s apparently what he was doing before you had crashed into his booth and upending his plans for the night.

“Y/N!” you hear screeches of your name, with raucous giggles following. Three of your colleagues from work have spotted you and have clearly decided to ruin the one good thing going for you this evening.

You turn quickly and utter a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

Your coworkers stand at the end of the table, eyeing you and Yoongi sitting casually together in the booth. They are still giggly and have mischievous grins on their faces.

One of them, wearing a skin-tight neon pink bodysuit, says, “You should introduce us to your friend, Y/N.”

You shrink into the back of the booth seat as you move your gaze from the expectant faces of your coworkers to the now-steely facade Yoongi has adopted. His eyes flit to your face and then he glances down to take in your whole body posture. He tenses up before looking back at your work colleagues.

You feel the need to say something to break the tension, so you say, “Uh, these are my coworkers. They invited me out tonight. This is, uh, this is Yoongi.”

You watch as they smirk at your shaky introductions and then turn a hungry gaze to Yoongi.

Pink Bodysuit says, “So nice to meet you, Yoongi. Wanna come dance with us?”

You curl into yourself a little more and slide down the seat a fraction, perhaps hoping to disappear completely.

“I’m busy right now,” Yoongi says. His tone is deep and dark. It contains none of the warmth he’d had while speaking with you.

“If you think you’re getting an easy lay, you might want to think twice. Miss Mousy is just a stuck up bitch and is probably playing you,” Pink Bodysuit says.

You feel like you’ve been doused in a tub of cold water. You stare, mouth agape, at Pink Bodysuit. The underhanded bullying and the teasing are one thing, but this is in your face. You can’t think of anything beyond how completely and totally humiliated you feel.

“I, uh, I just remembered- I have to, uh, I have to go,” you stammer out and rush to your feet. Dots dance across your vision, probably from getting up too fast, but also from the panic attack that is threatening to freeze your lungs.

Red hot tears burn your eyes as you push past your awful coworkers and you stumble as you make your way to the exit. You feel the first tear slide down your cheek as you double over on the sidewalk. The cool February air is welcome as it shocks your system, allowing your lungs to gasp in air.

You keep falling forward, eventually letting your knees hit the sidewalk and your right palm pushing out to take some of your weight before you face-plant into the concrete. People walking by give you a wide berth. You let more tears fall and are almost glad no one is stopping to check on you—almost.

You don’t know how much time has passed, probably only a minute or two, when someone wearing a black shirt, black ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket are kneeling directly in front of you. Their hands, fingers adorned with thin silver rings, are clinging to their own knees.

You look up and gulp in surprise when you recognize Yoongi. His cheeks are flushed red and his brow is wrinkled in worry.

“Can you hear me?” he asks.

You try to decipher whether that’s a strange question to ask, but nod all the same.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks next.

You nod, even though you don’t actually know if that’s the correct answer. He holds out his hands to you, palms up, and you take them into your own hands. They are large, calloused, and warm. Safe, even.

He supports your weight through your hands as you both stand up from your kneeling position on the sidewalk.

“That’s good, you’re okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m so sorry, that was so mortifying,” you manage to say after taking a few deep breaths. “I- I don’t even know how you can look at me after that.”

He gives you the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen. Belatedly, you realize he’s still holding your hands and shows no signs of letting go. People are still walking past you on the sidewalk, but now you can’t find it in you to care.

“At the risk of sounding very, very cheesy, I think the trick is going to convince me to stop looking at you,” Yoongi says.

You make a choked sound as you try to groan and laugh at the same time. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Are you actually real?”

“Afraid so,” he says with his own laugh. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” you say without hesitation.

Yoongi grins at you and then laces your fingers together in one hand before pulling you gently along down the sidewalk.

You casually wonder if the 80s, as a whole decade, is just out to haunt you this evening. You look around the small diner, completely decked out in 1980s decor. At least this place seems to be quieter than the club, with Blondie singing at reasonable decibels over the sound system.

“So, I don’t want to pry, but are you coworkers always that shitty?” Yoongi asks after you place your orders with the server.

“Uh,” you say before clearing your throat. “No, I mean, they are shitty, yes. But not, uh, usually that obvious about it.”

You shrug in an attempt to say this was not a big deal, like you hadn’t just had a panic attack in front of a whole ass club less than an hour ago.

Yoongi just nods, eyes searching your face.

“You left your friend’s birthday party,” you say.

Yoongi blinks for a moment before it’s his turn to shrug. “He’ll understand.”

Your mouth drops open and then snaps shut again, before you say, “You, uh, aren’t actually going to tell him what happened? Right?”

Yoongi studies your face before saying, “You don’t want me to tell him.”

“Uh, well, it was- is mortifying,” you say. You are really hoping this is obvious.

“The only people who should be embarrassed are those vapid people you have the misfortune of working with,” he says.

“Oh,” you say.

“So, Nirvana?” Yoongi asks.

You stare for a minute trying to understand the sudden change of topic. He waves at you. You look down and remember your shirt.

“Oh, yeah, they told me it was a 90s theme at the club,” you say. You add a little more quietly, “And, honestly, this is how I dress outside of work, anyway.”

“Well, their first album was published in 1989, so technically, you are in theme,” he says dryly. “Not everyone in the 80s wore obnoxiously neon spandex.”

You snort at this, a little mad you hadn’t thought of this clap back when your coworkers were torturing you earlier. Then you start laughing and can’t stop. You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes and your sides start to hurt, but you can’t stop.

Yoongi sits with a small smirk on his face, watching you. There’s a warm light in his eyes. As you start to sober up again from your hysterical laughing fit, you return the fondness with a smile of your own. You think very briefly about the childish hatred of your coworkers and how in one fell swoop, this man in front of you makes you feel like shrugging and saying, “eh, let them hate me.” Here this man is acting as the perfect mirror for you to understand the simple answers in life. Your smile grows.

“Can I have your number?” you ask.

Your reward for your impulsive bravery is the most adorably heart-melting smile you have ever seen. Worth it.

“Thanks so much for walking me home,” you murmur.

You’re standing outside your apartment building and want to kick yourself for not coming up with a clever way to make the evening last longer. You really don’t want to part yet. You kick the toe of your boot with the heel of the other.

You are holding hands again. You have been since leaving the diner. You look at your fingers woven tightly together. You don’t want to let go.

“It’s no problem,” Yoongi says. “I’m happy you accidentally sat in my booth.”

You huff out a laugh at that. You look up to his face, smile slipping into something more serious, and say, “Me, too.”

Yoongi leans forward, slowly, and when your brain catches up to what’s happening, you meet him in the last moments. His lips are a bit chapped, but gentle. You step closer to his body, not willing to let him pull away from the kiss. With your free hand you clutch at his shoulder, pulling yourself even closer.

You don’t know how long you stand pressing your lips together, before he’s pulling back just far enough to let you both breathe for a moment.

Into the air between the two of you, you whisper, “Please, don’t go.”

This close to his face, you can hear and feel his breath hitch. So, you double down and whisper again, “Please.”

He closes in on your lips again and kisses a little more fervently this time. Not breaching with his tongue, but setting a rhythm to the kiss that has you fighting to keep your knees from buckling.

This time when you break apart to breathe, you turn towards your apartment building and pull him by the hand you still have firmly grasped in your own. He doesn’t resist.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, next to each other in the elevator. You squeeze his hand. He looks towards you and you exchange small smiles.

You fumble with the keypad to your flat.

“You don’t know the code to your own apartment?” Yoongi teases.

“Ah, I might be a little nervous,” you say with a chuckle.

“Hey,” he calls softly. You look up at him. “You don’t need to be nervous. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m a- It’s a good nervous. I don’t, uh, do this much- or ever.”

You turn back to the keypad before you can freak out from whatever facial expression he might be making at your boldness. You breathe a sigh of thanks when you get the code right this time.

The light over the door inside the apartment clicks on automatically as you pull Yoongi in through the threshold. In your head, you envision the front door closing, Yoongi pulling you into a passionate kiss, both of you a tangle of limbs and shedding clothing as you stumble your way to the bedroom in the dark, and land in a heap of fiery passion on your bed. Of course, that’s what happens in movies or maybe for those giggling neon pink spandex coworkers. Not you and your awkwardness.

The door shuts with a soft clink and a beep behind you as you both silently bend over to unlace and take off your boots. Yoongi takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on an open hanger over the shoe rack. The automatic light clicks off and you are engulfed in soft darkness, the only light coming in faint from the city lights through the window in your living room.

“Ah, sorry,” you say as you hurry forward to push the button that turns the lights on in the living room.

You glance around nervously, glad you had spent the time earlier that day cleaning to work out the nerves about going out this evening. The apartment isn’t big, and honestly not much lived in. You spend a lot of time at work, being the new person still trying to make their mark on the company. You mostly come home, watch a bit of TV, and then read or sleep in bed. A quiet life, to make up for the too-much-drama that is your workplace maybe.

The room is enough to hold a medium-sized TV with a loveseat. You have a plant in the window that boasts a semi-impressive view, only blocked partially by another high rise in front. If you tilt just right, you can see a pretty good view of downtown, especially on clear nights, with the city lights twinkling. The kitchen is also modest, just right off the living, separated by the small breakfast bar. No room for an actual dining table.

“It’s, uh, not much,” you say.

“This is great,” Yoongi murmurs as he walks around the living room. He pauses to look at the photos on the wall.

“Thanks,” you say. “You, uh, can I get you something to drink?”

Yoongi turns and looks at you with a smile. “Sure.”

Having something to do, you spring into action, stepping over to the kitchen. You open the small fridge and cringe. “I, uh, I have water? I might have some tea.”

You slide over to the draw and pull it out. “Yeah, I have some green tea?”

“Green tea sounds good,” Yoongi says, still looking at your decorations. He pauses to admire the view.

You quickly put water from the bottle in the fridge into the electric kettle to boil. You pull two mugs from the cabinet and pull out bags of tea. “Sorry, it’s just tea bags. I don’t have company over enough to spring for anything fancier.”

Yoongi huffs a short laugh. “It’s fine.”

When the tea is ready you motion to the loveseat and bring the mugs into the living room with you. You set them on the coasters on the small coffee table, so that you can grab the throw from the back of the couch to put on your lap. After fiddling with it and settling yourself in, you pull up a lo-fi fireplace channel on the TV to fill the silence a bit.

After a few minutes of sitting together and sipping tea, you feel compelled to fill the quiet. “So, what, uh, book were you reading tonight?”

Yoongi smiles into his mug and proceeds to regale you with not only the book title, but an interesting backstory about the author and finishes with recommending you check it out. You respond with an animated recommendation of your own. The conversation flows easily and you cannot for the life of you remember why you were ever anxious around him.

Somehow, without you realizing, you both move closer and closer to the center of the loveseat. Soon, you are pressed up to one another and Yoongi has an arm slung casually behind you on the back of the couch. With the warmth of Yoongi’s almost-embrace, the gentle sounds from the TV, and the late hour, a wave of exhaustion washes over you.

As Yoongi is talking, you let the weight of your head rest on his shoulder and your eyes drift closed. Just for a moment. Then you realize how quiet it is. Your eyes snap open.

“Sorry!” you murmur. “I think I drifted off.”

You can feel more than hear Yoongi’s laugh with your side pressed into his. He says, his voice husky, “You were only asleep for maybe 10 minutes. I was just going to let you sleep. It’s late.”

You shake your head and realize he’s turned off the TV, which is why it’s so quiet now. You swivel yourself so that you are facing him and then scooch up so that you can reach his face with yours.

Rather than the burning passion you had imagined when you first invited Yoongi into your apartment, the kiss is soft, caring, slow. The almost-embrace becomes a full embrace as Yoongi pulls his arms around you. You settle in further by pulling your hands to his chest and grab at the fabric there.

As you melt into him, you let your nerves go and bite at his lower lip playfully. The moan he lets out in reaction goes straight to your core, lighting you on fire. You let out a pitiful whine in response and Yoongi tentatively slips his tongue out to meet yours. Rather than it feeling like a fight for space and dominance, the kissing feels more like a gentle appreciation of one another. You feel special, seen, full of care and cared for.

When you finally pull apart to breathe, you don’t hesitate to stand up and reach out for Yoongi’s hand. He looks at you for a moment before placing his hand in your outstretched one. You grasp at it and pull him up to stand with you. You stand on tip-toe to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. Then you squeeze his hand and you pull him around the loveseat and towards your bedroom door.

When you step into the dimly lit room, you take two seconds to thank your past self again for the anxiety-induced cleaning frenzy you went on earlier.

You pull him into the dark room and hesitate before going straight to the bed.

“Uh, I just-” you start. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel Yoongi go completely still next to you.

You try again, “I just hope that this isn’t, uh, like a one time thing. Just to be clear. I don’t want this to be just tonight. Sorry, probably being a total buzzkill.”

You feel your face heat up and you stare down and your sock-covered toes.

You feel the warmth from Yoongi’s palm as he cups your cheek and lifts your face so that you’ll look at him. He has a soft smile on his lips. Your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips.

He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on your lips before he says, “I have every intention of making you breakfast in the morning.”

He kisses you again and you feel your knees wobble a little, you squeeze his hand a little tighter to keep yourself upright. “And I will probably try very hard to wait to call you until tomorrow evening, so as to not overwhelm you.”

He kisses your lips, a little harder this time, with a little teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls away a fraction. “And I will ask you if you’re free next weekend to take you out on a proper date.”

More kissing, his tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth, which you readily meet with your own. He pulls back again and says, “And then hopefully every weekend after that. Unless I get greedy and want to meet you for lunch in town sooner.”

You are the one to pull him in this time, reaching your fingers up to tangle in his hair. You step backwards towards the bed, while keeping your lips locked on his.

You let out a small grunt when you accidentally hit the bed frame too hard. Then you laugh as you fall backwards. Yoongi, not realizing what is happening until it’s too late, follows you down and manages to roll slightly midair so he doesn’t crush you completely with his weight. You don't stop kissing, but both of you are laughing now, smiling as you kiss, teeth knocking awkwardly.

When you pull back to try to catch your breath and regain the mood, you pant out, “I don’t think you’ll overwhelm me. Call me whenever you want.”

Yoongi leans over the top of you and kisses you again. This time slower, but you can feel the tension that’s building between your bodies. Hands that were cautious before now wander more freely. You slip your fingers under Yoongi’s shirt, tracing up his abs to his pecs. You appreciate how quickly his nipples harden under your touch.

In one swift movement, Yoongi reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt off. Quickly, returns to tracing your lips, jawline, and throat with his lips and tongue. You grab onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. You can feel the heat leaving a trail on your skin as Yoongi soothing draws a hand down your side, over your shirt, before squeezing lightly at your waist. His hand glides lower to wrap around your hip, the weight of which makes you realize you’ve been canting your hips slightly forward and back, your body chasing some kind of friction. That realization makes you moan—jarringly loud for the quiet of the room.

You feel your face burn a scorching red in the embarrassment of how turned on you are. When Yoongi stops kissing you and looks up into your face, you realize you’ve stilled your body. You pull one hand from his shoulder and cover your mouth and nose with your palm. The sleeve of your plaid shirt is hiding your fingers, which just reminds you of how very dressed you are while Yoongi is topless.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble behind your hand.

Yoongi gives a low chuckle. While pulling your hand away from your face gently by the wrist, he murmurs, “You don’t need to hide from me.”

You feel a giggle bubble up inside of you and you attempt to swallow it down, which leaves you making an awkward squeaking cough. Yoongi looks surprised and moves his hand from your wrist to pat circles into your back.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Just horribly awkward and embarrassed now, I’m fine,” you say while shaking your head. Another giggle escapes you. You squeeze your eyes shut and grit out with a clenched jaw, “Wow, what the fuck.”

Yoongi laughs loudly and rolls onto his back on the bed. The arm closer to the mattress gets pulled along with his body and ends up sort of tucked under his neck. He’s still laughing and you feel another giggle burst out of you.

“I- I don’t giggle,” you say, exasperated.

“Really?” Yoongi says while still laughing.

“Really!” you exclaim, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “I’m not a giggler.”

After another beat, Yoongi rolls back over onto one elbow so he’s leaning over you. He looks at you with a brilliant smile, making you catch your breath. With his free hand he’s pushing your hair behind your ear. His own hair has come loose from its tie and is now hanging down around his face. You mimic his motions by lifting your hand to tuck some of the strands behind his ear.

“Okay,” he whispers. His thumb is now caressing your cheek.

“Okay?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Okay, you’re not a giggler,” he clarifies. His smile reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the edges.

Instead of the million wonderful comebacks you are sure would normally be on the tip of your tongue, you push yourself up to find his lips again with yours. You run your hands through his now-free hair and whimper at how amazing it feels to be able to tangle your fingers in the long locks.

Soon enough more clothes are being shed and you are nestling at the head of your bed, exploring each other’s bodies. There’s no pressure to rush and you both take the luxury of pressing soft kisses everywhere. With the gentleness, the hesitation you felt earlier is completely gone.

When he’s tenderly entering you with a smooth motion, you’re both gasping into one another’s mouths, swallowing each other’s moans. He sets a steady, unrushed rhythm that your body naturally curves in to meet with each thrust. You revel in the feeling while twisting your fingers in his soft hair. You can feel your toes curl as your orgasm builds. Yoongi’s hands are caressing your skin. To you, he feels like he’s everywhere, touching every part of you at once.

Without any warning, the white hot ecstasy of your orgasm makes all the muscles in your body tense. Instead of crying out, you swallow your moans in surprise. Yoongi slows down, but doesn’t stop his ministrations as you ride out wave after wave of pleasure. He picks up the pace a bit as soon as your muscles relax again and you can almost immediately feel another orgasm building in your core.

You know Yoongi is close when his own muscles get more taunt and his pace slows, but his thrusts are harder, more targeted. He opens his mouth, perhaps to warn you, but you pull his face down to yours and you kiss him deeply.

Between the passionate kiss and Yoongi groaning as his own orgasm takes over, you feel another wave crest and your vision goes white again. You think every cell in your body is screaming in bliss. As you come down from your respective highs, your bodies melt into one another. The kissing and touching does not stop for a while, only interrupted briefly when you help clean each other up, disposing of the used condom, and laughing through brushing teeth together in your small bathroom.

Dawn light is creeping through the window as you curl up under the covers of your bed. Yoongi runs his fingers lightly through your hair in a soothing, repetitive motion until your eyelids are too heavy to lift.

You wake up to the sun streaming through your tiny bedroom window. You rub your eyes, sit up, and realize the bed is empty. A lump forms in your throat. You quickly get up and throw some clothes on before peaking out into the living area. It’s empty.

“Fuck,” you groan.

You walk out to the quiet space and try to sort out your emotions. You don’t really want to cry. You also feel a bit stupid.

You startle when there’s a buzz at the door. You walk over to the intercom and press the button.

“Who is it?” you say.

There’s a pause, a delay in the intercom, and then a familiar voice, “Yoongi. Can you let me in? It’s freezing out here.”

You let out a giggle—thankful no one is in the apartment to hear you—and press the button to let Yoongi into the building.

You race to the bathroom to brush your teeth, now that you know Yoongi is coming back.

When you open the door for him after he knocks, he stands with his arms full of plastic bags. You quirk your brow at him.

He steps inside, placing the bags on the floor in order to take his shoes and jacket off.

“I said I would make you breakfast, but you had absolutely nothing edible in your kitchen,” he states. He turns from hanging his jacket up to smile at you.

“Oh.” You feel your face heating up and you don’t know if that’s embarrassment at the state of your pantry or the blooming feelings you have for this man in front of you. Both, probably both.

The man can cook. Breakfast is delicious. He stands at the door with his shoes and jacket on, clearly as reluctant to finally leave as you are to see him go.

“Thank you,” you say. You see the slight confusion on his face and add, “For breakfast.”

He smiles at that and waves a hand to shrug it off.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. He leans in and gives you a tender kiss that makes you want to keep being greedy for more.

“See you soon,” you say.

Then he’s out the door, turning back to give you another beautiful gum-filled smile, and disappearing as the door shuts with a click.

You walk back into your living room feeling a little empty in the now-too-quiet space. As you take a seat on the couch, your phone begins ringing.

“Hello?” you answer.

“You said I wouldn’t overwhelm you if I called you when I wanted to instead of waiting until a reasonable time had passed,” Yoongi says.

You laugh. “I did say that, yes. And it’s still true today.”

“Good,” Yoongi says. You can close your eyes and see his soft smile as he walks down the city street below your apartment.

Grinning wide, you ask, “Are you free for lunch tomorrow?”

#yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi #thearmyprof #one shot #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts #musicbingo23

18 notes · View notes

kpopwritingbingo · 1 year

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Bingo Coming to a Close

Hello! I hope everyone is doing well! Just throwing out a reminder that today is the last day for bingo submissions for this season’s bingo! If you have posted anything for the event that has not been reblogged yet, please let me know, as it may not have shown up in the tags. Thanks everyone for a great year!

#announcement #musicbingo23

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cui-nisi · 1 year

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All Mine (KSJ x Black Reader)

•Notes•

Pairing: Student Body President Kim SeokJin x Student Black Reader

Genre: friends with benefits, college au, smut, slight enemies-to-lovers but not really

Summary: With Jin being the student body president, you have to keep your purely sexual relationship on the DL, but what happens when it’s no longer just sexual?

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (f. receiving), implied sexual content, slight emotional hurt (it’s nothing major though), arguing, dirty talk, pet names (just “baby” but Ik some ppl don’t like pet names), toxic behavior (just a lil bit)

WC: 3,886

A/N: I was bored and instead of finishing my English essay I wrote this so I hope you like it! 😅

Enjoy!

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

You knew what you were doing when you kissed Namjoon at the frat party last weekend. You knew he was best friends with Seokjin and after he pissed you off after your last hook up you decided getting with his best friend was an appropriate punishment.

When you first started fucking around with the student body president, you both established that you were strictly friends with benefits, hell you were barely friends. Sure, you both had mutual friends that would plan hangouts every now and then but the two of you were in completely different worlds.

While you spent your time slaving away in sterile classrooms working on your projects and essays for your finals and midterms, Jin was out delegating and organizing events for the student council. Outwardly, he was the “perfect guy”, at least according to your friends when they would go on their annual discussions about the man.

No one knew that you two were fucking on the low so you would always roll your eyes and say “he’s aight,” when they chided you for your own opinion.

Truthfully he was fine. Annoyingly fine. With his curly auburn hair, pretty plump lips, and warm smile. You would never admit that though, not to your friends and especially not to Jin. After all, no one knew the side of Jin that he would only show you when in the woes of your quick sessions of passion and lust.

But after your last hookup, the last person you wanted to think about was Jin. Instead, during a lull in between your classes, you decided to pay your friend Namjoon a visit and after asking where he was through text you quickly made your way to his student apartment.

“______, I wasn’t expecting to see you today. What, you miss me or something?”

“Stop playing,” you huffed out a dry laugh, pushing past the man who simply laughed before closing the door from behind you.

You’ve been to Namjoon’s apartment a handful of times but it was always filled with his dumbass friends. But as you scanned the surprisingly clean apartment you noted the air of silence that surrounded you. Turning around, you were met with Namjoon, his back leaning against the front door with his strong arms crossed over his black t-shirt. His eyes bored into you, his bottom lip succumbing to his teeth biting into it, damn it he looked good.

“What?” You asked after a second of terse silence settled in the space between you.

“Why’re you here, _____? “

Your eyes widened briefly as you absorbed the man’s question, “ I can’t pay my friend a visit now, damn.”

Namjoon laughed softly before pushing himself off of the door and striding over to you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes as you felt his hands slide around your waist.

“You wanna pick up where we left off at the party?” His deep voice whispered quietly into your ear, the smell of his cologne enveloping you.

As hot as Namjoon was, you knew his reputation and that he was just teasing you, besides you had only kissed him to get back at Jin. With a roll of your eyes, you leaned away from the man, your hands pushing against his broad chest.

“Stop all that, y’know I’m not here for that.”

Namjoon relented with a chuckle, his arms leaving your waist before stepping away, his cocky smirk still present on his lips. “So what are you here for? Seriously, is everything okay?”

Despite Namjoon being friends with Jin, he didn’t know about your relationship and you had no intentions of telling him now. But then that left the question- why were you here? Truthfully, you didn’t know. You suppose you were just being petty, but before you could come up with a plausible excuse a knock came from the front door.

“Hold on a second,” Namjoon said to you before turning away to answer the door.

You watched as your friend looked into the peephole of his door before confirming whoever was behind it and opening the door.

“Hey, Joon. Did you remember to-”

Looking past Namjoon, you felt your heart stutter and your eyes widen at the sight before you. Only a mere five feet away was Kim Seokjin, the respected student body president. You hadn’t seen him in almost a week which, in your case, was a long time. You felt your core ache with need and desire, repressed memories of how he’d feel between your legs surfacing up in your mind the longer you stared at him.

At the sight of you Jin’s words trailed off, his mouth hanging open slightly before seemingly remembering where he was. With a sharp intake of air, he forced his gaze away from you and back onto his friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t know _____ was going to be here,” with a nod the man gestured to you as Namjoon turned back around to glance at you, “I can come back another time if you guys were-”

Namjoon’s laugh cut off the rest of Jin’s sentence as he stepped aside, his cheery voice filling up the weird tension that had stricken the air, “nah, we weren’t doing anything, Jin. She just came by to say hello, you can come in.”

With a small smile, Jin nodded his head in gratitude before walking into the room when his eyes slid over to you, a cold hardness overtook his gaze as his smile dropped. His expression made a chill run down your spine as you did your best to not cower underneath his stare.

“_____.”

“Jin.”

You observed the way Jin’s eyes briefly flicked down to take in your body despite his distant greeting towards you, but you still couldn’t discern any noticeable emotion from his sharp hollow eyes.

“What did you need again, Jin?” Namjoon’s voice thankfully took Jin’s attention away from you as the man turned to face his friend, his expression softening immediately with an easygoing smile plastered over his lips.

“Right. I was wondering if you were able to get those flyers printed out for me? I asked Yoongi if he got them, but he said he forgot them in the apartment.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as a scoff fell from his lips, “‘forgot them’ my ass. I don’t even think he printed them out, to be honest. But I gotchu, I know one of my friends has a printer that they’d let me use real quick if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes while I print the flyers.”

“Oh, no. You don’t have to do all that, Joon. It’s fine I can just-”

“No, I insist, seriously.”

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Jin nodded towards his friend who reciprocated with a dimpled smile before grabbing his keys and walking towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, try not to kill each other while I’m away.”

You knew Namjoon was joking when he said that, but with the way Jin looked at you as soon as the door closed you’d think it was a serious warning.

The polite and kind student body president disappeared as soon as the two of you were left alone. His once bright eyes suddenly narrowed into sharp slits that shot into you like a bullet and his easygoing smile transformed into a shallow scowl.

You didn’t understand why he was treating you with such disdain, it’s not like you kissing Namjoon was unwarranted and you’d be damned if you let this man try to punk you. So with all your courage you made a point of rolling your eyes and folding your arms in defiance, your voice ringing out and cutting through the tension.

“What’s with the attitude?”

At that, Jin cocked a finely waved eyebrow at you, his head tilting to the side when he responded, “so I’m the one with the attitude now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, _____.”

“No, I don’t actually.”

“Then let me enlighten you,” striding over to you Jin towered over you, with how close he was you could clearly see the inky pools of darkness that swallowed his iris’. “You kissed my best friend knowing damn well I’d find out about it then avoid me for a week only to turn up at Namjoon’s apartment.”

You forced out a humorless laugh after Jin finished, you couldn’t believe he was throwing a hissy fit over this after what he’d done. “You’re forgetting that I did all this after you called me the wrong fucking name the last time we had sex!”

You couldn’t help the burst of anger that flooded your words, it was hell trying to avoid Jin all week without giving in to your intrusive thoughts and just fucking every one of his friends as payback.

“And it was Sofia of all people! Can’t believe you’ve been hooking up with that hoe…” now that last statement was more you than to Jin and when your beady eyes snapped up to catch a smirk over the student president’s lips you had just about had enough.

With a frustrated huff of air, you quickly brushed past Jin and towards the front door. If the nigga was just going to laugh in your face then you were just going to leave. But before you could even grab the door handle you felt a pair of hands encapsulate your waist and pull you deeper into the apartment until you were forced down onto the beige living room couch.

“I know you didn’t just push me onto this couch.”

“And I know you’re not being pissy with me because I fucked Sofia.”

“And what if I am?”

“_____, look at me. Look.” Despite his laughter earlier, when you begrudgingly turned your eyes upward to face the man hovering over you, you were able to note the seemingly sincere look covering his beautiful face.

His lips were pulled back in a tight line and his eyebrows were furrowed. His eyes looked like they were studying you, trying to untangle the web of thoughts that surrounded your anger.

Finally, after a second of silence, his voice softly pecked your ears, his gaze never leaving yours, “ I’m sorry, truly. I really didn’t mean to call you Sofia, it was a shitty thing to do.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious, _____.”

Truthfully speaking, you knew he had been messing around with Sofia. Mostly because the bitch never knew when to shut the fuck up. The two of you established that you weren’t exclusive and that as long as you stay safe then all cards were on the table but… you still couldn’t help but feel that stinging ache of pain when Jin mistakenly called you her name after giving him head.

“Why did you say her name then?” You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to know the answer, but it seemed like it was the time to lay everything out and the question had been eating you up for the last week.

For the first time throughout the conversation, Jin’s eyes blinked away from yours, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he replied in a quiet voice, “this is going to sound dumb but… lately when we hook up I’ve been enjoying it more than I think I should.” Briefly meeting eye contact once again the man chewed on his bottom lip before continuing, “and I guess I was scared so… when you were giving me head I thought about anything– or I guess anyone that could distract me, and usually when Sofia gives me head it’s pretty shit so I thought thinking about her would keep me from climaxing too fast and then I just accidentally said her name.”

After he finished his explanation a firm silence dawned over the two of you. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and after a few more seconds of silence stretched on you couldn’t contain the loud laugh that echoed throughout the apartment.

“Alright now, it’s not that funny” you heard Jin mutter under his breath but you were too busy laughing to reply.

It was only after a few more seconds of laughter that were you able to sputter out a coherent sentence, “wait- Jin, are you saying you only said Sofia’s name so you wouldn’t come too fast?”

“Basically yeah. I know it’s dumb I just-”

You didn’t let him finish as you had pulled him down to your level and kissed him heartily, your lips slotting together so naturally as if nothing had changed. His lips were just as pillowy soft as you remembered and his cherry-flavored chapstick tasted like nostalgia as you recalled all the times you kissed it off this man’s pretty lips.

“It is dumb, but it’s also kind of cute,” you muttered through the kiss.

After a few more kisses you felt Jin pull away slightly, his arms pressing against the sides of the couch, “I really am sorry, _____. I haven’t slept with Sofia in over a month. If I’m being honest the only person I’ve been seeing intimately is… you.”

Your eyes widened at that. Jin wasn’t known for being a playboy or anything, he did have a reputation to uphold, but he was known to get around every now and then. To hear that you were the only person he was really seeing made you both giddy with joy and suspicious of what he wanted you to say. But before you could respond Jin quickly intercepted you, his words rushing out uncharacteristically.

“I know we said we would be strictly friends with benefits, but… I don’t know. The thought of you being with someone else… especially someone like Namjoon scared me. I don’t expect you to feel the same way or even be exclusive with me, I just had to tell you now or else I would’ve lost my fucking mind.”

It took you a second to fully process Jin’s words. It was a lot he was spilling onto you. Was he confessing that he liked you? That’s what this meant right? You hadn’t messed around with anyone either besides Jin, but you always figured it was one-sided.

“For what it’s worth, I haven’t slept with anyone else in a while too.”

“What?”

You felt a rush of heat spread through your cheeks which was gratefully hidden behind the melanin in your skin, but the effects of your flustered nature were enough to have you avoiding eye contact, “no one makes me feel as good as you do, Jin.”

Suddenly you were too shy to look back at the handsome man in front of you but you could feel the heat of his stare caress over you before his voice piped up quietly, “no one? Not even Namjoon?”

You swiftly snapped your head back to Jin as you answered hurriedly, “no! I never slept with him! I just kissed him to fuck with you…”

Jin clicked his teeth disapprovingly with a shake of his head, his once look of nerves replaced by a sharp smirk and dark eyes, “I don’t believe you. I think I gotta remind you of how nice you feel when I’m eating you out.”

Your legs clenched at Jin’s words, that familiar ache from in between your legs coming back at full force. Jin’s eyes darted down to catch the action before his eyes flicked back up to meet yours and leaned in to kiss you once again. His kiss was gentle and slow as his tongue ran against your bottom lip, begging for permission to which you granted.

You lifted your hands to wrap around Jin’s neck and pull him closer to you but were suddenly stopped when you felt the man pull away from you, his lips puffy and gleaming with saliva.

“No touching, baby. Today, I just want to pleasure you, will you let me?” Looking at you through his doe-like eyes was enough to have you folding and allowing Jin to have complete control.

With a smile that could light up a dark cave, Jin leaned in once more to peck you warmingly on the lips before slipping away and kneeling in front of you, his large hands running light circles over your denim jeans.

“Take this off for me, ____.” Jin tapped his index finger over the fabric of your jeans as he spoke.

You both knew you didn’t have much time left before Namjoon finished printing the flyers so you wasted no time in lifting up your hips and quickly peeling off your jeans with Jin assisting you. When he caught sight of your black lace underwear you saw him visibly gulp, his eyes never wavering from the sight of your covered privates.

“Jin, c’mon, we don’t have much time.” while that was true you only said that because you were starting to get flustered from the way Jin was eyeing you.

“Sorry, I just can’t ever get enough of you.” at that his eyes left your underwear to admire your thighs, then your stomach, chest, and finally ending on your face. A strange warmth clouded his gaze, one that you’ve never seen before and suddenly you felt your heart rate spike.

Tearing his eyes away from your face, Jin returned to your underwear as his hands slowly coerced your legs open until you were spread out before him like a meal. Creeping his fingers up your inner thigh Jin leaned forward before blowing softly over your already-soaked underwear, the breeze contrasting greatly against your heated center. You then felt Jin’s finger softly stroke the fabric of your panties, running small circles over your covered clit, it was agonizingly pleasurable as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

“Please, Jin… hurry.”

Noting the urgency in your voice Jin sighed, the smirk on his lips bleeding into the tone of his words, “only because of the time constraint, but _____, next time I won’t be rushed.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine but it was quickly overtaken by the joy you felt when you felt Jin’s fingers hook around the band of your underwear and yank it down to your ankles. The cold air hitting your vagina shocked you, but the feeling of Jin’s fingers sliding through the folds of your pussy was even more surprising. How could you have forgotten how good this man makes you feel? How well he knows your body?

His index finger expertly found your clit before rubbing small circles over it, his touch was tender and yet precise as you began moaning into the air, your eyes doing their best to stay open and focus on the man before you who watched you before glancing down to look at his fingers slipping easily into you.

“God, I missed this. I missed you,” his voice was low and quiet, almost as if he was hypnotized.

“It’s just a pussy, Jin. And it’s definitely not the first one you’ve seen.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back up at you, “it may not be my first, but I sure as hell want it to be my last.”

Before you could even process what he was implying he leaned closer to you before sticking his tongue out to taste you. His tongue explored every inch of you like it was the first time and you were helpless to try to keep up. His tongue licked at you relentlessly and you did your best to hold in your moans but when he stuck another finger inside you, you could no longer contain yourself; so moan you did.

“That’s right, baby. Moan for me, indulge in the feeling of my tongue on your beautiful clit.”

You loved when Jin talked dirty to you and he knew that as he slowly coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm with his sinful words paired with his wide eyes, plump lips, and sweet voice. You weren’t sure how long you were going to last like this, but you embraced it regardless. You embraced the feeling of Jin’s tongue lavishing you like you were water in the Sahara, you embraced the way his slender fingers pushed in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, and you embraced the way Jin’s eyes caressed you, looking at you with such desire and warmth.

You knew it wouldn’t take you long to reach your orgasm and after a few more minutes of Jin pouring his all into pleasing you, you were crying out to him, warning him of your incoming climax.

“Come for me, _____. Please, I wanna taste you on my tongue.”

On his command, you felt yourself let go as a flood of pleasure took over your senses. Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands latched onto Jin’s shoulder to try to anchor yourself as you called out his name, the only name you’d ever want on your lips from now on.

Without missing a beat after you had come down from your high you felt Jin pull up your underwear and jeans before moving to sit on the couch next to you. When you finally opened your eyes and turned to look at him, a small smile graced your lips as you saw your juices covering Jin’s lips.

“C’mere,” you smiled as you pulled Jin in by his chin and began kissing him sensually, the taste of you covering your lips now.

“If it wasn’t obvious, I really like you. The only name I wanna moan from now on is yours, okay?” Jin mumbled in between the kiss, his tongue dipping out to lick you off of his bottom lip.

You smiled, you knew you were cheesing so hard at the man’s words but you couldn’t help yourself. He just looked so cute sitting next to you with his curly hair and goofy smile. Here you were with the revered and respected Kim Seokjin, the voice for all the students on campus, and yet you’re the only thing on his mind and the only thing on his lips.

“Hm, you know I was so close to moaning Namjoon’s name…”

“You got jokes now.” Jin shook you slightly as you teased him.

He rolled his eyes as you laughed lightly before squaring your gaze back on him, your voice coming out soft and low, “I’m just kidding… seriously, I’m sorry for kissing him, I was just being petty.”

Jin nodded, “I get it, what I did was fucked up so I deserved to get humbled. But I’m hoping now that we talked this all out I could maybe take you out. Like on an official date?”

You feigned like you were thinking, your chin lifting up as your eyes flicked up to the ceiling. “Mm, that depends. Where you taking me?”

“Wherever you’d like, baby.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You sealed the date with one last kiss that you smiled into before you both got up and frantically tried cleaning up the couch before Namjoon got back, knowing that if he found out about what you guys did he’d never let ya’ll hear the end of it.

#bts #kpop #bts smut #bts au #bts x black reader #bts x black girl #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts seokjin #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts writers #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts writing #kpop writers #musicbingo23

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here4theheartbreak · 1 year

Text

A Fair Trade (Kibum x Minho)

AO3 | AsianFanFics

Relationships: Kibum x Minho Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~9.5k words

Tags: Smut, Fluff, Bicerking, Teasing/Name-Calling, Idolverse, Established Relationship, Light Angst, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Kim Kibum, Top Choi Minho

Summary: When Minho told Kibum to buy him the massage chair, he'd been joking. Kibum's ultimatum however, was entirely serious. (Or - Kibum wants to take their relationship to the next stage; Minho is concerned).

Square: "I wanna scream "I love you" from the top of my lungs but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me" - The Shipped Gold Standard by Fall Out Boy (@kpopwritingbingo)

Minho tripped over his doormat when he stepped into his apartment, swearing softly. The schedule for his day had been brutal. Not so much in the sense of busy; he only had three things, but two of them were related to his sports work, exhausting him further than he’d anticipated.

He padded into the kitchen, rubbing a knot that was forming in the back of his neck. “You’ll start feeling all this work once you hit thirty,” his mother had warned back when he was an idealist teenager who thought he was invincible. He would need to call her this week and inform her that she was right… While also potentially begging for a remedy for the ache in his lower back.

“You know, I have something that might fix that.” The voice from behind him startled Minho badly enough that he dropped the glass he had planned on filling with water. He yelped and spun around, grabbing a pan from the counter as he did.

Kibum stepped back a few feet, showing his palms in surrender. “Don’t attack! Just me.”

“What the hell!” Minho snapped. He dropped the pan back onto the counter and pressed his hand over his heart. “There are easier ways to kill someone than scaring them to death.”

Kibum laughed brightly at that. He entered the kitchen and stepped behind Minho, pushing him forward as he began to carefully clean up the glass from the broken cup.

“I figured you’d realize I was here when you saw my bag.” He motioned with his head to where a garishly bright red handbag sat on Minho’s table.

“I… Didn’t notice,” Minho muttered. He turned to face Kibum, watching him clean the glass. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

“You look tired. What did you do today?”

“Ah, a photoshoot for a magazine, and then I had to film for a sports variety show, we did basketball. And I filmed for a soccer program.”

Kibum snorted. “You’re not seventeen anymore, Minho.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Minho grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “Why are you here anyways?”

“Well, not to be assaulted with a frying pan.” Kibum picked it up and brandished it at Minho before putting it in its proper place.

Minho chuckled. “Sorry,” he said. He approached Kibum and wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Nope, no way.” Kibum wiggled out of his grip. “I don’t wanna cuddle, you attacked me with a pan, you beast.”

Minho laughed then. “I did not attack you with it, you startled me. You still didn’t tell me why you came over.”

Kibum pursed his lips. He jutted his chin out, motioning behind Minho. Minho turned, scowling into his living room. Something was off…

“What?” He cried when his eyes landed on the piece of furniture that wasn’t there when he left this morning. He rushed into the living room, circling around it.

“What is this?” He asked.

“You seemed to like it,” Kibum said, following him.

Minho touched back and headrest. It had been a few months since they went shopping for his birthday present, but he remembered their joking about the massage chair. He had really liked it, but would never have accepted a serious offer to buy it.

“This is too expensive, Kibum,” Minho said, looking at him.

Kibum smiled and approached him. “I got it on sale. Plus. We had a deal.”

Minho’s brows furrowed. “A deal?”

Kibum crossed his arms, scoffing. “Your mind is going in your old age, friend. Don’t you remember what I said you’d need to do for me if I bought you this?”

The crease deepened on Minho��s forehead. “I—I feel like if I say I don’t you might hit me with that frying pan.”

“I might.”

Minho winced a little, baring his teeth in a grimace of an apology. “I’m gonna need a reminder. Hopefully not in the form of a pan. Or violence. I’m sore.” He clasped his hands together in a prayer motion and tried to offer what he hoped was a charismatic smile.

Kibum only rolled his eyes. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it and passing it to Minho.

“Thankfully I know your brain leaks so, I was prepared.”

There was a video paused on the screen. Minho pressed play, his cheeks warming when he realized it was a clip from I Live Alone, the two of them shopping. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched them on screen; despite their bickering, nobody in all his adolescent and adult life had made him genuinely as happy as Kibum did.

“Let’s get a massage chair then.” His voice drifted up through the little speakers. Minho chuckled at Kibum’s baffled expression.

“Are you crazy?”

“What? Let’s get a massage chair,” the on-screen Minho pressed, grinning.

“If I got you one, you should marry me.”

“Why? It’s only 220 a month.”

Kibum pulled his phone back suddenly, and Minho looked up. Kibum was standing in the same spot, fiddling with the edge of his phone. He stuffed it back into his pocket suddenly and walked over to his bag, digging around in it. Finding what he was looking for, he walked back to where he’d been in front of Minho.

“Look, it’s not my thing. I don’t think…” He scowled at a spot on the floor, lips forming a thin line. It was rare for Kibum to be unable to speak, and Minho’s heart ached. He didn’t like that expression.

“Kibum…”

“Shh.” Kibum raised his hand. “I didn’t have any plans on how to do this, and you know I’m not some sappy romantic…” He looked off to the side at that, and Minho couldn’t help but smirk. Though Kibum played tough, the first time Minho had bought him flowers unexpectedly, he’d cried for twenty minutes – Minho was worried he’d done something wrong until Kibum explained he was touched.

“But,” Kibum looked back at him, seeming to set his expression. “We’re not kids anymore. And we’ve finished enlistment. And it’s pretty obvious that despite my best efforts, you’re not going away any time soon.”

Minho smiled again. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Kibum hesitated, a small smile crossing his lips at that. He cleared his throat. “Anyway… It’s pretty obvious that the thing we have going isn’t gonna stop. And I don’t… Really want it to,” he added softly. “So it’s only proper that I do what a person in my position should do.” He held up his other hand and opened it, revealing a dark blue ring box.

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. He met Kibum’s gaze, his own eyes wide.

“Yeah, I’m asking,” Kibum said. There was a thin strain to his voice, and it squeezed Minho’s heart painfully.

“Kibum…” When Kibum didn’t cut him off, he sighed. “We can’t. You know we can’t.”

Kibum seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagging. He closed his fist around the box tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.

“And why can’t we?” He growled. “It’s 2022, Minho. Times are changing! It’s been twelve years, aren’t you tired of hiding?”

Minho grimaced. He hung his head.

He and Kibum bickered like cats and dogs early on in their training and debut, but once they were able to set aside the grudge, both realized that there was something else. They continued to bicker, but the arguments seemed to spark something else. Something deeper within each of them. It was during a particularly heated debate that Minho realized exactly what that spark and tension was. He’d cut Kibum off in the middle of a tirade by kissing him on the mouth. Instead of the shout or slap he’d expected, Kibum had relaxed almost instantly. Though he mumbled that he was still mad when the kiss broke, their fights never had the same level of aggression, and the other side of their relationship flourished naturally, albeit behind closed doors.

Of course, the group knew – and despite Minho’s fears, all three were supportive. Their manager found out relatively early on – when he’d entered a bedroom without knocking to find them in an extremely intimate situation on Minho’s bed. Despite his contractual obligations to the company, he’d kept their secret all this time. But that was it, aside from Kibum’s grandmother – who already had a pretty good idea after a holiday Minho spent at her home with Kibum. Nobody – in over a decade long relationship – truly knew what went on between the two.

Of course, their dynamic was unexpected – rather than cuddling and public affection, they remained apart, choosing bickering as their expression of love rather than one people may notice. But their personalities were well suited to it, and Minho knew he and Kibum both felt fulfilled with their relationship and satisfied with where it was. That was, until now.

“Minho.” Kibum’s voice was sharp, pulling Minho from his memory. “You aren’t going to answer me?”

Minho shook his head. “No, I mean… I agree with you. It’s tiring… How long we’ve hidden, but…”

“But what?” Kibum pressed.

Minho backed up a bit, slumping against the wall. “You know we can’t.”

“You said that. You still haven’t given me a reason why!”

“Our company. Our fans. What would they say?”

“We don’t have a dating ban. And if our fans love us, they’d understand. You don’t give them enough credit.”

“No, we don’t have a ban – but we aren’t supposed to get caught. With women. Can you imagine the chewing out we’d be in for if we came out now?”

“So you want to keep hiding because you’re afraid our boss is going to yell at us?”

“No, Kibum…” Minho sighed. “I don’t want to keep hiding. But think logically, even if a good portion of our fans accept things – not only would we be making ourselves unavailable, we’d be alienating some of our more traditional fans. And while a part of me doesn’t care, realistically – you’re right. It’s 2022 and it shouldn’t matter who someone loves… I don’t want to ruin either of our careers! You would be devastated if you couldn’t work anymore, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t! And you can’t tell me every company you’re working with right now would be peachy if you came out as not only dating – but engaged to a man – your own groupmate even. And SM can’t bench both of us as punishment, which you know they’d want to do. The others can’t do a comeback with just two active members! I don’t want to keep hiding and I don’t want to say no, Kibum. If I had it my way, I’d scream how much I love you from every balcony in Seoul. You know I’m mad for you. But when the wrong person finds out…”

Kibum deflated further. His arms dropped by his sides and he lowered his gaze. Minho knew he’d won, but he wished he hadn’t. He stepped forward.

“Kibummie,” he whispered, grabbing Kibum’s shoulders to pull him into a hug.

“No,” Kibum grumbled. He pushed Minho back without any real effort, just enough to dislodge his hands. “No, you don’t get to pet name me and hold me like you didn’t just—”

“Break your heart,” Minho finished. Kibum looked up at him, his dark eyes wet with unshed tears. Minho gritted his teeth, trying to keep his own emotions down. He remained still, arms at his sides, facing Kibum.

Kibum bared his teeth, the tears finally spilling over. He lunged at Minho and Minho grabbed him, locking him into a hug even as Kibum smacked at his chest. Kibum shoved his body forward, knocking them both backwards into the wall. He punched Minho’s chest once more before collapsing against him, burying his face in his neck.

“It’s not fucking fair,” he snarled, muffled.

“I know,” Minho whispered, holding him so tight his arms ached. Kibum shifted, shoving back against Minho. He ran his lips over his ear.

Minho’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Bummie—” He squeezed tighter. “You’re upset.”

“And you can make it better,” Kibum murmured.

“I can’t… We can’t fix this.”

“No. But we can forget about all the corporate bullshit that runs our lives for an hour.” He kissed Minho’s neck a little more firmly. “And I know you’re as mad as I am, I can feel it in your arms.”

Minho growled softly. He nuzzled against Kibum’s neck before shoving him back, turning them and slamming Kibum’s back against the wall hard enough to rattle the picture hanging there.

Kibum shouted, his eyes widening for a moment before Minho was on him, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was more teeth than lips.

Kibum buried his fingers in Minho’s hair, yanking hard enough that a few strands broke free. Minho hissed, biting Kibum’s bottom lip. He pressed their bodies flush and ground against his hip.

Kibum planted his palms on Minho’s chest and shoved him backwards. The ring box thunked to the floor, but Minho didn’t have a second to reach for it before Kibum was on him again, shoving him backwards through his bedroom door.

They landed on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, fighting with each other’s clothing. Minho knew if he tore something he’d never hear the end of it, but Kibum’s teeth on his shoulders and neck were distracting him far too much to care about little things like buttons.

He swore sharply when Kibum bit down hard on his pec, his hips jerking instinctively. The shaking in his hands finally steadied enough to unhook the final button on Kibum’s shirt and he shoved it off his shoulders, letting Kibum throw it to the floor. As he did, Minho sat up and discarded his own t-shirt. He undid the button on Kibum’s pants and tugged the zipper down. “Take them off.”

Kibum laughed and rolled off him, putting his hands behind his head. “You.”

Minho smirked. He flipped onto his knees, pawing Kibum’s jeans and shorts down over his thighs. He let them bunch just under Kibum’s knees and rose, pulling his remaining clothing off before crawling back onto the bed.

He grabbed Kibum’s hip and rolled him, laughing at the disgruntled cry from him. Minho laid over his legs, pushing his ass open and running his tongue over his rim.

Kibum groaned against the pillow, still trying to wrestle out of his jeans.

“You asshole,” he grumbled.

“You set yourself up,” Minho argued, rubbing gently at the tight ring with his thumb. “Now be quiet, you know you love this.” He grabbed Kibum’s hips and lifted them easily, forcing Kibum to wiggle into a more comfortable position.

“Grab me the lube,” Minho said, reaching around to stroke Kibum’s hardening cock.

Kibum huffed, putting his arms under his head.

“Suit yourself.” Minho shifted and laid over him, pinning him to the bed with his full weight as he dug for the bottle of lubricant in his bedside stand. He gently worked his hips as he did, slotting his cock in the groove of Kibum’s ass and humping lazily.

“You’re an animal,” Kibum huffed. Minho kissed along his neck before nipping his ear. “Thank you.”

“I was implying a pig.”

“Oh geez, I didn’t know you were into barn yard roleplay,” Minho teased, laughing when Kibum smacked his side. He poured some of the lube onto his fingers and rubbed them to warm it. “Learn new things about my feisty little group mate every day.”

“I’m going to hit you with a brick,” Kibum grumbled.

“No you won’t.”

“Oh, what’s going to stop me?”

Minho smirked against his shoulder. He shifted, bringing his hand down and slipping one lubed finger easily into Kibum’s hole. “I’m the only one that knows exactly how to make you scream like this.”

Whatever insult Kibum had planned died in his throat, a low whine erupting instead as Minho found his prostate and stroked it gently.

“That’s what I thought,” Minho whispered.

Kibum smacked at his side again, a little gentler. Minho moved back down and began to finger him, loosening him enough to slip a second finger in. At the same time, he let his other hand wander around to Kibum’s front, gently teasing his cock with the tips of his fingers, stroking them gently up and down the shaft and over his balls, swiping at his tip with his thumb. Despite his complaints, Kibum relaxed into the touches; this was one of the few things that he willingly let Minho do to him without a power struggle. He soon added his tongue, swiping over the delicate flesh and thrusting between his fingers into Kibum’s warm center.

His own cock ached between his thighs, neglected, throbbing each time Kibum’s voice did that soft, high whine he was apt to do when he was being pleasured. He released Kibum’s cock to rub his own for a second, desperate to bury himself deep inside the beautiful man under him. He pulled back and added a bit more lube, giving another spread with his fingers. Kibum pressed back, whining again. Minho laid over him, his cock sliding through the slick.

“Relax.”

“You’re not even gonna take my pants off?” Kibum complained, wiggling his hips away from Minho’s cock. “You’d better not treat me like some cheap escort!”

Minho laughed sharply at that. He pressed a kiss to Kibum’s cheek, ignoring the glare he got in return. “You are anything but cheap, Kibummie,” he cooed.

Kibum frowned, and Minho smirked, moving back to remove his jeans and shorts the rest of the way. Before Kibum could take advantage and move, Minho forced his thighs open and pinned him again, grinding against his ass.

“Did you just call me a hooker?” Kibum spluttered.

“I would never. I simply said you were expensive. Now shush and relax.”

Minho slicked his cock and lined it up, holding Kibum’s hip with his other hand as he began to push in.

Kibum yelped in surprise, his back arching delightfully as Minho pushed his cock past the still tight ring. “Fuck—“ He whined. Minho kissed over his shoulder and the crook of his neck, moving slow so he wouldn’t needlessly hurt him. His hand found Kibum’s under the pillow, lacing their fingers together. The tip slipped in with another delightful cry from Kibum, and a low grunt from Minho.

“Relax,” Minho demanded. He pulled his hips back until the tip began to stretch the rim of his hole again and then snapped them forward, driving his cock in to the base.

Kibum screamed into the pillow, his hand squeezing Minho’s tight enough to send an ache up to his elbow. His other hand flew back, first grabbing Minho’s hip then his own ass, pulling himself open.

Minho picked up a punishing pace, pulling his cock out until the tip caught and slamming back in, hard and fast. Each thrust he grunted against Kibum’s neck, and Kibum screamed freely into the pillow, writhing under Minho.

This was why he’d invested in sound proofing his bedroom. The thought occurred suddenly, and Minho chuckled. Kibum had always been loud in bed, but it wasn’t until they got their own places that he really let go like this. It was the sexiest noise Minho had ever heard.

He leaned up, spreading his own thighs to force Kibum’s open further.

He pulled open his ass, watching the impossibly tight rim open to accept his cock as he thrusted. He pulled it out suddenly, and Kibum’s hole gaped for a few seconds before clenching back down.

“Don’t—“ Kibum begged, looking back at him. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re gonna ride me,” Minho said.

“Like hell. Put it back in, I was so close!”

Minho shook his head. He pulled Kibum up and shoved him onto his ass.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, he drizzled lube over his cock and leaned back, looking pointedly at Kibum, who was doing his best to glare.

“It’s right there. You want it, put it back in yourself.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t.”

He tugged Kibum’s arm and laid back on his elbows.

Kibum swore under his breath but straddled Minho’s hips. He looked down at him as he grabbed his cock and slipped it back into him. They both gasped as it slid home.

“I don’t see why you made me do this, you know I don’t like it.”

“You just don’t like working for your orgasms,” Minho said. “You look fucking amazing when you ride me. I miss it.”

He let his eyes roam over Kibum’s body for a moment, his cock throbbing deep in his ass. He was telling the truth; he’d always loved watching Kibum like this. The sleek curve of his throat, the way his chest moved while he tried to keep his balance on Minho’s broader hips, the bounce of his stuff cock as he rode Minho’s cock, it was better than any erotic film.

Minho rubbed his hips, laying flat on his back. Kibum rolled his eyes. He began to ride Minho lazily, more squeezing his cock than moving on it. Minho didn’t mind, really. He reached out, running his hands up Kibum’s thighs. He sat up slowly, hooking his arms around Kibum’s lower back.

“I said ride me,” he murmured.

“I am.”

Minho squeezed his middle. He lifted Kibum off his cock and slammed him down, grinning when Kibum squealed. His arms flew around Minho’s neck, holding tight as Minho began to lift and drop him, impaling him on his cock over and over.

“This is riding, Kibum. This is taking my cock like you need it.”

Kibum yelped against his shoulder, his body shuddering in Minho’s arms. Minho groaned.

“So fucking tight like this, Bummie. Squeezing my cock, gonna make me come.”

“Don’t you dare— Oh!” Kibum shouted. “Don’t you dare finish first.”

“Why not?” Minho panted. He held Kibum about an inch off his lap and planted his feet on the floor. He began to fuck up into him as hard as he could, savoring the delightful shriek from the man on his arms. “You need my cock, don’t you, Bummie?” Minho taunted. “You want me to make you come all over yourself, hm? Make you scream my name, maybe come untouched, huh?”

Kibum squeezed his shoulders tighter. “Fuck you—“ He gritted, gasping afterward.

“Yeah, you do like to fuck me,” Minho continued in a low growl. “But right now I’m fucking you. Your ass is open for my cock, and you’re squeezing it so good, you’re so desperate to take it. You want it, just say it.”

Kibum said nothing, but his short nails dug into Minho’s shoulders. He smirked. “That’s okay, I can read your pretty little body like a book after all these years. I know exactly what you need.”

Though every urge was telling him not to, Minho pulled Kibum off him. He pushed him onto the bed, scrambling over him quickly.

Kibum’s face and chest were flushed, panting audibly as he looked up at Minho. He spread his legs willingly and Minho settled between them. He added more lube to his fingers, thrusting two into Kibum. He began to finger him quickly, the wet squelching noise filling the room and making the flush spread to his ears as well. Minho smirked. He rubbed his fingers over his cock to wipe off the rest of the lube onto it.

He lined up slammed home while laying over him, their noses nearly touching as they shouted together.

He began to fuck into him hard and fast, gripping Kibum’s hip to stop him from being moved up the bed. Kibum’s legs rose, winding around Minho’s middle like they were made for it. They fit together so perfectly like this.

Minho met Kibum’s dark gaze, a mix of adoration and lust that he was sure reflected from both of them. Kibum’s lips were parted, soft squeals forced out on each deep thrust.

“Please—“ Kibum finally panted. Minho smirked. He lowered his head, nipping Kibum’s earlobe.

“Take my cock,” he growled, and Kibum’s body squeezed around him. “That’s it, you take it so good, Kibummie. Your ass fits so perfect, the best squeeze, made for my cock,” he continued. Kibum moaned.

Minho felt his hand move and leaned back. He grabbed Kibum’s hands and pinned them by his sides to the bed, slamming harder into him. His cock lay on his stomach, a deep ruddy color as precome and a few weak dribbles of come ran out of it.

“Nuh-uh,” Minho panted. “You don’t get to cheat. You wanted to come on my cock, you’re gonna do it right.”

Kibum swore, grinding his hips down against Minho. “Then stop teasing!” He shouted. “Fuck me like you mean it!”

Minho lifted himself a little higher, sliding his knees wider apart. He let go of Kibum’s wrists to grab his hips, using him as leverage to thrust as hard as he could. Kibum screamed, arching higher.

“Yes! Fuck, keep going! Harder, oh God—“ He fisted the sheets, his ass squeezing painfully around Minho’s cock.

Minho gritted his teeth, watching Kibum fall apart under him. He willed off his own climax, using all his strength to keep up the brutal pace. Kibum arched again. His body went rigid before shuddering, a shout ripping from his throat. His cock jerked hard on his belly as spurts of come began shooting and dribbling out, forced further with Minho’s thrusts. His ass squeezed and released with each burst of come, teasing Minho with his own desperate climax. He fell over Kibum, every nerve on fire as he teetered over that edge.

“Kibum—“ He forced through gritted teeth. “Please, I need—“

“Yes—“ Kibum gasped, still shuddering through his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Minho announced. He buried his face in the crook of Kibum’s neck, still rutting desperately into him. The pleasure washed over him like a wave of pure heat. His balls ached with the force of his orgasm, spilling deeply into Kibum’s body as he grunted rhythmically with each rope of come.

The energy drained from Minho’s body as his climax faded, and he slumped over Kibum, trying to catch his breath. Kibum smacked his shoulder.

“Yah, get off me, you mammoth,” he complained, still breathless himself. Minho laughed and carefully pulled out, wincing when Kibum hissed. He flipped over next to him, staring up at the ceiling as his brain sought out higher functions once more.

“You are so fucking loud,” Kibum complained after a few moments of blissful silence. Minho laughed. He looked over at him, and Kibum was grinning back.

“Look who’s talking. I’m surprised my windows are intact with the way you were screeching.”

“You grunted right in my ear.”

Minho rolled his eyes. He sat up, groaning and rubbing his lower back. “I’ll get us something to clean up.” He said after a moment.

“Wait.” Kibum grabbed Minho’s wrist. “Don’t go yet.”

Minho looked back at him for a moment then nodded. He laid back down, letting Kibum move against his chest, wrapping one arm around his middle. Minho sighed softly, nosing Kibum’s hair and stroking a hand down his arm.

“I’m still sad,” Kibum finally whispered when the silence had stretched on past the twenty-minute mark.

“I know.”

“It’s not even coming out or actually getting married. Obviously, I know that’s not even legally an option for us right now. It’s just… Knowing I can’t even propose to you.”

Minho sighed softly. “Kibum…”

“I’m not talking about to make you sad or make you the bad guy. You had good points, I know you did, and I know if I’d thought things through a little more, I would have seen them.”

“I might have had good points, but I wasn’t entirely right,” Minho said.

“What do you mean?”

Minho shifted, making Kibum look up at him. “We can’t legally get married, right? That’s not an option here, and it doesn’t seem like it will be any time soon.”

Kibum nodded.

“And I know we said that if we ever got engaged we’d come out… Why do we have to?”

Kibum grimaced a bit, but Minho continued. “I know… But think of it like this. We shouldn’t have to put a pause on our relationship just because of our work. We can’t come out right now, not in any big grand way… But we don’t have to hide as much as we normally do. We can work on easing people into it, gauge responses.”

“So what, slowly come out?”

Minho shrugged. “Sorta. More just… Stop pretending we’re something we’re not. Realistically, we don’t act all that different privately than we do already. We’ve always been affectionate physically, and aside from some pet names and heavy petting…” He smirked a little. Kibum rolled his eyes.

“We don’t do much different,” Minho finished. So, why don’t we just relax into that? Stop directly denying things… Don’t worry about turning a gentle touch into a joke…” Minho slid his hand down Kibum’s arm again, squeezing gently. “Just be ourselves and see how people react?”

Kibum chewed the inside of his lip, scowling at nothing in particular as he mulled over Minho’s suggestion.

“It has merit,” Kibum finally said. “And it makes a lot of sense for us… You were right earlier, when you pointed out our careers – and the other members’ too. I’ve always tried not to deny who I am already, so maybe… This is a good next step.”

“Maybe we don’t feel like we have to hide so much if we do it this way. We’ve never been one for grand public displays of affection anyways… So, this could just be… Freeing. And if people start asking questions… We’ll deal with it. Not so much screaming our love from the balcony but… Whispering it to people who are ready to listen.”

Kibum nodded. He met Minho’s gaze again. “Does that mean you aren’t saying no anymore?” He asked.

“Ask me again.”

Kibum scoffed. “Why should I ask you again?” He sat up and smacked Minho’s chest. “You already know the question, just give me an answer.” He whined.

“No,” Minho sat up as well. He straddled Kibum and pushed him down, brushing their noses together. “Ask me again, Kibum. I want to do this right.”

“Ack, when have you ever done anything right?” Kibum sneered. Minho smirked, kissing his mouth. “I did one thing right,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“I picked the right lover.”

Kibum made a gagging noise, rolling his eyes back so far Minho could on see whites. He shoved him hard, dislodging him and pushing him over. “You are disgusting.”

Minho laughed brightly, watching Kibum stand head toward the exit. He let his head fall onto the pillow, a soft smile on his lips.

Despite their teasing, even after all these years, Minho sometimes got butterflies looking at the man who’d decided – against his own better judgement – to stay by his side. Kibum could have anyone in Korea – hell, anyone in a multitude of countries, regardless of gender or sexuality. He could have someone who complimented him perfectly, a pet owner, someone who understood fashion. A model, another musician, a producer, a CEO of half the companies on the top lists.

Yet he chose the boy who debuted with him. The teen who he told to eat a stone, the one he glared at across countless dinner tables while they pretended to get along. The one who accidentally bloodied his nose during their first – and really only – physical fight. He chose Minho, despite the struggles they knew they’d endure. They avoided contact save for texting during enlistment for fear of getting caught, despite their jokes the contrary. They huddled together in bathroom stalls sharing kisses during their early years to celebrate wins for the group, too scared to even kiss in their dorm before the others knew. They worked together to create music that thousands loved, they stood side by side with the rest of their members and withstood criticism, trauma, and hate.

Kibum could have chosen anyone to spend his life with, and yet he chose to remain loyal to the foolish athlete who yelled at him to clean up the dishes their first week together. It was baffling and humbling, and it was amazing, even after all this time.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Kibum’s tone was sharp with alarm.

Minho blinked and looked up. He blinked again and swiped at his face, wiping tears that he hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Nothing.”

Kibum’s frown deepened, creasing his forehead.

“Don’t do that,” Minho scolded. He sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed.

“Do what?”

“Scowl like that.” He rubbed his thumb over Kibum’s forehead. “You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

“I’m too pretty to get wrinkles, old man. That’s you and your refusal to wear sunscreen, eh?” Kibum teased. His expression softened then and he touched Minho’s cheek. “Seriously, why were you crying? We don’t have to do this, Min.”

Minho shook his head. He wrapped his hand around Kibum’s slender wrist, squeezing gently. “That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“Drop it. You’ll just make fun of me.”

Kibum pouted. “Probably, but I definitely want to know now. Anything to tease you about.”

Minho chuckled. “Fine. I was just thinking about you.”

“Well that’s insulting. Thinking about me made you cry?”

Minho shook his head. He pulled Kibum’s hand off his cheek and kissed the back of it. “No. I was thinking about how you chose me. We fought so bad as teenagers. I was a dick, and you still chose me. And stayed with me all this time.”

“You were a dick,” Kibum agreed. He sat next to Minho on the bed, lacing their fingers together.

“I was. Remember when I punched you? Our manager was so pissed, I thought he was gonna beat my ass.”

“He should have, you nearly broke my nose.” Kibum touched the bridge of his nose, pouting. “But I deserved that. I was really being cruel to you.”

“I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“You made up for it.” Kibum said. He nudged Minho with his shoulder. “I wouldn’t date someone who didn’t treat me right, Choi.”

Minho nodded, smiling softly. “I know you wouldn’t. Which is why I was crying. You’re so aware of your needs and you’re unafraid to state them. You could have your pick of anyone you wanted to date or sleep with… And you chose me. And you’ve stayed with me all this time, even when we couldn’t be together. I wouldn’t have faulted you if you’d found someone else… But you stuck around.”

Kibum scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t know why.” He met Minho’s gaze, his own smile shifting to something gentler when Minho didn’t laugh. “Because despite our differences, you’re a good man. And you are a good fit for me. You treat me good, Minho. That’s all I want in a partner. A person who knows what I need and can fulfill those needs. You do that.”

“Yeah?”

Kibum nodded. He put his head on Minho’s shoulder. “Who else could sit and handle my nagging with a smile?”

Minho laughed then, pressing a kiss to Kibum’s head. “It’s tolerable. But that’s why I was teary. I was just thinking about you picking me. We’ve been through a lot – I’m just… Glad you stuck by me.”

Kibum sighed. “You’re right, Minho.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to tease you about being a total softie for years.”

Minho groaned annoyedly, shoving away from Kibum. “You’re a dick.”

“You love me for it.”

“I do.” Minho said. He met Kibum’s eyes and smiled. “Despite it all, I really fucking do.”

Kibum smiled a little at that and nodded. “I’m glad…” He opened his other hand, passing the small ring box back and forth.

Minho reached out, touching his leg. “Wait. Come shower with me first. Let’s have dinner together.”

“You want me to propose to you over dinner? What is this, a romantic comedy?” Kibum shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

Minho laughed. “You’d rather do it like this? Covered in come and naked?”

Kibum opened his mouth to argue then paused, pouting as he glanced down at their bodies. “Fine.”

Minho took the box and set it on the nightstand. He rose and headed into his bathroom, hearing Kibum following after him. Minho let him step into the shower first, following after when the water warmed enough.

They moved easily around one another in the shower; years in the same dorm had given them more than enough practice in one half the size, but Minho still found himself reaching for Kibum, a gentle brush of fingers against his side, a squeeze to his arm, his ass, the back of his neck. And despite Kibum’s eye rolls and scoffs at the passing displays of affection, he leaned into them, sharing a soft kiss under the warm spray before Minho turned it off. No words needed to be spoken while they dried, following the path back to the bedroom to gather their discarded clothing. Minho changed into sweats and a t-shirt, looking in the mirror above his dresser to fix his damp hair.

Kibum’s annoyed shout drew his attention behind him. “What?”

Kibum was holding his shirt, scowling at it. He held it up. “How? Do you ever wash your floors?” He growled.

“What am I looking at?” Minho deadpanned.

“Do you not see the dirt all over this!”

“No.”

Kibum shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration. He tossed the shirt into Minho’s hamper and elbowed him out of the way.

“Hey, what’re you—”

“I’m not about to leave in dirty clothes. We said we were going to come out gradually, I feel like me being freshly showered while wearing a wrinkled, dirty shirt is a pretty clear sign that we fucked.”

“And you wearing my clothes isn’t?” Minho asked, trying desperately to stuff the laugh that threatened to erupt back. He crossed his arms.

“Bah, they won’t know.”

“You greatly underestimate our fans, Bummie. Here.” Minho reached in and pulled out a shirt that fit him tighter across the chest. “This one should fit you better, stop destroying my drawers.” He bumped Kibum with his hip to move him over and set to fixing the clothing that had been ruffled through.

Kibum pulled it on, scowling at himself in the mirror. “What the hell is this?” He asked, his nose wrinkling up.

“It doesn’t smell, stop it,” Minho scolded.

“No, it’s hideous.”

“It’s just old. Most of my clothes drown you, I figured you’d want something that at least mostly fit.”

“What is this logo?”

Minho glanced back, tilting his head a little as he looked at the faded logo on the shirt. “Uh… You know, I can’t remember which team, but it’s some sports team from Europe.”

“Sports team?” Kibum spluttered. He tugged the shirt off, throwing it at Minho’s head. “You’re a savage. Move over.”

Minho scowled. “What’s wrong with wearing an old sports shirt?”

“Nobody would believe that’s mine!” Kibum complained. “You were the one that said our fans notice things, you don’t think they’re gonna blow up my social media asking why I’m wearing a hideous old sports shirt from 2010?”

“It’s not that old.”

“Not the point!” Kibum dug through the piles of folded shirts, hunting for something he deemed as acceptable.

“Hey! I just fixed those,” Minho snapped, dropping the shirt on the top of his dresser.

“Oh, quit complaining, you big baby,” Kibum muttered.

Minho grabbed the shirt he was attempting to unfold, but Kibum held fast. “Let go.”

“No.”

Minho gritted his teeth. “You don’t have to unfold every single one of them, you can see the logo on the fronts.”

“I need to look at the fit,” Kibum argued, tugging the shirt back. Minho gripped tighter, glaring at Kibum.

“It’s a t-shirt. It fits like a t-shirt. Just put the stupid thing on, Key.”

“No. Unlike you, I have style. Let go.”

“No, just put it on.”

“I can’t put it on until you let it go,” Kibum said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Minho rolled his eyes. He let go of the shirt.

Kibum smirked and opened it, holding it up. “Oh no. Nope.” He tossed it back into the drawer and reached for another.

“Hey!” Minho grabbed his hands and pushed him backwards. “Stop it.”

Kibum pouted, crossing his arms. “Find me something cute then.” He whined. “If you own anything even halfway acceptable,” he added under his breath.

Minho sighed heavily. “You are such a finicky little priss,” he grumbled, straightening the drawer as he searched through it for something Kibum would accept.

“I just have standards.”

Minho scoffed. “You act like I wear a garbage bag around. I’m fashionable.”

Kibum laughed sharply. Minho glared at him. “You know, you’re really just making yourself look bad.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re the one who’s dating me. And you’ve been fucking and, or dating me for years. So what’s that say about your actual taste?”

Kibum’s upper lip curled and he rolled his eyes, making a disgusted face. “You have other assets. I overlook the fashion disaster.”

“Oh yeah?” Minho asked, crouching to dig in another drawer. “What assets are those then that you can overlook my oh-so-awful style?”

Kibum tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you have a big cock.”

Minho startled, nearly hitting his head on his dresser in surprise. He looked up at Kibum, eyes wide.

“What? You can’t tell me you’re modest about that.”

“I—I mean, I’ve never…” Minho’s cheeks warmed and he knew he was turning red. Kibum laughed brightly, placing a hand in front of his mouth.

“You’ve never what? You’re telling me you haven’t compared it?”

“Not… Really. I mean I’ve not… Really looked at many other guys besides you. And I know I’m a little bigger than yours but I figured it was because I was taller,” he mumbled, playing with the collar of a shirt.

“Oh honey.” Kibum stretched out on the bed, still laughing a little. “No, Min. You have a good sized dick. Trust me. And you know how to use it. Well, you do now…”

Minho looked over, frowning.

“Oh come on, the first time we had sex you rutted at me like a dog in heat. That was so entirely unpleasant that it’s seared into my brain forever.”

“I was a virgin,” Minho mumbled.

“I know. And it wasn’t all bad. You were kind enough to make me come even though you finished first. Most men wouldn’t. That’s how I knew I could train you.”

“I’m not a dog!”

“No, but men and dogs… They’re both trainable.” Kibum bit his bottom lip and grinned at Minho’s offended expression. “Hmm, so why do I tolerate your awful style and keep you around. You have a big dick, you suck cock like none other, I swear, you’d make a killing in porn with that mouth alone. You’ve got a great body, but if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it make you feel three inches tall.”

“Do you like anything about me that isn’t horny?” Minho grumbled.

“You’re tall.”

“You hate that I’m tall,” Minho muttered.

“No, I hate that you’re taller than me. But I like that you’re tall.” Kibum paused.

Minho’s expression soured. He didn’t want to be offended – he knew deep down Kibum was teasing, but it still hurt. He was used to being objectified by people in the streets – it was partly his job – but it stung when his friends did it.

He looked back into the drawer, thumbing through the shirts to find something, ignoring the nagging hurt that prodded, making him want to snap.

Kibum’s arms wrapped around his chest, and Minho tensed. He let Kibum hug him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You stopped paying attention. I wasn’t done with my reasons.”

Minho remained quiet, blood rushing in his ears. Starting a fight was the last thing he wanted to do, but staying silent wouldn’t help. “Because I didn’t want to hear anymore,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. It still came out clipped.

Kibum’s mouth turned downward against his shoulder, and Minho could picture his little frowning pout perfectly without seeing.

“Those are just the physical reasons. I think I really keep you around because I love the way you smile and laugh. I like throwing a tantrum and knowing you’re going to stand there and laugh so hard your face turns red. I love it when I do something so embarrassing and you shrink down about two feet and try to hide behind whichever of our members is nearest. I love how you interact with our fans, and reporters, and friends – Anyone. You’re so respectful and kind to everyone, no matter what they look like or how old they are or who they are.

I keep you around because I love the way you take care of all of us, even though you’re one of the youngest members of our group. The way you can make any of us laugh when we’re upset, but you’re the first to speak up if we’re doing something wrong.

“And because you have an amazing work ethic, even though you’re late half the time.” He chuckled, and Minho smiled despite himself. “It’s because of how busy you are, not because you’re lazy. I remember watching you when we were kids, how hard you worked to catch up to the rest of us because singing and dancing was never your plan. I admired that even if I thought you were a mean little jerk in other ways.” Minho chuckled, lowering his gaze.

“And watching you now, you’ve become so amazing at your job, you’ve got so much talent.”

Kibum pressed his mouth against his neck gently for a moment. “The way you are with kids. They are so drawn to you and you handle them so well. I think I knew I had fallen for you as way more than a friend when we did that old show with the kiddo. Seeing how you were with him, I know we all helped but… There was something about it. I still get that feeling when I think about it… I also love that we can stand and talk for hours and not even realize it until we’re being yelled at to get back to work. How time with you moves different, like it doesn’t matter.”

Kibum’s grip tightened around him. “I stay with you because I love you, you fucking moron. Not your body or mind but you. And a bad sense of fashion, or terrible taste in hobbies isn’t going to change that.”

Minho relaxed against him, the anger fading from his body and taking the tension with it. “You’re going soft, Kim Kibum.”

“If you ever repeat a word of what I said, I’ll shave your eyebrows off in your sleep.”

Minho’s laugh barked out of him, the comment taking him off guard. Kibum let him go, his softer laugh bubbling up behind Minho’s. He looked back.

“You would never.”

“Don’t test me. I was this close to doing it when we were kids, but I was afraid of what our boss would do to me if I did.”

“I’m afraid to hear about all the times I was this close to looking like a laughing stock when we were younger.” Minho joked.

“You don’t want to know,” Kibum said. He settled onto the floor, his expression relaxing from the grin into something more content. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know you’re more than your body. I wouldn’t ever imply that.”

Minho nodded. “I know you were joking, it just still stung.”

“I went too far with the joke. I’m sorry. You do have a beautiful body and face, but you’re so much more than that. I know that and so do the people that care about you.”

“Thank you.”

Kibum scooted forward again and nudged Minho gently with his shoulder. “You really don’t think you’re well-endowed though?” He asked.

Minho groaned, setting his forehead on the closed dresser drawer with a thump. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not even a second. Do you think I’ve been faking it all these years?”

“No, I just… I don’t know, I figured that you just liked what I did.”

“I do, but you could do the same thing with a micropenis and I wouldn’t be near as enthusiastic.”

Minho laughed a little at that. “I thought it wasn’t the size of the boat that mattered.”

“Only men with tiny penises say that, honey.” He paused. “Or people who don’t want to hurt the feelings of a man with a tiny penis.”

“Well, good to know, I guess.”

“Do you ever regret us getting serious so early?” Kibum asked then. Minho looked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve never really dated seriously aside from me.”

“You’re right. A couple girls in high school and… I kissed few boys in secret but… Yeah, nothing serious.”

“Do you worry? You might be missing out?”

Minho frowned a little, considering Kibum’s question. “I don’t think so. Growing up in our industry helped, I think. Realistically, if I wanted to date someone normal it’d be a pain. Hiding it and making sure he or she didn’t let it slip. I probably wouldn’t dare date someone who identified as a guy, just for fear of someone finding out. And that’s not fair to them. You’re dating some idol, you wanna tell people. But that’s not how things are. And if I wanted to date in the industry – the same thing. So if we hadn’t gotten together, I likely just wouldn’t have dated up until now. A few hookups, maybe, but…” He shrugged.

“It is easier, with us being in the same group,” Kibum agreed. “We don’t have to make excuses to hang out.”

“And people expect us to be close enough to be touching or cuddling.”

“You don’t ever wonder if others would… Be better with you?”

Minho shook his head. “No, not really. Sure I can look at a cute person and say they’re cute but any real serious future plans I make… They have you in them.”

Kibum chuckled. “Good. So you won’t get bored with me.”

“Never, have you seen you?”

“Why yes, I have. You’re right. I’m too interesting to quit.” Kibum joked, grinning broadly as he did. Minho chuckled. He pulled out a soft pink colored shirt.

“Here, this will be cute on you. It’s cut nice too, I can’t wear it, my arms are too big but. I think it’ll suit you.”

Kibum narrowed his eyes. He opened the shirt and gave it a shake. “It’s acceptable.”

“I’m glad you approve, your majesty,” Minho teased. He leaned around the shirt and kissed Kibum’s cheek. “I’m going to order dinner.”

He rose and walked into the main room, finding his phone where he’d dropped it on the counter hours before. He rubbed his shoulder, the aches from earlier returning now that the warmth of the shower had faded. Well… Minho glanced at the massage chair. He smiled softly.

Padding over to it, he settled into it, taking a moment to figure out how to turn it on before groaning contentedly when it hit exactly the right spots.

“That sounded far too erotic for you to be alone,” Kibum said, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom.

Minho smiled dreamily. “This is heaven, Bummie,” he mumbled.

“You didn’t order yet.”

“It’s been five minutes.”

Kibum sighed and padded out into the living room, sprawling across Minho’s lap. He plucked the phone from his hand and placed the order himself, tucking Minho’s phone into his jeans pocket before cuddling tighter against Minho. “I can feel it through you, it feels weird,” Kibum mumbled, his face buried against Minho’s side.

“It feels amazing, I don’t ever want to get up.”

“I’ve lost you, oh no,” Kibum teased. Minho laughed, rubbing Kibum’s thigh gently.

“We’re not young anymore, Bummie.”

“Speak for yourself, old man.”

“You’re literally older than me.”

“Yes, but here I am, more flexible and without backaches. It’s all those sports you play, and the exercise, I’m telling you. Too much of a good thing.”

Minho chuckled. “Oh yes, the evils of a healthy body. Those sports and exercise are what gave me the body you just said you like.”

“Hm… True. I suppose it’s a fair trade then.”

Minho chuckled, squeezing Kibum’s upper arm playfully.

The two laid in a comfortable silence until the food came, each in their own minds as they shared space and closeness.

Dinner was just as quiet, though Minho could sense a thread of tension forming between the two of them. Though they had already discussed it, the knowledge that it was coming was still a lot. Kibum rose halfway through dinner, ducking into the bedroom before going to the bathroom. He sat back down quietly afterward.

Minho reached across the table, setting his hand over Kibum’s.

“Hey.”

Kibum looked up at him, pressing his lips together. He said nothing, but Minho could see the nerves in his expression. He smiled softly. “It’s okay.”

Kibum’s shoulders sagged a little. He smiled softly and nodded, flipping the hand under Minho’s to squeeze his wrist gently for a moment before removing it. Setting his spoon down, Kibum cleared his throat.

“It seems silly,” he said softly. “You already know what’s coming, and I… I already know what answer you said you’d give. I shouldn’t be nervous.”

“It is silly,” Minho said, grinning when Kibum pouted at him. “But it also makes sense. Just take a breath. There’s no rush.”

“No, maybe not for you. But if I don’t get it done with I’ll lose the nerve. I was terrified the first time and I’m just as terrified now.”

Kibum reached below the table, slouching a bit in the chair. His hand emerged, holding the ring box. He placed it between their plates and met Minho’s eyes.

“I asked you once before, and you weren’t very nice.”

Minho smiled weakly.

“So I’ll ask you again, and if you make me cry I might hit you. Wear my ring?”

He lifted the case, revealing a shining silver band. It was nothing fancy at first glance – smaller than the average wedding band, something that would go unnoticed by most. Minho smiled softly.

“Of course, Bummie. I’ll wear your ring,” he whispered.

Kibum pulled it out of the box and held it out for Minho to take.

“You don’t wanna put it on me?” Minho teased.

“Look at the inside,” Kibum said softly.

Minho took it, tilting the ring to catch the light. Inside, engraved in delicate letters, was their debut date, the date of their first kiss, and both of their birthdates. Minho grinned. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I fully expect mine to be just as stunning,” Kibum said, smirking. Minho knew he was only half joking, but he laughed nonetheless. He slipped the ring on the proper finger, the weight comfortable but strange, as he rarely – if ever – placed jewelry there. He held up his hand, admiring it for a moment.

“We’ll buy yours tomorrow,” Minho said then. He reached across and took Kibum’s hand. “I’ll let you come pick something out, something you’ll want.”

“Really?”

Minho nodded. “I know you have a certain idea in mind already.” He grinned when Kibum nodded. “So it makes sense. That way I know you’ll love it.”

“What if someone asks?”

“Not any of their business. I wanted to buy something for you, simple as that.”

Kibum smiled softly. “Deal. I have a free day tomorrow so, we can do that.”

“Spend the night with me,” Minho whispered. He squeezed Kibum’s wrist. “Please?”

“My terrible morning habits won’t annoy you?” Kibum teased.

“You won’t hit me with a pillow when I wake up and dare walk around shirtless?”

Kibum laughed at that. He leaned over the table a bit, and Minho met him halfway in a kiss. “I’ve gotten used to it,” Kibum mumbled when they broke it.

“Then you’ll stay?”

“Tonight, yes. I’ll stay.”

As they finished dinner, Minho couldn’t help but keep glancing at the ring, touching it gently. Though they weren’t coming out formally, it held so much meaning in such a small piece of metal. They couldn’t get married, couldn’t even really tell many people, but he felt like something vital in his life had changed.

After they cleared the table and did the dishes, they found themselves back in bed, sharing gentle kisses and increasingly less gentle petting as they watched a program Kibum had put on. It felt domestic and calm – and, Minho realized – it felt right.

What they had was meant to be, arguments and all. They were fire and water but they worked together, complemented each other in a way that Minho didn’t imagine anyone else could. Kibum completed his life. With or without the amazing massage chair in his living room – he had all the happiness he needed, right there in his arms.

#minkey #shinee fanfic #kibum x minho #minho x kibum #musicbingo23 #mywriting

31 notes · View notes

cui-nisi · 1 year

Text

A Dose of TLC (jk x jm)

Notes•

Pairing: Bartender Jungkook x Customer Jimin

Genre: strangers to lovers, slight smut (mild), au, bar, flirting, comfort

Summary: After Jimin completely breaks things off with his boyfriend of two years he's in the need of a distraction…

Warnings: emotional pain/emotional hurt, slight swearing, implied/referenced drug use, mild eventual smut

WC: 8,349

Enjoy!

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

Jimin had just about had it with his boyfriend. The two years of trust, care, and love he had devoted and poured into his partner were wasted and spilled all over their bed as Jimin stormed out of the room after witnessing his boyfriend fucking someone else upon entering his bedroom.

“Baby- wait!”

Jimin ignored the pleas of his now ex-boyfriend as he snatched his car keys from the kitchen counter, quickly striding over to the front door before he felt a hot hand grip his shoulder.

“Fuck off!” he shouted, disgust framing the scowl on his face at the thought of his ex-boyfriend's hand on his body after it had touched someone else.

“Jimin- wait, please! It isn’t what it looks like.”

The man rolled his eyes as he did his best to keep the hot streaks of anger from spilling over his eyes.

“Yeah right, Taehyung. This is the second fucking time- and in our bed no less!”

The wispy tresses of the fall breeze cascaded over Jimin’s face once he made it out of the apartment building, Taehyung hot on his heels, his pleading voice quickly turning into annoyance at Jimin’s uncooperativeness.

“Jesus Jimin. Slow the fuck down! You’re being dramatic!”

The man couldn't believe the words being spewed from his ex-lover’s lips. He wouldn’t let his manipulative boyfriend talk him back into his arms again and instead focused on clearing his tear-blurred eyesight enough to spot his car in the parking garage.

“Baby, c’mon. What’re you doing?” Taehyung asked once Jimin approached his car, the vehicle chirped obediently at the click of the man’s keys.

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing, Taehyung?”

Not waiting for another response Jimin gripped the door handle of his black BMW before hauling it open and hurridly plopping himself into the sleek leather seats while Taehyung rushed to the driver’s side- narrowly avoiding getting his hand crushed in between the car door when he caught the edge of the metal frame, holding it open.

“Move or I’ll break your hand,” Jimin growled as he tried to shut the door close but sadly his boyfriend was stronger and was able to hold his stance.

“Jimin- listen. What you saw… it-it was a mistake, I swear. I’d never intentionally do anything to hurt you.”

“Great speech. Are you done now?”

The taller man huffed at his boyfriend’s response, his patience running thin as he did his best to appease him. “Really Jimin? This is how you act when I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you? This is why we could never work out.”

Jimin could feel his eyes practically fly out of his sockets, was his boyfriend always this tone-deaf? He couldn’t help but stare dumbfoundedly at the man currently stopping him from leaving, his sharp dark eyebrows furrowed thus creasing his forehead, and his eyes were filled with a brooding darkness that honed in on Jimin’s startled gaze.

“You really want to know why we never worked out? It was because you couldn’t keep it in your fucking pants and because I could never call out your manipulative bullshit. But that changes today. I’m done, Taehyung. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t talk to me– we’re over.” With one last look at his past, Jimin saw a flash of the joyful memories he once had with his boyfriend that had long passed before shoving the man’s hand off of his door and closing it.

Jimin had to leave, he didn’t know where the hell was going to go but he just needed to get away from the memories that plagued him at his apartment. His thoughts were all scrambled in his head and he could feel his chest begin to restrict and contract with anxiety while his heart knocked against his rib cage, a dull ache filling up the beating vessel.

He wouldn’t- no- he couldn’t think about his now ex. This day marked the beginning of a new era for Jimin. As much as he felt himself wanting to pull the car over and break down on the side of the road he instead forced his foot to press harder on the gas pedal. He needed to get away, he needed a distraction. He knew he made the right choice breaking it off with Taehyung but the pull of pain he felt at leaving the person he thought he loved for two years was a difficult adversary to ignore.

Jimin supposed that his body thought alcohol would help in quieting his pain as he soon found himself in front of one of his favorite gay bars. He used to frequent it often as his friend worked there but once he got into a relationship Taehyung demanded that he stopped going since he feared Jimin would hook up with someone from the bar.

Jimin snorted bitterly as he recalled the memory and made his way inside the club. When he entered he noted the changes that were made since the last time he had visited which included the remodeled dance floor that showcased the multicolored LED square tiles that lit up the squirming bodies that stood atop it. On the far side of the club was the bar that was now decorated in black marble countertops that matched the black walls.

Overall the bar seemed to take on a more sleek industrial theme that Jimin could appreciate as he made his way over to the bar. If he was going to get over his breakup and lavish in his newfound freedom he’d definitely need some liquor in his system as a means of liberation.

“That edible I took must’ve been laced with something unless the real Park Jimin is standing in front of me right now!”

“Taking drugs on the job, I’m appalled Mr. Kim Namjoon. I might just have to report you to Seokjin.”

Once Jimin reached the bar he was met by his friend who swiftly made his way around the counter to embrace him in a bone-crushing hug, his muscle-toned arms completely overtaking the smaller man.

“Ah, don’t worry about Jin. I have very effective ways of appeasing him…” Jimin shoved Namjoon’s arm as he observed the salacious look his friend had sent him.

“Gross. I see the two of you are still going strong.”

“Being fuck buddies with my boss is probably the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Jimin rolled his eyes as he took a seat on one of the plush bar stools while his friend went back to his station behind the somewhat crowded bar, “yeah until he finds out what a whore you are and fires you.”

Namjoon put a dramatic finger to his lips as he puckered them, “I can’t help it if I like to explore.”

A pang of hurt shot through Jimin’s eyes as he recalled his boyfriend doing some “exploring” of his own. Damn it, he came here to forget his problems and catching up on Namjoon’s latest conquests definitely wasn’t helping.

“So what brings you here?” the older man asked, thankfully moving on to a new subject after catching the solemn expression his friend made, much to Jimin’s oblivion.

“Just wanted to be out,” the cocked eyebrow on Namjoon’s face was enough to force a sigh out of the younger man as he knew Namjoon was aware of Taehyung’s ban on the place. As much as he wanted to just pretend that stint of his life didn’t exist- he couldn’t. Because his relationship with Taehyung did exist. And it took up a big part of his life that he couldn’t just drink away with a shot of tequila despite how much he wished he could. And so it was with a heavy breath that Jimin briefly filled his friend in on the events that occurred not two hours earlier.

“And you came here right after telling him off?”

Jimin nodded as his eyes picked at the bar counter until he heard his friend make a sound of joy. Snapping his head up to face his friend Jimin was met with Namjoon sporting a wide with his head thrown back, revealing several of the neck tattoos he had gotten on a whim.

“About damn time, Jimin! This calls for a fucking celebration!” Namjoon swiftly turned his back to his friend as he began picking up various bottles and glasses, his tone overcome with happiness that left Jimin speechless.

“‘About damn time’…? Wh-what are you… were you waiting for me to break up with Taehy-”

“Ah! Don’t even say that prick’s name. Tonight is all about you and your newfound freedom!”

Jimin couldn’t believe the enthusiastic reaction he was receiving from his best friend. He knew that Namjoon was never fond of Taehyung, especially after the first time he had cheated on Jimin, but it was still shocking to see how excited Namjoon was. Jimin figured that normal friends of someone who got cheated on would provide comfort rather than copious amounts of alcohol but obviously, Namjoon was not a “normal friend”.

“I got your favorite!” Namjoon turned around to reveal the three shot glasses he had been making, “top shelf shit.”

“Are you allowed to give me this? I thought this stuff was reserved for private parties.” Jimin was never one to turn down free alcohol but after abandoning the club for so long he felt like a foreigner and didn’t want to draw any more attention to him as Namjoon’s shouting had already caught the eyes of the nearby patrons.

“Don’t worry about it, Jimin. I’ll deal with Jin later,” as if settling the matter Namjoon pushed a shot glass into his nervous friend’s hand before grabbing one himself and lifting it up above him, gesturing for Jimin to do the same, “to new and exciting sex!”

Rather than ask why that was a top priority for Namjoon to cheer to, Jimin simply laughed and cheered along with his friend before throwing back the burning liquid that slid down his throat.

“So… what else has changed since I’ve been here? I see you’ve remodeled.” Jimin cleared his throat from the bitter alcohol while nodding to the new countertops as his friend poured him another shot before drinking the third shot he brought with him.

“Mmh, yeah. Jin came into some money from his side business and decided to jazz up the place to draw in more customers. And with the flood of new customers pouring in he had to hire more staff.” Namjoon paused to take a shot with his friend and after chasing it with the glass of water he poured he continued, “I gotta tell you- some of the people he hired are hot as fuck. I gotta introduce you to-”

Namjoon’s words suddenly stopped short as he snapped his head towards a familiar voice that had thrown his name into the air. Jimin did his best to hide back the laugh threatening to slip from his lips as he immediately knew the hell Namjoon was about to get and quickly poured himself another shot.

“Kim Namjoon! I know you aren’t giving away all my top-shelf liquor.”

From a door hidden to the left of the bar emerged a pissed Seokjin whose eyes narrowed dangerously onto his employee. His usual crisp suit only further heightened his menacing aura as he marched his way toward Namjoon.

“Jinnie! Listen I know you said not to use the top-shelf alcohol without authorization but-”

“But what, Namjoon? What could possibly have caused you to use my alcohol when I distinctly remember expressing to you that-”

When Jin was close enough to spot Jimin sitting at the bar he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locking in on his friend before a small warming smile shifted his once scowling expression to one of fondness.

“Jimin… what a surprise. It’s been a while, I’m glad to see that you’re well.”

Jimin bowed his head with a smile of his own, “hey Jin. Nice to see that you’re still chewing this asshole out when he needs it.”

“Hey!” Namjoon’s voice interjected with disbelief staining his tone as Jin quickly remembered why he had left his office in the first place.

“Right. I seem to be doing it more often than I’d like.”

“But you see why I did it! It’s Jimin!”

Jin simply pursed his lips as he folded his arms and stared sternly at the man. Namjoon didn’t seem fazed, however, as he simply slid on an easygoing smile that showcased his dimples before simmering closer to Jin and wrapping his strong arms around the man’s small waist, pulling him flush against Namjoon’s torso. He then leaned his mouth to the side of Jin’s reddening face despite the firm expression he wore.

Jimin could just barely make out the mumbled words Namjoon whispered into his employer’s blushing ear, “c’mon Jinnie~ I promise to make it up to you if you let it slide just this once…”

Jimin watched with curiosity as a tense second passed between the two until finally, Namjoon’s charm seemed to soften Jin up as the older man sighed and agreed to not duel out any punishment for spending his expensive alcohol.

“Dick must be good…” Jimin mumbled mindlessly, pouring himself another drink while his two friends began not-so-subtly flirting.

Jimin wasn’t jealous of their relationship or anything, but he did wish he could have someone to use as a distraction to take his mind off of the only person he had let touch him for the last 2 years.

“Hey- Jimin-” at the sound of his name the man forced the small frown away from his lips and looked up to face Namjoon who still had Jin wrapped in his arms, “I’m gonna go help Jin with some business in the back.”

“Uh huh, business. Sure…”

A small chuckle slipped from Namjoon’s lips, “yeah, you know how it is. Anyways I don’t want to cut your celebration short so I’m gonna send over one of the new hires I was telling you about. He’s super chill and sexy as fuck. I think he’ll be able to hold it down until I get back, okay?”

Without waiting for a response Namjoon quickly signaled to someone further down the bar who was currently being blocked by the crowd of people before giving Jimin one last charming smile and dragging Jin away to the office.

Jimin simply sighed before making a move for the abandoned bottle of tequila but was intercepted by a hand that pulled the bottle out of his reach. Jimin felt like he was tipsy enough to have the confidence to curse out whoever took away his last chance at forgetting his ex until his narrowed eyes snapped up to face the owner of the hand.

“You the guy Namjoon wanted me to pour for?”

Holy shit.

Namjoon wasn’t kidding when he said the new hires were hot- hell they were more than hot. If the strapping man standing before him was any indication it was no surprise that this place was booming with customers if all the staff looked like demons spawned from hell to fulfill every sinful desire a mortal may have.

“I was hoping you could do a little more than that…”

This guy, whoever he was, looked like the incarnation of sex. Jimin barely processed what he had said as his eyes roamed over the man who had tilted his head and raised a finely waxed eyebrow. The slight glint of his lip piercing teased Jimin from its position on the man’s small yet pouty pink lips. His soft-looking black hair was styled as a mullet, the ends of his hair curled around his neck while his parted bangs fanned the sides of his angular face. His doe-like eyes seemed to sear deep into Jimin’s soul. His eyes almost appeared to contain a certain darkness that lurked just beneath his gaze… it wasn’t malicious but rather heated and intense, forcing Jimin to break eye contact.

Instead, he turned his attention to cascade over the fabric covering the man’s body. He sported a tucked white button-up shirt paired with heavily ripped black jeans that teetered the line between professional and casual. The shirt revealed just enough of the bartender’s collarbone to warrant thoughts of imagining what lies further below on his body.

He exuded a sense of authority and power despite him being a newly hired bartender and suddenly Jimin was thankful that his best friend was such a fuck boy and allowed him to meet this beautiful man.

“Careful. I charge by the hour.” the man had quipped back, forcing Jimin out of his analysis and back into the club that was now doused in slowly flashing white strobe lights. “So what’ll you have? Seems like there’s no budget for you… must be special.”

“Special is one way to put it but I’ll take a martini.”

The bartender simply nodded with a quirked eyebrow and a small smile as he began gathering the ingredients he would need for the drink. When he turned around Jimin took the time to admire the way his shirt hugged the toned muscles of his back and the curve of his ass in his tight jeans.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Jimin managed to formulate a few words to make conversation, figuring that it might be more productive than staring at the man’s ass.

“Didn’t throw it.”

“Oh what? You charge for that too?”

Turning around, the man had a shaker in one hand and a martini glass in the other that he placed right in front of Jimin. He eyed him warily as if trying to work out his angle but if Jimin was honest with himself he was just tipsy and horny, he wasn’t sure how that was translating though, and hoped the bartender wasn’t put off by his barely cognizant words.

“And what if I do? Do you think you have enough to afford it?” in one swift movement, the man had leaned himself over the counter, one hand holding himself up as his face fell a breath away from Jimin who could barely swallow the dried spit that had settled on his tongue. He could practically see the man’s nonexistent pores if he tried hard enough and at the swipe of his pink tongue across his lips Jimin felt his eyes dart down to catch the action, the bartender’s lips suddenly glistening and tempting enough to taste.

Fuck, he wanted him bad.

But he had to get himself under control, a guy as good-looking as him had to pull with just a blink of his long eyelashes and Jimin refused to fold that quickly. He at least wanted to challenge the guy a bit, it made the ultimate goal that much more satisfying when rewarded.

Before Jimin could say or do anything he noticed the bartender pull back, an empty shaker hanging from his hand. That’s when Jimin noticed his martini glass was now miraculously filled and realized that the man had leaned in so closely to fill his drink and not for any other nefarious purposes.

“Well, how much are you worth?” Jimin almost forgot to respond to the awaiting bartender as he shifted his gaze to his drink, his hands gently clasped the shimmering stem and raised it up to his lips.

“How much do you think?”

“You tell me.”

“Mmh, I’d rather show you.”

Jimin felt his hand shake slightly as he did his best to not choke on the alcohol that had just slipped into his mouth. It had been a while since he had someone be so forward with him and now that he seemingly piqued the interest of the hot bartender he felt all that more flustered.

“I’ll give you a free pass for now though. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Park Jimin.”

“So, Jimin. What brings you here?”

“I just wanted a nice distraction.”

Jungkook smirked at that, his lips lifting slightly to reveal his shiny teeth, “it’s a good thing you met me then.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow as he took another sip from his drink before he responded, “oh? And why is that?”

“Because it looks like I’ve already got you thoroughly distracted with my presence alone,” the bartender’s tone was low and smooth as he spoke, almost as if he was casting a spell on Jimin which only worked to prove his point further.

He had, in fact, forgotten about Taehyung the second this man had walked up to him, but that didn’t mean he needed to know that. So he forced a scoff to escape his lips as he leaned back a bit in his chair with his arms and legs crossed as a means to come off as nonchalant as possible.

“And who told you that?”

“Just that little blush on your cheeks,” without warning Jungkook had leaned over the counter once again but this time it was his arms that reached out to Jimin as a slender finger brushed lightly against his flushed cheek. The short-lasting touch felt like it had imprinted onto Jimin’s cheek once Jungkook pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk. His finger was so warm when it tenderly caressed his cheek and the movement had also caused the sleeves of Jungkook’s shirt to ride up a little, revealing a full sleeve of tattoos that only turned Jimin on even more. “Hm, your cheeks look a little redder now…”

“That’s not fair! You took me by surprise.”

“Who said anything about being fair? I distracted you didn’t I? Seems like I did my job.”

“If that’s how you complete jobs I’m surprised you haven’t been fired yet.” Jimin couldn’t help the slight pout of his lips as the alcohol in his system seemed to make him more bratty than usual.

Jungkook, however, appeared to be mildly entertained by the man in front of him but before he could tease him further a voice from further down the bar broke through the atmosphere.

“Kook! Need you down here!”

Jimin lifted his head up to try to connect a face to the disembodied voice but was only met with the teeming bodies of bartenders rushing around to complete orders and patrons chatting jovially with drinks in their hands.

Turning his attention back to Jungkook Jimin noted the way his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, his furrowed eyebrows and his hip leaning against the side of the counter.

“Sorry, cutie. Duty calls. I had fun being your distraction though… find me if you need another,” with a wink and a flash of his smile the man was gone, weaving his way behind the bar and toward the voice that had called him.

Left with nothing but his thoughts and a half-empty martini Jimin felt the rush of his blood swell in his cheeks as he did his best to calm the beat of his heart. This Jungkook fellow definitely had a slick tongue and Jimin wanted to see if it could do more than just talk. They had only conversed for a few minutes and yet the man had ignited a flame of desire within him that had once been put out by his ex. Jimin hadn’t felt this infatuated with someone in a long time and he wasn’t sure how to take it.

Was Jungkook’s words an invitation for more? Did he really want him to find him and ask for sex? Was sex what he was even offering? What if he just meant that he’d make him another drink and Jimin just read the situation entirely wrong?

He couldn’t take the embarrassment if he asked the bartender to sleep with him and was rejected.

“Jimin!”

Hearing his name the man shook his head to clear his thoughts and when he returned back to reality he was met with his friend standing in front of him, his clothes ruffled and hair sticking up in places it hadn’t before.

“Namjoon…? What’re you doing back here? I thought you and Jin-”

Namjoon nodded with a sigh, his thumb swiping over his puffy lip, “Jin got a call and had to take it so he kicked me out. Just when things were getting good too.” he huffed despondently at the interruption.

“Okay. Didn’t need that extra detail at the end but…”

Namjoon brushed off Jimin’s comment as his head swiveled around the bar before landing back on his friend, a raised eyebrow prompting his question, “where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh. Someone called him for something. He just left.”

“Damn it, did you at least get some blow while I was away?”

“Namjoon, what?” Jimin couldn’t help the shock that filtered through his voice at the implication his friend had made, “it’s only been a few minutes!”

“That’s still enough time to-”

“Joon, all we did was talk and it was… nice. He was cool. I liked him.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah that’s nice but I was hoping you’d do a bit more than that. I could’ve sworn he was your type…”

Jimin felt his cheeks get hot as he recalled the way Jungkook had looked at him with his wide eyes and pierced lips. “He’s not not my type…”

“Huh?”

“I mean he wasn’t that bad… he was kinda cute…” Jimin’s voice trailed off as he talked, his mumbled words of admission making it hard to face his friend who stared confoundedly at him.

“What? Jimin I can’t hear you.”

“He was hot, okay? He was beautiful and I wanted him to fuck me right here on this counter, you happy?” Jimin knew he was drawing attention with how loud he was shouting, but he was too heated to care at the moment.

“Well I’m glad you admitted it but what are you doing telling me? Go and tell him and then get laid.”

“You make it sound easy…”

“It literally is.”

Jimin simply shook his head as his eyes lowered back down to his martini glass, his small fingers fiddling with the drink.

A second of terse quiet settled between the two, the background noise of people talking and laughing along with the pumping bass from the music filling the space between them before Namjoon’s voice broke the quiet, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

“Listen, Jimin… I know you're still dealing with the breakup and I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do but… if you like Jungkook and want to do something with him then I think you should and not just because I heard he’s packing.” Jimin couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his lips as he listened to his friend talk, “I think Jungkook could help you move on, but only if you want him to. It’s up to you and I’ll respect whatever you decide to choose.”

“Thanks, Namjoon. I appreciate that, seriously.”

Namjoon nodded with a small smirk before raising his hands, “what can I say? I can be gentle when I need to be. Besides the hoes love duality.”

Jimin shook his head at his friend who simply laughed at his own corny joke before focusing back on what he was going to do. It didn’t take long for him to come to a conclusion when he realized his ex had probably already moved on and fucked about three people up till this point. It was his turn to have some fun.

With his resolve set, Jimin picked up his drink and finished it off in one fell swoop before hopping down from his seat and marching off in the direction he saw Jungkook walk in, the sounds of his friends' hoops and hollers echoing behind him.

Forcing himself through the crowd of people who had gathered around the bar was hell but Jimin was determined as he mumbled out apologies whenever he elbowed someone until his ears latched onto the sound of someone's voice from behind the bar.

“Kook, can you go get some more cocktail glasses from the kitchen? We’re running low.”

Snapping his head up Jimin caught sight of Jungkook as he just finished pouring a customer’s drink, the white strobe lights created shadows that flashed over his face and swallowed his eyes in darkness. He nodded his head to whoever had called him and made his way to the side of the bar, lifting the countertop up and heading towards the kitchen.

Jimin never felt himself speed walk faster than he did when he followed after Jungkook who was halfway to the kitchen before he caught up to him. Grasping his arm, Jimin stopped the bartender who turned around with confusion written over his face that quickly morphed into amusement upon meeting Jimin’s face.

“Jimin? Did you follow me?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

Jungkook smiled devilishly at Jimin’s straightforwardness before speaking, his voice raised a bit louder due to the music blaring next to them, “did you need something?”

The shorter man felt his tongue run dry as he did his best to not let his words falter. He wanted- needed this man and he’d be damned if he messed it up now after embarrassing himself by chasing after him. So with a steadying breath, Jimin squared his eyes on Jungkook and tested his luck.

“I was looking for another distraction if the offer was still open?”

Jimin was slightly taken aback at the smile that had widened on the bartender’s face. His smile was surprisingly… cute? His two front teeth were a bit longer than the others and his wide eyes were crescent-shaped as his nose scrunched up slightly making the intimidating man look almost innocent.

“The offer is very much still open,” those words almost made Jimin’s knees weak as he held back the giggle of excitement he felt in his throat, “my shift ends in ten. You think you could be good and wait for me at the front till then? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jimin nodded obediently at the man’s request eliciting another smile from Jungkook who caressed his cheek before winking and heading back to carry out his last-minute duties. Jimin couldn’t be more excited as he quickly made his way to the front of the club but not before throwing Namjoon a thumbs up from across the room.

It didn’t take long for Jungkook to finish up his shift and soon the two left the dark building together to enter the dark of the night that was dotted with the small scattered lights of the distant stars. The winter breeze was cutting through Jimin’s shirt but luckily Jungkook’s leather jacket that he had let him wear on their way to his car was enough to keep him relatively warm. Jimin had sobered up for the most part by this point but they both agreed it would still be best to take Jungkook’s car to his apartment rather than risk Jimin driving. There was also a small chance that Jimin’s ex could still be in his apartment and the last thing the man needed was to see Taehyung interact with his one-night stand and ruin his night.

“I’m surprised you asked me to spend the night with you.” Jungkook’s voice forced Jimin away from his increasingly burdensome thoughts as the two sped down the empty highway.

The concentrated orange lights from the lampposts doused Jungkook’s skin with a warm glow as he drove with one hand on the steering wheel while the other rubbed small circles along Jimin’s inner thigh.

His touch made it hard for the smaller man to concentrate but he did his best to answer his question with a semblance of thought, “you were surprised? Why?”

Jungkook shrugged as a lazy smile spread across his lips, “you looked content on your own, honestly.”

“Looks can be deceiving…”

A second of silence swooped over the two and Jimin began to regret saying anything. He couldn’t exactly read the look on Jungkook’s face but figured he definitely killed the mood. Why would he say something like that to someone who was practically a stranger? Jungkook didn’t want to hear about his problems and Jimin needed to get them back on track if they were gonna enjoy their night together.

With renewed vigor Jimin cleared his throat before he spoke, his voice taking on an airy tone that matched the quiet of the night around them, “but you were hard to resist…” as he spoke Jimin moved his hand to land on top of Jungkook’s thigh, his fingers moving closer and closer to the precipice of the man’s desire with each word he uttered.

“Jimin…” Jungkook’s voice was low almost blending into the hum of the car engine that rumbled softly underneath them.

Jimin couldn’t tell if his companion was warning him to stop or probing him to keep going but regardless he kept his hand lightly tracing over the ever-hardening bulge that pushed against the tight fabric of Jungkook’s pants.

“Jimin…” Jungkook’s voice was followed by an unsteady breath of air, as if talking took a great deal of effort while he flexed his hands that gripped the steering wheel, “as good as that feels if you don’t stop I’m going to end up crashing this car.”

“Hm… but you feel so good under my touch.” Jimin punctuated his words with a tight squeeze of Jungkook’s bulge who grunted in response, the sound sending blood rushing down Jimin’s body.

Rather than respond Jungkook took a tight breath of air before seemingly pressing harder on the gas pedal sending the car further down the highway. Jimin took a steadying breath as he watched the trees and street lights fly by him, the bass from the music playing lulled him into a peaceful state while he did his best to calm down the fast beat of his heart.

The rest of the drive was relatively uneventful as the pair quickly made it back to the apartment complex Jungkook resided at. As the two got into the elevator headed for the fifth floor Jimin took note of how nice everything looked, he figured these apartments were new and when he walked into Jungkook’s spacious apartment it was even more evident.

Everything in the apartment was clean and the furniture looked well-kept as Jimin was led into the bedroom that sported a large king-sized bed with a fluffy gray comforter.

“Ah! Sorry about the mess, I was in a rush earlier,” Jimin turned in time to see Jungkook picking up a pile of scattered clothes before tossing them into his closet.

“It’s fine… that’s not what I was focusing on anyways…” the slow drawl of Jimin’s voice seemed to catch the bartender’s attention as the man’s once apologetic eyes became hooded and dark within the dim room, the only light illuminating each other was from the haunting glow of the moon.

Rather than wait for a response Jimin simply walked up to Jungkook before slowly backing him up against his bed, forcing the man to sit. His wide eyes never left Jimin’s face until the man in question began slowly stripping off his clothes, his hands running smoothly over his bare chest once his shirt fluttered off of his body.

Jimin wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing when he began taking off his shirt. In all honestly, he was just improvising; especially when he straddled Jungkook whose hands instinctively clutched his lower back. Jimin thought he was doing well with all things considered.

Taehyung was never one for foreplay or romance during sex, intimacy just wasn’t something he would initiate, and thus Jimin was left with the responsibility to force the love and intimacy that should have already been present in the relationship. At first, Jimin figured that they were going through a rough patch and that if he just kept improving his sex game then eventually Taehyung would reciprocate. It wasn’t until Jimin first caught his ex-boyfriend cheating that it all started to click.

“Jimin…? Are you okay?”

Shaking his head, Jimin was met with Jungkook’s furrowed eyebrows and shallow frown. Shit, he was messing this up by thinking about his dumb ex.

“Yeah, I’m fine sorry.”

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow, “are you sure?”

“Totally,” not wanting to feel Jungkook’s inquisitive stare, Jimin leaned his lips to the side of the bartender’s face before peppering him with small pecks and moving his hips in a small circular motion over Jungkook’s bulge.

The low raspy moan that escaped Jungkook’s lips was like music to Jimin’s ears as he pressed himself further into the man’s lap.

“You feel so good…”

Jimin smiled to himself at the confession before whispering back, “I taste even better.”

“May I get a free sample?”

Leaning back Jimin was greeted by Jungkook’s intense expression. His eyes were bright even in the darkness of his room and his skin looked just as soft as the bed he was sitting on. Jimin watched Jungkook’s eyes dart down to his lips before meeting his gaze once again, a silent prose for permission which Jimin granted with a small nod.

Without further pretense, Jungkook leaned in slowly before pressing his lips upon Jimin’s. His kisses were so… different from Taehyung which is to be expected but even still the man couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped him when feeling the gentle and patient lips that careened over him.

While it felt nice Jimin couldn’t seem to rid himself of a feeling he could only recognize as disgust and shame. How did he not realize sooner that Taehyung had stopped loving him a long time ago? There was a time when he used to kiss Jimin the same way Jungkook was, with tenderness and care but after a while, those kisses turned into quick pecks on the cheek and eventually nothing at all.

He was pathetic. Pathetic for staying with someone who cared so little about him and pathetic for letting the man still have control over him at a time when he should be enjoying himself. Jimin was so overwhelmed by his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that Jungkook had stopped kissing him and instead studied him for a few seconds before breaking the trance Jimin seemed to be in.

“Jimin, what’s wrong? Seriously.”

Hearing the genuine concern lace Jungkook’s voice is what pulled Jimin away from his thoughts, his eyes blurring from unshed tears that he did his best to blink away.

“Was it me? You can tell me if you’re uncomfortable and want to leave. I’ll understand. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“No! No, it-it’s not you, I swear. I’m just-” Jimin couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence when he looked at the man in front of him. Jungkook didn’t deserve this. He didn’t need Jimin to trauma-dump on him.

“What is it, Jimin? You can tell me, I won’t judge. Actually… hold on.” Without warning Jungkook gently moved Jimin off of his lap before rushing out of the room.

Jimin heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing along before seeing Jungkook come back in a few seconds later with a full glass in his hand.

“Iced tea. It helps calm me down, so I figured it might help you too. I hope you don’t mind.” Passing the drink to Jimin, Jungkook took a seat next to him on the bed while still leaving a respectable amount of space between them.

Jimin was grateful for how careful and patient Jungkook was being with him but he couldn’t help the burning sense of shame he felt imprint on his cheeks. He truly did want to sleep with Jungkook but he couldn’t help but be reminded of how horribly Taehyung had treated him when in comparison to this stranger who was so kind to him.

A few seconds of quiet filled the dark room while Jimin took the time to collect his thoughts, the tea helped in soothing his intrusive thoughts. He knew Jungkook wasn’t going to ask him to explain himself, but Jimin still felt like he owed him an explanation, if for nothing else, for his own peace of mind.

“I know I probably seem crazy…” Jimin’s voice was soft as he angled his face to the ground, his eyes trying their best to focus on the small details of the tan carpet rather than on Jungkook’s gaze.

“No, of course not.”

Jimin laughed dryly, “you don’t have to lie. I know I look like a mess it’s just… I had just broken up with my boyfriend earlier today. I, uh, caught him cheating on me in our apartment.” Jimin held his breath as he waited to hear some sort of scolding or chastising from Jungkook but was instead met with silence, prompting him to continue before he lost his nerve. “I guess seeing the way you’ve treated me made me realize just how broken my relationship was.”

A pair of warm hands enveloped Jimin as he spoke, his words cracking as he did his best to choke down a sob from exiting his lips. Jungkook’s strong arms held onto Jimin, his thumb rubbing small circles over his bare arm while Jimin rested his head against Jungkook’s chest, his heartbeat thumping in a comforting rhythm. For a while, no one moved. Jungkook was so warm and being encapsulated in his arms lulled Jimin into a state of pure contentment after his admission.

“Y’know… I’ve had my fair share of relationships. About half of them have ended with my sorry ass crying on the couch while watching a corny romance movie even though I was the one who ended the relationships.” Jungkook’s voice was soft and low, his warm tone resembling a cozy fire that kept you safe in the midst of winter, “it’s okay to feel hurt, Jimin. To grieve. You’re not crazy for having a normal human reaction to a relationship ending.”

“I know, I just don’t want you to think I’m using you for a rebound or anything I just-”

“If you’re not ready that’s totally fine. Honestly, I’m okay with just watching a movie if that’ll make you feel better. And not to brag but my movie collection is pretty superior.”

That earned a small chuckle from Jimin who agreed to Jungkook’s proposition as the pair then moved to the living room. Jungkook let Jimin pick the first movie while he made them popcorn before they both settled down on the leather couch.

Jimin, who was now wearing one of Jungkook’s band t-shirts, made himself comfortable on the couch with his legs curled up under the oversized shirt while leaning into Jungkook’s side as a large blanket covered the two. At first, Jimin felt a bit sheepish about watching movies with someone he was planning on having sex with but Jungkook never made Jimin feel bad about it and instead would make corny jokes about the movie and tell small anecdotes of memories he had connected to the movie.

“-and then they stood on top of the counter and reenacted the pose. They had the DJ change the music and everything too.”

“You’re lying!”

“I swear I’m not!”

Jimin couldn’t help the string of laughter that left his lips as his brain conjured up a visual of Jungkook’s story, “there’s no way Namjoon and Jin reenacted that titanic scene at the bar.”

Jungkook huffed despondently before reaching to grab his phone with a determined look plastered over his face, “we can call Jin and ask him-”

“No! I believe you.” with a laugh Jimin leaned over Jungkook to grab the phone before he lifted the device out of Jimin’s reach, leaving him an inch away from Jungkook’s face.

A second of tentative divisiveness clouded Jimin’s head as he simply stared at Jungkook who did the same. As the moment stretched on and the movie became a forgotten memory playing quietly in the background Jimin felt his own desire to pleasure Jungkook begin to fill his head.

Here he was with this gorgeous man looking at him with his beautiful bright eyes, how was he supposed to resist him? Without uttering a word Jimin pressed a quick kiss to the bartender’s lips before he moved off of the couch and positioned himself to be stationed in front of Jungkook’s legs. With a slow and sensual touch, Jimin eased open Jungkook’s legs while his eyes stayed focused on the bartender’s cautious yet intrigued reaction. Jimin ran the pads of his fingertips lightly over the dark denim fabric, his fingers brushing against Jungkook’s bulge eliciting a small gasp of surprise from the man above. But before he could go further, Jimin’s hands were overtaken by Jungkooks’ who gazed down at him with a worried expression.

“You don’t have to do this, Jimin. I know you’re still mourning your last relationship and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me any sexual favors if that’s not what you want to do.”

Jimin sweetly smiled up at Jungkook, he couldn’t believe just how mature he really was and it only made Jimin more firm in what he was going to do. “I appreciate that Jungkook, I really do. But trust me, I want to do this. Will you let me?”

The man in question seemed stunned by Jimin’s response as he only managed a quick nod of his head. His eyes somehow widened even more as he watched Jimin work.

Pulling Jungkook’s hardened cock from undeneath his tight boxers left Jimin practically salivating at the sight, this man had probably one of the prettiest dicks in the world. His blushing pink tip glistened with precum as the sticky substance rolled delicately down Jungkook’s veiny curved shaft. Jimin wasted no time connecting his lips to the tip, smearing the precum across his lips before dashing his tongue out to taste it, his eyes snapping up to catch the moan that left Jungkook’s lips who watched in anticipation.

He tasted sweet which was a good sign as Jimin wasn’t sure if he could handle giving head to someone whose cum tasted like battery acid. Moving his lips further down the tip Jimin made sure to accentuate the movements of his tongue by delicately lavishing the slit of Jungkook’s cock before he relaxed his jaw and took more of the bartender into his mouth.

“F-fuck, Jimin…” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse and strained while he spoke, from the corner of his eye Jimin observed the way he clenched the forgotten blanket, his knuckles turning a ghostly white from the pressure.

Rather than respond Jimin simply hummed before he gradually moved his mouth up and down Jungkook’s shaft, his ministrations leaving a trail of saliva over the throbbing cock. The deeper Jimin took him the louder Jungkook became, glancing up at the bartender left a stunning visual of Jungkook’s head rolled back, his eyes clenched shut, and gorgeous lips rippling with explicit sounds.

Briefly lifting his mouth off of Jungkook’s dick Jimin wrapped his hands around the base of the shaft and began pumping Jungkook’s cock, his saliva making a great lubricant that allowed for his hands to move at a quick pace. Jungkook practically whined once Jimin switched to giving him a handjob, his voice sounding almost like he was singing with his high-pitched pleas for release and praise.

Not wanting to interrupt the flow, after a few more seconds Jimin once again connected his mouth back onto Jungkook’s tip, his tongue swirling over the reddening skin before completely covering the top half of Jungkook’s length while his hands worked on the base of the shaft.

From the breathless pants and incoherent words, it was clear Jungkook was close to his climax and with that in mind Jimin made sure to suck a bit harder, the sound of his mouth enveloping Jungkook’s cock echoed throughout the dark empty apartment and Jimin lavished at how beautifully Jungkook’s moans rang out into the air. It only took a few more good sucks until Jungkook’s strangled voice called out that he was about to cum.

Jimin didn’t let up though as the warning fell on deaf ears, he really wanted to taste Jungkook again and kept his mouth wrapped around the man before feeling a burst of heat coat his lips and tastebuds. Jimin relished in the feeling of Jungkook’s cum in his mouth, swallowing happily at the fact that he was able to help the bartender reach his orgasim relatively quickly after not giving any head for the past few months.

Once Jimin was sure Jungkook had come down from his high he removed his mouth with a ‘pop’ before sitting back up on the couch, his lips still tingling from the whole session.

“Wow… that was…” Jungkook looked dazed as he turned to face Jimin with his dilated eyes and agape mouth, “wow.”

Jimin chuckled at the man’s astonished expression, “they don’t call me the throat goat for nothing, y’know.”

That earned a hearty laugh from Jungkook who flung his head back on the couch, “you’re amazing… truly.”

Jimin felt his heart swell with warmth at Jungkook’s words. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see the man again but right now that didn’t matter. Leaning closer to him Jimin felt their two lips collide and mold into one another, the kiss was heated and passionate and Jimin loved the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue fondling with his own.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…” Jungkook’s words were muttered hurriedly before diving back into the kiss, his hands wrapping tightly around Jimin’s waist.

“No, I’m fine seriously. Pleasing you was hot enough. You look cute when you come, by the way.”

“Hopefully I can say the same to you one day.”

Jimin preened at Jungkook’s words. So he did want to see him again. Jimin wasn’t mad at the proposition and as the two continued their heated makeout session (while occasionally rewinding the movie before returning to kissing), he felt himself become excited for whatever his future held for him and was grateful for finding someone to help him bury his past.

#bts #kpop #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts jeon jungguk #bts namjoon #bts one shot #bts jimin #musicbingo23 #bts writing #bts ships #kpop fanfic #bts writers #btswritersclub

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moccahobi · 1 year

Text

Soon You'll Get Better

Summary: Something mysterious is effecting Hoseok. One terrifying night and many stressful days at doctors offices revealed a cyst that could change his life forever. Soon he'll get better. That's you both kept saying.

Pairings: Hoseok x Gn Reader

Rating: 16+

Warnings: mentions of blood, medical stuff (talk of medications, MRIs, passive doctors), crying.

Genre: angst (with a hopeful ending), hurt comfort

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this was intended to be a drabble but here we are! This is part of @kpopwritingbingo. The prompt is Jung Hoseok and I also loosely used Soon You'll Get Better by Taylor Swift for inspiration!

The front door closed with a loud bang. Hoseok was finally home after a long day of proctoring dances and grading his students. It was one of his least favorite parts of his work at the dance studio, but it wasn't something he could skip. You knew he'd be tired and wanting to shut down for the night. Which is why you'd set up the office space with all his favorite goodies and games. He'd get the night to himself and with little work to do all he loves.

"Y/n-ah? Where are you?" He called out, more loud clamor happening from the main space of your shared apartment.

"I'm here!" You said back with a laugh. You were so excited to pamper him tonight.

It was silent for a bit, "Where's here?"

Rolling your eyes, you said, "Guess!"

"Uh... The bedroom?"

The bedroom was on the other side of the apartment. With a sigh, you got up and went to him, "No, silly. I'm in the office. I've set it up for you to relax. Your job for tonight is just to take care of yourself."

Hoseok apologized for not finding you, his ears growing red and mouth twisted in a frown, but you just laughed it off. He was tired. It was understandable.

That night, you'd taken care of his needs and cleaned up around him when he fell asleep on the couch in the office. He needed the rest, but it seemed couches weren't good places to sleep because the next day he looked more tired and stressed.

"One more day of exams." You told him with a hug when he left.

That night, he came back late. Too late to enjoy the games and goodies you'd set up for him again, instead he washed up and went to bed. You joined him a little later, snuggling up against him for warmth as a dreamless sleep took you.

"Y/n-ah," The worry in Hoseok's voice stole you from your sleep as he gently shook you awake.

"Mmmh?" You grumbled, rubbing your face against the pillow as you tried to get your bearings.

What time was it?

"I... I don't know what's happening. I just woke up and my ear it's..." You shot up as he kept rambling, his eyes shining with unshed tears, "It hurts so much. It's probably the worst pain e-"

His voice broke off and you surged forward to hold him close, rocking him back and forth as he cried in your arms. His body shook against yours, begging you to keep steady until he could be steady.

What could you do?

He needed you here with him but he also needed to go to the hospital. He needed help you had no idea how to give.

You whispered sweet nothings in his ear until he stopped crying and pulled back to look at you. Heartbreak shown in his eyes and in that moment you wanted to do anything to take the pain away from him.

"Hobi-ya, do you think you will manage a drive to the hospital? I'll be as fast as possible."

He sighed and nodded, looking up at the door. He was shaking the entire walk to the car, your heart breaking as he tried to hold back tears in the drive.

What was wrong?

What was causing this pain?

"Y-Y-Y/n-ah," He started when you finally parked at the hospital, "I-I'm... Blood."

You whipped over to look at him, blood on his hands, on his clothes, drip drip dripping from his ear. It glistened in the dark and your heart sank.

Something was wrong. Something was up.

"Come on. We're at the hospital now."

Hoseok looked like was was about to faint as he got out and you quickly went around the car to support him as the two of you entered the hospital.

"It looks like your ear drum burst, Hoseok-ssi." The doctor said after looking in Hoseok's ears.

"Huh? Why?" Hoseok asked, squeezing your hand as he looked up at the doctor.

The doctor shrugged, "Ear drums burst when there is an uneven amount of pressure behind and infront of the ear drum. That'll be why the pain stopped when you started bleeding. As for why the pressure was uneven, I don't know. I will refer you to an ENT, they will know. For now, use the ear drops I prescribed."

With that the doctor left, his words hanging around the small space heavily. You wanted to cry but one look at Hoseok and you knew you had to stay strong. He was crying, his lip quivering as he tried to keep silent. Pulling him into a hug, you tried to comfort him. But what kind of comfort could you give him?

He took the next few days off before the ENT appointment, laying in bed and staring at his phone all day. Your heart ached as you left for work but you didn't have enough days to take off and Hoseok said he'd be ok. After work, you tried to get Hoseok to do stuff with you but the normally bubbly man was void of all energy.

By the time the appointment came, the two of you sat in the office waiting room nervously together. Your pulse was screaming in your ears and you wanted to cry but you didn't. You couldn't.

Hoseok needed you. He was leaning against you, eyes closed as he tried to stay calm.

After a painfully long wait, the two of you were guided back to a private room... Where you waited some more.

Finally someone came, the two of you perking up expectantly.

A nurse.

He asked Hoseok the basic questions. Medications. Height. Weight. Past medical history.

Then he left and the two of you were alone once again.

Another knock after even longer came.

Finally the doctor came... And immediately walked you all to a new room, his assistant following behind closely.

Hoseok laid down on a table, a large magnifying glass zeroing in on his ear. You got close to Hoseok, holding his hand for support as the doctor started poking around in his ear. With each new poke, Hoseok's face screwed up in even more pain.

There was a TV behind Hoseok that you could look at, Hoseok deprived of that right. You could see and had to hold back winces and gasps. There was a big hole in his ear and behind it, a pearly white ghost waving at you. More tears welled up in you eyes and one look at Hoseok reminded you why you were here.

He was silent on the drive back. The doctor wanted an MRI scan but he was fairly positive of what had caused the issue. A cyst.

You gave Hoseok space to be in the bedroom, getting him games and goodies to take his mind off of the situation.

The hole would heal but the cyst would need surgery... And for the cyst to have caused a rupture, the surgery would be major and the lasting effects might be as well. In the shelter of the office, you broke down for the first time, hot tears hugging your face.

The door cracked open, Hoseok shuffled in and wrapped you in a big, crushing hug.

"Don't cry, Y/n-ah. It'll be ok."

"I should be telling you that." You said with a bitter laugh, returning his tight hug.

The two of you stayed close together the whole night. Getting into bed was hard but being wrapped up in Hoseok's embrace made it all better.

Even if he refused to sleep on his left side. Apparently it was less painful to sleep on his right, his hurt ear pressed tight against the pillow as if to protect it from any more damage.

One MRI and another ENT appointment and the two of you were once again snuggled together for support.

His surgery was scheduled a month from now.

The cyst and his body had been eroding away at his conductive hearing bones and there was worry about the ear canal walls. Together, your hearts ached and tears mingled together. Something was playing in the background, tea long forgotten as you tried to make sense of all that was happening.

When the tears finally subsided and your lungs ached less, you whispered more sweet nothings, more empty promises, and more salves of comfort.

It would be ok.

Before the surgery, Hoseok started therapy. He'd been contemplating it for a while but with the nearing operation, he needed it more than ever. He also got a prescription to help with his nerves on the day of the operation and each night you found yourself hoping that the medicine would take away his anxiety.

Soon he'll get better.

That's what you told yourself each time you drove him to therapy. Each night when he refused to sleep on his left side despite the clear discomfort he was in. The morning of the operation as he nervously fiddled with your hand.

Soon he'll get better.

That's what you told him as he relearned balance and spacing. That's what you told him as he got the packaging removed from his ear. That's what you told him as you held him at night as he cried.

It's been a month since the surgery and though he is still recovering and not allowed to dance, he's gotten back to work. The children needed him Hoseok said but you knew that in reality, he needed the children.

As expected, he worked late and you had time to get some small things for him. Goodies and games mostly to help him recover after a long day... Or well long two months. Set it all up in the bedroom, knowing that once Hoseok showed, he wouldn't want to move for the whole night.

The front door closed with a loud bang when he finally came home and a bitter smile bloomed on your face.

"Y/n-ah? Where are you?" He shouted as he slowly set his stuff down and entered the apartment.

"I'm here!" You said out of habit and winced immediately. He couldn't place where sounds were coming from.

It was silent for a bit, "Where's here?"

"Sorry. The bedroom."

He laughed and rushed in, wrapping you in a big hug, "Thank you."

Gently kissing your head, he left to wash up, before joining you once again for the night.

He was recovering. He was getting better. He was adapting.

#musicbingo23 #wkcnet #bts #bts fanfic #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts hoseok x reader #bts oneshot #bts fan fiction #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts mxr #jhope oneshot #j hope bts

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here4theheartbreak · 1 year

Text

Two’s a Party (3 is a Crowd) [bc, lf, lmh]

AO3 | AsianFanFics

Relationships: Bangchan x Felix x Lee Minho Genre: smut | demon AU Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~22.1k words

Tags: Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Demon AU, Polyamory, Corruption AU, Alcohol, Demon!Minho, Cambion!Chan, First Kiss, Dirty Talk, Bottom Felix, Top Minho, Bottom Felix, Top Chan, DP, Rough, Light D/s, Aftercare

Summary: Felix’s father had always warned him that two was a party but three was a crowd. Felix had never understood the meaning of the warning, until he met Lee Minho.

Square: Lucifer - SHINee (@kpopwritingbingo) (also used inspiration from the song Two’s A Party by Hania Lee)

Felix’s father was full of advice that he swore was helpful, even life or death sometimes. Unfortunately, it was often bizarre. Don’t wear red on Fridays, always eat potatoes and corn on the thirteenth of the month, only bring a white or blue umbrella to church when it’s raining, etcetera. He swore that angels gave him these gems of advice, which would have sent most individuals to the institution. But Felix’s father also happened to be a very well-respected preacher in their local parish. Though known to have an eccentric viewpoint on the world, he also provided their parish with invaluable support and affection. He was vital for the wellbeing and healing of many people. A few odd quirks were worth it for the service he willingly provided.

Felix, on the other hand, had never understood the draw of religion. Though he grew up in the church from birth, he’d never really connected with it in the way his father had, or even his mother, who had been atheist until she met and subsequently married his father. His mother reminded him again and again that not everyone can be chosen to hear the word audibly – sometimes they needed to seek it out in other areas of their life, like she did with her child and spouse.

But the world was just that to Felix. It was a spinning ball of rock and lava, and one day it would likely explode, hopefully long after he passed away – though given the wars cropping up everywhere – it may not last that long. People were biological miracles, sure, but their existence was easily explained with science, not the involvement of a random deity in the sky.

Despite his ambivalence toward religion, Felix and his father did have a good relationship. His father believed firmly that “God had a plan” for Felix, and it would be something big and amazing. Felix politely humored him, smiling and nodding when his father would go off on some rant about the coming end of days and Felix’s ‘important role’ in them. He would listen to his father’s quirky advice, often chuckling at it, and more often than not forgetting it within the next few hours.

One particular piece of advice though, Felix always remembered quite distinctly; though if asked, he couldn’t explain why. Once, when he was barely ten years old, his father took him aside from where he was playing with a couple of his friends.

“Remember, Felix. You need to understand that two is a party but three’s out of hand, boy.”

Felix had been reasonably confused; wondering why his father didn’t want him to play with more than one friend at a time. When pressed, his father had shaken his head and explained that he didn’t mean now. That Felix would understand someday soon, and it was vitally important that he remember.

“Two is a party, but three is a crowd. Stay away from it.”

If Felix had to guess, he likely remembered the advice because it made some modicum of sense. Third wheels, a new person driving a wedge between two friends; a lot of bad things came with a third person. Furthermore, it was often said that bad news came in three, perhaps his father was just drawing on that old saying. He also likely remembered it because his father repeated it so often to him; far more frequently than his other quirky proverbs – at least every other year; more often as Felix began to date and explore his independence.

The warning was never a threat, however, until one day, long after Felix had moved out and gotten his own job, a man in his mid-twenties who absolutely never went to church, except on holidays where he visited his parents. This was one such Christmas, and Felix had brought a guest; a handsome man he’d been dating for just under a year at that point.

Chan was everything Felix had ever dreamed of finding. He was handsome and muscular, with a sweet face and dimples that could catch a gallon of rain. Felix had fallen for him within their first few dates; a surprising change for a man who had normally been so picky with his partners in the past.

“Knock, knock,” Felix said, sticking his head in the door. The warm, comforting smell of home hit him, making his heart ache immediately.

“Lix, is that you?” His mother called.

“It’s us, yeah.” He entered fully and stepped aside, allowing Chan in. They shut the door and removed their shoes and coats, hanging them just as his mother rushed into the room.

“Oh, it’s been too long,” she cooed, grabbing Felix’s face in her hands and squeezing. “Have you been eating? You’re so slim.”

Felix smiled and nodded, grasping her wrists gently. “I’ve been eating well, I promise.” He hugged her gently. “How have you been, Mom?”

“Oh, you know how it is. We’re doing well.”

“Good. Um… Mom, this is Bang Chan. The man I told you about. My boyfriend.” He stepped aside. Chan smiled and bowed politely.

“It’s great to finally meet you, ma’am. Felix has talked so highly of his family.”

She looked him up and down, her eyes narrowing for a moment. Anxiety knotted Felix’s stomach as the silence stretched on.

She nodded after a few moments. “You’re different than I imagined. Handsome boy, you look strong.” She nodded again, glancing at Felix and grinning. “Apparently you finally learned how to choose a good partner.”

Felix relaxed, laughing at her words and nodding. “Apparently. Only took a few years.” He wrapped his arm around Chan’s middle, feeling him relax.

“What do you do for a living, Chan?” She asked, heading back into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Chan and Felix followed. “Music. I produce mostly.”

“Anything I would’ve heard?” She asked, stirring various pots on the stove.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Chan said. He glanced around, and Felix pointed to a stool behind their island. He sat in the other. “I work mostly with rap artists, do a little rapping myself. Nothing big yet, but I’m trying.”

“You’re doing well though, financially?” She pressed.

“Mom,” Felix whined, his cheeks pinking up.

“It’s a valid question, isn’t it?” She said, shaking a spoon at him. Chan grinned.

“It is. Wants to make sure I’m not slacking off. No, I’m doing well. The nice thing about my job is it keeps me pretty busy so I can make quite a bit. You don’t have to worry about your son.”

She nodded. “So how have you been, Lix? You don’t call me enough.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy in the city.”

“Too busy for your old folks, eh?” Came a voice from the doorway. Felix turned, beaming at his father. He slid off the stool and went to him, hugging him warmly.

“How’ve you been, Dad?”

“Oh, doing just fine, blessed as always.”

Felix smiled patiently. He took a step back and set his hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Dad, this is my boyfriend that I talked to you about on the phone. The one I really like. Chan, this is my dad.”

Chan turned and stood, bowing low in greeting. “Amazing to meet you,” he said in a soft, reverent voice.

Felix’s heart swelled at the kindness; Chan was trying so hard to make a good impression and he was honored.

Felix’s father narrowed his gaze. “This is the boy you were talking about? The nice one?”

Felix nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that I’ve been dating for a year now.” He said hopefully, stressing the length of time when his father seemed reluctant.

“Hm.”

Felix’s shoulders drooped a little. He glanced at his mother, who wore a similarly confused expression on her face. The two had never taken issue with Felix’s sexuality; his father was of the mindset that God never made a mistake, so if his son liked boys, then he was meant to. He’d also never outright disliked any of Felix’s boyfriends in the past, believing that kindness to all was the key to a happy life. So this ambivalence was beyond strange.

“Come here, boy.”

Felix followed his father out of the kitchen and through the living room into the back room that his father used for his study. Once in it, his father pushed the door shut.

“How much do you know about this man?”

“Chan?” Felix laughed. “Everything. We’re dating. I really think he might be the one, Dad.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

His smile faded. “Dad, you’ve never had a problem with me dating guys in the past…”

“It’s not your sexuality. It’s that man.”

“Chan is amazing,” Felix defended, anger bubbling into his tone. “You don’t know him; he’s kind and he’s sweet and he makes me so happy. I’ve smiled more with him, he protects me, he’s always gentle with me, even if I’m being a jerk.”

His father sighed heavily, tilting his head a little. Felix scowled.

“What?” He snapped, crossing his arms.

“I warned you, Felix. All your life, I’ve been warning you about him.”

“You’ve warned me not to wear red on certain days and not to eat legumes on a rainy Saturday in April. You warn people about a lot of stupid stuff. How the hell does any of that have to do with Chan?”

“Three, Felix.”

“He’s not three. He’s one. And with me, he’s two.”

His father shook his head, but Felix raised his hand. “No. I’m sorry, Dad. You’ve always been quirky with your advice, you believe God’s told you these things, that’s fine. But this is one time where I’m saying no. I’m not going to let your silly fairytales ruin the best thing I’ve had in a long time. I’m in love with Chan. Either you can respect that, and we can move forward tonight, or you can’t, and he and I will go. But I won’t have you disrespecting him.”

“You seem to forget whose house this is, Felix.”

“No, I’m not. I know it’s your house, and I know that who you decide to have in it is your decision. I’m using my own rights as an adult to not stay in this house if you won’t respect the person I’m here with.”

“It isn’t my house. It’s God’s. And it’s God that won’t have that creature in this house. That is a demon, boy – and you’re falling right into his trap.”

Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Leave it, Dad. I haven’t believed in your fairy tales in a long time. I’m not about to start now. Chan loves me for me. And I love him. I won’t let you ruin that because you think he’s hiding a tail in his jeans.”

“Demons come in all forms, son.”

“Not the point.” Felix raised both hands in front of his face, shaking them gently to signal the end of the conversation. “We’re gonna go.”

“Son…”

“No, Dad.” Felix sighed, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion from the argument. “I haven’t been home in a while. I wanted this to be good. I do – But I can’t let you treat my guest badly just because some sky fantasy makes you think you have a right to. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m not a child anymore, I’ve made my decision on religion and fantasies and I want no part of it. Chan isn’t a demon, he’s a good man. I don’t know what this is, or why it’s come up now but… This isn’t the time. And I’m not gonna make Chan sit through an awkward dinner because of it, and I’m not going to either.”

He turned and opened the door, but felt his father’s hand on his shoulder before he could leave.

“You really don’t need to go,” he said. “Your mother has missed you.”

“If I stay, so does he.” Felix said firmly, hoping his father couldn’t feel him shaking. He glanced back, meeting his father’s stony expression. Felix nodded once. “That’s what I thought.”

He shook his father’s hand off his shoulder and walked into the kitchen, where Chan was talking softly with his mother. Felix smiled softly at the scene, his heart aching.

Felix’s mother met his gaze. She seemed to silently understand what had happened, and nodded once. “It’s too late to switch your tickets, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Felix said, entering the kitchen fully.

“Do you want me to try and talk to him?”

Felix shook his head no and shrugged at the same time. “I don’t know that it would change his mind.”

“What did he say?”

Felix shook his head again, not wanting to say it in front of Chan. “Spouting his demon stuff.”

“He does have a connection with the Lord.”

“Maybe he does. And that’s fine. But it’s not an excuse to be cruel to someone he just met.”

“I’m okay, ‘Lix,” Chan said softly, taking his hand. “Should I go? I can find a place to chill out, I’m sure there’s a bar or two open.”

“No. That isn’t fair. I promised you I’d spend the holidays with you, and I will.” He circled around the small island and hugged his mother. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you a bit, Felix.” She said, squeezing him. She patted his back. “I would do the same thing in your place. There are some motels still open, I bet you boys can find one.”

“We’ll look.”

She squeezed his shoulder, stepping back. In a quiet voice she spoke, “your father is going to the church tomorrow for a service, like he always does.”

“We can’t—”

“No, no.” She smiled. “Come over then. Both of you. We’ll have a nice lunch, just the three of us, okay?”

Felix smiled softly, relaxing. “Yeah?”

“Yes. You haven’t been here in so long. I’m not going to let whatever’s gotten your father up in a twist ruin my chance to spend time with my son and his new beau. I’ll see what’s gotten your father all upset as well, maybe I can offer some advice, or wind him down.”

“Don’t get yourself into a fight with him over us.”

“Oh, I think you know I can handle your father just fine.”

Felix laughed and nodded. “I know you can. We’ll stop by tomorrow after he goes.”

“Alright. Text me when you find a place to stay, okay?”

Felix nodded again. He and Chan rose, heading to the door to put their shoes and outer clothes back on. He could feel someone watching him as he did, and a quick glance back confirmed his father was standing in the doorway of his study. His eyes were narrowed until he met Felix’s gaze. He shook his head slowly and held up three fingers.

Felix rolled his eyes and waved, wrapping an arm around Chan’s waist pointedly as they walked out of the house.

Felix remained quiet except to guide Chan through the town to a small motel on the edge of it. It wasn’t until they’d secured a room – and Felix smiled through fifteen minutes of praise about his father’s sermons – that Chan finally spoke.

“What happened back there, man?”

“Nothing. My dad’s religion finally getting the best of him.”

“You said he was okay with you being gay.”

“He swears he is. But apparently you’re a demon.” Felix laughed at the surprised expression that twisted Chan’s face.

“A demon?” Chan laughed once, his smile wavering. “That’s a pretty mean thing to say.”

“I know. I’m sorry, that’s why I didn’t want to go into detail about it. I’m not sure what got into him. I just didn’t want to deal with it tonight.”

“I don’t blame you.” Chan stepped up to him, wrapping his arms around Felix’s middle and pressing a kiss to his lips. Felix relaxed instantly, comforted just by Chan’s presence. He rested his forehead on his shoulder, embracing him in silence for a few moments.

“Why don’t you go take a nice shower,” Chan murmured, rubbing Felix’s back slowly. “I’ll find a place that’s open for delivery, and order us our own dinner, we can have a nice time together without his silliness.” He squeezed Felix’s hips. Felix grinned, hugging him a little tighter.

“Sounds perfect. God, why are you so perfect?” He pulled back, meeting Chan’s gaze. Chan grinned.

“Well, your dad said it. I’m a demon, it’s all a part of my plot to seduce you to the dark side.”

Felix laughed, slapping Chan’s chest lightly. “If this is the dark side, sign me up. I’ve never been happier,” he whispered.

Chan’s smile softened. He kissed Felix once more and patted his ass. “Go take a shower.”

Felix nodded, stepping back from him and grabbing his bag before stepping into the bathroom.

After Felix showered and changed into sweats, he stepped into the main room. Chan was sitting on the bed, facing away from him as he spoke.

“Yeah, I miss you too.” He paused. “Are you sure?” Another pause. “Yeah, if you’re sure. Of course.” Chan laughed softly. “No, I wouldn’t. I love you.” He laughed again. “Yes, you do. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

He hung up and Felix cleared his throat, stepping fully into the room. Chan dropped his phone onto the nightstand and smiled. “I ordered us food.”

“Aw, are we expressing love to the delivery people now?” He teased, grinning when Chan smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I know I promised just us this weekend.”

Felix shook his head. “I’m not mad. And you know you didn’t have to make that promise. Minho is always welcomed.” He settled onto the bed and Chan stretched out next to him, raising his arm for Felix to snuggle against his side. “How’s he doing? Is he spending the holidays with family?”

“His father, yeah, but you know him – still working.”

“Well I don’t know him,” Felix teased. “I’m glad he isn’t alone. I would’ve felt bad, stealing you away.”

Chan shook his head. He stroked his fingers along Felix’s arm gently, and Felix closed his eyes, listening to the slow, steady beat of Chan’s heart.

Chan had been transparent right away when he and Felix first started dating. He was polyamorous, and had a boyfriend already. It was different, Felix realized, but his early concerns of jealousy were unfounded. Despite being busy with his job, Chan always made time for both of his boyfriends, and Felix had never once felt like a third wheel, a side piece, or any of the things he’d feared he would. If anything, Chan’s dual relationship was nice; it gave Felix time to himself, allowing him to relax and recharge, and he always knew his partner was happy and being loved even if he couldn’t be there in that moment.

He’d heard a lot about Chan’s other partner, and had begun to care about him in many ways. He was a man named Minho, who apparently worked in the entertainment industry, though Chan never elaborated for Minho’s privacy. Though Minho knew about Felix, and was fully aware and comfortable that he and Chan were dating, Chan explained that he was shy, and declined to meet Chan’s other boyfriends.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about him,” Chan said, pulling Felix back from the brink of sleep he’d been teetering on.

“Hm?” He mumbled sleepily.

“Minho.”

“What about him?” Felix blinked a few times, shifting to look at Chan directly. “Is he alright? Do you need to go to him?”

“No, he’s fine. He’s happy we’re here. I was telling him about us being in the hotel, he’s sorry your dad’s a dick.”

Felix laughed and nodded. “Him and me both.”

“Um…” Chan bit his lip. “Actually he wanted me to ask you something.”

Felix tilted his head a bit, smiling. “What?” He pressed when Chan didn’t continue.

“Uh… So… You and I have been going out for about a year now. And… It’s pretty obvious we’re serious.”

“I’d like to think so,” Felix agreed.

“I’ve had other boyfriends, but they don’t tend to last. Which is partly why Minho hasn’t wanted to meet you. He doesn’t want to get attached if I end up breaking up with someone. I’m the same way when he dates other people, and if you wanted to date someone else, I think I’d have the same rules with you.”

“It’s fair, I don’t mind. You know I don’t… Does Minho think I do?” Felix worried.

“No, you have been… Absolutely perfect. For both of us. But um… Minho is thinking that it might be time to take our relationship to the next step.”

Felix lifted himself onto his elbow, looking down at Chan. He shook his head. “I’m not sure what you mean. Does he want to marry you? Move in with you?”

“Not quite yet.” Chan smiled softly. “No, the next step with you. He was wanting to finally meet you. If you were okay with that. He’d like to have a date. The three of us. See if you and he… Get along, or are compatible. As friends or more, whatever you two end up deciding but… He figures since it’s a pretty good thing between us…” Chan shrugged sheepishly.

A grin spread across Felix’s face. “Really? He—That’s amazing, of course!” He nodded. “I’d be honored. I’d love to meet him.”

“Really?” Chan’s face brightened. He went up on his elbow. “You will?”

“Of course!” Felix laughed. “Chan, I respect him, and I respect his wishes. And I definitely don’t mind you dating him. But I’ve been dying to know him. I don’t even know what he looks like. I’m curious. Who else is your type? Will I like him too? I’m sure I will, he sounds like a really sweet guy. But you never know. He wants to go on a date with us though? Like… You and him and me?”

“Yeah. He thought something casual, us hanging out one night might be nice. He uh… He co-owns a really nice nightclub. It’s a place he knows we’ll be safe and not bothered as a trio of guys who are most definitely not straight.”

“He owns a nightclub?” Felix’s eyes widened. “You forgot to mention that.”

“He asked me not to.”

Felix sighed and smiled, nodding. “I understand. I’d be happy to go on a date with you guys. I’m excited about it.”

Chan nodded. “Great!” He exclaimed. He kissed Felix happily. “I’m so relieved. Thank you.”

“You really worried I’d say no?” Felix pouted.

“Well, not really, but there was a chance,” Chan said, rising and getting the door when it was knocked on. “I still was nervous.” He turned and bowed to the delivery person. “Thank you.”

He brought the food to the small table and Felix joined him, the two eating with comfortable discussion throughout.

After dinner, Chan showered while Felix rested in bed, his eyes shutting on their own volition until the bed sank down with Chan’s weight. Felix rolled over, snuggling against his shower warmed skin.

“Do you want to go to my parent’s again tomorrow?” Felix asked.

“I think so. Your mom is very nice, and I’d like to give her a chance to see you.”

“My dad should be gone a few hours, hopefully; the holiday service always runs long. He’s gonna be furious she’s missing it though.”

“Do you think he’ll come back to chase us off?”

Felix shook his head. “No, he never misses a sermon. She’ll have an earful afterward though, I feel bad, but… I also wanna see her, it’s been too long.”

“You don’t think he’d do something to hurt her, right? We can stick around town a while after in case…”

“Oh no, no,” Felix laughed a bit as he shook his head again. “She’s more likely to smack him, honestly. He can be cold sometimes but he’s not abusive. I’m not worried about her, just feel bad about causing the fight.”

“You didn’t cause it. He was being cruel.” Chan pressed a kiss to Felix’s head. “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“You’re important to me,” Felix said softly. “I won’t let anyone treat you like that.”

“I’m gonna make sure you’re cared for too, okay?” Chan pressed, squeezing Felix’s shoulders. “Always. And Minho too, now that we three can be friendly.”

“I really hope he likes me.”

“He will, I know it. I’m so excited for you two to meet.”

Felix snuggled closer to Chan as he pulled the blankets over them, sighing contentedly.

The next afternoon, the two went back to Felix’s parents’ house, relieved to find his father’s car gone. His mother hugged them both, welcoming them into the kitchen where she’d warmed up the dinner from the day before.

“I really am sorry about him,” she said as they ate, looking at Chan. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into him.”

“Did he explain anything else to you?” Felix asked. “About why he was saying that crap about Chan?”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “He swears up and down he’s a demon, but I see nothing but a nice man who treats my boy nice. You look good together, and you’re happy with each other, anyone can see that. I don’t know why he’s gotten on this.”

“It’s okay,” Chan assured her. He set his hand over Felix’s as well. “I’ve dealt with disapproving parents before, honestly. The reason is at least interesting this time. It’s not ‘because he’s a gay man’ or ‘because he’s a musician’ – been called a lot of things, never a demon.” He grinned brightly as he spoke, his dimples carving out a space in his cheek.

Felix laughed, as well as his mother, relaxing the tension in the room.

The three talked freely afterward, easily avoiding the subject of Felix’s father and his sudden religious psychosis. His mother asked about their lives in the city, how Felix’s job was, about their shared and independent friends, and general updates. Though Felix had originally been a little worried about Chan’s reaction to his family, it seemed as if everything was going to end up alright after all, even with his father’s behavior.

As the afternoon stretched on, they moved their chat to the living room, and Felix couldn’t help but smile as Chan made his mother laugh with his jokes and tales from the city. As they got ready to leave to catch their flight, his mother took Felix aside.

“What’s up?”

She smiled softly. “I think your father is partially right.”

Felix’s smile drooped from his face. “Wh—What?”

Despite his concerned expression, her smile broadened. “There’s no way that boy of yours is human. He’s perfect for you, Felix. He’s an angel.”

Felix sighed in relief, laughing softly. He looked over at Chan, who was typing out something on his phone.

“He really is… I’m really in love with him, Mom.”

“I can tell. I know that look.” She squeezed Felix’s chin. “I’m sorry your father couldn’t see this side of you two. I think it would have made him change his mind about Chan.”

“Maybe. But he’ll have a long time to decide. Chan isn’t going anywhere. I…” He smiled softly. “I think he might… Be that one for me. I know it’s early in the relationship to think that, but.”

“No, not at all.” She hugged him tightly. “Sometimes you just know, like I did with your father. I was given a sign from God, maybe you have been to. Believer or not.”

Felix nodded. “Maybe. If one does exist… He definitely sent Chan to me.”

She tsked, brushing her finger over Felix’s cheek. “Love looks good on you, kiddo. You two have a safe flight, okay? Let me know when you land.”

“We will. Love you, Mom.” He hugged her again, before heading back toward Chan.

Chan smiled broadly. “Surprise,” he said, tucking his phone away.

“What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you in the car.” He said. He turned to Felix’s mother. “Thank you again, for being so kind.”

She smiled brightly and pulled him into a tight hug. “You are always welcome here, so long as you keep making Felix smile like that.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chan said, smiling as well. He made eye contact with Felix over her shoulder and winked playfully before stepping back. “Thank you again, your food was amazing.”

“Thank you both for coming.” She waved them off as they walked out to the car and got in.

Chan leaned over, pressing a kiss to Felix’s mouth before he began driving toward the airport.

“So what’s this surprise?” Felix asked.

“Minho. I told him you agreed to a date, and was really excited. He said he’s actually got tomorrow night off, if you’re free too.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Really? So soon?” He laughed. “Ah, I’m nervous.”

“You have nothing to worry about. He’s just as excited to meet you. But if tomorrow doesn’t work, we can definitely plan for later in the week or the weekend.”

“No, let me just check on something.” Felix dug for his phone, scrolling through his calendar. He shook his head after a moment. “No, I’m okay. I have a call with client at four, but it shouldn’t take any longer than half an hour. Is six okay?”

“Six would be great. I can pick you up and we can go together, he’ll meet us there.”

“At this nightclub he owns?”

Chan nodded.

“Do I know it? Have you taken me before?”

“I haven’t, but you probably know it.”

“What is it?”

“The Lyon’s Den.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “Your boyfriend co-owns that place? Holy shit, that’s more than a nightclub, Chan!” He smacked Chan’s shoulder in surprise. Chan laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“That is the hottest spot these days to hang out at. Especially if you’re queer. I’ve been trying to get in there for months.”

Chan laughed brightly. “You never told me.”

“I wanted to surprise you when I finally managed to reserve a spot. I figured you’d want to go too. Little did I know you’re sleeping with the owner.” Felix made a hissing noise of frustration, laughing afterward and throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you.”

Chan’s laugh increased. “I’m sorry, I had no idea! If I’d know I would’ve tried to get you in sooner. Could’ve made up some story to keep Minho’s identity a secret.”

Felix sighed, pouting. “Why are you dating me?” He whined, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re dating someone like that.”

“It has nothing to do with what he does,” Chan assured him. “I knew Minho before he got to that place, you know we were childhood friends. Total coincidence.”

“Still. Now I’m even more nervous.” He buried his face in his hands, concern knotting his stomach. Though he was mostly joking, a new anxiety had definitely formed now that he knew just who he was going to be meeting.

Chan reached over, gently massaging the back of his neck. “I promise, he’s really down to earth. He won’t make you feel bad. And you can just be yourself, Felix. He’s going to love you, I know it.”

Felix whined softly, and Chan sighed. He kept his hand on Felix’s back, gently rubbing comforting circles. “Seriously,” Chan tried again. “I promise, you won’t even notice.”

Felix looked up at Chan, his mouth pursing into a deep pout. “What do I wear?”

Chan laughed. “Want me to come over a little early tomorrow? I can help you pick something that looks good. And something that’ll make Minho think you look… Extra amazing.”

“Would you?”

Chan nodded. “Of course.” He leaned over at a stoplight and pressed a kiss to Felix’s temple.

The touch relaxed him a bit and he smiled. “Thank you.”

Though the flight back home and the evening that followed was peaceful, Felix was still nervous about the upcoming date. Focusing at work was near impossible, and he spent most of the day doing his best to avoid researching information about the Lyon’s Den and its elusive owners. Though the club was a popular spot, the owners were a mystery. There was a large online debate about who owned it, and many people showed photographic “evidence” of this or that person being the owner – but none of the photos seemed consistent with who Chan was dating. Either far too old, a female presenting person, someone obviously married or dating whoever was hanging off his or her arm, etcetera.

“Still need my help picking an outfit?” Chan asked, leaning against the doorframe to Felix’s bedroom. Felix looked up from where he was standing in his boxeers, staring at a pile of clothes. He twisted his face into a pout that he hoped effectively got his desperation across. Chan smiled and nodded, pushing himself off the frame and entering. He walked around behind Felix and wrapped his arms around his middle, rubbing his thumb lightly over the soft bare skin of his belly.

“You’re beautiful no matter what,” Chan murmured in his ear. He kissed lightly along Felix’s neck and shoulders.”

“Still wanna look good for him,” Felix murmured.

“Were you like this the first date we went on?”

Felix smiled sheepishly and nodded. “I think Seungmin wanted to murder me, I sent him so many outfit choices.”

“Aww,” Chan made a small noise and nuzzled against Felix’s neck. “You looked so handsome that night, I loved it. You didn’t need to worry at all, just like you don’t need to now.”

“Well, I did and I am so help me.” Felix pulled from his grip and turned, shoving a pile of clothes into his arms and flopping onto the bed.

“Where are those tight black jeans you have?” Chan asked, riffling through the clothes in his arms.

“Those? Uh… Dresser still. I didn’t figure that would be appropriate for the club.”

“No, that’ll fit right in.” Chan dropped the clothes in his arms and went to the dresser, crouching to pull it open and grab the jeans he was thinking about. He tossed them onto the bed and then went to Felix’s closet. Felix sat up, pulling the jeans on and going to stand next to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…”

He reached in and pulled out a deep red button up that Felix barely remembered owning. He smirked. “This.”

“That?” Felix took it reluctantly, turning to look in the mirror as he held it up to his body. “Are you sure?” The material was almost silky, giving the fabric a glossy sort of look. Chan rested his hands on Felix’s hips, brushing his nose over his ear.

“Very sure. You’ll look stunning.”

Felix smiled at the compliment and nodded. He stepped out of Chan’s grip and pulled on the shirt, taking a moment to tuck it into his jeans and adjust it against his body before looking in the mirror. Chan nodded at his reflection. “Perfect. Run a comb through your hair and you’ll be great. Are you ready otherwise?”

Felix nodded, heading to his dresser to comb his hair and add a touch of gloss to his mouth. He headed to the door after fixing his scattered clothing and pulled on his shoes and jacket, following Chan out to the parking garage.

The Lyon’s Den was a large space nestled in an already popular part of the city. Because of it’s prime location, as well as it’s alluring ads that began popping up on various social medias almost immediately after its opening, it had quickly drawn attention – both good and bad. Certain conservative members of the city government despised it, and seemed to be hunting for any reason to shut it down, but the owners were smart. Though it had become a hub for queer safety and culture, they never advertised it as such, and did their part as a successful business in the city to help. Nobody could deny that since the club’s opening, their staff’s altruistic behavior had done a lot of good things – both with monetary donations, fundraisers, and other volunteer work that the club was always hosting; shutting them down without some major scandal would be a career ending move for the city leaders.

Despite being invited – by the owner, apparently – Felix’s heart still skipped a beat as they approached the bouncer standing at the front, skipping the line entirely.

“Hey, Chan,” the muscular man said, raising his hand. He passed the ID in it back to the young man standing in front of him and nodded to him, stepping aside to allow him entrance before blocking the way for the next person. “He’s waiting for you,” he said, looking at Chan and Felix as he took the ID from the waiting patron.

“Thanks, Hoseok.”

He nodded, glancing at Felix. “This the boy?”

Chan grinned and nodded. He slung his arm over Felix’s shoulders. “Yeah, this is him.”

“You’re right, he’s cute. Go on in.” He stepped forward, looking down at the ID before chuckling. “Seriously kid?” He asked.

Chan pulled Felix into the club before he could hear any more. The inside was even prettier than the photos online would have implied.

It was already full of club goers, loud music from a live band playing up on a raised stage to the far side of the club. The lights were just bright enough to cast enough light, shifting through different colors every few seconds in rhythm to the music. The bar was huge, with what looked like hundreds of bottles of liquor sparkling in the lights. Around the edge of the floor were small alcoves that were partially shielded by sleek black, purple, or red curtains. The nearest one that Felix could see into revealed a soft curved bench surrounding a table. There was a balcony that was reachable by two staircases on either side of the dance floor. It contained various tables and booths, and Felix could see servers in a variety of outfits hurrying between them as they served the patrons.

“This is amazing!” Felix shouted, leaning close to Chan to be heard.

“Right? It’s a great atmosphere! Come on, Minho is up this way.” He laced his fingers with Felix’s so they wouldn’t get separated by the crowd. Instead of going toward the floor, Chan led him up the stairs, waving to a short girl with short cropped hair as she went down them.

“How’s business?” He shouted. She laughed.

“Think you’re so funny Mr. Producer! Get a real job!”

Chan laughed brightly. “Love you too, Yechan!” She stuck her tongue out at him, revealing a shiny ball in the center of it, before sliding past them to hurry back down the steps.

“Do you know everyone here?” Felix asked.

“A lot,” Chan said, nodding. “Most have been here since the place opened, it’s a really good place to work.”

“I’ve heard! And hard to get hired.”

Chan nodded again. “Minho and his partner are pretty strict, for a good reason. This is supposed to be a safe space, so if anyone risks that, they can’t be allowed in. Up ahead, here, the gold alcove.” He pointed to the center of the balcony, where both sides came together to form a U shape above the floor. The only gold rimmed alcove was directly in the center, and set a bit closer to the high railing. Though there was still room to pass in front of it, it was clear of tables between it and the railing, giving an unobstructed view of nearly the entire first floor of the club.

Felix followed Chan forward, careful to dodge the fast-moving servers and tables. The food smelled amazing, and his stomach grumbled annoyedly. He grimaced, remembering he’d forgotten to eat today in his nerves. Before he could comment, Chan came to a stop in front of the alcove. He pulled aside the shining gold curtain, allowing Felix to see inside.

The inside of this was similar to the others, with a curved bench surrounding a table. The table was far larger, however, and had an array of drinks and food spread out over it. There was a soft purple light high above the table. The bench was empty save for one person in the center, farthest from the entrance.

Felix gasped softly. The man was beautiful. He looked about their age, but somehow so much older at the same time. His dark hair hung in a perfect fringe over his forehead, just brushing his brows. He wore a silver hoop in his right ear. His eyes were dark and piercing, and Felix immediately felt weak in the knees when their gazes met. There was something deeply unsettling about his expression, his small mouth in curled up at the corners. He had one arm slung back over the empty bench, the other bent at the elbow. His slender fingers gripped the stem of a wine glass filled with deep red wine lightly, and a few thin bracelets dangled from his delicate wrist, glinting in the purple light. He wore all black – including a neatly pressed shirt that Felix was sure cost more than an entire month’s salary, as well as clean black pants. He had his legs crossed at the knee, giving him an air of casual relaxation despite his formidable presence. He blinked slowly once, almost catlike.

“Chan.”

Felix had to swallow the noise that threatened to slip from his mouth when Minho spoke. Despite his soft tone, Felix felt the rumble of his voice in his chest. Hair on the back of his neck and arms rose, and he heard his father’s voice in his ears. “Stay away, boy. Two is a party, but three is a crowd.”

Minho rose, circling around the table. Felix took a nervous step backwards, his heart skipping a beat.

Chan glanced back at him, smiling softly. “You okay?” He whispered.

Felix looked at him, struggling to push the anxiety that was rolling in his guts down. “Yeah,” he whispered. His father’s voice still echoed in his mind, an eerie reminder of just how fitting that warning was. Chan wrapped an arm firmly around his waist however, and the touch seemed to ground him, even as his heart sped up once more when Minho came to a stop in front of them. He met Felix’s gaze again. “Felix.”

Felix swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping his shaking wasn’t visible. “H—” He froze, his throat drying immediately.

Minho’s smile softened, as did his gaze. “You don’t need to be nervous with me,” he said in that soft, silken voice. He reached up, setting his hand on Felix’s shoulder. The grip was firm but not forceful, and a comfortable warmth spread through Felix from their point of contact. He relaxed a little, nodding.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I—I’m a bit intimidated.”

“You don’t need to be that either,” Minho assured him. “Why don’t you come sit down. Chan told me what types of food and drink you liked, so I got a selection. Please, help yourself while we talk.”

Minho stepped aside and removed his hand from Felix’s shoulder. He gestured with the wine glass for them to enter. Chan pushed Felix forward gently. He stumbled into the alcove, catching himself before he fell.

Minho tsked, and Felix glanced back in time to see him swat Chan lightly on the shoulder. “He’s not a child, Bang Chan, he can walk.”

“Sorry,” Chan mumbled, and Felix couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m okay,” he promised. He sat down slowly on the bench, surprised at the gentle plush of it. Minho circled back around and sat next to him, a respectful few inches between them. Chan followed Minho, sitting behind him. He poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it.

“Do you want me to pour you one?” He offered.

“Uh—Sure.”

Minho set his own glass down. “Felix. Relax, I promise, I won’t hurt you, you’re safe here.”

“I know. Chan has said a lot about you – um… All good. I know you won’t.” He took the glass from Chan and nodded in thanks.

“Let’s eat some first,” Minho suggested, motioning to the table. “It always relaxes me, eating with people. We won’t have any pressure to talk right away.” He touched Felix’s shoulder again. “But I do want to say, you look amazing tonight. Chan said you were a handsome man… His description didn’t do you justice.”

Felix smiled shyly, his cheeks warming up at the compliment. “He didn’t really tell me what you looked like. I didn’t know what to expect. There’s not much information about the owners of this club, so…”

“By design,” Minho said. He handed Felix a plate and passed one back to Chan.

“Why?” Felix rose, adding various small sandwiches and fruits to his plate, many of which he’d never seen before.

“This is supposed to be a haven. A place for the unloved, unwanted, unsafe to come and be themselves. Which means a lot of the people down there, dancing, feeling free and happy…” He motioned to the floor below and smiled. “A lot of them aren’t safe anywhere else in this city. And there are a lot of people that would hurt them. If they knew. We keep our identities secret to help them. Nobody can come after the owners if they don’t know the owners. Our bouncer, you met him – he’s the other owner’s boyfriend. Most of the workers are the unwanted themselves, finally able to work in an environment that lets them just be.”

The back of Felix’s nose burned as Minho explained. He blinked a few times, willing away the wetness that threatened to blur his vision; crying in front of his man would likely not make a very good impression.

“That’s amazing,” he finally whispered.

“It’s the least I can do. These are the people that make me feel safe, and I want to return that favor.” He set his hand on Chan’s thigh and squeezed. Their gaze met and Chan smiled softly.

“Chan said you two have been together a long time.”

“We have,” Minho nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were little… Chan was my first kiss.”

Felix’s eyes widened. He froze, a small strip of melon centimeters from his parted lips.

“Don’t look so surprised… Chan didn’t tell you?” Minho asked, his smile wavering.

Felix shook his head, a new wave of anxiety threatening to steal his appetite. He placed the melon back down onto the plate.

“He never mentioned that.”

“Chan,” Minho scolded.

Chan lowered his gaze, looking chided. “I didn’t think to,” he mumbled.

“Well now Felix is probably insecure about things,” Minho said. He turned to face Felix fully. Gently, he took the plate from his hands and set it on the table, grasping both of Felix’s hands in his own.

“Hey,” he whispered. Felix looked up, his face warm with embarrassment. Minho smiled, his expression soothing. He spoke in a soft tone, just loud enough for Felix to hear when he listened close.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, okay?”

Felix nodded.

“I love Chan. With everything I have. And he loves me. But he loves you too, Felix. He’s told me as much. And I hope you and I… Maybe with a little time… Maybe we can form that sort of bond too. Or maybe we don’t, and we just become really good friends, connected through our love for him. Just because he’s known me longer doesn’t mean at all that he loves you or me more or less. You love him, don’t you?”

Felix nodded. Minho’s smile appeared wider again. He nodded as well. “I thought so. He’s great. Please don’t be scared of me or him, or us – the three of us – or just us two – because he and I grew up together, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” Felix whispered.

“Good. Can I tell you another secret?”

Felix nodded once more.

Minho leaned closer, his lips brushing Felix’s ear for a brief moment. The touch sent sparks down Felix’s spine and he gripped Minho’s hands a little tighter by instinct.

“You really are the most beautiful man I’ve seen in a very long time. Chan told me earlier in your relationship that you were exactly my type… I’m ashamed I waited so long to learn that was true…” He brushed Felix’s ear with his mouth again. “I hope very much to learn more about you tonight. And I hope that sometime soon… I might get to taste those beautiful lips of yours… With your permission, of course.”

Minho leaned back and Felix nearly fell forward, his lips parting in surprise. Minho smiled, meeting his gaze with an intense expression. “Are we good?”

“Better than good,” Felix whispered, willing his heart to stop beating against its cage. It took him a few seconds longer to realize he was still gripping Minho’s hands tightly. He unclenched immediately, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Minho grabbed his plate and passed it back to him. “Eat, please.”

“So, tell me more about yourself. Considering Chan forgot to tell you massive parts of our history, I’m guessing he left some good stuff about you out too.”

Felix laughed softly. Minho sat back, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders. Chan leaned into him immediately, smiling softly at Felix.

He hesitated, taking a bite of fruit to cover his silence while he tried to consider a good answer. Everything he thought of saying sounded silly, or weak, or childish, and despite Minho’s comforting words earlier, he really did want to make a good impression.

Seeming to sense Felix’s discomfort, Chan jumped in, mentioning how kind his mother had been that past weekend. Felix relaxed, smiling gratefully at Chan.

The conversation flowed with Chan’s help, and soon Felix realized that Minho wasn’t so difficult to talk to. He found himself laughing more, relaxing into Minho’s gentle touches, and maintaining Minho’s intense eye contact without immediately wanting to look away.

After all three had eaten their fill, Minho set his hands on both their thighs. “Do you want to dance?” He asked, looking at Felix.

“I—If you want to?” Felix glanced at Chan, who smirked and shrugged. He nodded again and looked at Minho. “Yeah.”

Minho grinned and rose, taking Felix’s hand. He guided him back around the table and out of the alcove.

The trio made their way down the stairs to the dance floor, finding a spot big enough for them to move comfortably. Felix found himself facing Minho, their bodies close together. Minho’s hands rested on his hips, swaying to the music. The lights were strobing gently to the bass, casting a variety of shadows over their faces. Chan’s lips brushed over his neck as his body pressed against Felix’s back, his hands settling a little under Minho’s.

The three danced close, lost in their own world as the patrons moved around them. The air thickened, and Felix could almost taste the tension in the air. His gaze was locked with Minho’s, looking away not an option at this point. Chan was whispering in his ear, but he wasn’t able to process the words; he wasn’t entirely sure they were in any language he knew.

The music changed to something heavier and faster, and Minho pulled Felix closer. Chan followed, pinning Felix’s body between theirs. Minho broke eye contact to kiss Chan over Felix’s shoulder. Felix bit his own lip. It wasn’t jealousy he felt so much as arousal, and desperation to have a turn, to be shared. Which was good, he supposed; jealousy was the last emotion he wanted to feel if he wanted this to work out.

When they separated, he turned between them to face Chan before kissing him hard. Minho chuckled against his ear. Felix gasped against Chan’s lips when Minho pressed against him, his hardness against his ass.

They danced like that through another song, Felix breaking the kiss to lean his head back on Minho’s shoulder. They caged Felix with their arms and bodies, a firm hold that he had no intention of breaking unless he had to. His head was spinning despite not having much to drink, their lips kissing his cheeks and neck, nipping his ears as they panted under the lights.

It was Minho the ultimately broke the connection, pulling his head away when Felix leaned forward to kiss his mouth for the first time. “We should talk first,” he panted.

Felix pouted softly, his heart sinking a little at being turned down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push too far…”

“No.” Minho smiled, stroking his thumb over Felix’s cheek. “I want to kiss you too, don’t take it the wrong way. I just want to talk to you about something first, before we move forward like that.”

Felix nodded. He glanced at Chan, who looked relaxed despite the intensity of their actions just a few minutes prior. He winked at Felix, offering the smile that always weakened his knees. Felix smiled helplessly, relaxing a little.

“Why don’t we go up to my apartment instead,” Minho offered as they reached the stairway. “A little quieter.”

Felix raised his brows, surprise pinching his mouth into a little o-shape. Minho laughed.

“Nothing funny, I promise. My apartment is in the building, just up a few floors. You’re safe there.”

“I know,” Felix smiled, trying to erase the surprise from his face. “I just didn’t expect to see your apartment the first night we met.”

Minho smirked. “You’re lucky – I don’t ever invite random boys up to my place… No matter how cute they are.” He winked and turned. Felix’s stomach exploded with butterflies. He bit his lip, barely stifling the giggle that threatened to bubble up at the compliment. Chan chuckled, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Told you he’d adore you, baby,” he whispered.

Felix looked at him, his smile returning full force. “He’s amazing,” he whispered. Chan nodded. He jutted his chin forward, motioning for Felix to follow Minho around to a doorway beside the bar. Behind it was an elevator, which the three stepped into silently.

They rode it upward, each standing a safe distance from one another. It stopped and opened to a simple foyer.

“Wait the whole floor?” Felix squeaked.

“Yeah. We have most of the building,” Minho said, stepping into the space and removing his shoes. “Make yourself comfortable.” He opened the door, and Felix peeked in, gasping.

The space was huge and open, with rich gold and black tones giving the space a luxurious feeling. There was a bar to one side, packed nearly as full as the one downstairs, and a couch that Felix knew he’d never want to get up from. A glass door to the far side revealed a beautiful view of the city’s skyline and large balcony. The opening of a hallway was near the glass door, likely the other rooms. He followed Chan and Minho in after removing his shoes, heading to the bar where they stood.

“Chan, would you?” Minho asked. “I’m going to change. Do you want a more comfortable shirt, Felix?”

“No, I’m okay,” Felix said, smiling shyly.

Minho nodded. He disappeared down the hall and Felix turned to Chan.

“Seriously?”

Chan ducked behind the bar, raising his brows. “What?”

“Why the hell are you dating me?”

Chan grabbed three glasses and lined them up, rolling up the sleeves of his own shirt. “I don’t follow, Lix.” He said, plunking ice cubes into them. He turned to grab bottles, casually spinning one before pouring the amber liquid into the glasses.

“You have a man here, who you knew since childhood, who owns one of the biggest clubs in our city. And he’s dating you! And he’s hot,” Felix hissed.

Chan chuckled. “Yeah? And?”

“What the hell are you doing slumming it around with me? What the hell do I have to compare to that?”

Chan’s smile faded. He hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing. He placed the bottle back and grabbed a second, pouring it into two of the glasses. He slid one over to Felix after mixing it quickly with a straw.

“Felix, you aren’t… Slumming it.”

He went around the bar and grabbed the other drinks, heading over to the couch. He set them onto a couple of coasters and tossed a third onto the coffee table for Felix’s drink.

“Compared—”

“I don’t compare you two,” Chan said, cutting him off with a sharp tone. “You two are equal to me, Felix. Whether he’s rich or poor or you have an amazing job or a crappy one – he’s my boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend. I didn’t bring you to meet him so you’d feel badly about yourself.”

Felix sighed, feeling a little guilty for bringing it up so harshly. He stepped over to the sliding glass door, looking out over the city as he sipped his drink.

Chan wrapped his arms around Felix’s middle. He rested his chin on his shoulder, rocking them gently.

“Lixie,” he whispered. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re upset. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long Minho and I have known each other. I didn’t think it’d matter.”

“I’m not…” Felix sighed. “I am. But not at you or him.”

“Then what.”

“Myself.” Chan’s mouth turned to a frown against Felix’s shoulder.

“Explain.”

“I feel guilty.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Liking him? Liking you? Wanting to stay with you when you have someone like him? Feeling guilty. I—”

“Felix.” Chan stepped back and turned Felix around. He grabbed his drink and placed it on the coffee table, returning before Felix could move.

“Felix.” He said again, firmly. He grabbed Felix’s shoulders, squeezing them before sliding his hands down his arms. “I know we don’t say it much… But I love you, Felix. I have for a long time. And I love Minho too, but that doesn’t mean my love for you is less. Do you know how happy I would be if all three of us could be together? If you could feel the way Minho loves me? You deserve that too. We all do. Please don’t feel guilty for wanting that, or for loving me, or falling for him. That’s why tonight is happening.”

Felix smiled a little as Chan spoke, lowering his gaze to the floor. Chan stepped forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Promise you won’t feel guilty over this.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Talk to me okay? To us both.”

Felix nodded.

“Are we good?” Minho’s voice came from behind them. Felix looked up, surprised at the change. Though Minho was still gorgeous, he’d changed into a pair of sweats and a plain black t-shirt, making him look far more natural and human than his dressy attire.

“We’re good,” Chan said.

Minho nodded. He tossed a shirt to Chan, who glanced at Felix to confirm that it was okay before stepping down the hall to change.

“Come sit with me.” Minho said. He went to the couch, patting it.

Felix sat down, grabbing his own drink. He ran his thumb through the condensation, spinning the thin straw with his forefinger.

“I need to discuss something important with you, Felix. And I’m afraid it may change how you feel about me. But that’s exactly why we need to talk about it before we get into any sort of relationship. Whether it’s a close friendship or a sexual one or… More romantic.” He smiled softly when Felix looked up.

“What?” Felix chuckled. “Are you a serial killer or something?”

Minho laughed. “Nothing quite so drastic.” He sighed, his smile softening. He sipped his drink. “Your father is a pastor.”

“Yeah.”

“So you grew up in a church, right?”

Felix nodded, confused by the sudden change in the line of questioning.

“So, you know the bible, right? Pretty well.”

“Yes… Somewhat. I haven’t read it in a long time. I’m not a believer.”

“Chan mentioned that. Um… You know the story of Lucifer and God and the final judgement, all that stuff.”

“Yeah…” Felix drifted off, an uneasy feeling creeping into his guts. Was Minho some sort of religious fanatic? Surely Chan wouldn’t be with someone like that…

Chan cleared his throat as he emerged from the hallway, now wearing one of his own t-shirts. He settled into a soft leather recliner across from the two on the couch.

“Chan—”

“Just listen,” Chan said softly, offering what Felix was sure was meant to be a comforting smile. Unfortunately, it only increased his anxiety. His father’s words echoed in his mind again, the unease clenching his stomach in a bear trap. Three. He gasped at the connection, sliding back a bit from Minho.

“Wait—”

“Felix?”

Felix swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment. He struggled to regain control of the panic coursing through his veins. This was ridiculous. His father was a crazy old man; there was no way he could have known. He didn’t believe that stupid shit anyways. Minho was probably just making small talk, or maybe he was interested in theology – Felix just needed to hear him out. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, smiling.

“Sorry, um… Weird thought. My dad, says some crazy shit sometimes.”

Minho smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Chan mentioned… Something about prophecies?”

Felix snorted. “I wouldn’t call them that. More like… Stupid parables. His parishioners eat it up.”

“And he said one that you remembered just now?”

“Yeah, actually.” Felix chuckled. “Probably because he brought it up again when Chan and I went to visit this past weekend.”

“What was it?”

“Uh… Two’s a party, but three’s a crowd. And how if I ran into a situation with three, I should leave, because it wasn’t safe.”

Minho chuckled. “Normally sound advice. There are three of us, so… Perhaps he wasn’t so crazy.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in any danger.” Felix hesitated. Minho smiled.

“Of course not. The opposite, actually. But even so… Your father wasn’t… Wrong.”

Felix glanced at Chan, who was looking suspiciously guilty. His gaze was diverted downward, very interested in an invisible spot on his pants. “W… What’s going on?”

“Your father has a gift, Felix. And he knew very explicitly how important of a person you are. We haven’t been wholly honest with you. Demons exist, Felix. And you’re in a room with two of them, right now.”

Felix paused, his mouth parted in confusion. He laughed once, then again harder, shaking his head as a grin spread across his face. “You guys,” he said. When he realized he was the only one laughing, he stopped, the sound hanging awkwardly in the silent air. Both Chan and Minho were looking at him, their expressions stoic. His smile faded. “You guys aren’t serious.”

“Deathly,” Minho said.

“This is crazy.” Felix chuckled without humor. “You’re crazy. Or on drugs, or something. Demons aren’t real.”

“They are, Lix…” Chan said softly. “Your dad was right about me, he sensed it.”

“You’re not a demon!” Felix cried, shooting up from the couch. “This isn’t funny, Chan!”

Minho rose, holding his hands up. “Felix, I promise, we’ll explain everything. Just… Please take a breath.”

Felix smacked Minho’s hands away, taking a step back. “You’re both insane.”

“No. I can prove it,” Minho said.

“Min—”

“He deserves to know, Chan.”

Chan sighed.

“Prove what? That you’re the devil?” Felix asked, his voice strained. He put his fists to his temples. “This is nuts.”

“I’m not the devil,” Minho said softly, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “He’s my father, but.”

Felix forced out a laugh, his mouth remaining open. He genuinely didn’t know what to do in this situation. It was obvious that Minho – and Chan as well – were delusional, if they really believed this. If they were pranking him – it was much too far.

Minho waved his hand, plucking a large black card seemingly from the air. Felix blinked in surprise, then scowled, realizing it was a devil tarot card. “Funny. Good magic trick. I can pull shit from my sleeves as well, Minho.”

“I’m wearing short sleeves,” Minho said.

Felix’s frown deepened. “So you’re a talented magician. Doesn’t mean you’re a demon. Demon’s don’t exist.”

Minho chuckled. “You are a stubborn one.”

“It’s one of his best traits,” Chan said. Felix glared at him, in no mood for humor.

“Fine,” Minho shrugged. “You wanted proof.”

He slipped his hands into his sweatpants, taking on a relaxed posture. Felix opened his mouth to speak when the air began to shimmer around Minho. He took a step back, blinking quickly to try and focus. Minho was still there, but it was if someone had put a gauzy filter in front of him. His body shifted and twisted in front of Felix before suddenly snapping into terrifying clarity.

Felix gasped, stumbling backwards and landing hard on his ass. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth where he bit his tongue, too stunned to feel the pain.

Minho still stood in front of him, the same relaxed posture he’d had only moments ago. But now his eyes, instead of their piercing dark brown irises, were entirely black, shining in the glow of the lights. Erupting from the sides of his forehead were two black, blunted horns, only about three inches long. He tiled his head and their color shifted, an iridescent oil slick. The most startling thing about him, however, were the large wings that connected to his back. They were full of soft, plush looking black feathers, matching the same iridescence of his horns.

Chan jumped up, hurrying over to Felix to try and help him up.

Felix smacked him away, gaping at Minho as he struggled to process what he was seeing.

“You’re bleeding,” Chan whispered, concern raising his voice a few octaves. He tried once more to grab Felix.

Felix shoved him harder, scrambling to his feet and backing away from them both. “What the fuck?” He spat. The air felt thin, and even gasping in lungfuls he couldn’t seem to gather enough oxygen to keep his head from swimming.

“Who, Felix—” Chan said. He rose, keeping a safe distance, but Felix still shied away, afraid Chan was going to change into a monster in front of his eyes next. He looked around wildly, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. Everywhere he looked things seemed slightly off kilter, the wrong shape, color, look.

“He’s going to pass out,” Minho said quickly. Felix looked back at him, ready to argue the point. His vision greyed at the edges. He struggled to inhale, reaching for anything to brace himself. He grabbed Chan’s wrist as it came into reach, the floor rushing up to meet him as his legs gave out and the world cut to black.

When Felix opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at a familiar white ceiling. He scowled as the world came into focus. He looked around his bedroom, trying desperately to fill in the gaps in his memory. He’d been at the club, then in Minho’s loft, then Minho… changed.

A cold fear chilled Felix to the bone. He sat up quickly, grabbing his blanket to his chest.

“It’s okay,” Chan’s voice came from the left. Felix shouted in surprise, moving away from the sound.

Chan stood in the doorway, his hands raised in front of him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re at home.”

“Is he here?”

“No, just me. I brought you home.”

Felix grimaced. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few minutes.”

“How—”

“Demon.” Chan shrugged, looking down guiltily.

“What the fuck is going on, Chan?”

“I know this seems like a lot.”

“A lot?” Felix hissed. “This seems like it’s insane. What do you even want with me? Why tell me what you are?”

“Because, you’re… Special.” Chan leaned against the doorframe. “There’s a prophecy, sort of. Down in hell. It talks about you.”

Felix snorted. “Oh what, Lee Felix is gonna rule the world or something?”

Chan smiled weakly, curling up one corner of his mouth. “Sort of, actually. They say that your offspring are going to be a huge influence during the end of days. And your choice – heaven or hell – is going to be the deciding factor on who’s side they end up helping.”

“My offspring?”

Chan shrugged. “I know, the wording is weird, but it’s applicable.”

“So, what?” Felix shook his head, his face twisting up in hurt as he put it together. “You just seduced me to what, corrupt me so my offspring can help you end the world? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And even if it were true and I was some special person –” His chin quivered. He looked away, forcing his emotions back as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You just thought I’d be fine with you using me?”

“It wasn’t like that, Lix,” Chan whispered.

“Oh really? Because from where I sit, that’s exactly what it is!” Felix snapped his head back toward Chan, his vision blurring.

Chan winced visibly. “No…” His voice was weak. “I didn’t know who you were when we met.”

“Bullshit, you just said you were a demon who can flit me across the city in a heartbeat. You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.” Chan squatted, putting his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands in front of him, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “I’m only half demon. I’m not near as powerful as Minho. I prefer earth, honestly. So does he. Which is why we’re here. We were being honest – we grew up together. Our fathers are close. We came to earth to live, because we liked it. We weren’t planning on anything special. When I met you, I fell for you, Felix. I didn’t realize you were the one the prophecy was talking about until much later. Much later, long after I’d fallen for you. That’s why I’ve been so hesitant to tell you. Because I do love you, Felix. And I didn’t want to ruin what we’d created.”

“And Minho?”

“He wanted to get to know you. Because he’s heard me talk about you. And how happy you make me. The prophecy was a part of it, but not why he wanted to meet you. The prophecy is why he told you what we are. Because we knew it wasn’t fair to you. Because if you made that choice to be with us, it would seal the fate of those offspring. And doing that to you without you knowing… That’s not who we are, or who we want to be.”

“You’re demons.”

“You’re right. But demons aren’t what you were raised to believe.” Chan sighed, looking down. He rose. “This is a lot to take in, Felix. I know it is. I’m not going to keep pushing you.”

When Felix remained silent, Chan continued. “I’m around, always, so is Minho. I’m going to leave you alone, because ultimately this is your decision. Just know if you have any questions or when you… Decide… We’ll be a text or call away.”

Felix’s heart squeezed tightly at Chan’s words. Despite his anger, the thought of Chan leaving, especially now, when he was so scared, was agony. But Chan was right; this was a lot and he still wasn’t sure he even believed him, this entire night could easily be explained away with a strong helping of drugs in his drink. He looked away, hugging his knees to his chest.

Chan hesitated a moment longer before leaving, the door shutting sounding like a gunshot in the quiet apartment.

Felix let his wall shatter, tears slipping down his cheeks. He was overwhelmed, hurt, scared, and confused. Though Chan had said he’d need to think it through, decide – Felix wanted to do nothing of the sort. He wished he could erase the entire night from his memory, along with Chan.

That vicious thought tore another piece from Felix’s heart. He’d never wish that – he knew it. He was in love with Chan, even with this new revelation. He curled up under his blanket, throwing it over his head as he hugged pillows that smelled far too much like the man he was trying not to think about.

The next morning was no easier. Though they hadn’t broken up, it felt like one to Felix, with perfect Chan shaped spaces everywhere he looked. He refused to consider calling him though, not this soon. The morning light had brought a bit of clarity to the night’s events, and Felix knew he needed to consider his next actions. More importantly, he needed to learn.

The days turned into weeks, and then a month, and then two. True to his word, neither Minho nor Chan reached out to Felix, despite his absolute silence. He went to work, went home, read through whichever religious text he’d borrowed from the library or snagged from bookstores, trying desperately to figure out what exactly he’d seen that night.

By month three, he was confident that it most definitely was not a dream or bad trip. A drawing from an obscure demonology text confirmed this; Lucifer, in all his winged glory, beautiful and charming… And wearing a face that was eerily similar to the one the owner of the Lyon’s Den had. Not exact; but Minho had mentioned he was Lucifer’s son. Felix could find no mention of children of Lucifer – not in the literal sense; only that demons were his spawn, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist.

Felix learned more about Cambions; what Chan was – half demon, half human beings. He also learned about arguments against Heaven and God; thoughts that it wasn’t Lucifer that was the ultimate Evil, but the victim in a cruel game of supernatural telephone. He wondered what his father would say about this theory. Laugh, probably – or curse him for blaspheming. He considered calling his father, asking questions, but if his father had known what Chan was… Any questions could reveal that he’d done exactly what he was warned against; fell into the trap of three.

It wasn’t until five months had passed that Felix picked up his phone and scrolled to Chan’s name. Five months since he’d seen him, or heard his voice… Felix wondered if Chan would even want to speak to him. Surely he hadn’t meant for him to take this long in deciding. And ultimately – Felix hadn’t decided. He’d read as much as he could find, and still he had more questions. Still he was terrified of the knowledge that this man, the one he still loved so deeply, wasn’t human.

His finger hesitated above the call button before he backed out of it and scrolled again, spotting Minho’s name. He hadn’t entered it in his phone, but he’d found it a few days after that night; Chan must have entered it. If he had questions, the most logical person to give an answer was Minho. Steeling himself, he pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear.

Minho picked up on the third ring. “Felix?” His voice was bright and – if Felix was hearing correctly – hopeful.

“It’s me.”

Minho sighed. “Oh, Felix. Have you been well?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“Unfortunately that isn’t one of my powers.” Minho paused. “You’ve made up your mind then?”

“No. I have questions. I… I’ve been doing research, reading, but there’s so many gaps. I need answers.”

“I’ll give you as many as I can provide.”

“If…” Felix drifted off, reaching out and tracing the embossed cross on the front of a Bible on his table. “If I agree to meet with you… Will I be safe? How can I be sure I’ll be safe?”

“You’ll be safe. That prophecy… The one involving you. It’s a choice made of your own free will. Either by ignorance to what you’re doing, or by choosing. If I hurt you, or forced you in some way… That would defeat the purpose. But what’s more important, we care for you, Felix. I want to help you understand as much as you can, because I believe you deserve to know the truth and to make your choice based on that truth, no matter what it is.”

“Chan is… Is he good?”

Minho paused for long span before speaking. “He’s okay.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m stretching the truth. Would telling you he’s struggling ease your guilt at all? Make your final decision easier, or entirely yours? He’s struggling, Felix. He loves you. But he is okay, and he will be okay, no matter what you choose.”

“Okay.” Felix sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll meet you. Not… Not him, not yet.”

“I understand. I won’t keep the meeting from him, however. I love him too, and that’s wrong.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to,” Felix said. “That’s not fair. Just… Let him know I’m not ready yet.”

“He’ll understand. Would you like to come by the club? It’s closed this time of day, so only my basic security and cleaning staff are here. We’ll have privacy without you being all alone with me, in case you feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay. I can be there in an hour.”

“That’s fine. I’ll let my guard know to let you in. Come up to the booth we were in the night we met?”

“Fine.” Felix hung up, holding his phone between his hands in a prayer position. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he tried to steady his nerves. Before he had a chance to second guess himself, he rose and headed to his room, changing into clean jeans and a shirt. He paused in the mirror, grimacing at his haggard reflection. He hadn’t been sleeping much, or eating well at all, and it was showing. He ran a brush through his hair, wishing he’d given himself enough time for a shower. He pulled on a baseball cap and his jacket, hoping he wouldn’t look too terrible as he headed out to catch a bus to the Lyon’s Den.

The club had a wholly different feeling when Felix walked in. The lights were up, bright white ones that revealed exactly what the club was; a repurposed warehouse. A handful of people were working through the floor, mopping and washing tables, a few at the bar, the clinking of bottles as they refilled and restocked the supplies. Felix headed up the stairs, noting the alcoves – save for Minho’s, had been stripped of their curtains, giving the upstairs a skeletal look. Minho stepped from the alcove as Felix approached. Even in casual clothes, he was breathtakingly handsome. Felix glanced over his shoulder, remembering the large black wings there the last time he’d seen him.

“Would you rather sit in the open?” Minho asked softly.

“No, it’s fine.” Felix said. “I don’t think you want others to overhear this conversation.”

Minho nodded once. He held the curtain open, allowing Felix to slide in. He sat on one end of the bench this time, and Minho took the other side, the table between them.

“I know you’re wanting questions answered, and I am happy to do so, but I am a host. So first, would you like something to drink? Eat?”

Felix shook his head, but the growling of his stomach gave him away. His cheeks warmed. He cleared his throat, looking down.

“Well, I’m a bit hungry,” Minho said after a moment. He rose and stuck his head out of the alcove. He motioned over one of the workers and spoke softly to them, too soft for Felix to hear with his head outside of the heavy curtain.

Minho leaned back in and sat down, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “You probably don’t want to make small talk.”

“Not really,” Felix admitted.

“I understand. No pressure. I will answer your questions, if I can.”

“You’re a demon,” Felix said bluntly, mentally kicking himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“I am.”

“You said… That night… That you were Lucifer’s son. But I couldn’t find any reference to him having a child. Do you mean like… All demons are? Or?”

“No. Nobody really knows about me. Any humans that have seen me in my true form assume I’m just another fallen, from the original rebellion, but it’s not the case.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“But… You’re a demon.”

“You know dog years? Cat years. How we say our animals are forty, but really they’ve only been alive for nine or ten years?”

Felix nodded.

“It’s like that. Only hell is… An actual passage of that time. So, hundred years in hell is only a few months here. On earth, I was born in 1998. Chan was born in 1997, just like we told you. But it’s not 2023 in hell right now. Thousands more years have passed, there’s no sense of time.”

“So, how old are you in… Hell years?”

“No idea.” Minho chuckled. “Still too young to be taken seriously by my father.”

“I don’t think there’s an age where you outgrow that.”

Minho grinned at Felix’s joke and Felix, despite his best efforts, found himself smiling in return.

“So… He’s really your dad. Who’s your mom?”

“I don’t have one. I was created from him. The closest human comparison would be asexual reproduction.”

“Demons can do that?”

“Angels can. Remember Lucifer isn’t a demon. He’s an angel that fell. Which is why I have wings, but Chan and the other demons don’t.”

Felix nodded. “So is Chan… I’ve met his father. Is that… Was he a demon?”

“No, you met his human father. His demon father is in Hell.”

“Two dads?”

Minho shrugged. “Transgender individuals exist everywhere. Heaven, hell, and all the space in between, it’s a natural thing.”

Felix’s brows furrowed. “That’s cool to know… Kinda confirms it’s not bad like some people think.”

“Most of what humans think is sinful isn’t. But who will they listen to?”

Felix sighed then, his smile fading. “Chan and you said I was special. My offspring will influence the something… I don’t understand.”

“This is where my explaining will get a bit grey. Not because I’m hiding it, but because I don’t fully understand either. All I know is that you match every interpretation of the prophecy. Your offspring, your kids or grandkids – nobody knows – but you’ll have a child who may have other children, and at some point, there will be a battle. Heaven and Hell, just like it’s said in Revelations. But the battle isn’t guaranteed to have Heaven win. That’s just His PR team. The true end of the book is unwritten. But you will be the deciding factor.”

“What’s so special about me?”

“I wish I knew. Nobody does. The prophecy isn’t clear about why you matter.”

“How do you know it’s me?”

Minho hesitated. He sighed softly. “There’s something I didn’t tell Chan… I haven’t told anyone. But… When we started to think that you might be the one, I told my father. And he showed me a sketch. It was done by a prophet, hundreds of thousands of years ago. Felix, it’s you. Perfect. Down to the arrangement of your freckles.”

A cold chill settled in Felix’s bowels. He swallowed hard, blinking quickly.

“Breathe,” Minho said softly, and Felix drew in a quick breath.

“Can I see it?”

“No.” Minho paused then. “Well. Yes, you technically could. But you’d need to travel with me to my home.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Hell, Felix.”

Felix sat back, his eyes widening. “Wh—But I’m alive.”

“And you can travel between the worlds, as long as you have the right guide.” He pointed to himself. “I can take you there, show you around, and bring you back to this same spot in time. I don’t think you’re ready for that yet though, personally… I don’t think I’m ready to introduce you to my father yet. He can be intense.”

Felix nodded. He knew there was a very big chance Minho was lying, but he believed him for some reason. A feeling deep in his bones told him that Minho was being wholly honest at this moment – more honest than his father had ever been.

He looked back up at Minho. “What happens if hell wins?”

“Do you want the truth about that, Felix?”

Felix frowned, taken aback by the question. “Yes… Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you aren’t going to like the answer.”

“Well, even more reason for me to know the truth, right?”

“Fair enough. What happens if the hell wins? Humans become free.”

“What?”

“You’ve been lied to, Felix. My father isn’t the evil one. He didn’t make the right choice, rebelling, but he was doing it to save humanity, not destroy it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Minho remained silent a moment. He glanced at the curtain, and a few seconds later it flipped back, revealing one of the employees. She smiled shyly. “Your food?”

“Of course, go ahead,” Minho said in a gentle, kind tone.

She nodded and stepped in to open the curtain with her body as she dragged a small cart forward. On it were a variety of sides and dishes. She spread it on the table efficiently, offering a soft smile in Felix’s direction. He smiled back, nodding in thanks despite having said he wouldn’t eat. His stomach grumbled at the delicious smelling food.

She set a glass in front of Felix and poured a bit of wine into it before doing the same for Minho. After she left, Minho raised his glass, angling it toward Felix in a salutation. He took a sip and leaned back, sighing.

Felix bit his lip, glancing at the food. “I know I said I wasn’t…”

“Please,” Minho smiled. It was a gentle one, genuine and charming. He motioned to the spread. “Please, help yourself. Just because we’re having a tense discussion doesn’t mean we can’t be civil.”

Felix nodded. He took a small plate and began to eat, struggling not to rush. It was absolutely delicious, and highlighted just how badly he’d been eating for the past few months. Minho waited patiently, picking at a bit of food here and there. Despite the stretching silence, Felix felt a calmness between them. Surprising, given what Minho was – but there was just something… Easy about him.

When he’d gotten enough food in him to calm the raging hunger, Felix sat back, smiling gratefully. “You said your father…”

Minho nodded. “Yes.” He refilled their wine glasses. “You know the story of the rebellion, and the angels that sided with Lucifer and how they fell.”

“Of course.”

“And what did your father tell you was the reason he rebelled?”

“He refused to bow to humanity and to God, and he wanted to be God’s equal.”

Minho nodded. “These are half-truths. It is true he rebelled, and he fell. He did refuse to bow to God and man, but not because he wanted to be God’s equal.”

“Then why?”

“Because he knew what God had planned for mankind. He knew you were all some experiment. The whim of a bored deity who’d already collared the others that could oppose him.”

“Others?”

“Oh, you’ve heard their stories. Zeus, Venus, Anubis, Thor, Hecate, the list goes on.”

“They existed?”

“Once, long ago. He weakened them using tricks and manipulation, and forced them into servitude so that he could put his followers to the test. See if they could wipe them out fully just by spreading his power. Humans are not loved by God. They’re his pets. Heaven isn’t some amazing garden, it’s a temple to worship him. And the moment you deny him his worship,” Minho snapped. “You find yourself thrust into my father’s realm.”

Felix was ashamed at the instant irritation that rose within him. He wanted to argue, spout bible verses and the things he was taught by his father. It was so ingrained in him that even as a nonbeliever, he wanted to defend it. But the truth was…

“I know it sounds crazy,” Minho said.

“It does.” Felix sat back, playing with his hands in his lap. “It sounds absolutely insane. But so do bible stories, to me. I’ve always sat in my father’s church and wondered who came up with these stupid fairy tales to scare kids into behaving. Both of these sides sound just as unbelievable as the other one.”

“I understand.”

“But you’re a demon. I saw you with my own eyes – wings and horns and those eyes…” He swallowed hard. “You’ve shown me proof that I can’t deny. And what you’re telling me, it could all be a lie… But it might not be.” He put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is all so confusing.”

“I know it is, Felix. I’m sorry. I wish I could make it easier for you to understand.”

“So Lucifer… Wants to free humans from God’s what… Servitude?”

“Yes.”

“And then what? He’d become the new god?”

“No.” Minho chuckled. “My father wants nothing to do with Godhood. I don’t know his exact plans, but he’s talked about reinstating the deities, as equals. To help humans, guide them correctly if they want it, but not force them. He’d maintain hell – he and the other underworld deities have it really nicely set up down there… And I’m sure he’d maintain heaven in a way, but as a paradise that it’s supposed to be. But humans wouldn’t be forced up or down based on their servitude to any one god. It would be based on their humanity, and how much good they did in the world. Not under the name of Christ or whoever – but just… Because they’re good people.”

“That sounds like heaven,” Felix admitted. “It sounds like what people say religion is supposed to be.”

“It is. But it’s been warped. And a big reason for that warping is the power trip that he’s on.” He tilted his head up to imply who he was talking about.

“And I’m… What? Supposed to influence that?”

“It’s grey,” Minho said. “We don’t know exactly what your offspring will do. And we don’t even really know what it means. We just know that both sides – angel and demon – will be wanting you to choose their side, because that’s supposed to bring about the winning hand, pretty much.”

“What if I chose neither?”

“Then the playing field would be fair, I suppose. Or they’d keep trying with other members of your bloodline.”

“What would I do? If I chose angels or demons? What… Do I sell my soul?”

Minho laughed. “Nothing so draconic. You just… Make the choice. Use your free will to side with one or the other. Love us, choose to be with us. That’s why I wouldn’t let you kiss me that night. And why you needed to know. Because I know you’ve fallen for Chan, and I know there was a big chance you and I would…” He drifted off. “The connection was immediate.”

Felix nodded. “And that wasn’t your powers?”

“No.” Minho shook his head, his face straightening. “Never. Despite the tales of temptation and sin… We never take away free will. The temptations we offer? They’re through honesty. Eve wasn’t tempted in the garden, she was told the truth, and that truth gave her the power to use her free will.”

“What about all the crimes that people say the devil made them do?”

Minho smiled weakly. “Demons and angels both have wings, don’t they?”

“You’re saying angels cause that?”

“I’m saying that God has a plan, and that is not a lie. And that plan involves bloodshed and pain and horror. He is a vengeful creature.”

“And Lucifer isn’t?” Felix asked. The incredulity must have come out in his voice, because Minho smiled.

“He used to be. He’s had a long time to heal and better himself. And being a father helped, he says.”

“I’ve heard it changes a man.”

Minho chuckled and nodded. “He’s joked it’s aged him five hundred millennia. He’ll be entering the final battle not with a dark horse, but with a cane.”

Felix laughed despite himself, the imagery both humorous and sweet. “I’m sure you were a hellion as a kid… Or… Is that rude?”

“No, it’s true. I was a spitfire.”

Felix sipped his wine. “What’s hell like?”

“It’s lovely.”

Felix laughed, but it faded when Minho didn’t. “You aren’t kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. There are many underworld deities that share it with my father. Though God considers him to be the ruler, he doesn’t do it like that. Each deity has their own space. A country, sort of, or a state. And each of those spaces deals with different things. There are spaces for the humans that have committed atrocities like mass murders and rapes. There’s spaces for those that were sent to hell for less severe infractions, and spaces for ones that were dropped from Heaven. We all work together down there. There’s farming and community and laughter. It’s a lovely place.”

“What about like… The really bad ones? Like Hitler or those types?”

“Well, they say hell has levels. There is a pit for those ones. Not many are in there. My father wants to heal hell. He believes in rehabilitation for most. There are those that can’t be fixed, and they will spend eternity in the way the bible describes… But for the most part… No. It’s like an intense inpatient therapy in some of the areas, but most of those souls do eventually join the rest of the community.”

“That sounds…” Felix smiled softly. “That sounds really nice. And… Healthy.”

“Never thought you’d describe hell as healthy, eh?”

Felix chuckled. “My dad would be absolutely fuming at this conversation.”

“Oh, I’m entirely sure I would be drenched in holy water.”

“Does that actually hurt you?”

“No, myth. Nor do crosses. Or any of the other silly things Christians say we hate. We’re not so different, humans and us.”

“Except the wings.”

“Well, everyone has their quirks.”

Felix sighed. “This is all a lot of information. I… I wish I could give you an answer, tell you what I want but I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“No.” Minho reached across the table and set his hand over Felix’s. “Never apologize for using your free will. You are a human, and humans are the most beautiful, amazing creatures in the universe. Your free will is your power. Never let anyone take that away from you. Not God, Lucifer, or anyone in between. This is a big choice and you deserve the right to take your time.”

“Thank you,” Felix said. He turned his hand up and squeezed Minho’s for a moment. “I’m more relaxed than I thought I’d be, seeing you again, knowing what I know.”

“I’m glad we could meet and talk,” Felix said. “Honestly, even if things don’t work out. If you choose God’s side or don’t choose any side at all. I would like to still be your friend, in whatever capacity I can.”

Felix nodded. A big part of him wanted to immediately agree, say yes, of course – but he held back. Minho was right; this was a big decision – and he did need time to process it all. So instead, he smiled and rose.

“Can one of my staff take you home?” He offered.

“No, I’ll catch the bus. I want to run a few errands before I go home anyways. I’ll call you or Chan soon, okay?”

“Take your time.”

“Tell him I said hi?”

“I will.” Minho smiled as Felix walked back down the stairs and slipped out the door into the early evening. He hadn’t realized how long he’d stayed with Minho. But they had a lot to talk about, and he had learned a lot. His questions had mostly been answered, though he had a hundred more, it felt like.

Deciding against errands, Felix rode toward home, his head spinning with all of the new information. Despite going against everything he’d been taught as a child, something about Minho’s explanation resonated with him. It made sense in a way the biblical stories never did. While he had more questions, the story didn’t have as many gaps as the other side, and so much was explained in a clearer manner than “God said so”. Even so, he did want to spend time considering things, especially knowing why he was wanted. He wondered about the drawing of him, and if there would be any way to see it without actually entering literal hell.

Felix crawled into bed shortly after arriving home, his exhaustion hitting him like a brick when he stepped in the front door. His dreams were filled with angels and demons, fighting over him. His father was there, shouting curses at him for damning the world. And on either side of him throughout it all stood Chan and Minho, protecting him from anything that might hurt him. He was happy.

Despite waking the next morning with a very solid idea of his decision, Felix gave himself time. A few days, and he was itching to call them again. After a week, the itch hadn’t faded, but he’d begun researching again, using his newfound knowledge to hunt more precisely. As he did, he realized that much of the Lucifer as a good guy theory matched quite nicely with what Minho had explained, further strengthening his side of things.

During the second week, Felix called his father. It was a casual chat, he said, but he used the opportunity to grill his father on the specifics of the rebellion and the upcoming end of days. He wanted to know how much his father would be able to give him that was concrete – or at the very least rational.

Not enough, unfortunately, Felix realized after their three hour call ended. He’d told his father he was thinking of returning to a church and wanted to learn about different things he’d questioned, which was more than enough of an excuse for his father to give him a full sermon, damn near. But his questions still remained unanswered, or answered with vague, grey answers like “God’s plan is the right one” and “God just does it this way”. Heaven was just paradise, though his father had no idea what paradise might entail.

By week three, Felix was relatively confident that he knew his decision. He just had one final question that needed answering. He sent a text to Minho and Chan in a group text.

‘Can we meet?’

‘All of us?’ Chan replied back only a few minutes later.

‘Yes’

Minho responded this time. ‘I’m free tomorrow night.’

‘I can be free’ Chan said.

‘Tomorrow is fine. Your apartment, Minho?’

There was a lag in texting after both had seen it. Felix assumed they were together, or at least chatting. Finally, Minho responded.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. I know I’m safe with you guys. I just have a question that I want to see you for. Face to face. When you answer.’

‘We’ll be there. Six?’ Chan offered.

‘Works for me’ Minho said.

‘See you guys, six tomorrow’ Felix responded, setting his phone down before he gave in and texted anything further to them. It had been seven months now, nearly, since he’d seen Chan. He was scared that there would be bad blood despite Minho’s promise otherwise. But moving past this was the only way to move forward, if he ultimately decided to do so.

The line was just as busy as it had been seven months ago when Felix arrived at the Lyon’s Den. He considered waiting in line, but as soon as Hoseok spotted him, he waved. “They’re waiting for you, head up in the elevator.” He said when Felix approached. He stepped forward, letting Felix into the busy club.

The ride up to the loft felt like it took twice as long as normal. Felix went over everything he’d planned to say again and again, his stomach twisting itself in uncomfortable knots as the elevator groaned upward. When the doors finally opened to reveal the gentle foyer to Minho’s apartment, every thought left Felix’s brain. He pulled off his shoes and pushed open the main along with the oxygen leaving his lungs as it opened to the lavish interior.

Minho and Chan were both at the bar. Though he’d only seen Minho a few weeks ago, he seemed to be even more stunning than before. He was grinning, mid-laugh at something, when Felix entered. But Chan… Felix worried his heart would stop before he could step into the room.

Every memory seemed to rush to the surface when their eyes met, every emotion, every smile and laugh, and nights spent talking until the sun rose. He hadn’t forgotten how in love with that man he was, but being apart so long had numbed the pain. This was a scar being ripped back open, and everything flooded to the surface.

Felix took a step inside, his knees shaky. “Hi—” He whispered.

Chan smiled softly, almost sadly, but Minho rushed forward, quickly setting a hand on Felix’s arm.

“No trouble getting in?” He asked softly, forcing Felix to meet his gaze. He shook his head no, thankful for the distraction from Chan’s intense stare.

“Good. Would you like a drink?”

“I would.”

“Go sit. Anywhere you’re comfortable. I’ll make you one.”

Felix nodded. Minho stepped back to the bar. Chan rose from the stool he’d been sitting on, folding his hands in front of himself.

“Nice to see you, Felix,” he said softly.

“You too…” Felix struggled to keep his voice steady. He knew it was shaking, but Chan gave no indication he heard it. He cleared his throat.

“How’ve you been?”

Felix bit the inside of his lips, desperately trying to form the words. Fine, good, great, even okay, but none of them would come out. Instead his eyes welled with involuntary tears.

Minho glanced between them.

“Felix,” he said softly. “I know you came to ask us a question but… I feel like there are some bigger things to get out of the way first.” He came around the bar and set a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “I’m going to run down to the club, I need to get a refill of a few of my bottles anyways.”

He slipped out of the door, letting it close behind him.

“Felix,” Chan whispered.

Felix grimaced, feeling the hot streak down his face as the first tear fell. “Can I touch you?” Chan asked. “Hug you?”

“Please—”

They rushed to each other before Felix knew what was happening, and he found himself wrapped in Chan’s strong arms. He cried against his shoulder, gripping his shirt in tight fists.

“It’s okay,” Chan whispered, his breath warm against Felix’s skin.

“I miss you,” Felix gasped.

“I miss you too, Lix. So much.” Chan squeezed him a little tighter. “Every day.”

“I was afraid—” Felix cut himself off, burying his face in Chan’s chest.

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid you’d hate me,” Felix mumbled.

“Never. I told you to take your time. You could have cut of contact for a year, more, and I would’ve been here waiting for you to tell me your decision.”

Chan pulled back, releasing Felix to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I love you. That won’t change. No matter how long it takes for you to decide.”

Felix swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing even as his eyes welled with a fresh bout of tears. “I want to…” He swallowed hard. “I want to be with you, I just need to know…”

Chan nodded. “You can ask. We’ll wait for Minho to come up, okay? You wanted to ask him too, right?”

“He should be asked, yeah,” Felix agreed, nodding.

“Let’s sit down.” Chan grabbed the glasses and headed toward the couch, placing them on coasters. He sat down and Felix sat next to him, falling into his arms naturally. Despite the months of silence, this felt like the most normal thing in the world for Felix. He wrapped his arms around Chan’s middle, nuzzling his chest and inhaling his scent. Chan wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“What’ve you been doing these months?”

“Working,” Felix mumbled. “Doing research.”

“Research?”

“Demons. Angels, the apocalypse… Trying to figure stuff out.”

“That sounds incredibly boring.” Chan chuckled. “Did you learn anything fun?”

“Lots of questions still… Nobody knows the truth. I guess that’s on purpose. God wants to keep everything quiet. Minho explained… How he isn’t such a good deity.”

“Bit of a dick, really,” Chan said.

Felix looked up, catching his dimple as he tried to keep a straight face. He laughed helplessly, and Chan’s grin grew. “There’s the sound I’ve missed,” he whispered.

Felix’s smile faded. “I’m sorry I ghosted you. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“It was perfectly fair. Felix, we dropped a bombshell on you that night. Neither of us blamed you for your reaction. We could’ve told you a thousand better ways.”

“I don’t think there would have been an easy way to tell me you and he were demons from hell.”

Chan chuckled. “No, I suppose not. But the point is still there. You took time that you needed to take to figure things out. It was a big change, and a lot of questions that I’m sure you needed answers to. That was entirely fair and neither of us are upset about it.”

“It’s been so long.”

“Lix.” Chan pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I said it before, I’ll say it again. I am more than happy to wait for you. You’re worth it.”

Felix made a small noise, squeezing Chan’s middle tighter. He heard the door open and glanced up, smiling softly at Minho, who entered quietly with a few bottles. He placed them on the shelf behind the bar and grabbed his own glass, settling onto the couch next to Felix.

“Do you two still want to talk?” He asked.

“No, we’re okay.” Felix said. He sat up, wiping his cheeks. “I’m okay.” He took a large swallow from the glass Minho had poured him and took a deep breath.

“You said you had a question.”

“I did. I do.” Felix chewed his lip for a moment, playing with the glass in his hands. “If…” He looked at Minho. “The end of the world, or… I guess… The big fight between heaven and hell. If hell wins, what happens to the believers? The Christians?”

“Nothing at all,” Felix answered. “Unfortunately, there will be some death, on all sides, but I’m guessing you’re asking if we – hell – will do something to those who sided with God.”

Felix nodded.

“Then the answer is no. We don’t believe in that sort of punishment. Humans have free will instilled in them. They should be free to worship whoever and whatever they want. Even after the end war… If they want to still believe that their God is the ultimate ruler, that’s their choice, just like it’ll be the choice for anyone else to believe in whichever deity they want, or none at all. Your family will be safe. The current ones and the ones in the future.”

“You figured why I was asking, huh?” Felix asked.

“You care for them. And that’s a good thing. They will be cared for, their souls and their bodies – whoever is still living from your bloodline.”

Felix nodded. “Thank you.”

“Was that all you wanted to know?” Chan asked gently.

“No. Um… That was the big one. But I wanted to know when I choose. If I stay with you, what happens then?”

“I get to take you out on some amazing dates,” Minho said, offering a charming smile.

“And I finally get to cuddle with you again,” Chan said, resting his chin on Felix’s shoulder.

Felix chuckled. “So what, we just… Go along pretending it’s all normal? You’re not both… Demons?”

“Well, in public, yeah. We choose to live on earth because we like being human. At least, we like being around humans. In private… Well, if you want to fly…”

“Or see just how amazing demons are in bed,” Chan murmured.

“Then we can definitely oblige,” Minho finished. “But for the most part… Nothing will change. You’ll be you, we’ll be us. Just like if we were all human.”

“And after I… Aren’t demons immortal? What about when I get old? Die?”

“Our bodies will age with you. That’s a choice we both made. We want to live normal lifespans. After These bodies perish then we’ll go back down and so will you. You’ll have eternity with us. Happily, I hope. The whole… Til death do we part doesn’t really apply here.”

“What if we break up?”

“Then we do. Then you’re free to change your mind. Choose the other side, or stick on our side. You don’t have to date either of us for that. And hell is big. If you don’t want to see us… Well, I know there are plenty of demons and handsome souls that would kill for a shot with you, now or in the afterlife.”

“So it’s just… That? Just dating? Nothing binding or… Anything?”

Minho shook his head. “I told you, Felix. We believe in the freedom to choose above all else.”

“We won’t force you into something that makes you unhappy,” Chan said. “Your happiness, and your ability to choose that happiness, is exactly what hell is fighting for.”

Felix smiled to himself, considering their words. He nodded after a moment. “Then I’ve made my choice, I think.”

“Oh?” Minho asked, his mouth forming a cute downturn that showed just a bit of his front teeth.

Felix smiled wider, looking up at him. “Yeah.”

He turned and held Chan’s cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his mouth. Chan immediately leaned into it, wrapping his arms tightly around Felix. He whined when Felix broke the kiss, pouting.

Felix turned and grabbed Minho’s hand, leaning closer.

“You’re sure?” Minho whispered when their noses brushed. Felix nodded.

“I’m very sure.”

Their lips met gently at first, but the kiss deepened naturally. There were no fireworks, nothing extremely special about kissing a demon, Felix realized – aside from the fact that he was a great kisser. He felt Chan’s lips on his shoulder and relaxed against him, letting his body be pressed between the two.

He broke their kiss and smiled softly, tilting his head to let Chan bite gently on his neck. “Is sex with a demon really so different?” Felix murmured.

“Hm… Care to find out?” Minho asked. His eyes flipped to solid black, surprising a gasp out of Felix.

“Too much?” Minho worried.

“No…” Felix reached up, touching Minho’s soft cheek. “Keep them…” He shifted to look at Chan. “What do you look like? As a demon? Do you have any, since you’re half human?”

Chan nodded. “Do you want to see?”

“I do… It’s only fair, I should know what my boyfriends look like.”

Chan grinned. He leaned back and blinked hard a few times, breathing out and letting his body relax. Like it had around Minho, the air shimmered and waved before snapping into sharp clarity.

Chan’s eyes were the same solid black, but he lacked wings. His horns were longer than Minho’s, curving back into his wavy hair and ending in little points like a young goat’s. They were a rich blue-black that faded into a deep crimson at the tips. Felix reached up, grasping one horn lightly. Chan’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Oh—” Felix slipped his tongue out from between his teeth and gently tugged the horn, a thrill of pleasure sparking through his stomach when Chan moaned.

“They’re sensitive,” Minho murmured against his ear. “You won’t hurt him, pulling on them.”

“Are yours?”

“Less so. My wings are though.” Minho pressed kisses along Felix’s neck and jaw. “Will you let us take you to bed?”

Felix’s heart skipped a beat as blood rushed down to his already swelling cock. He nodded quickly. The three rose in a silent rush, hands groping each other’s bodies as they headed down the hall. Felix let himself be guided into a large bedroom. The bed was enormous, taking up most of the space in the room. It had a plush blanket of dark purple and black, and Felix wanted nothing more than to burrow underneath it. First, however, the problem of his clothing – which was quickly sorted by the four hands of his new partners, turning him back and forth as they stole kisses along with the fabric.

Felix found himself airborne once he was naked, gasping when he landed on the bed hard enough to bounce. Minho crawled over him first, his horns on display now.

“Where are your wings?” Felix asked, running his hand through the air over Minho’s shoulder.

“It won’t be too overwhelming? To see them?”

“I should get used to it, right?”

“That’s kind of you.”

In the next moment, they appeared, shielding much of the lamplight with their size. Felix reached up, burying his fingers in the soft feathers. Minho sighed contentedly.

Chan laid next to Felix, reaching a hand down between his legs. He began teasing his hole as he nibbled his collarbone.

Minho caught his mouth in another kiss, reaching down and grasping Felix’s cock in his hand. He stroked slowly, teasing the tip with his thumb.

Felix whined when he felt a warm liquid against his ass. He pulled away, looking at Chan.

“Nice thing about demon boyfriends… We make this part so much easier. It’s safe, just oil. Relax.”

“You both have far too many clothes on,” Felix pouted, tugging up Minho’s shirt. “It’s not fair.”

“Easily solved.” Minho snapped. Both his and Chan’s clothes disappeared, and Felix gaped.

“You— Holy shit.”

“Well, not holy,” Chan murmured. Minho laughed and leaned down, kissing Felix’s surprised mouth.

Felix reached down, curling his fingers around Minho’s cock. He whined. “Oh, it’s big…”

Minho smiled almost shyly, glancing at Chan, who smirked. “Told you he’d be impressed.”

Felix frowned, pouting. “What do you mean?”

“You like my cock,” Chan said, sliding two fingers into Felix suddenly. He gasped, arching his hips against Chan’s hand. “But you love that dildo we use on you. He’s about the same length.”

Felix stroked him a few times. Chan wasn’t wrong; he loved how thick he was, and how delightfully full he made him feel - but he loved length - and Minho’s cock was going to reach perfectly deep inside him. He spread his legs wider, earning a chuckle from both of them.

“Want him to fuck you, Lix?” Chan teased, fucking him with his fingers. Felix moaned, screwing his eyes shut. His cheeks warmed as he nodded.

Minho kissed him hard, reaching down and adding one of his own fingers to Chan’s.

The two worked him open until Felix was writhing under their touch, each stroke bringing him right to the edge before pulling him back.

“Please!” He gasped desperately. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up, please—”

“We don’t want you to last,” Minho said simply.

“We want to take you apart, over and over,” Chan agreed. He leaned over Felix and kissed Minho, cupping his cheek with his free hand. Felix whined softly, biting his bottom lip as he watched them.

When they broke the kiss, Minho smirked down at him. “Aw, do you feel left out?” He teased.

Felix shook his head, a little proud to realize wasn’t lying. There was no jealously, just eagerness.

He leaned up and kissed Minho, then Chan. “I’m good at sharing.”

Minho laughed brightly. He and Chan removed their hands from between Felix’s thighs and Minho rolled onto his back, scooting up so he was slouching against the pillows. His wings shimmered out of view, allowing him to sit up more. “Come onto my lap.”

Felix obeyed, straddling his hips and resting his hands on his shoulders. “Where do they go? When you hide them?”

Minho leaned forward, motioning over his shoulder. “Look.”

Felix cleaned closer, giggling when Minho began to bite gently along his collarbone. Running the entire length of Minho’s back on either side were a pair of intricate wings, tattooed with same dark iridescent color of his feathers.

“Oh wow…” Felix reached down, touching one of the lines. It felt like regular skin. “It’s like a tattoo.”

“That’s what it’s meant to mimic,” Minho said, his voice muffled by Felix’s skin. “Easier to hide in plain sight.”

“It’s gorgeous. Oh!” Felix laughed when Minho slapped his ass suddenly.

“So are you,” Minho growled. Chan groaned from next to them.

“Dude, he’s already in bed, do you need cheesy pickup lines?”

“I like them,” Felix pouted, looking over at Chan. He lifted himself onto his elbow, cocking a brow.

“Give it a few weeks. He’s incessant with those.”

“So that’s who you learned it from.”

Chan’s smile was replaced with a surprised ‘o’ shape, and Minho laughed brightly. He pulled Felix closer and kissed him hard. “Finally someone that can snark off to him with me,” he said.

Felix smiled shyly, his heart stuttering. Though they were in such intimate positions, being able to tease and laugh was so important. He felt entirely welcomed by them, and any concerns of an awkward first time were fading quickly.

Chan moved behind Felix, pressing his hardness to his lower back. Felix let his eyes slip shut as the two held him, their hands and mouths roaming over his body. He relaxed between them, reaching one hand down to stroke Minho’s cock. He moved his other behind them, squeezing Chan’s ass and dragging him closer. Chan grunted softly, grinding himself against Felix’s ass.

Minho reached around, stroking Chan’s cock gently. Chan moved back, allowing him to angle it downward. Chan’s tip bumped against Felix’s hole, and Felix whined softly, twisting his hips back for more.

Minho’s hand disappeared for a moment before Felix felt a warm liquid dribble over his hole. Chan used the tip off of his cock to catch it, rubbing it over the sensitive rim before pushing at it. Felix groaned, letting his head fall forward onto Minho’s chest. Minho smiled against his shoulder. He grabbed Felix’s ass in both hands and spread him.

“Give it to him,” he grumbled. “Get him ready for me, Chan…” He nipped Felix’s earlobe. “Maybe ready for both of us, hm?”

Felix moaned softly. Minho laughed, a deep, gentle rumble.

“Oh, that sounds good to you doesn’t it? Feeling both of us inside you? Fucking you at the same time?”

Chan lined his cock up and drove in before Felix could answer, forcing a sharp cry from his throat.

Minho slapped his ass with some force before squeezing again, keeping him open as Chan’s cock drove deep into him.

Felix shouted, his body shuddering hard. They’d prepped him well enough for the stretch not to hurt, but it was delightfully overwhelming, especially after seven months without anyone’s touch. His cock ached for attention, but Minho’s grip on his ass and Chan’s on his hips kept him still, unable to do anything but plead and take it.

He grabbed Minho’s shoulders, shouting against his chest as Chan began to fuck him, each thrust deep and hard.

“Please—“ He gasped.

“Please what?” Minho teased, entirely nonchalant.

“I can’t — Too close—“

“Then come,” he said, and Felix felt him shrug. “We’re going to use you over and over tonight, Felix. Come on his cock. Show him how much you missed him fucking you, filling you.”

Felix moaned again, not bothering to try and stifle himself the way he did in his apartment. “Chan—“ He gasped. Chan wrapped his arm around his chest and pulled Felix upright, still pounding into his hole. He shifted his grip, pinning Felix’s arms back so he couldn’t touch himself. His cock bounced helplessly with each thrust, tension making it ache as his balls tightened to his body.

Felix closed his eyes, his cheeks warming at his exposed state, knowing Minho was directly under him, seeing it all.

“You’re so close, Felix,” Minho cooed. He stroked a finger up the underside of Felix’s cock. The simple touch made Felix scream, his cock jerking and dribbling precome.

“Let it out, baby. Make him come, Chan. I wanna see it before I fuck him.”

Chan sped up, the sound of their skin striking loud in the room. Felix threw his head back, choking out a scream as Chan twisted his hips, shifting the angle to perfectly stimulate his prostate.

“Yes— Fuck, more!” Felix gasped. Chan continued, grunting softly.

Felix wrestled one hand free and reached up, grabbed one of the dark horns sprouting from Chan’s head. He tugged firmly, laughing breathlessly when Chan’s hips lost their rhythm.

He snapped forward twice more, biting down hard on Felix’s shoulder. The thread keeping Felix on the edge snapped. His body tensed and jerked as his cock began to spurt, shooting ropes of come on each thrust of Chan’s hips.

Minho moaned delightedly, his hands gripping Felix’s quivering thighs as he encouraged more from both of them. Chan continued, holding Felix close as he sucked a bruise onto his delicate skin.

Felix’s whined, his cock flagging a bit as his orgasm reached its peak and began to fade. Chan slowed down and slipped his cock free. He guided Felix’s hips down to Minho’s lap, lining his cock up and brushing the tip over Felix’s twitching rim.

“Felix,” Minho said firmly.

Felix opened his eyes, his cheeks warming. Minho’s chest and belly were covered in ropes of his come.

“Hey.” Their gazes met, and Minho smiled. “You sure about this? We won’t be mad if you stop.”

Felix shook his head. He set his hands on Minho’s shoulders and lowered himself down, letting Chan guide Minho’s cock into him.

Minho’s lips parted in a quiet gasp. He grabbed Felix’s hips, nodding once.

Felix groaned, biting his bottom lip. Minho’s cock was long and perfectly curved, hitting deep inside him. He pressed a hand under his belly, clenching around Minho once their bodies pressed together.

“Fuck, are you in my stomach?” He panted.

Minho laughed, twitching his hips up. The action pushed him just a few centimeters deeper, but it was enough to make Felix’s body ache delightfully all the way down to his toes.

“Feels that way - you are unbearably tight. Come on… Move for me.”

Felix lifted himself up, gasping quickly. His legs began to quiver, Minho’s cock dragging along his prostate. He managed a few inches before sobbing brokenly and sinking back down.

“It’s too much,” he panted.

“Need to stop?” Minho worried, stroking his lower back.

“No!” Felix leaned forward, kissing him. “No, just… Take control. Make me take it.” He murmured against his mouth.

“You sure?”

“I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”

Minho nodded. He sat up more and grabbed Felix’s hips. Felix leaned back, smiling when Chan wrapped his arms around him.

“First time he fucked me, I couldn’t even take his whole cock,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”

Felix whined softly. Minho lifted him easily, and Chan gripped his middle, keeping him up on his knees.

“Relax,” he murmured, kissing Felix once. “Let yourself take him.”

Felix nodded. Minho thrusted upward, burying his cock deep. Felix screamed, his cock throbbing. A spurt of precome erupted from it, and he felt himself hardening despite the exhaustion.

Minho thrusted again, and again, pausing after each one with his cock buried as deep as he could go. As Felix’s body relaxed around him, he began to move with the thrusts, meeting Minho halfway. His cock was hard once more, dribbling precome as his body readied for his second climax.

He leaned back against Chan, comforted by his strong arms and gentle praises, and warmed by Minho’s lips, brushing against every bit of skin he could reach as Felix rode his cock.

“I want you—“ Felix whispered.

“I’m right here,” Chan said.

“No— I want you to fuck me,” he gasped, “both of you.”

“You sure?”

Felix nodded quickly.

“Tell us if it’s too much,” Minho said.

Felix nodded. The trio shifted easily so Minho was lying more on his back. He pulled Felix to his chest, kissing him hard. Chan lined his cock up and slid it in just as Minho slid out, stretching Felix wider for just a moment. Chan thrusted a few times, then pulled out at the same time Minho slipped back in, once again stretching Felix just a bit more.

The two took turns fucking him for what felt like ages, teasing him with the promise of both their cocks for a split second before one pulled out. He understood what they were doing, rationally, but his lust addled mind craved more.

Finally, Minho’s flared tip slipped in at the same time Chan’s was lodged inside him, the widest stretch they’d given. Felix shouted against Minho’s shoulder, a mix of pleasure and pain going straight to his cock. He nearly sobbed when Chan pulled out.

“Doing so good,” Minho cooed, rubbing Felix’s back. “Getting loose enough for us now, just a little longer.”

“Please—“

“I know.” Minho kissed his shoulder, and Felix felt Chan’s cock against his hole again. “So close, just breathe through it, baby.” He pulled out most of the way and paused.

Felix felt more lube drizzle over his hole and Chan began to push in. Instead of withdrawing, Minho pushed up as well, both of their cocks slipping deeper into Felix’s ass.

He gasped, gripping the pillow on either side of Minho’s head. The stretch was intense, pulling him open in a way he’d never experienced. His body ached, mind telling him this wasn’t what his aching ass was meant to be put through, but the pleasure coursing through his veins outweighed that. He moaned brokenly, pushing his hips down as both cocks filled him. Though neither could push all the way in, their combined girth was more than enough. He shivered.

“You okay, baby?” Chan worried as Felix shuddered.

Minho laughed softly. “He’s gonna come.” He held Felix’s ass, squeezing. “Fuck him, make him come on our cocks.”

Felix moaned brokenly, nodding quickly. He didn’t trust his voice enough to speak.

Chan grabbed his hips and began to thrust, forcing his ass to take a bit more of his cock each time. Minho did the same under him, alternating his thrusts so Felix was always filled and stretched to the brim.

Tears welled in Felix’s eyes, not from pain but pleasure, blurring his vision. He could hear himself screaming their names, but cotton had been forced in his ears, making everything sound muffled and far away. Time seemed to slow. They held him close, caressing and soothing his aches even while they used his tired body.

His balls squeezed painfully against his body, protesting another orgasm, but their cocks remained relentless, milking it out of him. His stomach twisted and ached, come dribbling out of his cock in thick streams, forced into spurts when they struck his prostate just so. He could hear their voices, praising him, loving him, telling him how good he was.

Felix floated along even as his body shuddered through an orgasm that felt like it would never end. He was both numb and far too sensitive, each thrust from the two driving a weak shout from him.

It was Minho that lost his rhythm first, his short nails digging into Felix’s ass as he thrust in. His come was warm; far warmer than anything Felix had felt before. It didn’t burn, but the sudden change made him gasp. Chan held him still, pressing kisses to his shoulder and back as Minho spilled inside him.

Chan came before Minho had finished. Even in this strange free floating state, Felix recognized his telltale grunts and the rough shudders of his body as his cock emptied his own release.

“Lix…”

“Hey, Felix, baby, you with us?”

Their voices blended together. Felix wanted to answer, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He nodded, trying to open his heavy eyes.

“Just relax, we’ve got you,” Chan murmured. Felix whimpered when he felt them pull out, a warm wetness following after.

“I’ll grab it,” Chan said. The bed shifted and Felix gasped, a streak of panic arcing through him. He tried to sit up, ignoring the pain in his overused body.

“Shh, shh, we’re right here,” Minho said. His arms surrounded Felix, bringing him back down to lie with him. “He’s gotta get a cloth, we’re all messy. You’re here with us both, okay?”

Felix nodded, squeezing his eyes tighter.

“You did perfectly,” Minho continued, stroking his fingers through Felix’s hair. “Just rest now, we’ll take care of you.”

Felix felt his body relaxing as Minho spoke, soothed by his touch and words. He felt the bed shift again, and Chan touched his lower back.

“I’m gonna clean you up now, Lix.” He said. The washcloth was damp and warm against Felix’s thighs. Chan moved his legs easily to clean him up, and Minho helped Felix’s heavy, exhausted body roll to finish cleaning him up. There was a light breeze, and the damp, warm sheets were suddenly dry and cool. Chan climbed into bed next to Felix and kissed his cheek.

“Hey, can you sit up a little bit? You should eat something.”

Felix nodded. His mind still felt foggy but his body seemed more his own now; he could move his limbs without too much struggle. He opened his eyes, rubbing them with the back of his fist.

Chan smiled softly, his horns and demon eyes gone.

“He lives. Here.” He sat up and opened up a bar of chocolate, breaking off a piece and handing it to Felix. Felix sat up slowly, groaning at the deep ache in his body.

“Take it slow,” Minho said, helping him up. A glance at him confirmed he’d done away with his demonic features for the time being as well. He smiled softly and brushed back Felix’s hair. “You did a number to your body with us, go slow, okay?”

“What happened?” Felix asked, each worth feeling like it weighed ten pounds on his tongue. He took a bite of the candy, smiling a little at the sweetness.

“Just a lot of emotions all at once,” Minho said. “Sometimes humans get a little too much pleasure, it can make your brain go all foggy like that. As demons we tend to trigger it more easily. I didn’t think we’d be doing that tonight – with both of us, you know, I’m sorry I didn’t think to warn you.”

“It’s okay, I liked it.” Felix rubbed his eyes again, grimacing. “I just wish I could think.”

Minho kissed his temple. “You’ll be back to normal tomorrow. Just gotta get something into your stomach or you’re gonna be sick. And you should drink some water.”

Felix nearly moaned. He nodded. “Oh God, I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“Here.” Chan passed over a bottle of water and Felix grabbed it, gulping down half of it desperately. He gasped and groaned, letting his head fall back onto the headboard. “Thank you.”

He handed the bottle back to Chan and took the remaining chocolate, finishing it before sighing and wiggling down under the clean covers. “You two aren’t going to leave, right?” He asked suddenly, an uncomfortable knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

“No, not at all,” Chan said.

“We’ll be right here,” Minho promised.

“We’ll talk about everything tomorrow,” Chan said. “Maybe go to breakfast together?”

“That sounds nice,” Felix whispered. He relaxed a little at their words, feeling safe with them.

Chan and Minho stretched out next to him and Felix rolled onto his side, resting his head on Chan’s chest. Felix set his hand over Chan’s on his stomach. Minho pressed against Felix’s back, reaching around him and setting his hand on top of theirs.

They’d likely get far too warm in the middle of the night, Felix figured, already toasty between their bodies, but it was entirely worth it. His father had warned him that three was too many, a crowd of evil. Whether or not ignoring the warning meant meant doom for the religious world – that remained to be seen. But for Felix at that moment, three was the perfect number. The only thing surrounding him was love and affection, and that was enough.

#musicbingo23 #kvanity #skz fanfic #chan x felix #chan x minho #chan x felix x minho #stray kids fic #mywriting

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