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starlightkun · 4 months

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❧ word count: 3.4k ❧ warnings: cursing, drinking (reader gets a bit tips), vomiting ❧ genre: fluff, angst?, friends to lovers, fake dating at the office holiday party trope, reader is stupid (beloved) ❧ extra info: title taken from merry-go-round (christmas edition) by astro my loves ❧ author’s note: idk what it is about kun and christmas and cheesy hallmark movie premises that gets me going but i hope yall r liking all these lmao

“I’ll do it.” Kun immediately offered.

“Huh?”

“I’ll be your fake boyfriend for the night.”

“I lead a cursed existence,” you declared as soon as Kun picked up, slamming your front door closed behind you.

“Uh, why? What happened now?” Your friend’s voice was concerned.

“Jangwook wants to meet my boyfriend at the office Holiday Party this Friday.” You threw your house keys onto your kitchen table and stalked into your bedroom.

Kun knew exactly who you were talking about, your coworker who had been not-so-subtle in his advances towards you, crossing the line on more than one occasion. “I thought you reported him to HR.”

“Yeah, I did.” You kicked your shoes off and into your closet.

“And he still works there?!”

“Uh-huh,” you scoffed, putting him on speakerphone to start getting changed out of your work clothes. “That’s unfortunately usually how that goes.”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry.” Kun’s voice was sincere. “You’re looking for another job, right?”

“I just started, do you know how bad it looks on a résumé to only work somewhere for less than six months?”

“I think quitting is pretty justified in these circumstances.”

“Well, I’m not. So now I have to find a fake boyfriend in the next two days or it’s going to get worse.”

“I’ll do it.” He immediately offered.

You stopped in your tracks as you were grabbing your pajamas from your dresser. “Huh?”

“I’ll be your fake boyfriend for the night,” Kun reiterated. “Come on, who else would you have asked? Yangyang?”

“Sicheng, maybe, if he wasn’t too busy.” You referenced another mutual friend of yours.

“He’s working.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, I’ll do it.”

“Alright, thanks, Kun,” you agreed. “I’ll owe you one.”

Two days later, you stopped Kun outside the event venue where the Holiday Party was supposed to be happening. Everything had to be perfect tonight, you two had to be convincing. In order to distract yourself from that idea, you readjusted the neckline of Kun’s turtleneck for a moment and smoothed over the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Okay, there you go,” you smiled at him nervously, then fidgeted with the hem of your outfit. “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful,” he assured you, offering his hand out to you. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you sighed, lacing your fingers with his, ignoring the sparking along your skin where it touched his.

Walking into the party, you immediately wanted to leave. The venue was abuzz with chatter from all your coworkers, and Christmas music blasted from speakers somewhere. You spotted the bar in the far corner, and pulled Kun over there.

“No fucking way am I doing this sober,” you muttered to him, earning a laugh.

“Go for it,” he rubbed your back as the two of you sidled up to the bar. “I’m driving.”

After ordering your drink and Kun’s soda, you turned around to the rest of the party, eyes searching for somebody pleasant you could talk to. You finally spotted one of your work friends and led Kun over to her table.

“Hey, Sookyung,” you greeted her brightly.

“Y/N!” She threw her arms around your neck. Already tipsy. “There you are!”

“Here I am!” You chuckled, hugging her back. “How are you?”

“Great! Great!” She beamed at you as you pulled away, inquisitive eyes finding Kun next to you. “And who’s this?”

“Sookyung, this is my boyfriend, Kun.” You hoped your voice didn’t squeak too much over the word boyfriend. “Kun, this is Sookyung, we work on the same floor.”

“Nice to meet you.” He went to offer his hand for a handshake, but she just squealed and hugged him anyway as well.

He looked over at you in confusion, and you mouthed ‘drunk hugger’ to him. He made an ‘ahh’ sound, gingerly patting her back before she let go of him.

“So I get to finally meet you!” She was beaming at him. “When Y/N would talk about you and talk about her boyfriend, I always thought you were two separate people! And I felt bad for her boyfriend because I sort of thought she had a crush on this Kun guy. But you’re the same person! That makes so much more sense.”

“You’re not driving home, right?” You asked her pointedly, feeling your skin grow hot with embarrassment and needing to divert from that information as soon as possible.

“Nope!” She giggled. “My girlfriend’s here somewhere. She doesn’t drink.”

“Good, good.”

“Speaking of, there she is!” Sookyung took off into the crowd.

“And there she goes,” you shook your head, watching her disappear between other bodies.

You fortunately didn’t have very long alone with Kun to address what she had just said, as another coworker appeared at your table. Unfortunately, it was the exact person you’d hoped to avoid for as long as possible.

“Y/N,” Jangwook set his drink down, already far too close for comfort.

You instinctually backed away from him, right into Kun. Before you could apologize, though, Kun wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, letting his hand settle on your hip.

He offered his other hand out to your coworker. “Qian Kun, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Jangwook shook his hand, and you could see his face contort with pain for a brief flash before he took his hand back. “Lee Jangwook.”

“Jangwook, this is my boyfriend, Kun,” you made introductions awkwardly. “Kun, Jangwook and I are on the same team at work.”

Your coworker seemed to be sizing Kun up for a moment, appraising him and the hand he still had on you, and Kun met his gaze, unwavering. Before you could attempt to continue the tense small talk, a hand grabbed your elbow, and Sookyung was suddenly at your side again.

“Y/N! The girls are doing shots, come on!”

“Sook, I don’t want to—” You were cut off by her insistently tugging you out of Kun’s grasp.

“I’ll be fine here,” Kun reassured you with a dazzling smile, pulling you closer to kiss your forehead before fully letting you go. “Go have fun.”

“O-Okay,” you replied, your voice higher as you were a bit stunned.

Needing no further prompting, Sookyung yanked you off towards the bar. You let her talk you into doing one shot with her and some other female coworkers of yours. It was your usual after-work drinks crew minus a couple men.

You set the shot glass back down with a heavy thunk on the bartop. “Alright, that’s it for me.”

A chorus of disappointed groans came at that, but you stayed firm on your decision as they all got another round, and you watched them, sipping on your cocktail you’d gotten earlier.

“You and your boyfriend are so cute, Y/N,” another one of your coworkers gushed, squeezing your forearm. “I saw you two walk in and I was just like ‘ugh, I need to find somebody who looks at me like that!’ Where did you get him?”

“Oh, we met in college,” you explained vaguely. “Friend of a friend.”

“Then why have you never brought him before?”

She was talking about the other monthly events that your workplace puts on for the employees and their significant others to socialize. You’d gone stag to the other five.

“He’s busy. He travels for work.”

“What does he do?”

“Structural engineer. So he has to be on-site for a lot of builds and stuff. He just got a promotion last month, though, so he doesn’t have to travel as much anymore.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“So when—” Sookyung was cut off by a hiccup. “When is he going to, you know? Pop the question? If you’ve been together since college?”

You felt your skin get hot again, and looked around the room as you tried to come up with an answer. “We haven’t really talked about that. We’re fine where we are, you know?”

“Of course, of course.”

After a little while longer, you excused yourself from the women to find Kun again. He had disappeared from the table you’d been at before, and you peered around the room curiously.

“Looking for someone?” A familiar voice came from beside your ear as an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Oh, Kun,” you breathed a sigh of relief, turning around to see his familiar smile. “There you are.”

He rubbed a hand up and down your exposed arm. “You’ve got goosebumps. Are you cold?”

“It’s a bit chilly in here,” you agreed casually, not even noticing due to the alcohol buzzing through your veins and warming you from the inside.

He slipped his suit jacket off, draping it over your shoulders before pulling you close to him again. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” You pulled it tighter around you. “Are you having a good time?”

“I am now that I’m with you again,” he leaned in to whisper. “That guy was a real asshole.”

“Wow, shocker.” You rolled your eyes.

Kun snickered. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

You shrugged, leaning back against him. “Guess it’s better now that I’m with you.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now let’s get you some food.”

Sat down at a table with Kun and a big plate of food, you happily munched away as he kept a casual hand on your thigh, and you tried not to think about his casual hand on your thigh. You were on your second drink already, taking a big gulp every time your eyes happened to stray to Kun’s hand so very casually just on your goddamn thigh.

“So what did you guys talk about?” You finally asked him. “You and the asshole?”

“Oh, you know, what I do for work, education, where we met, how long we’ve been together, that kind of stuff,” Kun shrugged.

You felt your eyes widen immediately. “Do you think he knows?”

“No, baby,” he chuckled, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “He doesn’t know shit.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He felt the need to warn me about the late nights you two do at he office sometimes. He was testing me, like he was going to pull a gotcha on me.”

“We only have to stay that late because he sucks at his job, and as the new person, I’m first on the chopping block for staying late!” You ranted. “And I swear, he does it on purpose just to try to get me alone!”

“Yeah, he tried to make it sound very… scandalous,” Kun shook his head, lip curling with disgust. “I was just really casual and said you make sure to tell me when you stay late so I don’t get worried about you coming home safe. Oh yeah, we live together and we’ve been together since college. That work?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine.”

“And I made him promise not to tell you, but—” He had a mischievous grin on his face as he added lowly, “I’m thinking about proposing.”

You almost spit out the bite of food in your mouth as both you and Kun burst into laughter, you slapping his arm with your breathless laughs. He squeezed your leg and rubbed your knee as he half-heartedly tried to shush you.

“Please tell me he looked fucking pissed,” you begged, grabbing his arm.

“He did,” Kun confirmed with a nod.

“Best Christmas present ever, Kun. Thank you.” You wiped at a tear in the corner of your eye, grabbing your drink and finishing it off in one go. “Ahh, I think I want another one, actually.”

“How are you so good at this?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kun had loaded a rather tipsy-you back into his car later in the night, and was now taking you back to your apartment.

“What? Driving?” He chuckled. “Been doing it a few years. They gave me a license and everything.”

“No, being my fake boyfriend.” You asked the one thing that had been nagging at the back of your mind the whole time. “You don’t feel weird or anything? Because we’re friends?”

He side-eyed you. “You’re too drunk for this conversation.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“You’re not sober enough for this conversation,” he corrected himself.

“Is it because you like me?”

“Y/N, let’s just focus on getting you home, okay?”

“Because Minji said you looked at me like… you know…”

“And Sookyung said she thought you had a crush on ‘that Kun guy,’” he retorted. “Like I said, let’s save this conversation for when you’re stone cold sober, Y/N.”

“So you don’t like me…” You mumbled dejectedly.

“That’s not what I said.”

You looked out the window, feeling the heavy pout on your face. “But you want me to be sober when you let me down easy so I don’t cry or something.”

“Y/N...” He sighed, looking over at you as he pulled to a stop in front of your apartment. “Oh, jeez, are you crying right now?”

“No…” You sniffed, wiping at a tear.

“Yes, you are, you liar,” Kun said gently.

“Okay, maybe I am.”

“Y/N, I’m not going to let you down easy.”

“You’re going to be mean when you reject me?!” You looked over at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“No, no, what? I’m not going to reject you,” he promised, offering his hand out to you. You cautiously put yours atop it, and he gently squeezed your hand between both of his. “Jeez, Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I wanted you to be sober and not crying when I told you that, but there goes that plan.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ll even let you in on a secret.” He shifted forward conspiratorially. “Sicheng didn’t have to work tonight, I just couldn’t stand the thought of anybody else being your fake boyfriend.”

You sloppily wiped at your wet cheeks with your free hand, whispering back, “Here’s my secret: I was only going to ask him because I knew you would’ve said yes and I thought you didn’t like me like that, and it would’ve sucked to be your fake girlfriend for one night when I wanted you to be my real boyfriend forever.”

“Forever?” He repeated with a giddy grin on his lips.

“Or something, I don’t know, I’m drunk, Kun, remember?” You pointed to yourself zealously.

“I thought you weren’t drunk? You were very insistent—”

“No, I’m sooo drunk, actually. And sleepy! You should cuddle me to sleep.”

“I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep,” he promised.

“But aren’t we for real dating now?” You tilted your head, pouting again.

“We’re going to have this conversation again when you’re sober, okay? Then we can decide if we’re for real anything.”

“You are mean.”

“The meanest, for sure,” he agreed placidly, giving your hand a final pat before reaching over to turn the car off.

Kun helped you up to your apartment, get everything ready for bed, and stepped out of the bedroom while you changed into your pajamas—you had just enough body coordination left to do that on your own. He made you drink some water and take a few pills before finally letting you crawl into bed. As promised, he sat up at the head of your bed next to you as you curled up under the covers.

“Kun?” You sniffled, looking up at him as he rested a gentle hand on your hair.

“Yes?” He looked down at you tenderly.

“Do you really like me?”

“More than.” He patted your head.

“For how long?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Months, years, who’s to say?”

“Oh. I’m sorry...”

“Why?”

“That I didn’t—” you let out a loud yawn, struggling to keep your eyes open. “That I didn’t see it sooner. I just thought you were a really nice guy.”

“I am. I’m a really nice guy who’s in love with you.”

“I don’t know if really nice people go around saying they’re really nice all the time...”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Y/N. I didn’t tell you.”

“I know, but—”

“You should go to sleep, Y/N.”

“But where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch. I’m staying with you until you fall asleep, though. Remember?”

“Okay...” You yawned again. “If you... If you get cold out there, you can come in here, you know?”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind,” he agreed, humor in his voice.

“Because it gets really cold in my apartment at night, you know? Sometimes… Sometimes I’d imagine you were with me on really cold nights, cuddling me to sleep.”

“Really?” He questioned, intrigued now.

“Or… other stuff…”

He burst into laughter, stroking your forehead. “You definitely should go to sleep, Y/N, before you say stuff that you’ll have to kill me for knowing.”

“Mmm, okay.” You rolled over, finally letting your eyes flutter shut. “Goodnight, Kun.”

You were asleep before you could even hear his response.

When you woke up for the first time, it was still dark out. Your head hurt, and you chugged the rest of the water on your nightstand before grabbing the cup and shuffling out to the kitchen to get more. As promised, Kun was asleep on your couch, features illuminated softly in the moonlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. You refilled your cup of water, chugged it again, refilled it again, and shuffled over to the living room.

Standing over Kun, you pushed on his shoulder gently. He stirred, opening one eye to look up at you in confusion.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” He murmured, his voice thick and foggy with sleep.

“I’m sober,” you deadpanned. “My bed’s cold.”

He blearily scooted over to make room on your tiny couch, pressing himself into the back cushions. You crammed yourself on mostly on top of him, burying your face in his neck as his arms encircled you. Neither of you said another word as you both drifted back off to sleep.

“You’re in love with me?!” You repeated for probably the fourth time that morning, as Kun held your hair back and you clung to the bowl of your toilet.

“I don’t know how else to phrase this to make you believe me,” Kun sighed as you leaned forward to retch again. “You didn’t hallucinate last night in a drunken stupor, I really do have feelings for you, you also said you have feelings for me, I put you to bed alone and went to sleep on the couch by myself, then in the middle of the night you said you were sober and cold and joined me on the couch.”

You wiped your mouth with a wad of toilet paper he handed you, more memories of last night coming back to you. “Did… Did I say anything else?”

“Like…?”

“About it being cold?” You winced.

“Yeah, you warned me that your apartment gets cold.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And that sometimes when it gets cold you imagine me—”

“Ah! Stop it!” You shoved him away from you as he burst into maniacal laughter. “You’re the worst! You’re mean and I hate you!”

“But what if I told you that I also imagined holding you on cold nights sometimes?” He scooted back over next to you, draping an arm over your shoulders. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear as he added, “Or… other stuff?”

The bile that rose to your throat was completely coincidental, but certainly not a good look as you apparently hurled at the idea. Kun continued dutifully holding your hair and rubbing your back as you puked.

After flushing for the umpteenth time that morning, you turned back to him incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Is there something about me that gives off the vibe that I’d lie about this?” He rebuffed.

“Well, no—” You stopped to spit into the toilet. “But I feel like there’s plenty about me that would be conducive to that hypothesis.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Kun, we’re having this conversation while I puke my brains out, for one.”

“And what about me would make you think I’m that judgmental?” He snorted. “You do remember the night I successfully defended my thesis, right? Because I don’t.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“And you weren’t that bad last night either,” Kun brushed a piece of hair from your face, his gaze tender as he looked at you. “Nor are you that bad now either. And even if you were— I’d still love you.”

You felt your eyes water, and not from the burning in your esophagus this time. “Okay…”

“Okay?” He confirmed.

“Okay,” you nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Thank god, I feel like I just defended my thesis again,” he joked, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re so mean to me…” You whined, burying your face in his shirt. “I don’t know why I ever thought you were a nice guy.”

“I’m plenty nice,” he retorted. “You’re just too hungover to notice.”

“So are we like… for real dating now?” You mumbled.

“Yeah, probably.”

You let out a choked laugh at that. “Good to know.”

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

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sailorrlino · 2 months

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Rodeo | lmh (m)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: hitman!Minho x arms dealer! F. reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. He likes it that way. When you appear on his target list, his relationship with you becomes quite the opposite - complicated, rough, and unreliable.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 18,249

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Cyberpunk | Smut | Angst | Peers to Something

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Violence, world building, murder, discussion of murder, depictions of blood and fight sequences, brief mentions of drugs, depictions of wounds and treating them with syringes if you don’t like needles, explicit language, depiction of an anxiety attack, angst and self-doubt, Minho being an idiot, gun fights and scenes with weapons, some vague terms and references specific to the world building, sexually explicit content featuring oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, bodily fluids, and mentions of spit in several places. I think that covers everything, for the most part.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This is what happens when writers just write what they're inspired for. After almost two months of being unable to write, I got this random idea and I just went with it and took advantage of the moment and... genuinely had so much fun writing this. It got so much longer and more complex than I meant to, but I hope you enjoy.

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N 2: This work is heavily inspired by Fallout 4, Blade Runner, Altered Carbon and the lovely song Rodeo by WayV. I imagine Rodeo playing during the shootout scene at the bar. Additionally, a fun fact: I use the nato alphabet to communicate Minho's targets and reader's target in this spells out 'reader' in the nato alphabet :)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Posted: Sunday, March 3 2024

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Tag List Request Form | Song Inspiration

Any work is good work.

Minho isn’t so sure that his father would say that as he crouches down next to the body on the living room floor. His thigh muscles protest, aching and tight from hours of sitting crouched across the street in the chill of a high-rise building waiting for his prey to enter this very building.

Neon light bleeds through the foggy window behind him. The room is awash in watery pink as he pulls out his scanner with one hand and leans forward with the other, pressing his gloved fingers to the man's chin to push his head to the side. It rolls easily, giving a fleshy sound that might make someone squeamish as the man’s cheek hits the floor.

Any work is good work, Minho thinks as he scans the man's non-existent pulse with his watch. He sees the blue ring of the biochip flash beneath cooling flesh, his watch flashing green with a soft buzz. The man’s entire life flashes on the screen - full name, date of birth, ID number, blood type, and place of work. Everything about him casts a sickly green glow on Minho’s sharp face.

Tapping a few buttons on the watch face, he waits, holding his wrist near his mouth as the sound of a dial tone chimes once. It’s silent in the apartment, though he can hear the hum of airborne traffic a few blocks off as the roar of adrenaline winds down.

“Receiving,” a male voice answers. Minho doesn’t know who it is - he just knows he’s one of any of the Delegators who work for Collect Co.

“Collection request number alpha-echo-tango-delta complete, served by Collector 102598.”

“Collected alpha-echo-tango-delta confirmed. Please place a beacon before you leave. All credits for this Collection have been transferred to your account. Please wait five to seven business days before funds are available for use. Your next collection is in four hours, seven minutes, and eight United Seconds.”

The line goes dead. The glow of the watch makes him squint before he can lower his brightness, scrolling to his bank account. He sees the credits added with a transaction pending. When he was a kid, the number glowing at the bottom of the screen to indicate his balance might have excited him. Now, it’s just a number on a screen that confirms the power won’t go out at his apartment and that he won’t go hungry.

Minho’s knees crack as he stands. He groans and leans backward, pressing his hands into the small of his back. A series of cracks slither up his spine, making his eyes roll back as he shuts them for a moment and shivers.

He’s so goddamn sore.

Leaving the body on the carpet of the living area, he goes over to pick up the handgun resting on the counter. The energy weapon glows at his touch, syncing with his interface briefly before he holsters it inside his jacket.

While he is technically within the law to eliminate targets for Collect Co., Minho finds that most people find it unsettling when Collectors walk around with weapons. He hasn’t given much thought to what people think about him, but it certainly causes a lot less trouble when he looks like an average businessman going to and from work instead of a licensed killer.

The gun isn’t technically legal, either. He would probably get away with it if a United Enforcer stopped him. The hitmen of the privately funded but government-sanctioned Collect Co., do not technically outrank the government’s militia, but no one with a badge is going to tell a Collector no. Not if they can help it, anyway.

Tossing a beacon on the counter for the cleanup crew to track to the apartment and get rid of the body and clean, Minho heads outside into the rain. He ducks his head down against it, water sliding off the slicker jacket he hugs a little tighter. He feels warmth kick in and his mouth twitches at the sign of the heating system in the body armor on his chest is doing its job. A nifty little upgrade from you, he knows.

At the thought of you, Minho turns north toward the speed train, remembering that he needs an adjustment on his armor that is out of sync with his watch, and JumpPacks. He already used the last one about five hours ago and he feels the numbness of exhaustion buzzing at his edges, a warning sign that if he doesn’t get a jump or sleep he’s going to pass out.

Whichever comes first.

Smears of color splash across the wet sidewalk as he jogs down the steps to the train. It smells wet and foul, making him tuck his chin to his chest as he rushes to the fast-closing door of the train. He steps over the threshold just as the doors clang shut, the hissing of an airlock barely finishing before it launches forward.

He tenses to avoid being pitched forward into one of the standing railings. As the train rocks, the fluorescents above nearly blinding him, he finds a seat toward the back of an empty car. This late at night, there are only two other people in sight, both of them curled heaps of clothes on a seat, fast asleep.

Sleep tugs at him the moment Minho sits down. He has a twenty-minute ride to North Ward Three, dropping his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes.

The light still hums behind his closed lids, making a splash of colors. There’s no sound save for the whine of the magnetic rail beneath his feet and the occasional mechanical creek as the vehicle sways.

He melts into the seat a little, limbs loose. Fuck he needs a JumpPack. The last forty-eight hours awake are wearing him thin at the edges, stretching him like fabric over a surface far too wide. The forty-eight-hour mark is when he starts to decline, and as soon as he starts to creep toward seventy, he knows it’ll get messy.

Minho is a lot of things, but he is ultimately human. The JumpPack can help him push beyond shaky hands, imagining things that aren’t there and the foggy thinking, but they won’t keep him sharp forever.

As if proving his point, Minho hangs somewhere between awake and asleep, suspended in a dreamy space where he can still feel the rocking of the train but doesn’t feel the ache in his limbs or the pressure growing behind his eyes.

He flinches when the chime echoes above him at the next stop, eyes flying wide for a moment as his gaze sweeps the train car, his hand on the inside of his jacket where he grips the handle of a very nice knife.

No one enters the car. It’s just him and the other two sleeping people - he isn’t sure they’re even alive, really - and he relaxes, cursing at himself. This time when he drifts, he does so with a little more awareness, hand tucked warm against his chest and wrapped firmly around the blade.

It’s a unique little knife, snug in the sheath that’s buckled to the leather harness under his jacket. The handle is firm and made from non-conductive material that fits his exact grip from the meticulous measurements you took of his hand. You crafted the blade from a metal alloy you’d been playing around with and lined it with a highly conductive silver alloy you’d perfected.

When the button on the end of the handle is pressed, 5,000 volts of lethal electricity pulses through the sliver, finishing off a victim if he manages to fuck up a killing blow. It’s saved his life a few times in situations like now when he’s exhausted and his guard is blurry, or when someone has decided to make him the target for robbery.

A lot of your little gadgets have saved his life. You like to remind him every time he visits you. He doesn’t mind, though. You’re an easy enough arms dealer - easier than anyone else in the city, really. You don’t ask the kind of questions that he doesn’t want to answer, and you’re always two steps ahead of him. Even your prices are fair, which he used to find suspicious.

But Changbin and Jisung both swear by your tech and your business, and Minho is just happy that he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to give him a shitty deal or fuck him over.

The Collection industry is made for fucking over. He knows the system can be fucked with, especially the closer to the top you get.

Almost everyone tries to fuck Minho over. More than once he’s shown up as a Collection Request. He doesn’t know if it’s the system trying to clean up after itself or someone pulling strings to get him out of their way. It’s probably both, but every time it happens, he’s managed to evade it.

A Reverse Collection, those in his industry call it. In a way, it’s sort of like a pop quiz. He gets attacked or shot at, and if he wins, he passes the test and reverses the Collection, earning him more time without any coworkers trying to murder him. The Delegators don’t seem to care which Collector murders the other, and he’s never suffered for coming out on top.

Any work is good work.

Minho snorts at the thought, feeling the deep twinge in his extremities as he rouses himself, the train coming to his stop.

Rain sluices the streets in North Ward Three. Here, the streets are busier with an assault of people, smells, and sounds. LED umbrellas float along like jellyfish as people walk from pleasure house to food stand to fight arena. The hologram advertisements and neon signs are louder here, inescapable.

“The United Republic stands for justice, equality, prosperity and freedom, bought by the noble sacrifice of the United Church. Join us today-” Minho presses the ad blocker on his watch.

Immediately the holograms vanish and there’s just the neon watercolor reflecting off the umbrellas as he walks down the stairs of Neon Rodeo, the orange lights making his eyes throb as he reaches the door manned by two guards.

They know him immediately but they scan the biochip in his neck anyway. When they’re pleased, they step aside and the door slides automatically, the base vibrating his ribcage as he steps into the dingy light, hesitating to let his eyes adjust.

True to the name, there is neon fucking everywhere. The servers are dressed in chaps with LED lights and glittering tassels, their cowboy hats flashing smiling faces on top of their head. The neon here is low-grade and covered in layers of dust, giving the air a dusky, burning sort of glow as he walks around tables.

Eyes follow him as he goes. The regulars are familiar with him, tipping their head in greeting though he doesn’t do more than watch them from the corner of his eyes. The servers all slow-smile at him, teeth too white and too glittering. He finds them more unsettling than attractive, and he quickens his step to the unmarked door at the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool.

Hyunjin is perhaps the most unsettling thing in the Neon Rodeo. His eyes are a strange grey, looking at Minho as he approaches. There is a predatory gaze in Hyunjin’s eyes that never fades, a sort of knowing in them that Minho can’t shake. Minho knows Hyunjin is entirely human, but every time he approaches the man, Minho is suddenly unsure.

Nightcrawler.

Minho has heard the whispers about Hyunjin. He believes them, too. Everything about Hyunjin is like a carefully balanced blade, ready to tip in either direction. His senses are honed to perfection and he has a habit of both blending in and standing out depending on his mood.

And he can kill. Minho has seen the lethal man in action a single time when someone tried to push past him into the Builder’s sanctuary. Hyunjin had been so fast that even Minho had a hard time keeping up, struck by how efficiently and quickly the former assassin moved.

Unnatural. Everything about him is uncanny, which is in line with everything Minho has heard about the underground sect of killers. What Minho does is legally sanctioned murder. The Nightcrawlers do something far more sinister, their skills going beyond the natural desire for order in the United Republic.

Agents of disorder and chaos. That’s what some say. Minho isn’t sure where his opinion lands on the spectrum, but he gives them a healthy distance and respect either way.

Even the way Hyunjin sits on the barstool is unnatural, one foot kicked up on the bar between his legs, the other stretched out in front of him as he leans forward, his hand on the front lip of the seat.

“Hello, Cowboy,” Hyunjin greets, voice deep and smooth.

His hair is blonde today, slicked back out of his face, the ends touching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a black button-up with a cow print pattern across the shoulders and white, beaded tassels outlining the pattern. His dark pants are tight and he makes no effort to hide the gun on his waist or the knife handle peeking out the top of his cowboy boot.

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Hyunjin’s smile makes the hair on Minho’s arms stand on end. “I know, but I like it.”

The guard makes no move to let Minho in and he tries not to show he’s irritated. By the way the grin spreads on Hyunjin’s face, Minho can safely assume he isn’t doing a great job. “Is the Builder in or not?”

“Who is to say?”

“Just tell her I’m here.”

“If she’s in, she already knows.” Hyunjin nods toward an empty stool at the bar. “You can wait, Cowboy.”

Gritting his teeth, Minho turns on his heel to sit on the stool a few feet away. Hyunjin’s uncanny eyes follow him, never leaving him once. Minho ignores him in favor of asking for water at the bar, the headache pressing behind his eyes growing more intense with the loud music and the choking smell of cigars.

When the water comes back, it’s warm without ice. He glares at the bartender who has already moved on to paying customers. The water is tepid and a little sour, making him cringe. He’s pretty sure it came from the faucet, but he sips on it anyway, eying the grimy fingerprints on the glass.

A cowgirl slides up next to him, her pink vest pulled tight across her chest, showing sweat-slick skin. She smells like vanilla, the scent overpowering as she leans in, lacquered lips grinning.

“Don’t,” Minho grunts, sipping the water. “Not interested.”

“But you’re so pretty.”

A severe reprimand dies on his tongue as Hyunjin appears like a wraith, leaning in close to murmur, “Builder is ready for you, Cowboy.”

The cowgirl cowers away from the Nightcrawler, pressing up against the counter and fleeing as soon as he slinks away. If Hyunjin is offended, he doesn’t show it. He slips back onto the stool with that same eager lean, watching Minho through narrowed eyes as the Collector gets up and walks briskly to the now-open door.

Minho doesn’t turn around when the door shuts behind him, immediately cutting off all sound. The door leads to a step of steps, mirrored walls on either side with glowing orange light strips above them. He climbs the stairs as quickly as he can, his head swimming a little as he gets to the top.

The entire second floor is a massive, open-concept workshop. Tables covered with papers and instruments are placed in a chaotic maze, glowing screens with slow-spinning schematics and drawings giving the space a clinical, blue light. Workbenches with user interfaces hum along the corners of the room. Closed metal doors and offices stretch down a hall toward the pack, all under high-tech padlocks and surely protected with some sort of weapon system, if Minho had to guess.

Amid the organized chaos is you. The Builder.

Minho hates calling you that. He thinks it’s a little ridiculous of a title, but it suits you. There is nothing in this room you haven’t built and no weapon on his person that was not carefully crafted by you. He hesitates to watch you, standing at the edge of your luminescent domain as you lean over something, a small welding tool in your hand.

“Do you need a formal invitation, Cowboy?”

He doesn’t mind the name from you. He tells himself that it’s because, despite his predisposition to not liking people, he doesn’t dislike you. You’re easy to deal with, sort of like the weapons you make. You make his life functional and you’re to the point. He admires that, and he’s willing to take a little bit of prodding and joking from you as a trade-off.

Wordlessly, he floats toward you. You don’t look up to greet him, but you kick your foot out and hook the toe of your boot underneath the leg of a stool to pull it out for him to sit on. He can smell a hint of jasmine and amber wafting from where you sit, making him clench his jaw as he fights a shiver.

“I don’t have long,” he says, forgoing the seat. “Just need JumpPacks and wanted to drop off my armor. It’s having trouble connecting with the interface of the watch. I hit it pretty hard last night and I think I damaged the receiver.”

That gets your attention, drawing your sharp gaze up to him. But instead of dropping your eyes to his chest where the flexible armor stretches across his chest, you zero in on Minho’s face.

Your silence is uncomfortable, but he remains unmoving, willing himself to stay in place under your calculating gaze. You lean forward, eyes drinking him in, examining him the way you would a schematic for a weapon or a complicated piece of data.

Minho busies himself with looking at you in return. There’s a crease growing deeper in your brow and your pretty mouth - he doesn’t remember when he started thinking it was pretty - begins to dip, displeased at something you find in his face.

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You level a stare at him and he feels his mouth twitch. Minho thinks besides the occasional joke from Jisung - which he defines as Jisung accidentally hurting himself - you might be the only person who makes him want to smile. “Fifty-two hours, eighteen minutes and forty United Seconds.”

“No to the JumpPack,” you say finally. “Sleep.”

“I have another target in three hours, twenty-eight minutes and fifteen United Seconds.”

“Down the hall and second door on the right. Sleep for two hours. It won’t kill you.” He opens his mouth to protest you cut him off, “I’ll be done by the time you’re up. Take off your armor.”

His hands open and close. You’ve never declined a JumpPack before. You’ve definitely never offered sleep before. He stands buoyed by his confusion before he reluctantly sheds the jacket. It crinkles in the silence as he shucks it from his shoulder and neatly folds it, placing it on the stool you had intended for him to sit on.

Next, he sheds the holster, his gun, and a few knives clanking as he does. You seem amused by the amount of weapons he’s managed to shove in the leather straps and he shrugs a little at your arched brow.

Minho’s shirt is more armor than a shirt. It’s made from highly coveted synthetic material with hard but flexible geometric pieces stitched in that sync with his watch to turn on a light energy shield, pulse when there’s an energy weapon aimed at him, and generally keep anyone from being able to stab him. You’ve also added little things like warming sensors and anti-theft.

Delicately, Minho peels off the shirt. He marvels as it moves, surprised at the give and flex of the material every time. He hands it over and you snatch it, tossing it on your work counter as if it’s not the most expensive piece of technology he owns.

Immediately he’s covered in goosebumps. Your studio is bitter cold and you always wear sweaters and jackets with sleeves pulled over your hands. You’re dressed as such now, the too-long sleeves on your arms pooling over your hands as he stands there, trying not to shiver.

You pay no mind to his armor, instead standing up and twisting your mouth in a frown as your gaze skirts his chest and stomach. For a second he feels self-conscious, which he thinks is a little ridiculous as he glances down his chest. He realizes there is bruising blooming across him, spider webbing across to show when the armor unsynced and he took a few hard punches.

Minho holds his breath when you lift your hands, as though you’re going to brush the tips of your fingers over each wound. Your hands are smaller than his and far more delicate, nimble fingers reminding him of artists. His mother was an artist. Her slim hands and careful brushstrokes are one of the few things he remembers about her.

That, and that she chose to leave him.

Minho finds himself so hypnotized by your hands that your voice startles him when you say, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes and five seconds, Cowboy.”

You drop your hands and step away. He nods and sheds his watch as well, handing it over. “Alright.”

With heavy footsteps, he follows the directions to the appointed room. He’s a little off balance, his hip catching the corner of a table as he goes. He curses loudly, hands shooting to his hip where pain blooms from the jab. Your laughter trills behind him and he scowls over his shoulder at you, but you’re unfolding his armored shirt.

Muttering under his breath, he goes to the hall to the second door on the right. He’s never been in the hall before, but there are several doors lining each side. He carefully tries the handle, glancing up at the ceiling where a camera stares at him.

The handle gives under his hand easily and he swings the door open to what looks like a very small and well-kept medical room. He raises his brows as he steps in and closes the door behind him. There’s no lock on the door, his finger brushing across the handle to find one. He thinks about grabbing the chair tucked into the desk and sticking it under the handle, but the thought evaporates as quickly as it forms.

He’s not in danger here.

Slowly, he trods to the cot. It’s a standard size with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. Carefully, he sits down and immediately his body sighs. Minho’s eyelids flutter as he sags for a second, shoulders rolling inward as he curves in on himself, exhaustion pressing in.

He needs to take off his boots, but his arms feel heavy. He promises himself that he’ll do it in five more minutes before he gives up and lays down on his side, kicking his feet up boots and all onto the cot. The room is cool so he reaches for the blankets, uncaring that they scrape against his bumps and bruises.

The last fifty-some-odd hours begin to press in on Minho, a physical force that squeezes everything out of him until he’s fading fast into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

A gentle knock pulls Minho from a heavy sleep. He feels the dregs of it like a weighted shadow he can’t shake off, groaning and blinking at the ceiling a few times. His limbs feel heavier than ever and his neck cracks as he rolls it to the side to look at the room he’s in.

He suddenly remembers where he is, flinching a little as he sits up, movements jerky with nervousness. The room is still dark and cool, the itchy blanket falling to the floor as he sits and stares toward the door where there’s another knock.

“Come in,” he rasps, voice deep and rough with sleep.

A crack of light appears in the doorway as you slip in. You’ve got your arms full of stuff, using your elbow to smack the touchpad near the door. Dark orange light fills the room, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt his vision but bright enough to see that the stuff you’ve brought in is food and several bottles of water and some sort of blue liquid.

Minho eyes all of it warily, straightening as you stand in front of him, holding it out. He doesn’t move to take it and your mouth presses in a flat, firm line. “I know Collectors don’t have to be smart, but I do assume you know how to utilize the main food groups of the pyramid.”

He can smell the jasmine and amber again, soothing. “Why did you bring me food?”

“Because you look like shit, Cowboy. Don’t go losing your mind over a small gesture of goodwill.”

Chagrined, he snatches the items from your hand. He immediately realizes that there are energy bars, protein bars, and packs of gel that will replenish immediate levels of hormones and vitamins. He eyes you curiously as he sets the pile on the bed next to him, ripping a foil back open with his teeth.

You cross the room to lean against the medical table in the corner, crossing your arms over your chest. When he doesn’t eat right away, you raise your brows, waiting. He pops the end of a gel back in his mouth and squeezes, immediately tasting blueberry and lemonade. It’s not half bad, making him hum in fascination.

That gets a grin from you, his mouth twitching at the corner again as he works the gel in his mouth to break it apart.

“Fixed your armor. How hard did you knock the watch?” His guilty expression tells all and you scowl. “It’s made with durast carbonate. It’s pretty shockproof.”

“Didn’t mean to. Some guy’s goons jumped me when I was calling in the Collection. It um… took a bullet.”

“How did they get the jump on you, hmm?” He stares. “Were you tired?”

Instead of answering, he tosses the empty gel back on the bed and picks up a protein bar. He looks at it, squinting his eyes in the dim light. It’s peanut butter flavored, which he enjoys. He rips it open with his teeth and tears into it, realizing just how hungry he is.

Minho has no idea when his last meal was. He thinks you know his line of thinking, but you don’t say anything more. You’ve already gotten your barbs in and you don’t intend to poke until he’s truly annoyed or embarrassed, which he appreciates.

Without another word, you push off the desk and head to the door, slipping back through to leave him alone while he chews absently.

Alone, Minho realizes the importance of accepting food from you without second-guessing it. He slows his chewing, contemplating about that.

Minho’s relationship with you is like a good weapon - uncomplicated, refined, and trustworthy. Your tech has never failed him, you’ve always been reliable for a fast turnaround time or understanding of what he’s asking for, and you’ve never sold information about him.

Ever. He had tried to buy information from you on himself through multiple channels and pseudonyms just to see if you would, but he’d been met with steely silence each time.

He eats with a little more enthusiasm as he realizes he does trust you. You’re as steadfast as the guns you build, and there is a confidence in that that he can at least resonate with.

Examining the contents of the blue liquid, he realizes it’s electrolytes and mineral compounds. As he takes long gulps, he realizes he feels infinitely better already, senses sharp, aches a little less terrible, and his headache is gone entirely. He’s not at a hundred percent, but he’s a hell of a lot better than if he had waited around for his next Collection.

When he finishes, he crumbles the trash together and tosses it into the incinerator. He hears the fire hiss as it destroys the waste and sends the fumes somewhere to be turned into energy.

In the main part of your lab, Minho spots you. He hesitates in the hall for a moment, watching you play with his watch. Movement in the corner of the room makes him tense up, hand going to the knife in his boot. He realizes it’s just Jeongin sliding across the room on a rolling chair, pushing away from his computer to examine what you’re doing.

Minho only relaxes marginally. He’s still getting used to seeing your apprentice in your workspace, and though the youth is excitable and intelligent, Minho refuses to let Jeongin near any of his builds. The trust he’s established with you over the last three years does not extend to apprentices he’s only known for a few months, no matter how much you trust them.

You trust the Nightcrawler too, and Minho cannot fathom why.

As though sensing you on the edge of the room, you turn and look at him over your shoulder. The corner of your mouth lifts up and you beckon him eagerly before hunching over whatever you’re working on again. He strolls over, crossing his arms over his chest to lean against your worktable on the other side of you, eyeing Jeongin on your other side.

“Hello, Collector. How are you today?” Jeongin asks politely, giving Minho a smile that touches his eyes.

Minho says nothing. You elbow him sharply in the ribs and he coughs, clutching his stomach as he mumbles, “Fine, you?”

“Doing great, thanks! This piece of tech is a marvel.”

“My watch?”

It is his watch. A green light flashes on the underside of the face, the bio scanner that connects with the one with his neck to monitor his nervous system. You push the watch toward him and he carefully picks it up, brushing his thumb across the cool, glass screen.

An interface lights up again. He can’t figure out what’s so special until you gesture for him to put it on. It fits nicely, the perfect size. As he slides it into place and looks at the watch face, a diagram of thin body armor comes up, spinning. Except it looks different than the diagram that he’s used to, giving you a questioning look. You point to the corner of the room at a mannequin.

He walks over to it, cocking his head to the side as he stops in front of it. It’s far different from the armored shirt he wears. The contraption is equal parts ribcage and the thorax of a spider. The material looks like leather but feels hard to the touch like metal.

Skirting his fingers to the hem, he bends the bottom of the shirt, watching as it flexes easily. It makes no sense to him how something could be so hard and flex immediately. If he were to guess, whatever the cloth is made from is a newer technology than he has access to. Perhaps more bio-engineered spider web.

Minho’s fingers skirt inside of it, brushing across a strange, prickling fabric. It doesn’t hurt, but he brushes his fingers back and forth, rubbing the material between his fingers. It’s abrasive, but he can’t imagine what it is.

Blue flashes on the diagram on the watch. He pauses and presses his fingers to the needle-thin fabric. The watch flashes again and lines of color light up on the diagram, showing his nervous system in different, complex colors. He raises his brows. It’s far more sophisticated than what he came in with.

“The needles,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the contraption. “Do they connect with me?”

“Yes. When you put it on, it syncs with your biochemistry.” You get up and walk toward him. “You won’t even feel them. They’re the smallest on the market right now, and incredibly accurate. They use them in military armor to report back live health reports and status during enfighting. They’re more accurate than the sensors lined in your last one.”

“What’s the point, though?”

You reach out and tap the watch. He watches curiously as a series of icons pop up, each a different color. “Inside of this,” you instruct, tapping the hard shell, “Is a series of chemical compounds. When you have on the armor underneath your shirt, you can tap to inject what you need. The needles don’t push deep, but they’re high-grade enough to break the barrier needed to disperse the compounds.”

Minho looks up at you, silent. You don’t notice his trepidation, carrying on as you go into salesperson mode, explaining everything. “Blue is elektrolytes,” you instruct, pointing to it. “Green is a chemical compound of cortisol and adrenaline. Yellow is endorphins and an incredibly high-dose painkiller.”

“And purple?”

“Jump,” you deadpan. “But a compounded version Jeongin and I have worked on that lasts longer with less damaging effect. You should be able to sleep easier after using it. And you won’t need several JumpPacks a day to keep going. I can give you refills too, since it’s non-addictive.”

Minho stares. “What?”

“What part didn’t you get?”

“This is for me?” You scowl but he immediately notices the way you divert your eyes. You glance up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to food. “This is worth a million United Credits at least. I can’t afford it.”

“Do you see a price tag?”

“You can’t give me this for free.”

“Of course I can. It’s just a prototype, so if it accidentally malfunctions and sends all injection options to your body at once and kills you, well…” You shrug. “At least you didn’t pay me. Consider yourself a test subject. I’ve never integrated the needle network into armor before. I don’t have the builds the military uses, just intel. I had to do it from scratch, so it might not work. Your current armor doesn’t protect you from plasma. This does.”

Minho doesn’t buy your bullshit for two seconds. He knows you wouldn’t give him this if it would risk killing him. For all your jesting and affectation, Minho has learned how to read you pretty well, and the way you blow him off and scoff tells him everything he needs to know.

It is a favor and a gift, and a new sort of olive branch that he is unsure how to accept or take from you. Taking this gift worth more than his entire salary complicates things.

Did you make this specifically for him? He’s not sure. But the fact that he wants the answer to be yes is worse than anything else he can think of.

Minho has peers. You’re a peer. Always have been. Anything else would complicate the simplicity of the relationship, and Minho immediately steps back and removes the watch. You watch him with razor-sharp intelligence, drinking him in as he holds out the watch to you.

“The one I have is sufficient enough, Builder.”

You snatch the watch from him, pivoting on your heel and walking with a ramrod-straight spine back to the table. For a second he thinks you’re going to kick him out but then you take a breath and melt into a smile, though a little sharp at the edges and not reaching your eyes.

“Fixed the connection. I also reinforced it again. Give me a moment to sync to your old armor.”

Old armor. As if the new one is still his. His stomach flips and he grimaces.

The affectation in your voice makes Minho uncomfortable. He doesn’t move, watching you tap viciously against the screen on your work desk. Jeongin spins a pen in his hand, glancing between the two of you nervously. When he notices Minho glaring at him, he grins awkwardly and pushes his chair behind one of the clear screens, his face distorted by blue lettering and diagram.

Wordlessly, you hand him the watch and turn away when he takes it. You say nothing else, moving on to a different project as Minho delicately picks up the shirt. He slides it over, feeling the warmth seep into his cool skin. He meticulously pulls the hardness with weapons on, followed by his jacket.

Fully dressed, he waits for you to say something. He doesn’t know what he expects - or wants - you to say. But he pauses anyway, eyes on your bent shape. His gaze flits to your hands, delicate fingers typing wildly, tense as you wait for him to leave.

It feels like a stone has sunk to the bottom of Minho’s stomach. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, torn between walking out and preparing for his next Collection and staying to… what? He doesn’t know. He has no idea what to say or do, but he feels the palpable shift in your mood.

So Minho chooses the easiest option. He nods to himself and heads toward the exit. You don’t spare him a second glance but he certainly looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw is clenched and you tap with a ferocity that thinks might shatter your desktop interface.

As soon as the door opens, Minho is drowning in thumping base and synth again. Hyunjin leans on the stool, this time with his back against the wall and his glittering eyes focused on Minho. Though the former Nightcrawler wasn’t in the room, Minho has a sneaking suspicion that Hyunjin knows everything that happens in the Builder’s workshop.

Hyunjin’s smirk is all-knowing and Minho storms by him, hating him for it.

Rain no longer falls from a dark sky. Opaque, charcoal skies stretch above him, lines of moving air traffic creating layers of latticework. Looking at the watch - which shows his normal armor once more - tells him it's in the early morning hours now.

The streets are not as busy as the night before. There are still glaring advertisements and he spots a group of cloaked United Church members walking around to accept alms and recruit, but the energy is muted outside of the clubs and pleasure houses.

Morning commuters fill the speed train tunnels. United Travel Agents lurk in the crowd, watchful eyes on anyone causing trouble or trying to double up on the scanners as travelers pass through, machines charging their United Credits as they go.

Minho falls into the dull buzz of morning travel. Glancing at his watch, he knows he has enough time to go home and change. He likes to receive his calls while he’s at home anyway. He tries not to replay the last conversation between the two of you. The offer you’d made him. The meaning behind it, whatever it may be.

It’s nearly impossible, but he manages. Especially once he gets into his apartment, sinking into the routine of showering, changing, and sliding back into his clothes like a second skin. As soon as he reties his boots, his watch begins to ring.

“Receiving,” he answers, straightening up.

“Collection echo-tango-foxtrot-bravo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

“Collection accepted.”

The line goes dead. Minho slides his weapons into their holsters, then pulls on his rain jacket. It always rains in the city, like God is weeping for what he has become.

Any work is good work.

Minho leaves the apartment to take another life.

The water runs red in Minho’s shower. He stares it for a while, hot water rushing down his neck, shoulders and back in rivulets. It turns pink the longer he stares, the wound on his leg bleeding less and less.

The irony is not lost on him that if he had accepted your gift, he might not have taken a gnarly hunting knife to the thigh. He was lucky that it was an energy weapon, the blade cauterizing the wound immediately. He’d had to pick the wound back open to flush out the dead, burned skin and pour burning antiseptic on it.

Shifting, Minho examines the wound. Pain blooms in his thigh as he turns, making him suck in a sharp hiss. The wound is to the bone. He knows he’s lucky it was not a well-made weapon, the ion pulse too weak to sever his limb. Still, it’s a deep wound and it would surely fuck him up if he didn’t have the next twenty-four hours to himself.

If the knife had been one of yours…

A pulse of frustration echoes through him. He presses his closed fist to the old tile of the shower wall, feeling the dissonance between the scalding water and cool tile steady him. His knuckles are sore from the last Collection - which had gone wrong in every way possible - and he’s brutally aware of just how much everything hurts.

Yet the ache isn’t what bothers him. His Collection target getting the jump on him from inside intel isn’t what bothers him. Minho has had that happen enough times that he no longer feels surprised when a Collection knows he’s coming.

What fucking bothers him is the ripple effect of his rejection of your offer made.

Minho shuts off the water and steps out the water carefully. He can barely put weight on the leg, gritting his teeth as he grabs a towel and hobbles out of the bathroom, the steam billowing out into the tiny apartment and dissipating.

Blue neon lights from the shop across the way burn in his window. He hardly needs to turn the lights on in his own home to see in the dark, the ever-present glow of blue guiding the way.

Carefully, he sits on his bed. Another pulse of pain from the wound makes him shiver and take several deep, steadying breaths. He peels back the towel at the waist, revealing a single, thick thigh with a horrible cut right in the meat of it.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Walking around has made it bleed again, scarlet trickling toward the towel.

Trying not to disturb the wound, he reaches for the medical kit under the bed. The metal is cool to the touch as he flips the latches, rummaging around the bandages, antiseptics, and gels until he finds what he’s looking for.

Minho takes the single, long syringe and uncaps it with his teeth, spitting the cap on the floor somewhere. He flicks his hand a few times, holding it up to make sure there are no bubbles in the vial. Holding his wound carefully with one hand and with the syringe in the other, he inserts the needle deep into the flesh, the sting minor compared to the throbbing ache the cut itself emanates.

The compound burns as he injects himself. He clenches his teeth, pushing down on the plunger with steady pressure. He can already feel the numbness spreading in his leg as the local anesthesia takes root. He knows he’ll be itching when it wears off, the tiny nanobots working to stitch the muscle and tissue back together already making his skin crawl.

DeepStitch is an expensive thing to have. He pulls the syringe out carefully, glancing at the medical kit. It only came with one, meaning he was going to have to replace the vile. Medical compounds made for healing abnormal wounds cost a fortune, especially the type with micro-technology to assist the process.

Tossing out the empty syringe, Mingo lays on his bed, uncaring if he’s damp and in a towel. The numbness in his thigh spreads, making him shiver. He tries not to think about the fact that there are thousands of microscopic bots working on internally stitching his muscles an tendons as quickly as they can before the blood in his body deteriorates them.

The medical advancement of this world is beyond Minho, but he’s grateful for it as he drifts in a half-sleep. He finds it harder to sleep after using JumpPacks, his body unable to adjust from the constant state of false energy and adrenaline.

It makes him think about your stupid fucking offer again. A piece of armor that could sync with him and balance his hormones and chemical compounds at the tap of a wrist. Something that high caliber for a low-level contract killer was beyond him.

There was crazy, and then there was that.

Minho wonders if you’ve been charging him fairly, suddenly. He’s always thought the weapons and tech you provide him with were good prices. They were well-made but always within his budget, albeit he stopped looking at what you were billing him a long time ago. Now that he knows you’re willing to offer something that he’d only find on a United Praetor in the military, he wonders if you’ve been cutting him deals.

He’s never asked the others. Changbin and Jisung seem friendly with you, enough to make Minho wary about asking them questions. Though they’re the closest things that Minho has to friends, he doesn’t trust them whenever it comes to you.

Jisung already thinks it’s sweet that Minho is nice to you, and he hates that. Even if it’s true.

Time fades away as Minho circles his conversation with you over and over again. He examines every moment of it. When he can surmise nothing else of the interaction but you offering an olive branch of friendship, something a step beyond peers, he goes back to all of his other interactions.

He remembers almost every one of them.

Minho’s memory is fine-tuned. It has to be in his line of work. But the memories of you are particularly sharp. He’s able to recall the way you always poke fun at him to the exact line of his tolerance, the way you always know how to get in a good jibe without actually pissing him off. The way that you let Jisung and Changbin have it in front of him for his benefit, especially after they’ve irritated him, like you’re giving him a gift or saying I’m on your team.

Thoughts of you ultimately lead to other things like the way your eyes reflect the blue light of your many screens. Or the way you always smell like jasmine and amber. The way you pull your sleeves over your hands in sweater paws because it’s bitter cold in your studio to avoid explosions and corrosion of items. The way the nickname Cowboy runs so smooth off your tongue, making his toes curl.

Minho’s fingers twitch when he thinks about brushing the backs of his knuckles against your soft skin. He’s thought about it before and immediately cringed at the fantasy. Now, between exhaustion clinging to him and the numb limb, he doesn’t jerk away at the idea.

He finally falls asleep thinking of you and what it would be like to accept that olive branch.

The ringing of Minho’s watch wrenches him from sleep. He sits up straight in bed, gasping and hand shooting toward the nightstand where there’s a draw with one of his guns. He realizes that his wrist is vibrating and when he looks at the screen, he sighs with equal parts tension and regret as he realizes it’s work calling.

Fuck. He slept for almost twenty hours straight.

Clearing his throat, he answers. “Receiving.”

“Collection romeo-echo-alpha-delta-echo-romeo has been assigned to Collector 102598. You have five United Hours to complete your Collection.”

Information flashes on Minho’s watch and he feels the world disappear from underneath his feet. Your name, age, permanent place of residency address, and anything the government has both legally and illegally obtained flashes before him. He’s never even seen your full name before and there it is, glowing on his watch as he stares at the information.

It feels obscene to know any of this. He flicks his wrist, turning off the display. He doesn’t want to see any of it, doesn’t want to see when you were born, doesn’t want to see what ward you pay taxes in, doesn’t want to know your criminal history.

Minho’s ears are ringing. The Delegator does not confirm that Minho has heard or received the assigned target for Collection. Minho stares at the wall, his vision blurring at the edges as the name - your name - echoes in his mind over and over again. He hears it at the same rhythm as his pounding heart, pumping blood through his system as his watch flashes a high heart rate warning.

Your name. Your full government name and ID number. He’s only ever known your first name, but you’ve always been Builder to him anyway. Minho can’t remember if he’s ever said your name, and suddenly he wants to. He wants to know what it sounds like shaped by his mouth, what it tastes like on his tongue. Wants to say it so many different ways, laughing, smirking, sighing–

Three years and he can’t believe he’s never so much as said your name, and now that very name is on his list to kill.

Indecision roots his feet to the spot. This isn’t like a Reverse Collection where other hitmen try to kill him and he can get away with killing them instead, clearing his name for a little longer. This is a direct and finite order to eliminate you. There is no alternative to this Collection.

Irreversible.

Running his hands through his hair, he looks around his apartment. It looks unlived-in and completely impersonal. Just like the impersonal way he calls you Builder, as though not using your fucking name makes it more sterile. As if it keeps you further away from earning his trust.

Which you have earned. Implicitly. Minho can think of no one else he would let take care of him. That he would sleep or eat in the presence of. That he trusts not to kill him in his sleep while he’s unarmed.

Now he’s supposed to murder you?

Bile turns in his stomach. He hears the ticking of the clock on the wall. Every second inches closer to the decision he has to make.

Will he or won’t he?

Minho grabs his gun from the nightstand and walks toward the door.

He’s only a few steps toward it when he realizes he’s not dressed or prepared for whatever he is about to do - what is he about to do? He has no idea. All he knows is that he is dazed and his hands are starting to shake and his heart rate is climbing, his watch flashing a warning.

The room begins to tilt as his breathing comes out in haggard breaths. He stumbles a little bit, the blood pumping through him roaring in his ears. He belatedly realizes he’s having a panic attack, blindly trying to get back to his bed where he can sit.

What does one do during a panic attack? He has no idea, he’s never had one. He thinks of the last time he saw someone panic and immediately bends over to put his head between his knees, gulping air through his nose and out through his mouth.

What was it that Jisung said about panic?

It’s hard to remember. He thinks maybe there was counting involved, so he breathes in for seven seconds and then out for seven seconds. Does it again. And again.

Slowly, the world swims back into focus. He can feel the twinge in his thigh as he comes down from the momentary lapse of panic and judgment. When he trusts that he’s not going to vomit on his bare feet, he slowly sits upright, looking around the neon-blue room.

Quiet blankets the apartment. The world outside is faint. He can hear the clock on the wall as the minute hand moves, each marking the passing of a United Second. With a deep breath, he moves.

There are no thoughts as he goes. His mind is a single list of action items, marketing them off as he goes. Get dressed. Check his weapons. Arm himself to the teeth with things you’ve made him. Message Jisung a cryptic, one-word text that only the other Collector will understand. Arm a bomb. Leave.

It’s clinical.

Minho had always understood with absolute clarity the reality of his line of work. He’s always had a failsafe - or a killswitch, so to speak. From the first day of work, Minho’s only purpose was to kill until he died. He was always meant to die. And he tells himself that the single, little safe space he has in the world he started saving for… well. If you ever needed it.

Any work is good work.

Clouds hold in their rain. The night feels ominous. Minho glances up at the choked clouds, wondering what they’re up to. The Ministry of Weather controls the atmosphere in some parts of the city. Minho does not travel in those parts of the city - those assassinations are beyond the abilities of a Collector and reserved for Nightcrawlers.

Paranoia is imminent, but Minho tries not to look over his shoulder every five seconds. The mysterious nature of Collect Co. is still something he doesn’t understand, so it’s difficult to unravel the nature of his assignment. Without a doubt, whoever placed Minho as the Collector knows you supply his weapons.

That simple fact branches out into multiple possibilities. Perhaps the person who wants you gone simply thinks Minho is the best person for the job because he’s in your tentative circle of trust and a familiar enough face to slip through you’re defenses. Or perhaps the problem is him and they know he won’t complete the Collection, earning a job termination and his name showing up on the Collection list.

Either way, it’s on purpose. Of that, he knows for sure.

From his years working for Collect Co., there are only a few things that Minho is sure about. Delegators do exactly what their title suggests - they delegate kills. Callers are a tier above Delegators, calling the shots working the network of requests that come in for contracted kills. Legals do all of the paperwork and research before agreeing to a contract, and at the very top of the chain is the Floorman.

Beyond that, Minho has no concept of the hierarchy or who is hiring Collect Co. for jobs. There are obvious manipulations to the system and it’s impossible to work objectively within a private company that works with but not for the government, and Minho has little doubt that the financial benefactors are who really control assignments.

Which leads him back to the root of the question: why you? Is Minho the problem, or do you have enemies so large that they hold sway in Collect Co. He doesn’t consider that your deeds are nefarious enough to warrant a hit. What you do is illegal but you sell to the military, too.

So it begs the question: is it you or him who they really want gone?

Maybe it’s even a combination.

Still, he attempts not to seem paranoid. It’s easier than it should be, Minho’s mind so singularly focused on getting to you as he takes the train and traves to North Ward Three that he doesn’t have time to look around every corner or see if he’s being followed. There are other ways of keeping tabs on him, anyway.

The rain still holds as Minho gets off the speed train and ducks into the street. He keeps to the sides, activating his ad blocker as he’s immediately slammed by a screaming neon world. His gaze and gait must be sharper than he realizes, because people veer away from him, his energy repelling them.

From the corner of his eye, he notes Watchers - people responsible for keeping an eye on what’s going on in the street for their employer - take note of him. Some melt into the doorway of their workplace, and others call for runners.

Trouble. Minho looks like trouble and he can sense the shift as they catch wind of him.

The Watchers are no threat to him. Their entire purpose is to close the doors and pull back when they catch a sense of danger in the air. They’ll stay out of his way and won’t engage with him unless he threatens their clubs and shops.

Minho has little intention of doing that. He wants to make this as painless as possible.

Neon Rodeo burns like a dying sun. The orange falls over him as he jogs down the steps and lets the guards scan him. If they notice anything is off, they say and do nothing. Neon Rodeo is perhaps the only business without a Watcher, and it’s only because no one would dare interrupt the business with the Nightcrawler inside.

Synth rattles Minho from the ground up as he steps inside. The cowboy hats and their little smiling faces float like phantoms in the night. He only has a singular goal and he looks at no one else as he heads towards the back, sidestepping sweaty bodies and perfumed hair.

It’s full tonight, the weekend crowd packing the bar from corner to corner. It’s no matter. He cuts his way to the back where Hyunjin sits on a stool. Today, Hyunjin’s hair is blood red and his eyes are sharp, unnatural green. For a moment, Minho thinks of a chameleon before Hyunjin kicks a leg out and blocks the hall leading to the door.

“Your patronage has been terminated, Cowboy.”

Minho’s heart flips. Are you that angry with him? He drinks in Hyunjin’s dress and slowly his anxiety turns to understanding. Hyunjin is dressed in all black today. His shirt is armored and in place of pants with tassels are tactical trousers with pockets and weapons strapped to his thighs.

An assessment of the Nightcrawler tells Minho that there are weapons he doesn’t see. There’s a plasma pistol on his hip, a bandolier of small knives strapped across his chest, knives in his boot, and another plasma pistol on this calf.

Hyunjin’s fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Minho with those unsettling eyes. “Want to try, Cowboy?”

“I need to speak with her.”

“No.”

“I’m not-” Minho grits his teeth. “I’m not Collecting.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

Hyunjin knows. He doesn’t know how the Nightcrawler knows you’re a Collection on Minho’s list, but it’s clear in the way Hyunjin leers.

“Look, you can go in with me. Let me get her to safety.”

“And what do you think safety is, Cowboy? Even if you’re not lying, they’ll come after you too.”

“Listne, Nightcrawler-”

Hyunjin grins. It’s unnerving, and there isn’t much that unnerves Minho. “No, you listen. I tolerate you because I am ordered to. Now, I don’t have to. My only orders were to say no and to not harm you.” He leans back and spreads his hands and shrugs. The neon lights catch his blood red hair. “I’m always within my right to make a judgment call.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“You’re not friends, last I checked.” Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “You don’t have friends, right? That’s why you reject acts of faith?”

“What do you know of acts of faith, Nightcrawler?”

“You’d be surprised, Collector.”

Hyunjin is unmoving. Minho’s fingers twitch and Hyunjin’s eyes follow the movement. For a second, Minho wonders if he could beat his adversary to the draw. They could do it like an old fashioned movie, the bar the perfect setting for it. Hyunjin is totally unmoving and relaxed, not moving his hand toward his weapons.

He’s that confident in beating me.

United Seconds are ticking by. Every minute Minho doesn’t make his collection is time lost. He licks his lips ready to mount another argument when Hyunjin’s eyes flicker and look over Minho’s shoulders. His eyes narrow a fraction as they dart back to Minho.

“Here’s an act of faith. Let’s see what you do this time.”

The energy in the bar shifts. He feels the tremor go through the air and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Minho turns his head to the side, not enough to fully look back over his shoulder but enough to see the group of Collectors disperse in the crowd.

Both, Minho realizes. The Collection had been for them both, and it was a good excuse to get them in the same place. He grits his teeth as he realizes how predictable he is. They might have come even if he didn’t arrive, but they might have sent a smaller force.

Glancing at Hyunjin, Minho watches as the Nightcrawler does nothing. He waits for Minho, raising his brows and smirking.

Act of faith.

Normally, Minho doesn't believe in public acts of violence. Collectors are mostly prohibited from killing in public or endangering the lives of United Republic Citizens unless entirely unavoidable.

Now, though, he causes a scene and pulls his gun, swiveling around and leveling it at the nearest Collector he has a clean line of sight on. He feels the hum of the weapon and the click of the safety as he squeezes the trigger, the pulse of the weapon barely perceptible as it fires.

Plasma weapons are bright when they fire. It’s nearly blinding in the dark as he shoots, screams shattering the bar as the world turns into pops of energy and sizzling air. He ducks down as someone shoots at him, instincts kicking in as he grabs the leg of a table and yanks it toward him.

Behind him, Hyunjin lets out a manic laugh and stands from the stool. He drops a small device next to Minho, drawing his attention for a second. Minho watches as it expands with a shimmer of translucent energy - a shield. He looks at the Nightcrawler who crouches with him, grinning as he peers over the table and shields with his green eyes.

“There are eight. They’re just going to pin us here and shoot at us like fish in a barrel.”

“Is there a way through that door?”

“Sure there is. If they want to melt it down, I’m sure they have plasma blades, judging from the look of their very nice weapons. They can’t blow it without leveling the street.”

“Does she have a way out the back?”

“No, then I would have two doors to watch.”

A spray of metal and plasma ricochets off the shield that has molded to the shape of the table. Hyunjin gestures as if to showcase his point and Minho grits his teeth. Peeking around the table, he can see patrons hiding under tables and covering their heads. Collectors stand spread out, fanning the entrance and blocking the way, but they don’t come any closer.

They want to make the Collection, but they don’t want to face a Collector and a Nightcrawler together.

“Aren’t you some sort of unmatched assassin, Nightcrawler?” Minho asks, checking the mag on his plasma gun. “Can you just take them all out? That should be light work for you.”

“I’m good at not being seen, Cowboy. I’m not inhuman.”

“Oh good, so you’re actually useless when visible?”

Hyunjin’s face darkens. “You’d be surprised how often you don’t see me.”

The threat isn’t lost on Minho but it doesn’t have time to sink into its full effect as bullets rain down on them. They cringe together to ensure they’re behind the shield, which whines under the plasma assault and flickers. Minho thinks it will hold, but it’s only as wide as the table it molds to and the table isn’t very large.

Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. Minho grabs it, looking at him with wild eyes. Hyunjin pulls his hand away. “It’s a flash grenade,” he snaps. “I’m not going to kill everyone.” He pauses and smirks. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s hardly less settling.”

“You know,” Hyunjin muses, pulling the ring from the grenad. Green light pulses on it slowly, counting down until it starts to release blinding white flashes. “One day you and I are going to have a talk about why you think your profession is so much different than mine.”

“One is legal, for starters.”

Hyunjin lobs the grenade. “Right, so what you’re doing right now? This is legal?”

Minho is spared from having to answer as the world explodes in white. He and Hyunjin move at the same time, letting the memory of where the Collectors stand as they close their eyes and shoot. Minho’s shot blind thousands of times and it usually pays off.

It does for the most part now, the pair of them dropping Collectors as they shoot. The white light fades and there’s only a single Collector left standing by the door, his gun aimed at Minho. He swivels to shoot, but a bullet hits the Collector in the shoulder, twisting him backward from impact as he squeezes the trigger of his gun.

The shot catches Minho in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. He curses but keeps his weapon trained on the fallen Collector until he hears high-pitched screaming. It stops his heart, the sound of the Collector’s voice reaching a level of madness that echoes even after he gargles and goes silent.

Minho looks at Hyunjin with an accusatory glare but Hyunjin juts his thumb behind him in answer, pointing to where you stand at the door with a heavy pistol in your and. Minho blinks a few times in surprise.

“I think the nano-tips work, Jeongin.” You glance over your shoulder where the younger boy stands on the stairs behind you, armed to the teeth. “Remind me to write that down.”

Silence stretches in Neon Rodeo, save the soft quivering crying and sparking sign that’s been shot over the bar. From the corner of his eye, Minho sees it flash between Rodeo and Odeo over and over again, bouncing between the two words as the ‘R’ tries to fight for its life.

Then there’s you.

You stare at him with a guarded expression, drinking him in. Your gaze lingers on his arm, reminding him that it does in fact burn where the plasma bullet graze his shoulder. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts. The Nightcrawler barely moves forward, sliding part of his body between Minho and where you stand in the doorway to your studio, Hyunjin’s hand resting on top of his gun.

“You gonna kill me, Cowboy?” Your voice wavers when you ask. By the twitch in your lip, Minho can tell you’re upset that it does.

“No. I want to help.” Hyunjin snorts and Minho is reminded of his earlier question. What do you think safety is? “Consider it an act of faith,” Minho offers and Hyunjin’s snickering turns to curiosity. “I’ve rejected yours in the past. Let me off you the only one I have.”

No one moves. Minho slowly lifts his wrist toward Hyunjin, displaying the information. The Nightcrawler looks it over and raises his brows, looking back at Minho. “What strange turn of events, Minho.”

It’s the first time Hyunjin has ever used his name. He says nothing as the Nightcrawler heads over to you, murmuring quietly. Your face is inscrutable as you nod and look over your shoulder, saying something to Jeongin. He nods fiercely, face set in determination that makes Minho’s mouth twitch a little.

The three of them join Minho wordlessly as he turns on his heels and heads up the stares. Hyunjin’s watch flashes and lets them know that the United Enforcers are three minutes out and they need to get where they’re going.

You take the lead then, hurrying out the door but not out into the street, ducking into a noodle shop three doors down from Neon Rodeo. You shout in United New Mandarin at the woman behind the counter, shocking him - not that Minho knows anything about you at all - and the woman waves you off.

Through the shop and into the stock room you lead everyone, hoping over bags of flower and starch until you reach a table that you climb up on and pull a vent from a ceiling. It’s far too large to be a normal vent, and his questions are answered when he realizes it leads to a small garage that faces the next street over.

Once into the garage, Hyunjin takes the lead out into the street, weapon up. Minho brings up the rear, falling into a defensive unit as you go. Jeongin walks closely behind Hyunjin, his steps a little clumsy but his head on a swivel.

Good, Minho thinks. Jeongin is alert.

“Decided not to kill me?” you whisper as you skirt out into the street and hug the building face.

Minho can barely hear you over the fabric you’ve pulled up over your face. He blinks and thinks to do the same, pulling the hood up on his jacket and sliding up a black gaitor over the lower half of his face.

“I was never going to kill you.”

“Hard to tell with you.”

“I… don’t have an argument.”

And he doesn’t. He realizes that he’s kept you at arm's length despite your best attempts to spark some sort of friendship. What reason could he do that other than sparing himself if he had to kill you one day? It makes the most logical sense.

“I thought we were friends.” That makes him pause. You notice a few steps ahead of him that he’s stopped, looking at you. “We stopped being just business acquaintances over a year ago, Collector. My normal clients don’t get to test my new hardware or request as many JumpPacks as you do on the house.”

“They’re on the house?”

“Of course they are!” you snap at him. “Do you not look at your billing, Collector? How do you know I’m not overcharging you?”

“I stopped looking once I trusted you weren’t robbing me.”

“See, that’s a funny word coming from you. Trust.”

A whistle catches Minho’s attention. You both turn to see that Hyunjin and Jeongin are nearly three-blocks away at the entrance of a nondescript shop. Color floods Minho’s face when he realizes the pair of you had stopped walking to have your argument and he curses himself as you start moving again.

“I do trust you.” You say nothing to his comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t accept the armor.”

“It wasn’t about rejecting the armor, Collector.” The world Collector sounds dirty in your mouth. He suddenly wants to hear you call him Cowboy again. “It was about rejecting me when I thought we were already friends. I was wrong.”

Hyunjin leads them down into an alleyway that is void of anything besides dumpsters and murky puddles. The smell turns Minho’s stomach but he resists the urge to gag as Hyunjin bends down to pull up a sewer grate. He flashes his flashlight inside and nods before jumping down and vanishing. There’s a light splash as he lands and calls up for Jeongin.

Minho crouches close to you as Jeongjin adjusts to follow Hyunjin down.

“You weren’t,” he says as Jeongin jumps. You turn to look at him, confused. “Wrong. You weren’t wrong.”

You look him up and down, hesitating. Hyunjin calls your name and you turn away from Minho, checking your legs and arms to make sure your pockets are zipped. Minho watches as you jump. He realizes his holding his breath until he hears your feet splash.

Quickly, he scrambles to the grate, pulling the top with him. Looking through the hole, he sees the orange light of glowsticks as you and Jeongin crack and shake them, lighting up the tunnel in a very small ring of light. Hyunjin has turned off his flashlight and looks up at Minho, gesturing for him to hurry.

Minho holsters his weapon and jumps down, bending at the knee as he lands to absorb the fall. His boots splash loudly in the tunnel, echoing for a few seconds. His shoulder wound aches as he straightens up. Hyunjin is already lifting Jeongin up to pull the great back over the hole. The scrape of metal on the concrete sounds much louder in the watery tunnel, making Minho cringe.

Looking both ways, he sees the sewer is less of a sewer and more of a tunnel. The cloth pulled over his face does little to keep out the rancid smell, and he winces when he sees fat, black rats scattering on the edges of the orange light.

Something touches his arm and he jerks, hand going to his gun. You lean back and apologize, holding out a glowstick. He relaxes and takes it, fingers brushing yours as he does. He instantly gets a chill down his spine, though his fingers are warm where they brushed yours.

Minho clears his throat and holds the glowstick up, looking around the tunnel. He can hear the faint echoes of dripping water and every movement of the group feels loud in the pressing silence of the dark.

“What is this?” he asks, looking at you.

It’s Hyunjin who answers, “Nightcrawler shit. You’re welcome.”

“Should we expect any of your former coworkers, then?”

“They’re not so bad.” Hyunjin unholsters his weapon as he begins walking south down the tunnel, throwing Minho a sharp grin. “It’s the Darklings I worry about.”

You fall into step behind Hyunjin immediately, ducking your head to murmur something to him as you go. The glow of your light gets farther away as Minho stands staring at Hyunjin, unsure if he’s serious or not.

Jeongin steps up next to Minho. “He was joking about Darklings, right? The People Underneath are a myth?”

“Have you ever heard Hyunjin tell a joke?”

Minho leaves Jeongin thinking about it before the younger rushes to keep up with him, feet splashing wildly.

Whether Hyunjin was joking about the Darklings or not, they don’t run into anything except rats and roaches in the underground tunnels. Minho finds himself itching to ask the Nightcrawler questions and demand where they’re going, but he doesn’t,

An act of faith.

It was an act of faith when Minho showed Hyunjin the safehouse on his watch. It was one of the few things that Minho protected more fiercely than his life, and he was hoping that when Hyunjin saw the coordinates, title of ownership, and Minho’s information, he’d gain a little trust.

Minho had been right. Hyunjin, though still sharp at the edges, has become unnervingly benign with Minho, addressing him by his name. It’s not much to most, but he knows among killers it’s a huge step. One that means a little more trust, if not at least peers.

You remain quiet for the most part. Your eyes stray toward Minho often and when he catches you looking, you don’t look away. Your gaze is hesitant and questioning, as though you’re trying to figure him out like one of the schematics on your screens.

Biting into a protein bar, he quickens his pace to fall into step with you. “What will you do with your lab?”

Your lips twitch. “Chemical fire. There’s a stop-line in the frame of the building so it should be controlled. I promised not to burn down Neon Rodeo when I established my office there.”

“Who owns that place, anyway?”

“Bangchan.” The name sounds familiar. “Reformed Nightcrawler.”

“You keep unusual company.”

“Better than none.”

That gets a little bit of a laugh from him. You smile when he does and he swears it’s brighter than the glowsticks you carry. “I deserved that one. I’m working on it, alright.”

“How do Jisung and Changbin deal with you?”

“The same way I deal with them.” You hum, nodding in understanding. For a few minutes, it’s just wet steps echoing in the tunnels. “What made you decide to come with me? I assume you have your own fallback plans.”

“I do, but I don’t know. I wanted to accept your olive branch.�� You look at him. “I wanted to trust you.”

He nods. His gut twists a little at that, both anxious and pleased. He’d been right about offering an act of faith in return for the one he scorned. Now, he just has to keep you alive, which he grows more confident in doing.

“Where are we going?”

He looks up at you. “Hyunjin didn’t tell you?”

“No, just said to trust you.” Minho’s brows shoot up and you snort. “I know. Whatever you showed him convinced him.”

“It’s a safe house on Isla de Suenos.” You look up at him sharply and he gives a soft grin. “My mother belonged to a very well-off family. I’m not supposed to exist, and she had to decide at a young age whether or not I was worth throwing away her family and their power. A single safehouse purchased with offshore accounts and through a network of money-changing and bought secrecy is the only thing she could give me.”

“She didn’t choose you?” He shakes his head. You think about that for a second and he lets the words sink in, waiting for the pity, which he hates. Instead, you hum. “No wonder you don’t choose people either.”

Your candor is a relief. You don’t tell him sorry or try to comfort him. You accept this as a fact of life, a normalcy that a mother would choose wealth and power over a child. “There are no records tying us together, but the title of the house is under what my name would have been if she’d taken me. Lee. My family name would be Lee.”

“What is it now?”

“I don’t have one. My father was servant-class. We don’t have family names.”

“He worked for your mother’s family?” Minho nods. “Lee. I like it. Will you keep it?”

“Maybe. It’s who I have to be, now.”

“No longer the Collector?” He shakes his head. “Good. Perhaps I like you more as just Lee Minho.”

Minho bites back a grin.

By the time they get to the surface again, they’re just outside of the city-proper on the northeast shore. Here, the night is bitter cold as the salty air blasts off the ocean, dark waves rushing and receding against the shoreline.

They take a brief break once their topside, Minho gasping deep breaths of fresh air in as he gulps down water. Now that they can see without the glowsticks, they toss them into the trash and breathe in silence.

Carefully, Minho peers at the wound on his shoulder. It’s caterized from the heat of the plasma, but the burn hurts something vicious. He has no medical supplies on him, and he examines the chawed flesh with mild concern.

Seeing the injury, you get up wordleslly from the rock where you sit and come over. Your hand digs in one of your pockets and you produce a packet of burn gel and antiseptic, wordlessly gesturing to the wound. He nods and you offer a tentative grin before ripping the antiseptic open with your teeth, spitting the crinkling material on the ground.

With steady hands, you squeeze out the translucent gel on the tips of your fingers and peel the damaged parts of Minho’s shirt away from the flesh. He sucks in a breath when you apply the cool gel to the wound, the stinging of the antibiotic catching him off guard. You shoot him an apologetic wince before continuing to press it lightly into the burned flesh.

You smell like jasmine and amber. Minho breathes it in deep, a soothing scent mixed with the salty air of the seat just a few yards away. His eyes flutter shut as your fingers work his shoulder, deft and skilled like an artist.

“My mom liked to paint,” Minho says automatically, unsure where the comment comes from. “That’s one of the few things I know about her. She had artists hands. You have hands like hers. Graceful.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist but I do draw designs for weapons a lot.”

“It’s a kind of art.”

“I suppose it is.”

Your closeness makes Minho dizzy. Instead of chasing you away in the past, he lets you linger and spread the burn gel on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting the sound of the ocean and the press of your steady fingers lull him into a moment of relaxation.

He can almost pretend you both haven’t thrown your life away to head to some house he’s never been to with little to no plan but to arrive there alive.

“Does it hurt?” he shakes his head at your question. You voice is soft and raspy, rising the hairs on the back of his neck. You’re so close he can feel the heat radiating from you, making him lean in on instinct, seeking the warmth. “If you let me give you better armor, plasma won’t hurt you.”

Minho’s eyes flutter open. “You brought it with you?”

“Of course I did.” Your face is inches from his, eyelashes fanning your bright, glittering eyes as you look up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hyunjin’s voice shatters the moment before Minho can respond. “Hello, yes, the child and I are still here.”

“I’m not a child!”

“The child and I need to leave, however. Seungmin and Felix are waiting to escort us. I believe your friend left transportation for you, Minho.”

You whirl around. “You’re leaving? What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I have some Nightcrawling to do with Bangchan and Seungmin. I’m taking the child to stay with Swan.”

Minho has no idea who Swan is. He sees the uncertainty color your face as you regard your guard - your friend. “You would do that? Take him to stay with her?”

“Of course. Swan likes strays.”

“I am right here,” Jeongin reminds everyone, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a child.”

Hyunjin grins at him. It’s real and not a leer, something that Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Hyunjin grabs Jeongin by the shoulder, pulling him along before flicking his poison-green eyes toward Minho and you. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll be around, Minho.”

“Wait!” you bolt over to them, catching everyone by surprise as you throw your arms around the two of them and squeeze. The smile on Hyunjin’s face is so soft that Minho has to look away, equal parts something like jealousy and feeling like he’s intruding. “Here.”

You divest several items from your pockets, shoving them into their hands. Medical gels, a few gadgets, and a little Scorpion figurine that you shove into Hyunjin’s hands. He raises a single brow in amusement but you say nothing to the Nightcrawler, rushing back to stand at Minho’s side.

Hyunjin and Jeongin lift their hand in waves to Minho before turning and heading down the beach at a slow pace, their feet sinking into the sand. Cold wind whips at Minho as he stands watching with you silent by his side, waiting.

Without a word, he turns and beckons you, heading up the rocky coast before heading back down precariously to a tiny cove with a boat buoyed between the rocks. It’s hardly a safe-looking boat and he realizes it probably wouldn’t have carried them all, but it’s something.

Minho climbs into the boat carefully before helping you step down into it. The rocking water throws you off balance and he steadies you, hands tight on your waist. You mutter an apology but he doesn’t let go until he’s sure you’re okay, eyes searching.

A moment of tension passes, his fingers pressed into the fabric of your hips, your closeness overpowering the sea air again. You clear your throat and it passes. Minho lets you go as he finds the key and plugs it in to turn on the engine.

You busy yourself with untying ropes, your steps unsteady as the vessel moves unpredictably beneath your feet. Once you manage to get rid of all the lines, he begins to navigate out the cove backward, turning the wheel violently from side to side as he fights the tide.

Thankfully with every swell that pushes the boat into the cove, it drags it back out. It takes about three swells before the craft is pulled into the ocean proper and he throws the throttle in reverse, water rooster tailing for a moment as he does.

You join him at the helm and stand close as he turns it around and drives. Wind rips at his jacket, blowing back the hood. He’s thankful for the face cover fighting the icy wind, squinting as he drives in the late hours of the night across a rippling black ocean.

The water gets rough as he turns to the east, glancing at the coordinates on his watch every once in a while. Your hand shoots out to grab his forearm on a particularly violent dip. He curses, pain radiating from his shoulder as you do. You immediately shout an apology and let go, but Minho snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you tight.

For a second, you stiffen, looking up at him uncertain. He remains steadfast in his hold, willing his heart to slowdown as he drives, determined to keep you from falling off the boat and into the water before you can even make it to the safehouse.

You relax into him after a second, pressing closer and letting him hold on as you go. He relaxes when you accept his help, breathing out a slow breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

It takes almost forty five minutes, but the dark shadow of Isla de Suenos materializes in the night. The city is a spec of light on the misty horizon as the waves begin to slow down until he can let down on the throttle, bringing the boat to a troll instead of a plane.

The collection of islands that surround the massive, man-made mountain in the middle of the seat are all only about seven acres in size and are privately owned. The level of exclusivity is something Minho is incredibly unfamiliar with, and he gets nervous as they approach the barely visible shield surrounding the collection of islands.

“Minho, there’s a-”

“It’ll let us through.” He squeezes your waist on instinct, hoping it’s true. As the boat passes, he holds his breath. He feels the biochip in his neck flicker and then they’re through the shield. The water is falt calm on the other side of the energy wall, tapping gently against the hull. “It’s biometric.”

“And you were sure that was going to work?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly is not a great attitude in the invention field, Minho.”

It takes a second, but he realizes you’re calling him by his name and not Cowboy. He likes the sound of it on your tongue, though he doesn’t mind the diminutive.

Even in still waters, he doesn’t remove his arm around your waist, the protective instinct still high as he steers the boat according to his watch. Islands with lights hidden behind thick jungle and rockface slide past them.

The beacon on his watch flashes and he turns the boat, trolling to a long, empty dock ahead of them. The island is no different from the rest, covered in sprawling jungle and foliage that look monstrous in the ominous night.

Quickly, you tie off the boat and disembark. Your steps on the dock feel loud in the quiet night, the two of you hurrying along and up the shore until you hit the stone stairway that leads through the trees. Though he isn’t holding you close to him anymore, you still keep yourself pressed close, the back of your hands brushing as you begin the climb up the island.

Minho has no idea what the house looks like. He only knows that it’s coded to his biochip and that it’s always been there if he needs it. He doesn’t know if it’s stocked or if the electricity is on, or if it’s been raided and taken over. He doesn’t even know if there are codes to get access.

It is the most unprepared he has ever been.

A large estate springs up among the trees. The entire building is constructed on a platform with foliage and trees brushing along the foundations. It’s made up of windows and metal framing, the windows dark and hiding whatever exists within.

It is exquisit. Minho has never seen an estate or a luxury home before in person, but he knows that’s what this is. The thought seems a little silly as he leads you toward the modular home, steps quiet as he glances around. He cannot imagine that anyone but he and his could enter the grounds, but he’s still on edge.

At the door, there’s a single bioscanner. He leans his neck toward it, letting it flash over his biochip. The scanner turns green and he hears the hiss of an airlock. Glancing at you and shrugging, he tries the handle and pulls the door open toward him.

Inside, the air is cool. He steps in first, hand on his gun as he looks around the interior. It’s sparkling clean and decorated with dark wood furniture and greenery. He takes a few steps inside, flinching when automatic lights come on and cast a warm, gold glow in the house.

“You’ve been living as a fucking Collector when this existed the entire time?” you deadpan from the door.

No kidding, he thinks, turning to look at the multi-story wonder that is the home. It’s three levels of tropical opulence, making his head spin at all of the possibilities.

“I didn’t know what was here, honestly.” He turns to look at you and nods. You step inside and pull the door shut, tapping the screen beside it. The locks click in place again and with another tap, he sees the windows darken to privacy mode. “I assumed she didn’t leave me something grand.”

“It’s a good start on an apology. She’s still a bitch for leaving you and I think you should let me fight her.”

A ripple of fondness goes through him and he smiles at you, uncontrolled and large. You shoot a shy one back before looking away at the wonder of the home.

Unlike him, you seem to relax immediately, kicking your shoes off to wander around the house. He follows suit after a moment of hesitation, peeling the cover off of his face and kicking of his shoes. He leaves his holster open on his weapons, hands hovering near them as he follows you.

The house is extravagent. Smaller than he originally thought, with only three bedrooms and two bathrooms, but the spaces for each are massive and sprawling with greenery. It feels like the jungle is a part of the house - and he realizes it is, at least in the atrium. There’s a large pool and something that looks like a hot spring behind the house, hidden from the world by think palms and palmetto.

Each room is richly designed and cleaned, as though it has been kept for him all this time. He’ll have to worry about that at some point, unsure who has kept the house in such a presentable state while it’s existed.

After you’ve fed your curiosity, you drift to one of the rooms with a private bathroom. He takes the room across from you, feet dragging as the exhaustion hits him. His limbs feel heavy and peeling off his shirt with the injure arm makes him curse and hiss. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, knowing the old bruises from a few days ago are still there.

Steam fills the bathroom. He’s a little put out when he realizes that the stone shower has a wall of glass to reveal the jungle on the other side, but he realizes there’s no one to watch him. He shakes the uneasiness and steps under the scalding water, moaning as he closes his eyes and lets it run down him.

A screen with a dozen or more settings sits in the rockface of the shower, but he doesn’t know how to use them. He hits another button hoping for what is more water pressure and instead gets a heavenly waft of eucalyptus. He leaves the settings alone, settling for tranquility over scrubbing himself.

Minho doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower. His fingers prune and the crust and blood eventually peel away. He spends a short amount of time scrubbing his own skin, eager to get out of the shower and check on you.

Now that he has you, a new sort of stream of conscious has made itself permanent, always wondering where you are and if you’re okay.

Steam clouds the bathroom as he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Water clings to him as he ruffles his wet hair, strolling out into the bedroom. He walks toward the table by the door, rifling through his things looking for medical gel.

A knock draws his attention and you open the door a crack, making a sound of surprise when you don’t expect to see him standing right in front of you. Your eyes dip down to where the towel is on his waist and back up, immediately opting to look at the ceiling.

Minho’s lips pressed into a firm line, trying to eat the smirk threatening to take over.

“Sorry, I assumed you were still in the shower. I - um - brought more gel for your shoulder.”

He steps away from the door, leaving drips of water as he does. “Come on in.”

“Are you sure?”

He shrugs and then winces, the burn pulling taught as he does. You enter immediately, shutting the door behind you and ripping the top off the packet as you do, eyes focused on the wound. You’ve got your fingers slathered in gel and pressing to his shoulder before you realize the forwardness, pausing to glance up at him.

Now, Minho does smirk. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Sorry. I know it’s hurting you and…”

“You don’t want me to hurt,” he fills in, remembering your words from earlier.

You nod and chew your bottom lip as you work. He studies you closely. He doesn’t know if it’s his acceptance that you’re more than just someone he buys weapons from, the exhaustion or the little sliver of feeling he’s always pretended wasn’t there, but Minho suddenly feels a little bolder.

A little braver.

“I never had a chance to thank you.”

“For what?” You throw the antiseptic on the table and rip open the burn gel. “Anything. Everything. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t said.”

“So let me.” You dart a look at him, nervous. When you don’t interrupt he continues, “You were right. We stopped being industry peers a long time ago, and I’ve purposefully ignored multiple favors from you to keep the illusion that simple relationships meant I couldn’t be hurt. Or hurt others.”

“And now?”

“I realize it was silly.”

“Hmm. At least you admit your faults, Cowboy.”

He smiles. You finish applying the gel, but you don’t move away from him. You linger, looking up through silky lashes at him. Your face takes on a dreamy look, mouth parted a little and he feels heat coil in his stomach at that look.

“Why’d you offer me that armor?”

“I was afraid of how often you were working. I knew you were getting hurt and I wanted to help. Why’d you reject it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

There’s a long pause. Your gaze drops to his mouth. You’re only a few inches away, the ghost of your breath against his neck. “What if I want you to?”

Minho needs no other permission. It’s like a dam giving way, the past few days able to wedge their way in and open him up to let the rawness spill out of him. He surges forward, catching your mouth against his as he does so, hands shooting to your waist.

You don’t push him away. Worse, you melt into him like it’s natural, hands skating up his arms and around the back of his neck to pull him in closer to you. Your mouth is warm and minty and addicting, scattering his thoughts to the stars as your lips move against his.

Heat is trapped between your bodies. He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, squeezing your hips as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You open up for him easily, like you were always made to and he groans.

Every time he has ever held back from you fuels him forward. He presses into you, turning you to push you on the mattress. You go willingly, opening your legs to let him slot between them. He leaves over you, mouth hungry. Devouring. Ravenous.

You gasp between kisses, nails grazing down his flexing arms. He wants to fucking drown in you as he bites the edge of your jaw, tasting the soap on your skin. You smell like jasmine and amber, though now he can smell the eucalyptus too, driving him insane.

You.

The one thing he’s let himself trust. The one person he’s let in, even when he didn’t want to admit it. The one person he wants to have more than anything else.

Greedy hands scrape up his chest. Your fingers are warm and searching as he nips the tender flesh of your neck, tongue laving over the bite to soothe it. The sounds dripping from your mouth are so pretty, driving him inside as he traces his desire with tongue and teeth.

The fabric of your shirt scrapes against his skin, itchy and in the way. His hands pull at the hem and he hesitates, looking down at you through a heavy-lidded gaze and panting. You not frantically, hands pulling at his to guide the shirt upwards and off, revealing warm skin.

Minho wants to taste every part of you. You create art with your schematics and your weapons, but you are art. He worships you with tongue and teeth, hands brushing up your stomach to cup your chest. His tongue pulls a languid moan from you as he flicks it over the peak of your nipple.

Fuck.

He’s greedy, sucking gentle on your pert bud, ensuring to scrap his teeth along the sensitive flesh. You writhe underneath him, unable to remain still. His other hand works you too, tweaking your stiff peak as he trails spit-slick kisses across your chest to wrap his lips around that nipple too.

Minho looks up at you through his lashes. You’re a rendering of pleasure, head pressing into the bed, chest pushed up, a sheen of sweat on your collarbones and neck. It drives him wild, cock throbbing heavily as he trails his mouth toward, fingers pulling your pants as he goes.

Your fingers twist in the sheets. Everything he does affects you and he’s drunk on it, heart thudding in his chest as he drops down to his knees. His towel falls and the cool air makes him shiver. He feels the sticky tip of his cock brush against his leg but he ignores the ache between his thighs, fixing his eyes on what’s between yours instead.

Pretty and wet, all for him. For him. He gets to have you. But he doesn’t yet, making you wait and feel the personal hell it’s been for him to pretend he wasn’t yours as he kisses up your thighs, licking warm skin and digging his teeth in.

“Minho,” you half gasp, half wine. He smiles against your knee, giving it a gentle peck. “Please.”

“Yeah?” he switches legs, biting your calf. “Want it that bad?”

“Need it.”

He brings a hand up to your dripping cunt, dragging a curled knuckle through your wetness. You let out a keen and he grins against your leg even more, hypnotized by the way your petty little hole clenches at the contact.

Minho drags it out. Plays with you, dragging that knuckle slow-soft through your folds, avoiding your clit. You let out a sound that’s almost a sob and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to suck at the stickiness on his finger.

“Hmm. Sweet.”

“Bet it’s better from the source,” you shoot back, trying to make a jab and failing with how weak your voice is.

“True,” he agrees, leaning forward.

Your taste blooms on his tongue as he licks up your center, slow and patient. He savors the taste, humming as he does. You buck under his mouth and he grips your thighs, pulling you open. You’re warm and wet and perfect, and he listens to your breath hitch as he licks you slowly, making sure to circle around your clit each time.

One of your hands shoots to his hair. He doesn’t mind as you pull. The sting feels good and spurs him on, eating you out properly. He loves the sounds you make for him, loves the way your thighs twitch as he sucks your click into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.

It’s wet and messy and just the way he likes it, slick dripping down his chin as he presses himself in further, desperate to fuck you into sanity with just his mouth.

He doesn’t have a problem doing it. You buck against his face and he lets you, holding his tongue flat for you to grind against. Your fingers in his hair have him in a vice grip and he moans, a steady stream of mhmmm dripping sweet from his mouth into your heat.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Come on,” he mouths against you. “Take what you want, baby.”

The endearment slips from him more natural than anything he’s ever done. His fingers squeeze your thighs as you undulate against him, his entire attention fixated on you as the begin to shake. Your hand twists in his hair and he groans, equal parts pain and pleasure as you come apart.

He hums in satisfaction, keeping his mouth working on you, drinking you in as you continue to tremble. The power trip that comes with seeing you come is unmatched, lighting a fire in him as he licks you to oversensitivity.

“Minho,” you beg, voice squeaking. He grins, kissing your cunt before he mouths his way back up to you, capturing your mouth with his. You’re eager to taste yourself, tongue licking at him more than anything, smearing your slick on his lips. He feels his eyes roll back. You’re going to kill him. “More.”

Minho would conquer the world and call it yours if you wanted him to. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give you. Pretending otherwise was the great folly of man, he realizes, as he shuffles you up the bed and climbs between your legs, standing up on his knees.

You watch him, pupils blown and fucked out as he heaves. He can hardly catch his breath as he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, pumping leisurely as he watches you. The way you look at him like you’ll consume him whole makes him shiver. He wants you to. Want you to burn him up until there’s nothing left.

Leaning down, he drops his cock out of his hand in favor of sliding a hand between you’re legs. You’re a mess of spit and cum, making the glide easy as he slips a finger into your heat to work you open. Your head falls to the side, giving him access to suck at your jawline as he fucks you open with his finger, adding a second when he knows you can take it.

Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts as he scissors his fingers open, pressing against your warm walls to push the stretch further. You’re putty in his hands but he’s a mess in yours, too. He’s shaking by the time he slips his hand from between your legs to press the crown of his cock at your entrance, hesitating.

Minho looks up at you. He already knows there’s no going back for him, three years of his own stubborn delusions robbing him of what could have been. But he asks, anyway. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for a long time. It was you who needed convincing.”

“What a stuipd man I am.”

“Yes,” you agree. “But mine.”

That drives him wild. Simple words and yet the very action of you claiming him erodes the last bit of resistance. He pushes into you and goes slow with a considerable amount of effort, shaking and panting as he tries to keep it together.

You’re warm and tight and twitches of pleasure ripple through him from cock to stomach. Minho swears he comes alive for the first time as he seats himself in your cunt to the hilt, barely able to catch his breath as he ducks down to press his mouth against yours.

It’s not delicate, but it isn’t the same ferocity as earlier. It’s something else that lingers between madness and relief. He only begins to move when he feels your hips wiggle. He smiles into the kiss, retracting his hips before surging forward again.

Delirious. That is the only word that comes to mind as he starts to fuck you slow and deep. Your mouths bump together but you’re both breathing raggedly, shaking together. Your hands card through his hair, soothing and soft. His lashes flutter as he drops his head further. You press your lips against his forehead as he picks up the pace, letting your hands worship him as he fucks you.

How could he ever think he was sparing you from him? How could he ever make the mistake that if he kept on the fringes, you wouldn’t leave him ruined like this? It seems unimaginative now. Like something that was always meant to happen.

No wonder Collect Co. knew he would go running to you like a dog when they assigned you to him. Everyone else could admit it except him, an egregious error on his part.

But Minho has you now. Gasping his name and moving in his arms. Rolling your hips to meet his, your cunt clenching on his cock as he fucks you harder. He wants to dig into you and never let go. Wants to sink in to the very core and live there.

“Mine,” you growl as though you can read his thoughts. “Even though you tried not to be. You are mine, Lee Minho.”

When you say his full name like that, voicing the boy who could have been and now who is, he starts to come apart. His pace quickens as he chases your second release, holding you tight to him as he feels you clench longer and longer around him until you’re sobbing his name and spilling down his shaft.

Minho all but growls your name as he comes. Never again will you be Builder. You’re his. First and last name his to say. The acknowledgment almost makes him cry as he slows his thrusts, gasping for air as he tosses his head back, heat escaping between the two of you.

Finally, he stops fucking you, hands linked with yours as he leans up to catch his breath. He’s still seated in you, feeling the cum drip between where your ass is pressed against his thighs. He doesn’t care, feeling the sweat and the water from his shoulder drip down his back.

His arm burns where he’s used it. He’d been unaware of the pain while lost in you, but he feels it now, throbbing. He doesn’t care. He’d do it again a thousand times.

Slowly, he unravels from you. Your hands don’t let him go far, pulling him down next to you to roll toward. He smiles, tired and dreamy at the edges as he lets you. The bed is soft against his balmy skin, the cool air helping calm him down.

Finally, both of you can breathe. He knows that he needs to shower again, but he doesn’t want to get up. He wants to keep you near. Now that he’s all in, he wants to stay all in.

“We should call this place the Jungle Rodeo.” He cracks an eye open at you to realize you’re hiding a grin as you look up at him. “You know, since we can’t go back to Neon Rodeo.”

“What is it with you and rodeos?”

“You find Cowboys at the rodeo.”

“Oh?”

“And you’re here… so… it’s a rodeo.”

He blinks at you. “Your intellect is astounding.”

You laugh and it’s like taking a JumpPack straight to his bloodstream, a rush of energy and euphoria driving him upward and toward you. He smothers you with kisses, driving by the need to taste you again. You let him, giggling.

“What do you say then, hmm?” he growls, nipping your bottom lip. “Want to go for another ride?”

“That joke was terrible.”

“You know what they say. When at the rodeo.”

You laugh again and Minho is a goner once more, just like he was the first day he met you at Neon Rodeo.

TAG LIST:

@stayceebs97 @skzswife @bettybeako

#lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lino smut #lee minho x you #lee know fic #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know x you

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bambikisss · 3 months

Text

Bad :: S.Mingi

(Bamb's ver.!) Bad Rich boy! Mingi x Criminal! reader

📙: Mingi grew up around his picture perfect family and friends, making him crave someone else who was different. So when you try and steal from him at his parent's gala, he takes the opportunity to see what it's like to be truly bad.

⚠ : Unprotected sex, sex in a public place, use of restrains (reader), biting, oral (f + m receiving), breeding kink (mingi), multiple rounds, slight stalking (Mingi puts a GPS on the reader when she escapes), robbery, mentions of smoking cigarettes, Song Mingi is basically obsessed with the reader, use of toys, phone sex, masturbation (m + f), choking, sex tape (mingi gets it), glamorization of stealing, Mingi has a robber/robbery kink (or just that you do it)

🎶 : Bad - Christopher, Slow Down - Chase Atlantic, Cyberpunk - ATEEZ, WayV - Love Talk (Demo), Rude boy - Rihanna, I got it - Marian Hill

Bambi's notes: Hello! So this fic has turned into a smut with random plot, but I'm not made about that. By the way, robbing is illegal so don't do it. Hope you all love it <3 ~ Bambs

TAGLIST: @horanghaezone @prettyjewel93 @xoxoluz666 @exo-saranghajaaa @acetruepunk @special4u @staytiny816 @popialover

@hyukssunflower @jjk-97 @juicy-red @@bts-iris @fandom-freak-geek @urlacuna @saintriots @frobin4ever @lovelyred2

ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY | REBLOGS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED | buy me a coffee?

Diamonds were truly a girl's best friend.

They sparkled and glimmered in even the darkest of lights, breaking through the darkness with ease constantly. It was something that everyone wanted and it was something that people had to drop serious money on to get.

But, why just stop at diamonds? Why not get the money same money they would spend on that diamond and take it? Money makes the world go round, and diamonds come from that world.

Hell, why not just take the whole world?

"Invitation please." You smiled at the usher, reaching into your small purse to pull out the gold card, the invitation to the charity gala sparkling in the moonlight. Your eyes never left the ushers, your charisma and eyes making the poor man gulp, his hands suddenly becoming shaky as he examined the card before handing it back to you, moving to the side so that you could enter.

You thanked him softly, placing the card back into your purse before entering the large venue, the usher's eyes now on your back as you strutted inside. Your eyes scanned the filled venue, searching for a bar or a waiter to get a drink from. Your eyes landed on a server who was walking around with champagne flutes, snatching one gracefully from her stand before you made your way deeper into the crowd. The crowd seemed to part at your will as you walked, their eyes and whispers now aimed at you, trying to figure out not only who you were, but if you came with anyone.

You were used to people looking at you, basking quietly in the gazes and attention before you chose a table that sat by the window.

Perfect.

As you sat down, a group of men approached you with hope in their eyes, asking you questions about yourself. Your lips formed a polite smile as they introduced themselves to you, fighting amongst themselves for your attention. However, your attention wasn't on their words, but where their wallets were. Your eyes would move quickly to their wallets as they pulled them out to hand you their business cards, hoping you would call them. Their movement gave you the view of all their cards in the wallet, along with if they carried cash.

You mentally memorized their card numbers before you chose to see if they had any personal items you could take from them, as that would be a better deal for you. Who would be willing to buy some random millionaire loser's card information when you could bring in their gold Rolex watches?

"May I see your watch?" You asked, peering up at the man through your eyelashes, smirking internally when the man gulped. He pulled up his jacket sleeve to show you his watch, the diamond-covered watch making your heart leap. Your fingers skillfully removed it from his wrist, looking it over with great interest as the guy tried to convince you to come home with him tonight.

That wouldn't happen, but you appreciated the offer.

You smirked as someone called for the man you were speaking to, nodding for him to go talk to them. As he ran off, you slipped the watch into your purse before standing up, looking for another man. It was much easier to steal things off of a man: to you, they were more willing to let someone else hold their things and walk away than women.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for someone who looked stressed (they were more likely to run off or forget something). However, as your eyes scanned the room, your eyes met with eyes just as intense and alluring as yours. You felt your body stiffen at the sight of the man leaning against the bar, the sleeves of his black button-up shirt rolled up to show off his even more expensive watch. Your eyes went to the watch before returning to the man's eyes, as if he was controlling where you looked at. Every time you tried to look away, he seemed to pull you back in.

He looked different than the other guys at this event: he had short black/blonde hair, shades sat on his head, rings on each of his fingers. He was tall, around 6 foot. He was definitely your type, which was refreshing to see. You decided to have some fun for once, approaching the man with a confident smirk on your lips.

Mingi smirked also as you approached him, sitting up from the bar he was leaning against to give you a proper view of his body.

He could tell that you weren't someone his family invited: you looked far too sexy to be someone my family would associate with. He had grown up around the type of women at this party- their necks adoring pearls and their activities either being tennis or horse riding. Mingi had no interest in a woman like that, though. He was much more interested in the woman who now stood in front of him with such alluring eyes.

You reached your hand out to gently shake his, the tips of your fingers meeting his wrist and watch, grazing the bottom of the latch. Mingi didn't seem to notice as you pulled your hand back, leaning with him against the bar as you both ordered drinks.

"You weren't invited, were you?"

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the attractive man's question, surprised that he was able to tell. You gently picked up your glass of wine, taking a small sip of it as you maintained eye contact with the male, trying to read him. "Already making assumptions? You haven't even asked for my name."

"Will you tell me your name?" Mingi asked, his thick rings clinking against the sides of his whiskey glass as he continued to lean next to you. You took the chance to glance once more at his watch before your eyes returned to his, deciding to give him your name. You would usually give a fake name, but there was just something about Mingi that made you want to tell whatever he wanted to know. Maybe he just had that aura about him.

"Y/N. What about you, rockstar?" Your words made Mingi smirk, glad that you told him your name. It fits you. At your nickname for him, he chuckled softly. "Rockstar? How did you come up with that?"

"You seem like a rockstar to me," He looked so cool, like he wouldn't spend his evenings here, but would be instead out in a club or something. You could just tell when someone is cool or is faking it, and Mingi wasn't faking it.

His deep voice vibrated through you as he moved closer, as if his name was secret and he wasn't the son of the people who were throwing this gala. "Mingi. My name is Mingi, beautiful."

"Beautiful? So now we're doing nicknames?" You asked playfully, your smile growing as Mingi nodded, his own smile appearing on his lips. "I thought we were using nicknames for each other. You called me Rockstar, I call you Beautiful." His words made your stomach tighten, arousal slowly pooling your panties at the confidence that covered his lips and voice. Your hand moved to his arm, slowly moving up his forearm to his bicep, holding eye contact with him as you tilted your head up at him, smirking when you saw him gulp.

"I wasn't complaining, I liked it" Your confidence was so addicting to Mingi, his mind short-circulating as your hand slowly moved back down his arm to his hand. You took the opportunity to walk closer to him, pressing your body against his. You could tell Mingi was having a hard time focusing on you, his eyes moving from your eyes to your lips down to your body, as if he was trying to memorize how you looked so that he could get off on it later. Good, he would never see you again, so you might as well give him something to remember you.

Mingi was so distracted that he didn't notice when your hand moved down his arm again, your fingers skillfully unlatching his watch before pushing it away behind you, your purse now blocking it from his view as you continued to flirt with him. Mingi was none the wiser at your moves, his body only focused on how good you felt pressed against him, everyone else in the gala fading away.

"Everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight. I'd like ask that you all help me in welcoming our son Mingi to the stage."

The room erupted into applause, breaking Mingi from his trance. His eyes widened a bit before he excused himself from you, making his way to the stage to stand with his parents. You smiled as he walked away, waiting till he had his back to you before you turned back to the bar, placing the watch that was once on Mingi's wrist now into your small purse with the other things you had taken throughout the evening.

Your eyes fell onto a clock that was on the wall of the venue, the time reading 11:30 pm. You decided it was time to leave, slipping into the crowd as you made your way to the doors. Your mind slipped back to Mingi as he gave a speech, thinking about what else could've happened between you both. Sadly, however, you were busy.

Mingi watched as you moved like a snake through the crowd, making your way to the double doors in the back of the venue. Mingi only broke out into a dark smirk when he got off stage, grabbing himself a bottle of whisky before leaving the venue himself; his parents had only asked him to make an appearance and speak on stage, so he was no longer needed. He didn't care for the galas his parents threw anyways, he was much more interested in the woman who stole from him and many other men that night.

Oh, you thought Mingi didn't know?

Mingi had to bite back his smirks so many times as he felt your fingers unlatch his watch, then kick it away behind your purse. He had to admit, you were good, but you weren't that good that Mingi could see through your ruse.

He kicked open the room to his study, grabbing one of his many lighters from his desk before lighting his fireplace, the fire adding to the heat Mingi felt for you. His thumb flicked off the top of the whiskey bottle as he fell back into his office chair, his feet kicking up onto the hardwood desk as he pulled out his phone. He took a swing from the whiskey bottle before he pulled up the tracking app he had, a large, devious smirk on his lips as he did so.

Mingi had tracking devices on his most precious items, the watch he wore tonight included. The same watch you had in your purse right now as you made your way back to your hideout. The same watch you were admiring as you leaned against your steel table, your fingers moving over the diamonds that surrounded the moving hands.

"Now, where did you run off to?" He asked as he stared at the large, blinking red dot that rested over downtown. He zoomed in, smirking as he was given your direct address.

"Mingi?" Mingi looked up from his phone to see his mom entering his office, a sweet smile on her lips that he instantly mirrored. He placed the glass of whiskey down before standing up, meeting his mom in a sweet hug. He may be about to track down a woman, but in his mom's eyes at that moment, he was her son: her sweet son. "Are you going to join me and your father out on the balcony for drinks?"

"No mom, I have something to do tonight." He placed a gentle kiss on his mom's forehead, grabbing his phone and keys from his desk as his mom looked at him puzzled. "This late?" Mingi nodded, holding up his keys as he paused at the door, offering his mom one more smile before saying "It can't wait, Mom. I'll be back."

Mingi walked away, an excited smile on his lips as he walked through his large car garage, picking one of his sports cars before climbing in. He took out his phone once more, smirking as he noticed that the red dot had moved from your hideout to a house, showing that you had gone home. Mingi plugged the address in, his thumb rubbing against his bottom lip as he tried to calm himself down, his cock already growing hard in his pants.

"I'm coming, beautiful."

____________________________________________________________

You sighed as you exited the shower, running your hands over your shoulders as you made your way through your large walk-in closet, looking for something to wear to sleep. You had everything you had stolen for that day ready to be sold tomorrow night sitting on your dresser. It wasn't hard to find buyers of some rich people's watches, jewelry, card information, and more on the black market. Plus, you knew a few people who had a thing for that type of stuff.

You put on an oversized t-shirt before watering your many plants, smiling softly at the sight of some of your favorites growing. Yes, you may be a criminal, but you still loved having plants and cats- it gave you some sort of normalcy.

You had just finished watering your Devil's ivy plant when you heard a knock at your front door, making you jump slightly. Who would be coming over to your house at 1 am? You picked up the nearest weapon that was around, which just so happened to be a police baton (that you stole), and inched to the door. Maybe it was a drunk neighbor or something. When you looked through the peephole, you saw a phone sitting on your welcome mat, making you sigh. You opened the door, crouching down to pick up the phone.

However, when you got closer to the phone, you noticed that the screen showed a tracker, the dot being right above your apartment building.

"You know, you're a lot easier to find then I thought." You paused at the familiar deep voice, your eyes widening as a tall shadow moved in front of you, covering you from the rest of the hallway. Your eyes moved from the phone, up his long legs up to Mingi's face as he looked down at you. He had a proud smirk on his lips as he met your eyes, tilting his head at you. "Hi there, beautiful."

"What are you doing here? How did you find out where I lived?" You asked, springing up from your crouched position on the mat to meet his gaze. Mingi let out a small "ooh" as he chuckled, your sudden confidence making him laugh. How come you were all of a sudden so mad at him when you were the one who stole from him? Mingi couldn't help but want to play with you, his face forming a faux confused look as he tilted his head.

"Well, that's funny because my tracker says the person who stole my watch lived here." Your eyes widened more at his words, watching as Mingi picked up his phone, holding it up to your face. "See? The tracker says that my watch is right here."

Your eyes moved from the phone to meet Mingi's eyes, which now were dark as he continued to play with you. He looked a bit crazy, making you close your legs as arousal pooled in your panties once more. Mingi noticed as you closed your legs, chuckling at the sight. Here you were being confronted with stealing from him, and you found it sexy.

Your mind jumped to try and think of an excuse as your mind flashed back to the watches that you had already promised to sell sitting on your desk. Mingi tilted his head as you rambled out excuses, nodding along as you begged him to leave and not tell anyone. He waited till you finished before he placed his hand on the wall by your head, leaning in closer to you as he whispered "You know, in all your little excuses you just gave me, in none of those did you promise to give me back my watch."

Your eyes widened as he pressed his body against yours, his eyes moving over your face as he smirked. He had you right where he wanted, and based on how he was playing with you, he didn't want his watch back. No, Mingi never wanted his watch back, he had 3 more just like it.

No, Mingi wanted more.

And you could see that, dropping your scared act, which only made Mingi's smirk grow. "What do you want, Mingi. It's obviously not the watch." Mingi smirked at the attitude in your voice, his tongue moving along his bottom lip before his eyes showed you his excitement that was now mixed in with his growing lust. Mingi didn't give you a moment to repeat your question, instead smashing his lips into yours. You gasped, your hands moving to his chest as you both made out in your hallway.

There was something about kissing Mingi that was absolutely filthy: the way his tongue played with and caressed yours, his hands moving all over your body greedily, how he moaned obscene things into your mouth. He didn't care about anyone walking by, nor the camera that was in your hallway. Mingi had never been with someone like you and he would be crazy to miss the opportunity to have someone as perfect and sexy as you moaning his name.

"Mingi" You sighed as his lips moved down your face to your neck, his hands moving to grab and play with the flesh of your ass over the large t-shirt. He moaned deeply into your neck, his tongue running along the bottom of your neck as he strained out "Fuck, I love how my name sounds coming from your pretty mouth." You moaned more as he flicked up the shirt, his hands now playing directly with you as he ground his hard cock against your panty-covered clit. Mingi didn't care if you two looked like horny teenagers, making out and grinding against each other in the hallway, only caring about how you moaned and how he could keep hearing it.

At the sound of someone's door closing, you tried to push Mingi away from your body, your cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment at the thought of someone seeing you. However, to Mingi, it absolutely drove him wild, gripping your ass tighter as he tried to pull you back against him. "Mingi, we should head inside if we're going to-"

"Nah, I'm going to fuck you right here" Your eyes widened at his words, looking at Mingi with confusion before his lips met yours again, causing you to close your eyes. Your lips became wet as both of your tongues met again in the messy and needy kiss, a moan slipping from your lips again as Mingi delivered a spank to your ass before gripping the flesh. "I'm going to fuck you in this hallway so that everyone who walks by can see how good you take my cock."

You felt drunk as Mingi pulled back from your body, removing his belt in one motion before he tossed it inside your apartment haphazardly. He kept his eyes on you as he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, moving slowly as to tease you, a successful smirk moving across his lips when you began to reach for his pants to move faster. He grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, shaking his head as switched your positions, his back meeting the wall as he had you stand in front of him, your back to the rest of the hallway. You looked at him with confusion as he let go of your wrists, his hands slowly moving up yours like you had done to him earlier at the gala, only stopping when he reached your shoulder.

He repeated the same motion with his other hand before applying pressure to your shoulders, pushing you down onto your knees in front of him. "Have you sucked cock before, Y/N baby?" His voice was deep and slightly condescending as his hands moved from your shoulders back to unzipping his pants, a proud smile moving across his lips as you nodded. "Ah, so you have some experience. You're going to need it to make up stealing from me, princess."

You were about to complain about him calling you princess when he pushed down his pants giving you a perfect view of his cock. To say his cock was pretty was an understatement: it was long and thick, matching his skin tone perfectly, perfectly shaven. It slapped against his shirt, his precum leaving a stain before it dripped down his cock. Heck, there was even some on the inside of his thighs. Mingi watched as you admired his cock before his hand moved into your hair, bending down slightly in front of you so you could meet his eyes.

"You have never taken a cock so big, haven't you?" Mingi asked, his voice laced with faux care. He didn't care if you had before or not: you were going to take his cock anyways. When you shook your head, Mingi's cock twitched with excitement at your words. He licked his lips, trying to control himself as he spoke. "Hmm, well, looks like you're going to take your first big cock. Come get a taste, yeah?"

Mingi and you had both forgotten what this was even for by this point, Mingi resting his back against the wall again as you scooted forward, your tongue wrapping around the tip of his cock. He moaned softly, closing his eyes as you gently placed kitty licks around his cock, feeling the weight and girth against your tongue. Mingi soon grew frustrated, groaning out "I'm about to start calling you kitten with all of these kitty licks, baby."

"I'm just getting acquainted with it," you giggled against his cock, your voice returning to the seductive voice you had spoken to him earlier that night in. Mingi felt his mind once again short again at the sound, his hand moving to roughly grip your hair before forcing his cock into your mouth, making you moan and slightly choke around it. "There, now you can get acquainted with it" he moaned as you began to bob your head, cursing as your tongue moved around his cock. If you hadn't taken cock in a while or even just a cock as big as his before, Mingi couldn't tell: you had him moaning and groaning against the wall of your apartment building hallway, his hand firmly in your hair.

You had to slip your own hand into your panties at the sight, taking more of him to get a deep moan from him as your fingers moved along your slit, gathering your wetness before you began playing with your clit, moaning around his cock. Mingi hissed at the vibration, forcing his eyes open to watch you.

There you were, the woman who had him so needy at the gala, the woman who successfully stole from him and the other men, now on your knees in front of him, knuckle deep in your pussy while you sucked him off in the hallway of your apartment building.

Mingi felt like he was in one of his wildest dreams ever, biting his lip as he pushed you down deeper on his cock, taking him down your throat as you looked up at him. Mingi had to tighten his hands into fists to keep from holding you at the base of his cock, allowing you to come back up for air as he breathed heavily. "Again."

"What?" You paused your movements at the sound of Mingi's deep yet breaking voice, looking up at him. He ran a hand over through his hair before he repeated his words. "Again. Go back down on my cock, just like how you just did it." You bit your lip as the hand that was in your hair tightened, pushing your head to meet cock again. You moaned as your pussy clenched around your fingers, taking Mingi's cock down your throat as he tossed his head back against the wall, cussing out into the hallway.

"That's it, baby, fuck" He licked his lips before he began to fuck your throat, making you choke and gurgle around him, wet sounds coming from both of you. Mingi smirked as he watched your fingers move faster in you to match his thrusts, his cock twitching at the sight before he had an idea. After all, this was to make up for you stealing from him.

"Do you wish it was my cock, baby?" He pulled out his cock from your lips, chuckling as you coughed softly before crouching down in front of him to meet your face. Your lips were wet, streaks of his precum coating the sides of your lips mixed with your own spit. You looked pretty, if only you'd let him take a picture of you like this.

"Don't you wish it was my cock pounding into you instead of your fingers? I mean, your fingers must do the job, but my cock baby" he paused, cupping your jaw to meet his eyes as his free hand moved into your ruined panties, pushing away your fingers before his fingers replaced yours, making you moan at the stretch. He smirked, curling his fingers in you before his lips hovered over yours, his eyes still piercing into yours. "My cock will make you feel so fucking good. Going in and out of your pretty pussy, hitting all the right spots to make you scream and shake around my cock"

You bit your lip at his words, grabbing his bicep to keep yourself from falling back. It shocked you that he was talking to you like that in the hallway of your apartment building after you stole from him, his fingers matching his words, moving in and out of you, hitting all your spots perfectly.

You would be perfectly fine with just having his fingers, but with how Mingi was talking and with good his cock felt down your throat, you needed it in you.

Mingi smirked as you whispered that you wanted his cock, stilling his fingers that were inside of you as he tilted his head, his voice once again giving you his best faux confusion. "What was that baby? I didn't hear you." "I want you to fuck me." You whined louder, shaking around his fingers with need.

"Oh baby," Mingi chuckled, swiftly pulling his fingers out of your pussy before they entered his mouth, moaning at your taste. Mingi couldn't help but close his eyes as his tongue moved to gather all of your juices from his fingers, your taste making his mind further shortcircuit.

With you tasting this good, you could take anything from him you wanted.

Mingi picked you up, pushing your panties to the side as he pinned you against the wall. He gave his cock a few jerks before pushing in the head of his cock, moaning as his forehead fell forward onto yours, both of your moans mixing together. You ran your hands through his hair as you both tried to calm down, meeting his lips in a deep kiss as he began to push into you. You were no virgin, but there was something about Mingi's cock that felt absolutely delicious pushing into you. His cock was already brushing some of your spots as he filled you up, making you pull back from the kiss to curse against his shoulder.

Mingi gave you a minute to adjust to the size, rubbing your thigh in the process. He waited till you started moving your hips against his, showing that you were ready for him to move. He jolted his shoulder so that you'd pick your head up, waiting till you met his eyes before he began to rock his hips. He wanted to watch your face as it contorted with pleasure, moaning his name as your hands rushed up his shoulders. The sight made Mingi move faster, and soon he was drilling into you.

"Look at you taking me, baby. Wanna tell me how good it feels?" He asks, chuckling deeply when you try to speak, only for a moan to break through your words as he moves faster. You had completely forgotten about being in the hallway until Mingi pulled out of you, placing your feet back onto the floor before turning you to face the wall that was across the hallway before he pushed back into you from behind. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, Mingi's hand moving up the front of your t-shirt to cup your neck, tilting your head back too. Only when you opened your eyes did you figure out why.

Mingi panted as he placed his head on your shoulder, his hand keeping your head tossed back before he whispered into your ear "Why don't you look into that security camera, huh? You're already giving everyone else in that lives within this hallway a nice show, why don't you give the poor night security guard a show too?"

You moaned as Mingi applied pressure to your throat, forcing your head to continue to face the security camera. Mingi moaned as he felt your wetness begin to drip down his cock, letting him know that you liked the idea. The feeling of your wetness and your tightening walls pushed him closer to his release, dragging his tongue along your cheek before he mumbled against it "I'm about to cum baby, I'm about to fill you up so fucking good. Look into that security camera, baby, let everyone hear and see you fall apart all over my fucking cock." You gasped softly at his words, your rope snapping as his cock moved faster, his cum mixing with yours as you both moaned loudly.

You panted softly as Mingi shoved his face into your neck, planting kisses wherever he could before he slowly pulled out of you, holding you against him as you both calmed down.

Well, your neighbors probably hated you now.

"Do you want your watch back?" Your question made Mingi pause fixing himself as you were doing the same, now leaning against the doorway of your apartment. You looked just like how you did back at the gala, his heart warming at the sight. He had to see you again, even if it meant letting you get away with robbery.

"No, I have 3 more just like that one, losing it won't kill me." You nodded at Mingi's words, watching as he fixed himself up. You felt your heart (and pussy) ache at the thought of him leaving, debating inviting him inside to stay the night. Mingi noticed how your eyes were looking at him, his own body aching for you now. Even though you both had just met earlier that night and only met again due to the tracker, his body wanted to be next to yours all the time.

"Here" You blinked as Mingi took out his phone, handing it to you, his contacts open. "Give me your number, Y/N."

"Mingi, I...can't" You tried to get out, but Mingi's body pressed against yours, pressing you against the doorway as he kissed your neck, unable to resist his body's craving for you. It was dangerous for you to give him your number as he could give it to the police, but a part of you trusted him: he didn't go to the police with his tracker, instead, he came to you.

You nodded, giving in as you placed your actual number into his phone. Mingi pulled back from your neck as you handed him back his phone, both of your lips meeting one last kiss before you stepped into your apartment, closing the door without any further words. Mingi bit his lip, wondering if he crossed the line with you before making his way out of your apartment hallway.

You covered your mouth as you rested your head against the door, realizing what just happened: Mingi not only knew where you lived, but he had your number too. You had basically exposed yourself to him. You suddenly saw your phone vibrate on the counter, making you bite your lips. You felt your heart pick up as you began walking over to it, jumping when you stepped on Mingi's belt. You picked it up before grabbing your phone, your thumb rubbing over the expensive leather.

Mingi: Let's meet up again soon

A smile broke through onto your lips at Mingi's text. He wanted to see you again? The idea filled your heart with excitement as you responded.

Y/N: Maybe. Goodnight Mingi, don't tell anyone about me.

Mingi: Of course, princess. I won't tell anyone about you.

Mingi smiled as he sent the text, assuring you that you and your secrets were safe with him. Mingi had no use to go the police with the information he had on you, anyway; you were far too sexy for jail.

"I have the security tape from the hallway you asked for." Mingi placed his phone into his pocket, taking out his wallet to hand the security guy around 4 thousand dollars in cash. He watched as the man accepted it, handing Mingi the flash drive with the recording on it before he began to excitedly count the money. Mingi watched for a few moments before his hand moved to push the fan of cash the security guard had made down, leaning over the counter so that the man made eye contact with Mingi, who towered over him. "I better have the only recording of me and that woman. I assume that you understand that, right?"

Mingi nodded as the security guard rushed to assure him that he had the only recording and that he wouldn't tell anyone before Mingi walked away, holding the tiny flash drive that held his night of desire with the woman he craved on it.

______________________________________________________________

Mingi and you didn't stop after that night.

You had hoped that either you or him would ghost each other, but the opposite between you two keeps seeming to happen. Mingi prided himself on all the places he took you, from all the underground clubs he owned to hole-in-the-wall restaurants. He didn't mind keeping your hangouts with him a secret as if you guys went out during the day in public, the press would swarm you both and try to figure out anything and everything about you.

You had grown to enjoy his company, sneaking into his bedroom through his window at his mansion after a long night of theft for either mind-altering sex or just to talk. You had even told him why you began stealing from the rich like you tried to do with him, which you never told anyone. Mingi had learned more about you in 3 months than anyone else had ever known about you ever. You trusted him.

There were also feelings developing between you both that would spill into the sex you both had.

Mingi groaned into the phone as his hand moved on his cock, his hips fucking his fist as he listened to you beg for him to not only cum, but to come over right afterward to fuck you. He hadn't been able to see you as he had been working on the interior design of his new casino, keeping him busy. He had begged you over text to help him cum and after seeing a video of the custom dildo he bought you to use being deep in your pussy while you showered made him absolutely ravenous.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum, I love you" He groaned out, his deep groan of your name causing you to also cum. However, your mind was also short-circuiting at him saying 'I love you." You chose not to bring it up as you exited the shower, placing the dildo down onto the sink as you looked for the cleaner to clean it off before putting it away, keeping Mingi on Facetime. Mingi cleaned himself up before asking "Are you going to be out stealing tonight?" Mingi asked, resting back in his office chair, stretching out his long legs. It was a Saturday night and you usually spent them going to various clubs and stealing from the men there.

"No, not tonight. I got enough from the last night's robbery" You had grown comfortable with telling him about your nightly adventures, even showing him what you had gotten. You put on a robe as you carried the phone into the bedroom, placing the phone propped up on your dresser before you showed him the newest item you obtained from a gentlemen's club: A gorgeous necklace , a beautiful dark green gem in the center. It was going to be added to your prized collection, as it was just too pretty to sell, maybe one day, but not right now. Mingi whistled at the necklace, recognizing it as being extremely expensive. You smiled as he praised you before he asked "Well, since you're not busy tonight, does that mean that you can come see me?"

'I love you' Mingi's earlier words filled your mind, making you bite your lip. You didn't want to have to face the growing feelings between you both, but you also really missed him. Mingi smiled as you agreed to meet him, reminding him to keep his window unlocked. "We're not meeting at mansion, darling. I have family staying over this weekend."

Then where were you going to meet him? Mingi smirked at your confusion before saying "I'll send you the address, just show up. Oh, and bring that necklace and your bodysuit."

_____________________________________________________________

Mingi may be rich due to his parents, but Mingi knew what to do with that wealth.

Mingi was a businessman just like his parents, owning multiple businesses that all raked in millions a month. The Song family was known for their businesses always becoming popular within the city.

You put the address Mingi sent you into your GPS, following it as it led you to a large 5-story building that stood proudly in the middle of downtown. You looked up at it, noticing the large words "ARRIBA CASINO" glowing in the night. You were going to see Mingi's casino before everyone would be.

You smiled at the thought, keying in the code he gave you into the keypad before walking inside. You made a b-line to the grand staircase that would take you up to the second floor where Mingi said he'd be waiting for you. The second floor was full of poker and spade tables, only one having a light on, though.

Sitting at one of the poker tables was Mingi, cigarette resting in between his plush lips as he watched you approach him, leaning back in his chair. He had the same aura as when you both first met, his eyes watching you like a shark as you now stood beside him, slowly dragging down your body to admire your outfit choice of jeans and a hoodie. Mingi then sat back up, standing up as he placed the cigarette down, blowing smoke up into the air before his eyes returned to yours. "Did you bring the necklace?" You nodded, taking it out from your purse to show him. He nodded, examining it before asking "And did you bring your suit?"

When you first snuck into his room straight after a big robbery, Mingi couldn't stop thinking about having sex with you wearing your robber outfit. There was something about the tight leather and how it seemed to perfectly mold to your body that made him go absolutely insane. You nodded, a proud smile moving onto his lips before he kissed you softly, his hands moving to your shoulders. You furrowed your eyebrows as he turned you around to face the restrooms, his lips moving to press a small kiss to your ear before whispering "Go put it on for me baby. Take your time, I'll be waiting out here for you, baby girl."

Mingi loved it when you took your time getting ready for him; to him, you put all that effort into looking perfect for him, knowing that he'd make you cry off your effort with his cock. So you took your time getting ready for him in the luxury bathroom of the casino he owned. You slipped off your regular clothes and underwear, knowing that you being bare underneath the suit would drive him insane. You carefully put on the leather bodysuit and tall boots, taking your time applying your lipstick in the mirror. You smirked at how good you looked, feeling perfect to go see Mingi.

When you return to the casino floor, Mingi has to stop himself from leaping over the table to get to you. You looked like sin, his fingers itching to touch the skin that peaked out in between your bodysuit and boots on your thighs. He licked his lips before standing up, running a hand over his face before he successfully obtained control over himself again, raising his hand to do the 'come here' motion. You smirked, swaying your hips as you approached him, smirking more when his eyes immediately moved to watch your hips as you approached him. "Like what you see, babe?" you asked, your hand landing on his shoulder as you stood beside him.

Mingi didn't have to say anything, his eyes letting you know that he really liked the outfit. Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist before he placed you on the poker table, his lips meeting yours in a deep, demanding kiss. Mingi's tongue explored your mouth as your hands moved through his hair, scratching at his scalp the way you knew he liked. He moaned against your lips before he pulled back, pushing you back so you fell against the table. Mingi took the opportunity to admire you in this position and in this outfit, your eyes moving down his black button-up jeans to see the zipper of his pants was already down, his bulge strained against his boxers.

"Tonight, baby," Mingi whispered, placing a kiss on your lips before slowly kissing down your body, his hands grabbing at whatever he could. "Tonight, I'm going to punish you. You've been bad, and that obviously means that me letting you get away with what you doing whatever you want isn't working."

"I mean, the necklace I got shows that it's working perfectly fine" You smirked, holding up the necklace you had stolen earlier that night. Mingi growled against your stomach, taking the jewelry from you before he sunk to his knees on the velvet-colored carpet, roughly separating your legs as he did so. His hands moved up your legs, smirking whenever you let out a whimper or whined. "You're right, it is working. But, you've still been bad"

You gasped as Mingi's tongue met with your thigh, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on your bodysuit before his tongue finally meets your pussy. Your hand shot down into Mingi's hair as he ate your pussy, his mouth covering your pussy lips. Mingi didn't budge whenever you tried to push him away, his licks and sucks getting harder whenever you did. He even wrapped his arms around your waist, forbidding you from moving away from his mouth as your upper body writhed around on the table. You didn't think that Mingi would invite you over to his new casino to eat you out on the table, but you weren't complaining.

"That's it, baby, ride my tongue and fingers, now you're being good for me" Mingi's voice had deepened throughout him eating your pussy, his voice now dripping with arousal as you began to roll your hips against his face as his tongue curled inside you, his fingers doing the same. You closed your eyes as his lips wrapped around your clit, his own eyes closing at the sound of you moaning his name. Mingi didn't think he could ever get over how you said his name.

"Mingi" Your moans had picked up in volume, letting him know that you were about to cum. Mingi smirked before removing his tongue and fingers from your body, leaving you shaking on the table before you asked him why the hell he stopped. "I told you that you were being punished. Do you want me to stop punishing you?"

Mingi smirked at your nod, placing a short kiss on your lips before saying "Good. Now put your hands up." You did as he asked, a proud "good girl" leaving his lips before he climbed onto the table, climbing over your body before he sat back on the heels of his feet, his knees now on either side of your head.

You had no choice but to watch as he grabbed his belt from a nearby chair before tying your wrists together tightly. You tried to break free, but Mingi had it tied perfectly. Once he was satisfied, slowly dragged his fingers down your arms, making you shiver, his fingers moving to the zipper on your bodysuit.

"Y/N," Your eyes moved to meet his as he played with the zipper, teasing you as he pulled it down only an inch. His eyes were dark, the single light that hung over the table added shadows to his face, making you shiver. He smirked at your reaction before his eyes moved to the necklace that sat on the table. "What do you tell the men you steal from, huh baby? Do you feed into their fantasies like you are doing right now?"

You bit your lip as Mingi slowly dragged down your zipper, the sight of your bare breasts making Mingi's mouth water, just like you had hoped. He scooted down your body a bit so that he could lean down and grab your breasts, squeezing them before freeing them from the bodysuit. He dragged his tongue around your nipple before his mouth wrapped around it, making you moan. You tried to free your hands to touch him, but the belt stopped you. "Answer me, Y/N"

"I flirt with them until they either give it up or when they're really distracted, I take it from them" You admitted, making Mingi chuckle. His mind flashed back to the bar where you and him first met and how you tried to steal his watch while he was talking with you. He could see how it worked on other guys, you're so sexy and out of so many men's leagues.

He pressed your breasts together, his mouth engulfing both of your nipples as he began to grind his cock against your pussy, making you both moan. You raised your hips to meet his clothed cock, your eyes rolling back as he pressed his bulge more against you. Mingi sucked on your breasts, licking around your pebbled nipples before pulling back, groaning against you as your hips rolled to meet his. Mingi felt like he was in a daze like he was going insane.

Mingi and you met in a passionate kiss, your lips sliding against one another as your tongue fought for dominance. His hands moved to push down his jeans and boxers, having enough of waiting for you. He placed your legs around his waist, his hands finishing unzipping the bodysuit. He was setting you up how he wanted you, setting you like you were the table's centerpiece. His eyes then fell on the necklace, an idea moving into his head.

You opened your eyes to Mingi placing the jewelry onto your neck before he sat up, licking his lips at the sight of you. "Fuck, you look perfect, baby. Are you ready for my cock?"

You nodded, biting your lip as he pushed into you, moaning at the stretch his cock gave that you had grown to love. Mingi moaned with you, gripping your thighs as he finished filling you up before he began to fuck you. Besides the sounds that came from both of your mouths, you and Mingi's moans echoing around the whole casino, which drove Mingi crazy. "I brought you here to fuck you on the table, just like this baby. I made sure they were sturdy when I bought them so that every night when this casino closes, I can fuck you on one of these tables with everything that you stole from those suckers."

You moaned at the idea, closing your eyes as Mingi continued talking. "Fuck, I'll even cover for you when the police ask where you were. I'll tell them that you were here with me. I'll tell them, pay them whatever it'll take to send them away so that I can bend you over the table and punish you while you." Your mind filled with the view of Mingi fucking you on a poker table covered in cash, watches, jewelry- anything you could get your hands on.

Mingi was out of his mind, no longer even talking to you as he drilled his cock into you on the table, the table creaking as he leaned down to crash his lips with yours. Mingi couldn't tell if it was the love he had for you speaking, or his lust, but he would do anything for you because...

"I love you baby" he moaned against your lips, his cock now hitting your spot repeatedly as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. You gasped, your mind cloudy as Mingi said "Say it back, baby, even if you don't fucking mean it, just say it for me, baby girl." You didn't hesitate to say it back, the words leaving your mouth as you clenched around him, making him choke out "fuck, I want you so much baby, fuck I love you, god" as he came. You moaned loudly as he filled you up, your body shaking as he slowly pulled out. Mingi took a deep breath, tossing his head back to enjoy the cold air as it moved over his hot face and body. You bit your lip at the sight of sweat moving down his face and neck, disappearing underneath his shirt.

Mingi tossed his head forward after a bit, his hand moving to untie your hands from the belt before he looked back down at you. You thought he'd help you up, but Mingi instead got up off the table, not saying a word to you. He moved to grip your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the table before flipping you over onto your stomach, his hand colliding with your ass roughly. You jumped, turning back around as he removed his shirt, staring down at you with dark eyes.

"What do you want, Y/N?" Mingi raised an eyebrow at your shocked expression, leaning over your body to press his hands on either side of your body on the table, your back against his chest as his hard cock rests against your ass. You bit your lip at the feeling, which Mingi smirked at, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips, repeating his question once more before applying another slap to your ass. He leaned down to bite your neck when you didn't answer again, leaving hickies behind as he began to grind against your ass. "You're so fucking stubborn, you know that right?"

Mingi didn't allow you to respond, shoving his whole cock into your pussy in one thrust, making you jolt forward on the table. You moaned at Mingi's rough pace, his hand moving into your hair again as he fucked you. You couldn't help but scream his name, bouncing back to meet his thrusts.

Mingi was fucking you like you had stolen from him again, his rough thrusts making you fall forward against the bed before he pulled you back by your hair. It felt like he was using you, your lack of response to his question pushing him over the edge. "Should I breed you, baby? Should I fill your pussy up again with my cum and shove it deep in you?" Mingi spoke with his harsh, pointed thrusts, making you sob out his name. You could feel your orgasm begin to move through you, your eyes closing as you moaned "yes, yes! breed me Mingi, fuck I want it!"

"Yeah, you want that? You'll only answer my questions when I'm filling you up like this, won't you, my baby?" You nodded, your body shaking as you came around him. You rushed to beg for him to kiss you, Mingi obliging as you shook around his cock as he slowed down for you. You kept him in the kiss as your arm wrapped around his neck, arching your back as he began to pick up speed again, your whispers about wanting his cum and him to breed you driving him insane.

"Fill me up, Mingi, get me pregnant with your baby. Make me yours baby."

Your words caused Mingi to short circuit, smashing his lips back into yours as you both said 'I love you,' his cum filling you. You both held each other, trying to wrap your head around what just happened between you both before he pulled back, slowly laying you down on the table, leaving you to find a napkin. You nodded, lying against the table as you tried to wrap your mind around what you said. Was it sex induced? Did you actually wanna be with Mingi?

"I brought back a napkin, hold still" You nodded at Mingi's words, the wet napkin cleaning you up before he did the same to himself. He helped you get dressed, doing the same to himself before he turned to face you, his cheeks burning as you both made eye contact. He also couldn't figure out what just happened, nor if you meant everything you said.

You cleared your throat, reaching to take off the necklace when Mingi gently holds your wrist stopping you. "You should keep wearing it, it's pretty."

You nodded, watching as Mingi walked past you to clean up the table. Maybe this was your moment to leave?

"Don't even try leaving, Y/N." You paused your walk at Mingi's stern voice, turning around to face him as he finished wiping cum from the table, tossing the napkin away before he stood in front of you. You at first couldn't meet his eyes, his hand moving to cup your jaw to face him. His thumb moved along your bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours before he dropped his hand, sighing. You could tell that Mingi was fighting with the idea of saying those words again, feeling like you weren't going to say it back.

"I love you," you blurted out, your hand moving to cup his hand. Mingi's eyes widened, a happy smile moving onto his lips. You took a deep breath as he pulled you in for a loving hug, your eyes even tearing up. You didn't know if it was the sex, you admitting that you had fallen in love with him, or something else, but you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him and relax in his embrace. He placed a small kiss on your cheek before saying "I love you too. I know that was hard for you to admit...I'll always wait for you, Y/N."

_____________________________________________________________

1 year later...

"Mingi, are you coming to the charity gala this year?" Mingi shook his head as he spoke to his mom, letting him know that he had plans tonight. Mingi had attended every charity gala this year, so it wouldn't hurt for him to miss one.

He turned his head to his open window, watching as you climbed through his window, a proud smirk on his lips as he hung up. "What poor soul lost out on something tonight, baby?" Mingi asked you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before you reached into your bag, picking up a tiara that the mayor's son brought with him when he was going out tonight. It went from the backseat of his car, to now your boyfriend's head. He raised an eyebrow as you placed it on his head, giggling at how cute he looked with it on, making him chuckle before he placed it onto your head, pressing a deep, hungry kiss to your lips.

You promised Mingi that one day, you'd give up your thief ways. For now, though, you were ok with Mingi fucking you with whatever you stole that night, including the tiara.

"Hmm, seems you've been bad baby" Mingi smirked, crawling over your body to meet your lips as you smiled. "Looks liked you to need to get punished."

You nodded as he kissed your lips, pressing your body down into the bed as he ground against you.

"Bad girl."

______________________________________________________________

BAMBIKISSS | 2024

#bambikisss #bambi #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez smau #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez smut reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #song mingi #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #song mingi scenarios #ateez mingi #ateez mingi smut

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teasteeper · 1 month

Note

oppa vs gege vs daddy kink in wayv??🤔🤔

you sent this so long ago babe im sorry </3

kun/xiaojun/yangyang x f!reader, smut, “daddy”, 18+ minors dni

౨ৎ kun

like…..duh…. he can restrain himself well from bringing up the whole daddy thing, not wanting to overstep or bring it up before he knows his girl wants it. so when you’re pushing on his chest with your hands to keep your shaking body upright, meeting his dark gaze with pupils blown wide and tears streaking your cheeks mumbling “da-…. da…” he knows he has you right where he wants you.

his hands are cupping your hips as he drags you back and forth over his thick cock, strained groans on the verge of sobs leaving his chest as your tiny cunt squeezes him, “there she is. tell daddy what’s wrong, baby.” kun’s fingers work over your body to overstim you, pinching and pulling at your nipples, pushing on your tummy until your slick gushes around his length.

making a pretty girl cum on his cock is what he lives for, holding you to his chest as your high wracks your body. you can barely hear his low voice in your ear as you drool into his neck, chanting a broken, whimpered string of “daddy, daddy”

౨ৎ xiaojun

jun’s love language is obsession. he’s crazy for you, and as much as being ignored and teased by a pretty girl turns him on, his end goal is getting you just as crazy for him. he loves the chase, telling himself that one day you’ll need him like he needs you.

his body folds over you, his abdomen flexing and chest heaving with heavy breaths as he delivers deep, hard thrusts to your cunt. he loves the way you struggle against his grip on your wrists, your thighs squeezing around his waist. “s-say it. say it f’me, honey”

“fuck you”

he just flashes that pretty smile down at you, not missing how your mean words die in your throat as his thrusts grow rougher, the force inching your body up the mattress. he squeezes your jaw between his fingers, turning your face towards him and sighing out at your glassy eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips from his forceful kisses. “look at daddy, that’s right. my pretty girl”

౨ৎ yangyang

honestly, he likes whatever you like, because he’s in love with you. he knows it’s futile, drooling over someone else’s girlfriend - kun’s girlfriend no less - but with the way you look at kun, he can’t help but imagine you looking at him like that.

and when yangyang fists his cock to the sound of your moans on the other side of his bedroom wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he prays for kun to shut the fuck up, the best he can do is pretend your moans are for him.

his eyes snap open when he hears it, his body going rigid as his cock sits hard and heavy in his hand. but there’s no mistaking your fucked out whines, “please daddy, please”. yangyang’s hips buck, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and nearly drawing blood as he chokes back a sob. your broken mewls don’t stop while he fucks his fist through his high, abs tensing as he paints his chest with his own cum.

from then on it’s all he thinks about, unable to look you in the eye when you’re around, blood rushing to his needy cock when you’re so much as in the same room.

251 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 9 months

Text

NECTAR

PAIRING kim sunwoo x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.14k

GENRES smut ﹒ fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, umm age gap!! reader is like 10 or so years older than sunwoo (it’s never really specified what her exact age is), reader is also eric’s older sister, there’s a bit of spanish thrown in here lol they’re in mexico for vacation what did u expect, sun eric and hak are professional baseball players, there’s a scene where a waitress is kinda icky to reader bc she’s older, i think mentions of alcohol, sunwoo is down BAD down bad to the point of no return it’s crazy, he’s also a horny impatient little shit, soft dom!sunwoo ig idk, oral (m! & f! receiving), face fucking, handjob ish, a little bit of hair pulling, vaginal fingering, So Much Praise, UNPROTECTED SEX pls be safe!!, edging, delayed orgasm kinda, missionary position, creampie, aftercare :P, the last scene is so cute and disgusting i hate couples

SUMMARY despite being nearly a decade older than him, sunwoo’s always had his eyes on you. so when your younger brother invites you to join them on vacation, you fall right into his trap. you can’t really blame him for finally taking the bait after all these years.

MORE woah hey again 😋 this one isn’t as wild as the hyunjae fic, but it has its moments LOLL if u ever read my warnings about this when it was on my wip list, then u know that this was actually an old fic back from when i wrote for anime 😭 i changed a lot tbh but a good chunk of the original plot is still there 👍 i got inspo for the last scene from a tumblr quote my irl posted on instagram isn’t that crazy anyway….. enjoy!!

PLAYLIST nectar — wayv, tangerine love (favorite) — nct dream, delicious — the boyz, passion fruit — the boyz, horizon — jaehyun, moonlight sunrise — twice

When you agreed to go with your younger brother on a vacation in Mexico for a week with his friends, you weren’t sure what you were expecting.

You knew your brother’s friends well. They'd gone to high school together and after partly going their separate ways following graduation, decided to go on yearly trips to make up for any lost time. This year, the destinations were the gorgeous beaches of Mexico. Cozumel, Cancun, you name it. You were hitting all the spots.

Those were the luxuries of being the older sister of a professional baseball player.

From the start of your getaway, every single one of your movements felt like they were being watched. Your skin burned with the heat of mocha brown eyes staring at you. Half of you wanted to point it out to Eric, but figured you’d save yourself from the drama. Besides, you were a big girl and two could play at that game.

The first instance took place before you even left for the trip.

You lived about an hour away from Eric and since you were all taking the same flight, you thought it would be more convenient to just ride to the airport together. And because he was closer to the airport, he offered for you to stay at his and Sunwoo’s apartment. Haknyeon would be meeting you there due to prior engagements with his own team.

When you arrived at your brother’s place, you immediately regretted it. You hadn’t called before going over and Eric happened to be out, leaving you alone with Sunwoo. There was nothing wrong with him, you just hadn’t seen him in a couple years and you were afraid of it being awkward.

The younger male helped you bring your things inside, huffing when he dropped your suitcases in the guest bedroom. He wipes away imaginary sweat from his forehead, blowing out a raspberry as he turns to face you.

“Did you pack bricks in there? Why the fuck was that so heavy?”

You laugh. Sunwoo had always been quite the clown as long as you’d known him. “I’m a girl, what did you expect? We never pack lightly.”

“You can say that again,” he snorts, twisting his torso to pop his back. “Uh, are you hungry? We have some leftover takeout in the fridge ‘cause you know damn well neither of us know how to cook.”

Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the sight of him raising his arms to stretch, his t-shirt riding up to show a sliver of his abdomen. From the way his slender fingers lock above his head to the taut skin peeking behind the fabric, you’re entranced. Your brain finally comprehends the fact that Kim Sunwoo was no longer a teenage boy, but rather a grown man.

He clears his throat, breaking your trance and forcing you to stop staring. Your cheeks flush slightly as you attempt to hide the embarrassment flooding your features. His lips are pulled into a smug grin, making you aware that he caught you. He doesn’t say anything though, keeping the cocky smirk as he leaves the room. (Presumably to go to the kitchen.)

With hefty feet, you drag yourself to follow. He’s already warming up the leftovers for you as you take a seat at the island barstool, resting your chin on your palm and your elbows on the counter. Your moment from a few minutes ago is long forgotten as you become transfixed by him on the other side of the island.

It’s weird for you to think about how much Eric has matured, coming from an older sister’s point of view. But having that same realization for Sunwoo is a completely different can of worms. You watch as he extracts the container out of the microwave and opens a drawer beside him to grab a pair of chopsticks simultaneously, all without skipping a beat.

He spins on his heels to place the food in front of you, pausing when he notices that you’re staring at him again. The glint in your eyes was more wholesome than before and it made his heart stutter in his chest. He slides the container across the surface of the island, leaning closer to you.

It was almost like your gaze trapped him in a spell, taking over his actions and drawing him towards you like a magnet. He’s never wanted you as much as he did right now, seeing you in his home, sitting on the stool in his kitchen. Your eyes widen when you’ve snapped back to reality.

Before he can do anything, the sound of the front door unlocking stops him and he’s stepping away to tidy up his mess as if nothing happened. Eric comes in to greet you happily and life continues on just as it had prior to Sunwoo leaning into your personal space. He acts like it never occurred, laughing along at a stupid joke your brother made.

And for some reason, you thought he would keep pretending nothing happened. What a rude awakening you were in for.

It’s a couple days into your trip and you were sitting on a lounge chair poolside, while Eric and Haknyeon had gone to get drinks. Sunwoo placed himself in the seat next to you, his sculpted chest and torso gleaming in all their tanned glory.

He knew it was wrong of him to pine after his best friend’s sister, but how could he not? There was something about your maturity that drove him crazy. But even if you ignored that, anyone who could see would find you stunningly gorgeous. The sight of you scantily clad in a bikini was enough to make the strongest men weak.

Perhaps it was also the thrill that you were nearly a decade older than him.

At this point, you weren’t sure if the warmth engulfing your body was from the sun or the brunette’s intense gaze, but you want to push your luck, the incident at the apartment still fresh on your mind.

“Sunwoo? Do you mind putting some sunscreen on my back for me?” You ask innocently, grasping the base of the tube firmly. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips.

She knows what she’s doing, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, s’no problem,” he responds cooly, standing from his chair to sit behind you on yours.

You’re borderline on his lap, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just to fuck with him some more, you reach behind yourself to untie your swim suit top.

You’ve been on this playing field long enough to know when a man wants you, but you’ve never been an easy target. It was like a game of cat and mouse for you. Right when they think they’ve got you, you always seem to be three steps ahead.

This little chase that you were leading Sunwoo on wasn’t any different.

His fingers dance dangerously low on your back, working the lotion into your skin wonderfully. As you’ve gotten older, your body has undoubtedly changed. The fat of your thighs was far more than it was when you were in your early twenties/late teens. Your stomach was lined with stretch marks, no two the same. But even so, you remained ever confident. You wouldn’t put up with anyone who wouldn’t agree that your so-called ‘imperfections’ were beautiful.

After a few minutes, once the trap had been set, you tied your bathing suit back. The ghost of his skilled fingers lingered as you stood from the lounge chair, spotting your brother and Haknyeon walking back.

The brunette had never been denied before. He got what he wanted without fail, and he’d be damned if this was the one outlier. He’d just have to prove to you that even though he was younger, he was more of a man than any you’d ever been with. And that was a promise.

Later that evening, the four of you had gone to your respective rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. Luckily, Eric had used his brain for something good and reserved separate hotel rooms for each of you. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said.

You did the finishing touches of your makeup and checked your phone, finding a text from your brother.

[8:07] eric: we’re all in the lobby

[8:07] eric: just waiting on u

[8:07] eric: but take ur time dear sister pls don’t rush on our account

[8:08] eric: it’s not like we have an uber waiting for us or anything

[8:08] eric: note the sarcasm btw

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse, tossing the device inside. Who was he to talk about how long it took you to get ready? You were in your thirties and you were not about to be bossed around by your little brother. Back when he was still in high school, you were the one telling him to speed up his morning process.

Your dad had gotten a job halfway across the country right before his second year and it crushed him. You remember how upset he was when they broke the news, the thought of packing up his entire life and leaving all of his friends stung. So instead, you got a well paying job and bought a two bedroom apartment for the both of you, that way he could stay and finish out the rest of high school. You made some sacrifices, sure, but you were practically done experimenting in your life. You were in your late twenties by this point, what more was there to do? You’d already graduated from university so helping out your brother was doing everyone a favor.

After living together for nearly three years, you and Eric had grown a lot closer. With such an age difference, it’d been difficult to relate to one another and bond over certain things. When he’d discovered a new phase to go through, you had moved past it years prior. You were always just out of reach from each other until then. It was like the universe itself was trying to bring you together.

Even now, both of you much older, he still calls and asks to come over to your place so he can hang out. You meant just as much to him as he did to you.

The elevator dings, opening so you can stroll towards the group of young men waiting for you. Right when they caught sight of you, you started making your way to the Uber parked under the carport outside of the hotel.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but you could feel an intense gaze on your form. Purposefully, you’d worn your most revealing outfit. A nice tight dress to hug your matured body and some skinny heels to elongate your legs. You were thankful that your brother wasn’t the type to be overly protective, well aware that his older sister could carry her own by now. However, you think even Haknyeon had started to pick up on your actions and the unspoken tension between you and Sunwoo.

You arrived at your location for the evening, stepping out of the car gracefully. You received multiple stares from other patrons and even a few employees. You weren’t sure if it was because you were just that drop dead gorgeous, or if it was another reason entirely. Maybe they were wondering what three men who looked as young as they did, were doing with an older woman such as yourself.

You don’t have to dwell on it for too long, a host showing the four of you to a booth almost immediately. Shout out to Eric and Sunwoo for having connections.

The seating arrangement ends up with you and Sunwoo on one side, Haknyeon and Eric on the other. You had a feeling this was not a good idea. They’d dropped you right where he wanted.

When the waitress comes to take your drink order, you feel the toasty warmth of a hand on your thigh, nearly tripping you up as you point out a margarita on the rocks from the menu. After she jots everything down, she taps her pen against the tablet. She then gestures between your party.

“Are any of you dating?” she asks curiously, eyeing you with a quirk to her brow. To anyone else, it’s a normal question. Eric, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo were indeed good looking guys. (One of them was your brother, of course he was attractive— where do you think he got it from?) But you could see right through her fake act. She had to have recognized the three baseball players.

“Haha, no actually. She’s my sister.” Eric chuckles, pointing at you with his thumb. She narrows her eyes momentarily before covering it up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ah, tú hermana.” She tries to laugh off, but when the boys furrow their eyebrows, she realizes it fell upon deaf ears. You fight the urge to burst into laughter at how stupid they were.

“She said ‘your sister’ in Spanish. Idiots, I swear.” You explain to the still confused table. They let out a chorus of ‘ohhhh’s in response. Learning Spanish was something you’re glad you did, seeing as you sometimes needed to translate during your trip. You would definitely hold it over them when you got back.

The waitress seems to notice how close you and Sunwoo are sitting, but doesn’t call you out on it. While the other two are oblivious to her fixation, the brunette catches on quickly, squeezing the inside of your thigh as she continues her silly little version of twenty questions.

“Cuantos años tienes?” She asks you personally, realizing that you can understand her. What ever happened to girls supporting girls?

“How old are you?”

“En mis treinta.” You answer without hesitation, not exactly telling her for the sake of your own satisfaction. The press of Sunwoo’s fingers trails upward, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“In my thirties.”

You can sense that she wants to say something snarky to you, her opposition to your age clear as glass, but she chooses not to. Whether that’s because she wants to seem like a good person in front of the boys or otherwise, you couldn’t care less. As long as you hadn’t been disrespected. And you knew if you were, Eric and the guys would jump to defend you with all their beings.

After what feels like a millennium, she finally leaves you alone, even going to the extent of switching tables with another waitress. Was that even allowed? You’re not entirely sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with someone rude.

The majority of the dinner goes smoothly, the drinks and the food tasting unlike anything you’d ever had. Haknyeon couldn’t stop raving about the different flavors he was experiencing. At some point you think he told the waitress to send his thanks to the chef, in true Haknyeon fashion. That was the majority. The rest of the dinner was spent in absolute agony.

A certain baseball player couldn’t keep his hands to himself, eating with one and teasing you with the other. How no one paid any attention to what was happening right in front of them was beyond you. You’d even accidentally whimpered, covering it up by pretending the food was just that good.

The check couldn’t come fast enough, your body betraying you and anticipating getting back to the hotel. Your brother had different plans, claiming that the night was still young and he wanted to have drinks somewhere else. Your disappointment must’ve been obvious, because Sunwoo comes to your rescue.

“Eric, I think your sister’s ready to hit the hay.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, one hand on his hip.

“Oh we can head back then—“ You interrupt him.

“No no, it’s fine, Eric, I'll be okay on my own. You guys have fun, don’t let me stop you.” You dismiss him. You could get rid of your problem yourself this way. No one to bother—

“I’ll go with you. Someone’s gotta make sure you get to your room safely, N/N. Besides, I'm beat. The sun’s starting to catch up to me.” Sunwoo grins, ruffling your hair. You glare at him, your irritation coming to light for the first time since you’d landed in the country. You’d done so well at acting like he wasn’t affecting you.

“Alright sick! Thanks, Sunwoo! Hak and I will see you tomorrow I guess,” Eric says. He turns to you, hugging your side. “I'll check to see if you’re still awake later.”

And that was that. You and your brother went your separate ways, ordering two Ubers for the pairs you were in.

It took all of about seconds following the ding of the elevator reaching your floor, for Sunwoo’s lips to meet yours. You jump, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, his large palms supporting you from your ass. It was so attractive that he could hold you like this— showing off the muscles he’s built from all his years of playing baseball, a far cry from that scrawny kid you knew when he was younger

He fumbles with his keycard, waving it frantically in front of the sensor. There’s a flash of green and he pushes the door open wide enough to fit the two of you through its threshold. Never once do your mouths disconnect, kissing each other so feverishly it raises the temperature of the room. He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot, pressing you up against the floor to ceiling mirror-wall beside the bathroom. The heat radiating off of your body fogs up the outline of your figure.

Sunwoo can’t seem to get enough of you, groping and grabbing any part of you that he can. You have to admit, you’ve never felt so needed— so wanted— in your life. In the messiness of teeth clashing and tongues tangling, your desperation begins to run rampant. You whine as he tugs at your bottom lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, N/N,” his voice is husky and breathy, his soft pants filling your ears. He pecks your bare shoulder affectionately, cupping your right breast in his hand. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to take me seriously… to let me treat you like a real man should.”

His knee nudges itself between your legs, creating some much appreciated friction momentarily, his erection prominent against your thigh.

“I know that you know what you're doing when you dress like this. All slutty and revealing, showing yourself off to everyone,” his mouth hovers over the skin of your neck, goosebumps littering the surface. “But really, you do it for me, huh? You do it on purpose ‘cause you know how crazy it makes me. You know exactly what I’ve been wanting since we got here. That’s my smart girl.”

You can’t help the small moan that erupts from the back of your throat, his words and the wet feeling of his tongue circling the area he had just been sucking on going straight to the excitement pooling in your belly. He smiles mischievously, thumb running over your clothed nipple.

You’d been so lost in pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he’d moved you to the bed, your back on the fluffy white comforter and your thighs spread apart for him. He takes a hold of the back of his collar and removes his shirt in one swift motion, pushing your dress upward afterwards to assist you in discarding it.

His eyes rake your now half-naked body, the fullness of your tits nearly spilling out from the lacy nude strapless bra you were wearing. He drags a finger along your lace covered slit, his lips curling when he watches you shudder underneath his touch.

“Sunwoo, please…”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it. And you need it badly.

“Please, what?” He tsks, now massaging your inner thighs, working you up just like he wants. You pout, hoping to convey the message without pleading. Embarrassment floods your body when you realize he’s not gonna make it easy for you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, hoping to will away the sheer mortification flushing your entire being. “P-please touch me.”

This fuels his ego even further. As if it could get any bigger.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you. When you obey his request, he hooks his long fingers into the waistband of your panties. “There we go. See, good girls get what they ask for.”

He slides them off, parting your legs immediately. The cool air makes you flinch. The one article of clothing that kept you unexposed was gone now, along with the confident woman from earlier in the day.

He repeats his actions from minutes ago, his pointer finger collecting your slick as it slides through your folds with ease. The squelching sound it makes is horrifying, your shame settling back into place. He kisses the plane of your stomach gently, murmuring into the skin.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? Do you hear how excited you are for me? There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”

Your eyes widen at his words, opening your mouth to say something in retaliation but he takes this opportunity to bury two fingers inside of you. A gasp leaves your throat consequently, your back arching on instinct. It had been a while since a man had set aside time for foreplay. He truly was making good on his word, treating you like a real man should.

He lowers himself, positioning his face in front of your pussy and darts his tongue across his lips before flattening it against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, though that reaction is nothing compared to what happens next. He curls his fingers inside of you, brushing that certain spongy spot that drives you insane, then begins alternating between kitten licking and sucking on the engorged skin of your clit.

You cry out, hands flying down to tug at his hair and dig your nails into his scalp. He doesn’t appear to mind at all, more like he enjoys it, reveling in the way you’re losing yourself to him slowly but surely. It's a dream come true for him. He's finally getting the opportunity to completely ruin you after waiting for-what-felt-like-ever. Horny, teenage Sunwoo would be jumping for joy over this.

He remembers the first time he met you. Eric had invited him, Haknyeon, and other members of the team over to your shared apartment for a team bonding during their second year. The only thought in his mind upon seeing you was ‘damn, I love older women.’ You were just so sure of yourself, he couldn’t help the tightness in his pants and the thumping in his chest.

And those feelings never seemed to fade.

In fact, it appeared that they grew with time. He’d dated other girls since then, especially because he was so popular in high school and in university. Yet for some reason he could never quite pinpoint, things never worked out. They just didn’t feel like the one for him, so he’d end the relationship before anyone got hurt more than they had to. Then the yearly trip would happen and Eric would update him on your life and his crush on you would come rushing back to him.

Even when you’d gotten engaged a few years ago, nothing could stop the way his heart beat only for you and you alone. He didn’t really like the dude all that much, but expressed support for you anyway because he wanted you to be happy. After Eric told him that he broke off the engagement to pursue someone else, Sunwoo just about lost it. He wanted to hunt the guy down himself. He couldn’t fathom how one could just throw away the once in a lifetime opportunity of calling you his. You deserved the world and so much more.

Everything resurfaces and it’s evident in the way his fingers dive even deeper inside of you, his appendage lapping mercilessly at your aching clit. You don’t question him even if you wanted to, your entire body feeling like it’s on cloud 9. He takes a break from licking and sucks at the sweet spot harshly, ripping out a prolonged moan from your lips.

Your release is in your field of vision now, so close that you can nearly taste it. You attempt to buck your hips up into his mouth to chase what you’re yearning for. He senses exactly what’s happening, so he slows his assault, much to your aggravation. You can’t even help the pleas that tumble from the back of your throat.

“No no no no, please,” you sit up, your hands still intertwined with his messy brown locks. “Sun, please… why’d you stop?”

His smile is almost conniving, you swear you can see his canines peeking through. He hovers above you, caging you between his torso and the bed. “You've been having all the fun, so now I think it’s time I have some, too.”

You’re about to ask what he means, when he steps back to undo his belt and zipper, pushing down his pants in record speed. Even through the black material of his (expensive looking) briefs, you can tell he’s well endowed. You rub your legs together, still sensitive from being deprived of your orgasm, and your hunger for all of him increases immensely.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles, switching places with you. He sits at the edge of the bed, his legs open enough for you to fit between them. You bite your bottom lip, gripping each of his muscular thighs. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get crushed by them. It sure would be a hell of a way to die.

He leans back onto his palms, bunching up the sheets in his fists. You move forward to press your mouths in a searing kiss, cupping his clothed erection in your hand. He groans as his teeth nearly gnash with yours. You seize the chance to discard his underwear and massage his cock. The warmth and length of it makes your mouth water, almost whimpering at how flushed it is. You can tell that he’s painfully hard in the way he’s extremely responsive to all of your touches. You swipe your thumb over his slit, collecting the pre cum that’s formed there.

After deciding that enough is enough, he parts from you in favor of ordering you to get on your knees. You maintain eye contact as you wrap your lips around him, the nerves you’d been feeling all night finally washing off. Your tongue swirls around the tip a few times before it licks a broad line from the base back up along the underside. You take him down your throat this time, massaging his balls as you do so. Your cheeks hollow out as you bob your head, your hands jerking what you can’t fit.

An erratic knock at the door startles both of you and you’re about to remove yourself from him, but he keeps you there with a large hand, urging you to continue. You listen reluctantly, assuming the person would just go away if you ignored them.

However, the knock comes again moments later. Sunwoo looks down at you. His eyes tell you all you need to know, so you don’t stop.

“Sunwoo! Hey, have you seen my sister? She’s not in her room.”

You practically choke on him at the sound of your brother’s voice, but he still doesn’t let you pause. His attention doesn’t leave you as he replies.

“Uh yeah, she’s borrowing my shower. Hers wasn’t working.” He lies. His eyes bore into yours intensely, the knowledge that he had Eric’s hot older sister right here in front of him on her knees shrouding his mind.

The brunette outside seems to find that answer sufficient enough and doesn’t interrogate further. “Okay, cool. Just tell her to text me when she gets back to her room.”

“You got it.”

His footsteps can be heard padding against the carpet of the hallway as he walks away.

Your nose brushes against the hair at the base of his cock before he cups your cheeks and lifts your mouth off of him. You take in a deep breath, keeping your hands on his dick firmly. As you regain your breathing, you leave kisses all over, starting at the tip and ending down the shaft. You feel him shudder beneath you, a satisfaction coming from knowing that you’re the one who has him so weak.

You had Kim Sunwoo wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Unbeknownst to you, that’d always been the case. Since day one. But it didn’t matter at the moment. All that either of you cared about right now was wrecking each other.

He slides his cock down your throat again, loving the sight of you getting face fucked by him. You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to grasp at your hair tightly, though you don’t mind the sting either.

“You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me. Can’t wait until I’m inside you,” he hisses when your tongue runs over his slit. “You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Until you can’t even remember your own name?”

You release him from your lips once more, nodding frantically. It’s almost pathetic how needy you are for him, your brother’s best friend, someone nearly ten years younger than yourself. “Yes, please, Sunwoo. I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t walk properly.”

His smirk from your pleads is ungodly. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers before he pulls you up to kiss you roughly. Even though he has this big dominant act up on display, you know he wants you just as much. And he conveys it in the desperate way he moves his mouth against yours with such fervor.

After a few minutes, both of you get sick of wasting time and he flips you around so you’re on your back. He nips at your neck, whispering dirtily as he pumps himself in his hands.

“The only thing I want on your mind is me, you got that?” He lines his dick up with your hole, nibbling on your earlobe while he does so. “The name Kim Sunwoo is gonna be engraved in your fucking brain after tonight.”

Without any semblance of a warning, he pushes himself in, giving you no time for adjustment. His cock fills you up nicely, better than you’ve ever been before, and the feeling alone rips a particularly loud moan out of you. “Oh my god, Sun. Y-you're so big and your cock f-feels so g-good. So s-so good.”

“You’re so tight, your pussy is squeezing me. You gonna cream on my dick?”

He gives you another one of those sly grins, where it’s almost like he’s baring his canines to you, and you swear you’ve never wanted to be ruined as much as you do now.

His pace is unrelenting, nothing but sheer power going into every thrust of his hips. His cock hits places deep inside that you didn’t know existed. It amazes you how much stamina he has and it doesn’t appear like he’s letting up any time soon.

“Sunwoo, just like that— f-fuck yes— right there,”

“Look at you, Y/N, so fucking messy and all because of me.”

He hooks one of your knees on his shoulder, plunging even further into your pussy. The mewl you release is voluminous, enough to wake up anyone in the rooms surrounding his. One of his hands holds your leg in place while the other travels south, gripping your side and using his thumb to vigorously circle your clit.

The added stimulation is just what you need to nudge you closer to your tipping point, what you were deprived of earlier. He, of course, notices that and stops his attack with his finger. You whine in protest, not wanting to deal with his teasing again right now.

You open your mouth to express your distaste at the same moment he rolls his hips experimentally. So instead of complaining about his edging, you let out a choked groan.

“Sunwoo, please, let me cum. Please, I'm begging. I need to.” You hate that you’re in this position, but you can’t hold out much longer. Fatigue is catching up to you and if you don’t cum soon, you might pass out.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want me to let you cum?” He all but growls in your ear. You moan wantonly in response, quickly becoming a babbling mess. “I think you can wait a bit longer. Take it like a big girl, yeah?”

Your other leg wraps around his waist, allowing his already buried cock to kiss at your cervix. The new angle is unhinged, short circuiting your brain. Discarding any thought behind your actions, moving on autopilot, you pull him down to press your mouths together.

The combination of passion and pure lust drives both of you wild, fueling your desires. His lips part from yours and he moans breathily as you clench down on him, the exhale fanning over the lower part of your face. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and you’d do just about anything to hear it again. The brunette was completely unaware of the effects he had on you, something as simple as a noise kicking you into high gear.

But it seems even he’s reaching his limits, not able to hold himself back anymore. In an attempt to finish you both off quickly, he brutalizes each piston of his pelvis. Your nails sink into his shoulders.

“F-fuck— S-Sunwoo I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— so fucking—“

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and resumes its previous attack, the other circling around a peaked nipple, cutting you off. You arch into him, trying to bring the two of you impossibly closer. His cock rams in and out of you almost inhumanely at the rate he was going. With one particularly harsh thrust, he commands,

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The words send you overboard and you release around him, simultaneously gripping him like a vice and moaning so pornographically, you kind of feel bad for everyone else staying on this floor. Your whole body spasms with your orgasm, hushed moans falling from your swollen lips. Seconds later the twitch of his dick alerts you as he follows, filling you up with the warmth of his own cum. Had he not still been inside you, you were certain it’d flow right out, something akin to Niagara Falls. But you’re both too busy trying to catch your breaths to really pay attention to any of that extra stuff.

The ache was settling in your bones instantaneously, and you half-regretted encouraging him to ‘fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk properly’.

After what feels like an eternity, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, your pussy clenching at nothing and feeling empty as he presses a soft peck on the tip of your nose, his dominant personality dissipating along with it.

The moment feels strangely domestic, his coos of praise and the worry that he was too rough with you not flying over your head. Things like ‘you did so well, sweetheart’, ‘I’m so proud of you, baby’, and ‘your pussy was made for my cock’ floated around the air. He caressed your belly with one hand and your hair with the other before pulling himself away from you fully.

“Let me go get you a towel,” he smiles warmly, disappearing into the bathroom he told your brother you were borrowing. When he comes back, he has a fresh pair of briefs on and a damp washcloth on his forearm. “You know, I‘ve had the biggest crush on you since high school. The moment Eric introduced us, I practically fell in love.”

He carefully cleans up your cum covered thighs, weary of how sensitive you are. It dawns on him that you’re fighting back your sleep, but he also realizes that you can’t stay in his room, running the risk of being compromised and Eric finding out. He helps you into a sitting position and leads you to the bath.

He washes your hair and body for you, increasing the overwhelming amount of domesticity that you already started to feel. Even with his admission, you didn’t want to assume that this was something he really wanted. You’d made that mistake before, with your asshole of an ex fiancé, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of that happening with him. He was a young, hot professional baseball player. Why would he want to be tied down to you?

With a towel wrapped tightly around your body and your clothes draped over a shoulder, he aids you in your sneaky trip to your own hotel room. You fumble a bit with the key card, nervous under his gaze for some reason. When you finally get it open, you hurriedly enter, desperate to get away from him to avoid small talk. You were a grown ass woman and here you were, acting like a petulant child.

He reaches for your wrist and stops you prior to getting too far past the door frame. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Why won't you look at me? Did— did I do something wrong?”

“N-no! You didn’t. I just— I don't wanna misinterpret the situation...” You betray yourself and look him in the eyes, nearly melting at the soft chocolate color staring right back. He leans forward to kiss you on the lips. It isn’t rushed or forceful like any of the others from earlier in the night. It’s more like the loving one he placed on your nose. It conveys exactly what he wants to say, but can’t put into words, and rids of your doubts all at once. You instinctively shut your eyes, a smile working its way across your face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Goodnight,” is what he leaves you with, scampering off to his room.

You bring your fingers up to your lips, the stupid grin not disappearing. He wasn’t kidding when he said the name Kim Sunwoo would be engraved in your brain tonight.

The next day, the four of you visit one of the beaches. You chuckle to yourself as you observe Eric and Haknyeon attempting to skimboard, but failing miserably. Your brother flies forward when his board skids to a stop and he stumbles a bit before regaining his bearings. The older laughs at him, hunching over and clutching his stomach as he does so.

Your eyes stay on them for a bit, but your head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching you and the beach towel you were sitting on. You finally glance over when a grunt fills your ears over the crashing waves. Sunwoo leans back onto his palms, sunglasses perched on top of his head. The goods you wanted were set between you, a bag nearly full to the brim with mandarin oranges.

On your way to the beach, you passed a vendor on the street selling different fruits. Among said fruits were the mandarins that caught your attention. You pouted when you realized you left your purse at the hotel, only having your I.D. on you. Being absolutely smitten with you and having no self control, Sunwoo made a promise to himself to come back when you were least expecting to buy you as many as he physically could. (Gift giving was one of his love languages.)

He smiles as your eyes light up like a Christmas tree in August, instinctively reaching for one of the oranges. You bring it up to your nose to smell the faint citrusy scent of the rind, humming contentedly afterwards. With the summer breeze blowing through your hair, the humidity painting your cheeks rosy and the sun behind you giving you a halo-like glow, you look like a scene ripped straight from a movie. Sunwoo feels like the most fortunate guy in the world knowing that he’s the only person who gets to see you like this, committing the visual to memory so he can look back on it whenever he pleases.

He decides that he could die right here right now, and he’d be satisfied with his life. He can already see it, his headstone; Rest in Peace Kim Sunwoo, 2000-2023.

You slowly start to peel the mandarin, each corner of your lips curled upwards. You pop a piece into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of its nectar. Without pausing to think about it, you scoot closer to Sunwoo, feeding him some of the orange. A small giggle escapes the back of your throat when he smiles again, this time at how much more comfortable you are with him. (And also how yummy the mandarin is.)

“It almost tastes as sweet as you.”

He meant for it to be an innocent insinuation, but completely forgot about the fact that it could be misconceived as an innuendo. You slap his shoulder with a gasp because that’s exactly how you took it, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah, I was trying to be cute. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You roll your eyes, shoving a few more pieces of mandarin into his mouth to shut him up. “Kim Sunwoo, you’re lucky I like you.”

His cheeks are puffed up with the fruit and he tries to smile at you, his pouty lips making him look a little silly. You press a quick kiss to them, forgetting that you were very much in public. He turns to you with eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“What if Eric sees?” He swallows thickly.

You shake your head. “Let him. I’m happy. That’s all he really cares about.”

It befuddles you that just a week ago, you never would’ve thought this could happen. A week ago, Sunwoo was still that high school boy who stuttered whenever he spoke to you and came over to yours and Eric’s apartment every day after school. A week ago, you were still apprehensive about putting yourself out there, out of fear that you’d just get hurt again. But somehow, Sunwoo managed to change your entire perspective. And sitting here on this beach towel, feeding him mandarins and giggling at his jokes solidifies that for you.

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #the boyz sunwoo #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #tbz sunwoo #kim sunwoo #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo smut #sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo smut #juyeonszn

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yeonjunszn · 11 months

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ASAP!

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

GENRES! fluff﹒crack﹒slice of life?

WARNINGS! as per usual, it is not a yeonjunszn smau without my sailors mouth — so mature language, coffee shop!au cause i work in one and couldn’t resist myself, this smau is actually a recreation of a yeonjun smau called cool it! by my bff past tumblr user yuitaru, manager mark era, kinda dumb reader (affectionate) era, milf lover jeno, insane jaemin and hyuck, chenle in his nepotism baby era tbh, there’s a fight scene somewhere, also annoying fluffy cute disgusting scenes here and there, an overt amount of coffee shop/barista references bc i am a master at my craft, mr. choi yeonjun has a cameo to pay homage to the original cool it!, ignore time stamps cause i was lazy lol, lmk if i missed anything!

FEAT! the rest of nct dream, yangyang + xiaojun + hendery from wayv, chaewon from le sserafim, sumin from stayc, mingi + the rest of the ateez ‘99 line, and yeonjun from txt

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

STATUS! completed!

BEGINNING! june 1, 2023

END! august 31, 2023

MORE! HELLOOOO im back bffs 😵 did u miss me??? i have a quick little disclaimer for u guys so i don’t get accused of stealing 😻😻😻🫶

thank u so much to rina my bff bestie soulmate for giving me the rights to recreate cool it! and sort of bring back such a fun smau </3 i’ve been working on asap! for quite some time now, between work and school, and i’m so excited i can finally share her with all of u 🫶 i do plan on going back to all my works that are on hold (including my 1k event LOL) but i was sort of burnt out for a while which is why i did all this in absolute silence 😋👍 anyway!! i hope i did her justice <3 send an ask to join the taglist!!

PROFILES! mark’s biggest haters | espresso patronum | the rest of chenle’s coffee maids

ONE! please no tweeting on the clock, y/n!

TWO! manager zoned is crazy

THREE! BACK OF THE LINE PAL

FOUR! go work at mcdonald’s or something

FIVE! common chenle L

SIX! i always knew u were a furry

SEVEN! call me karen from mean girls

EIGHT! mark antis 1 - mark 0

NINE! the best ever (1.1k)

TEN! NANEUN ALCOHOL-FREE GEUNDE CHWIHAE

ELEVEN! YESSSS GO GIRL BOSS

TWELVE! i don’t owe u shit freeloader

THIRTEEN! force and sheer determination

FOURTEEN! yoooo mark how it be? what it do?

FIFTEEN! pick me choose me

SIXTEEN! lunch break (499)

SEVENTEEN! DONG SICHENG ?

EIGHTEEN! hey guys this is god

NINETEEN! i will force his hand into a blender

TWENTY! chocolate croissant (841)

TWENTY ONE! #xiaojun_out

TWENTY TWO! grinders and coffee beans (951)

TWENTY THREE! what is a marky/n

TWENTY FOUR! shaking shivering sobbing

TWENTY FIVE! every summertime (1.08k)

TWENTY SIX! worlds worst barista. fired.

TWENTY SEVEN! cool it

#nct #nct smau #nct social media au #nct socmed au #nct mark x reader #nct mark smau #mark lee x reader #mark lee smau #mark lee social media au #mark x reader #mark smau #mark social media au #asap.mark❕#yeonjunszn

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enkas-illusion · 5 months

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Games at the Fair

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Fluff – nonetheless, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Theme: Friends to lovers (more like situationship to relationship I guess??) ; non-sorcerer au

Content warning: fluff, jealous Nanami, flirty stranger Choso x reader, suggestive, mentions of smut

Summary:

You've been conflicted over your situationship with Nanami Kento ever since the two of you shared a moment two weeks ago. The elephant in the room has been left unaddressed so meeting your crush/friend for the first time in two weeks makes you feel some type of way. The stars align when a hot stranger named Choso tries to woo you at the fair, you decide to indulge in his advances a bit to force a reaction out of Kento instead of talking to him like a sensible adult.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first attempt at writing a one-shot. Borderline giggling-in-your-bed, kicking-your-feet type fluff but love is cringe so it is what it is. All characters are in their 20s. If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment. Open to criticism, just be kind about it. Thank you for reading!

-Eren’s Birdie

Song dedication: Yes or No by Jungkook / Love Talk (English Ver.) by WayV

Your eyes wander to the cafe door once again when you hear it open. You think you're being sneaky with it but your desperation did not go unnoticed by a certain loudmouth.

"He'll be here, chill already! Kento is a man of his word," Gojo teases, making the rest of the group giggle.

"Yeah well... okay whatever." You reply curtly. Your gaze moves up from your coffee to look at your friends, only to find Satoru, Suguru and Shoko all looking at you intently.

"We were pretty drunk that night but not so wasted that we’d forget everything. We saw you two leave the club together and you're kinda painfully obvious about your infatuation... So what's up with you two?" Suguru inquires calmly.

Geto often swears he couldn't care less about gossip but he's annoyingly attentive when it comes to catching hints and linking pieces together when there's any sort of drama encroaching.

You consider rolling your eyes but for some reason you feel like a criminal caught in an act... there's only so much one can evade before they gotta surrender. So you give in and lean forward towards the table but not before glancing at the door. Only this time, it's to make sure Nanami isn't the one walking in.

"Well, that night, if you guys remember, Kento was the only one who had decided to stay sober since he assigned himself as the driver-" You began, only to be interrupted by Gojo.

"Yeah and for what?! He booked an uber for the rest of us anyway when he left alone with you." Shoko smacks him on the head as if to shut him up. You side-eye him as you continue your story.

"Anyway... so, having had one too many shots, I was right up there with you guys. But when I started feeling a bit uneasy, Kento offered to drop me home and come back again." You realise you're fidgeting with the sugar packet on the table nervously but you stop the action as you look up to see all three of your friends leaning in, waiting for you to continue. It almost makes you laugh but you hold back because you know the odds aren't particularly in your favour with this story, and you’d hate to be teased for it by them later tonight.

"And then he drove me to my place. I invited him up for a cup of coffee-"

"At like 2 in the morning?" It's Suguru this time.

"It was the alcohol talking, okay?" You sigh and he simply shrugs, urging you to continue.

"We did end up having some coffee and we talked till like 4am? I’m not actually sure but it was late late. By that time, I was neither buzzed, nor uneasy. I was well aware of everything that was happening... and it just so happened that we kinda kissed and then he blurted out some excuse and left." You mumble towards the end of the sentence; so much so that if your friends weren't as invested in this story, they would've probably missed what you'd just said.

"HOLD ON- what do you mean kinda kissed and left?" Satoru almost yells. "Please elaborate." Suguru adds.

"Well, it just happened, okay? I don't know how to explain it, one minute we were talking and the next minute he held my face and pulled me in to kiss me so sensually, yet so softly that I honestly don't know what to make of it! But when things got heated, he excused himself cause he didn't think it was right to take advantage of me when I was drunk. I tried telling him I wasn't but he just left. He said he'd talk to me later but he has texted me about everything BUT the incident as if it never happened and do you know how annoying it is cause it's been TWO WHOLE WEEKS!" You sigh, out of breath, only now realising you could probably give Eminem a run for his money with how quickly you blurted everything out.

"Jeezzzz... that's bad. How can Ken fumble so badly?" Gojo laughs in disbelief.

Shoko adds, "He clearly likes you, and it's obvious you like him too - yet both of y'all are pussies who are too scared to do anything about it. It's the most frustrating trope of all romances if you ask me."

"Well, what do you want me to do? He has to be the one to initiate it. He's the one who left me hanging." You state, matter-of-factly.

"Whatever it is, figure it out asap cause here comes your man." Satoru gives you a sly smile before waving and smiling at the door. You turn to look at Kento walking in. He's wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway and you mentally slap yourself for instantly feeling aroused at the sight.

"Hi," his voice breaks your trance as you greet him back along with everyone else. "Sorry for being late, I had to wrap up some things last minute at work." He adds. Maybe you're being delusional but it sort of feels like he's directed it specifically to you.

"No worries Kennyyy, we've got our tickets right here, we can walk right in front of the line at each ride." Gojo waves the tickets proudly as Kento makes a less than pleasant face at his friend's stupid nickname.

"Thank you Satoru, what would I possibly do without you." Kento says it with a straight face, making you snort quietly. Your eyes meet for a split second when he looks at you and suddenly you're reminded of how nervous you're supposed to be around him.

"Let's get going? Would still hate a big crowd even if we had the premium passes." Suguru interjects as you all pay and leave.

You hand Kento a Matcha-flavoured cold coffee. Although it's common knowledge that it's his go-to drink of choice, he raises an eyebrow in surprise while accepting it. "Thank you." He gives you a quick smile as he walks out the coffee shop, next to you.

But wait a minute... Your brain goes into overthinking mode as you realise you seem too pliant. Bringing him his favourite drink, making those eyes at him, laughing at his jokes, seemingly ignoring the elephant in the room for his convenience.

And before you could rationalise with your own self, you clarify, "We knew the guys would want to rush to the fair as soon as you arrive so Shoko thought it'd be a good idea to order yours beforehand."

Lies. Pure bullshit. But two can play this game so that’s exactly what you were planning to do.

The carnival was a short walk away and Gojo generously allows everyone about 20 minutes to do their own thing before calling them to where the roller coaster is.

Suguru and Satoru had split from the rest to check out the Mirror house and Horror house. You lock arms with Shoko as the two of you seemingly share a single brain cell when you rush towards the candy stall. This stall in particular had been on your list ever since Shoko had heard that they had candy in every flavour imaginable. Nanami tags alongside with his hands in his pocket, comfortable with being left out.

"Let's get the basics out of the way. The sweetest, tooth decaying batch for Satoru?" You wonder out loud.

"And half sour, half spicy for Suguru?" Shoko adds and the person attending to you suggests a few options. While you're busy choosing for the boys, you hear Nanami speak for the first time in what feels like forever. "What are you planning to pick for me?"

"Kento you're never really picky about food so I don't really know what you enjoy… I'm the wrong person to ask…" Shoko says awkwardly. She was trying to give you an opening. He looks at you to check if you caught onto the fact that the question wasn't for her to begin with.

"Hmm… since you're here, it'd be best that you pick whatever you like." You give him a half-forced smile.

He looks like he’s about to retaliate but his mouth closes as soon as it opens and it has you wondering what he’s fighting his own mind over so hard. Was it really that conflicting to decide whether he liked you or not? You push the unnecessary thought to the back of your head, not really wanting to dive deep into the feelings department at that moment.

Instead he turns around and picks a mixed bag of chocolates that ranges from pure milk to 99% cocoa. You would've picked the same for him and it kind of makes you happy that you know him so well. Maybe you were being a bit mean now, but nevermind - this is the plan, to rile him up so much that he has no option but to realise that some issues need addressing.

Once you pay for the candies, you buy a few more snacks from other stalls before you see Gojo's texts on the group chat, calling everyone to where the roller coaster is.

Like Gojo had said before, the premium ticket really does push you to the top of the line. You barely have to wait for a few moments for them to do the basic machinery check before the group of 12 people that you're a part of is let in.

As if following an unspoken agreement, Shoko and Suguru sit together at the front but Satoru is too much of a dumbass to get the memo. As soon as Kento sits on one of the seats, Satoru climbs in next to him. You quickly sit behind Kento to avoid further embarrassment.

Shoko turns around and her face almost looks murderous when she stares at Gojo. He only shrugs back at her. Seriously, how can someone be so smart yet so oblivious and clueless when it actually counts???

You're too busy to notice the person next to you. But you turn your head when you see their seatbelt being secured in place along with yours.

"Well if it isn't my lucky day," the guy says as he looks at you, "... sitting on a roller coaster next to a pretty lady."

You're amused by the compliment. You know this all too well — the easy to flirt, charming, hot guy who knows exactly what to say to get the girls swooning. The tattooed sleeve and dishevelled hair only feed into the fuckboy image and you know better than to be serious so you decide to humour him.

"And why might sitting next to pretty ladies be of any consolation? Don't tell me you're scared of a carnival ride." You feign shock.

"Nah, it's a relief. We get the hand holding part out of the way, and when this is done, we can move onto better rides." He winks at you.

"And who says I'm holding your hand?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"And why wouldn't you want to?" He challenges you, copying your tone. He makes a waving motion over his face and body as if to present himself to you. It kinda makes you laugh as you visibly cringe.

"Alright, fine! We can go the usual route of dinner and a movie first!" He adds.

"My god, you're relentless!" You're fully laughing at how unserious this strange man is.

"Actually people usually call me Choso but I think I can get used to Relentless." He puts his hand out and you shake it briefly.

"Hi Relentless, I'm y/n," you reply, smiling.

"A pretty name for a pretty lady," he says, repeating your name. You hear the first signal that secures the seatbelts in place. Choso puts his hand out and you look at him.

Your eyes briefly wander to the front to check if the stranger's words had any effect on Nanami. Even if it did, you're disappointed to see that he wasn't showing it at all.

"I don't remember saying yes?" You question playfully.

"Will it improve my chances if I say that I'm terrified of roller coasters?" He retorts.

"Are you? For real?" You ask, surprised.

"Nope." He snorts, still holding his hand open invitingly. You laugh before swatting his hand away.

"I don't hold hands till the 10th date!" You joke as another signal blares and the roller coaster slowly begins moving towards the drop.

"So does that mean I can hold your hand after 9 more dates?" He teases.

"Guess you'll never know unless you try." You tease him back.

Just before the dip, you swear you saw Kento look back to give Choso a quick stare down, but before your brain could note it for later analysis, the adrenaline overtook as soon as the ride commenced.

When it ends, you quickly say your goodbyes to Choso before you regroup with your friends. You'd stay here all night if you were to decipher each of your friends' emotions but more or less everyone made a what was that!? face, except for Kento. His face had pure annoyance written over it. You were almost surprised by how obvious his usually unreadable face was.

You change the subject to talk about random shit as you walk towards the games section. When the rest of the group starts chattering about whatever, Nanami pulls at your arm to slow your pace to let the group walk ahead. You slow down as you fall behind and he finally speaks up.

"Care to explain?" His voice is calm but laced with irritation.

"Explain what?" You frown.

"I thought we..." he trails off, as if he's unsure about the right words to use. You decide you’ve had enough of him wanting to say something yet saying nothing at all. So you decide to do it for him.

"Yes, I also thought we had something going on but it's okay, you take your time, ignore me for 2 more weeks if it suits you and run away again the next time something happens." You say, mostly calm but almost not. It's only now that you were letting your annoyance take control because you were upset. Clearly. The last two weeks had been awful, mentally playing a game of ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ each time he texted you.

Kento's eyes soften as he runs his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, I should've reached out. I got busy with work after the weekend and later I figured I could just talk to you face-to-face when we met today."

Excuses. Not good enough.

"You had plenty of chances to do just that in the last hour or so. I like you Kento... I don't know how many more hints you want. But I'm kinda disappointed..." you look at him.

Nope this is enough, best not to take shit any further, you decide. But that's the problem with confronting someone, you always test the limits of how much you can poke a person till they burst, "I hate indecisiveness. At least Choso knows for sure what he wants and makes his move on time."

The puppy eyes he was looking at you with up until a second ago fade away and his jaw tightens as he gulps whatever words he had on the tip of his tongue. Speaking of the devil, as if on cue, you see Choso near the games section, only to find him already looking at you.

"Date 2?" Choso grins at you, "Tell me sweetheart, do you like stuffed toys?" You nod.

You can sense the tension as Choso ignores Kento who’s standing right next to you the whole time. You walk further away from both the men, suddenly finding the display of the soft toys a bit too interesting. Shoko is looking at the stacked toy pyramid and you ask her what prize is for what game.

"The dolphins and elephants at the bottom are for whack-a-mole," she says, pointing at Satoru who's frantically trying to win it.

"The random tier above it, ugliest by the way, is for the ring hoop thingy," she points at Suguru trying his hand at the game.

"And the top tier with the fluffy teddy bears is for Target shooting," she points at the stall where you were just a minute ago. You turn to look at Choso and Kento both picking up rifles to begin shooting their respective targets.

No matter how annoyed you may be at him, you can never ignore just how beautiful the man is. His forearms look delicious as he adjusts the rifle to his shoulder. You peel your eyes away from Kento’s veiny arms with much difficulty and focus your eyes on the target.

Each person gets five shots. Five clean shots to win the teddy bear. And both the guys take their aims in tandem. It almost feels like watching two teams take penalties during a FIFA world cup finale, not knowing who's gonna win.

You know Kento is competitive but he's always a good sport even when he loses a card or board game to you. Once again you’re surprised to see him groan out loud in frustration when he misses the last shot, whereas Choso gets a perfect score, winning the teddy bear.

Choso brings the big teddy and hands it to you, "Let's exchange gifts? My teddy for your number?" You smile at the soft toy in your hands. Before you have a chance to respond, you hear Kento’s stern voice coming from behind Choso.

"No. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let that happen." he declares. Hell of an awkward situation to be in as Choso, you and Shoko all stare at Kento, who looks visibly angry.

Kento points at the Panda at the very top, the biggest prize of them all, "What the hell is that one for?"

"Oh... No one tries that ‘cause it's the hardest, Beat the bar challenge. You gotta hang onto the pull up bar for 3 whole minutes so it's basically an impossible prize." Shoko explains.

"Okay." Is all Kento says in return as he walks towards the man in charge of the bar challenge game. He gives the man a token and pulls up his sleeves even further as he grabs the bar.

You stare in disbelief as the countdown lights up on an LED display next to the bar as he hangs to it. It has you baffled that Nanami is doing this out of pure spite and jealousy but you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by the change in his demeanour, seeing him all worked up like this.

As he passes the two minute mark, without any sign of struggle, a sizable crowd gathers there to see if he really takes the panda home. Towards the end, Gojo and Geto start the 15 seconds countdown, hollering and hooting to cheer at their friend.

When Nanami's eyes meet yours, his cocky smile only grows when he sees you cheer on him as well. The tiny crowd roars when the 3 minute mark is crossed.

He half-yells a, "Just to be sure" as he does a muscle up with ease before jumping down from the bar. You're impressed but you still mouth a ‘show off’ as you roll your eyes at him jokingly. He walks towards you with the prize panda in hand.

The panda is about three feet tall and extremely fluffy — no wonder it was the top prize.

Kento, not so politely, pulls away the bear Choso had won for you and instead holds his panda out in front of you. He looks to the side to find the other man and with a smug smile tosses the bear back at Choso, who catches it with quick reflex.

You're still processing the whole thing because you kinda want to memorise every moment - this is so out of character for the stoic man you've always had a crush on. You've liked him for how calm and composed he is but seeing him like this has almost multiplied your attraction to him tenfold. Guess you pressed all the right buttons.

He pulls you out of your reverie as he says, "Is this decisive enough for you?"

And before you can answer, he pulls at your waist with his free hand till you're flush against his chest.

His head leans down to your level as he kisses you more passionately than he did the first time at your place and you can't help but feel weak in your knees. You feel as if your brain is going to short-circuit any minute now but you kiss him back, relishing every moment of it before he pulls back.

"I'm going to assume that's a yes." You can't help but blush as you look down to avoid his eye contact. How can you possibly stay mad when he has so clearly declared his intentions with you in front of everyone.

"Satoru, I take it you have your car this time. I’m gonna ask for a raincheck on drinks night." Nanami says to his friend. You feel dazed as you simply look at your three friends with equal amounts of embarrassment, shock and excitement.

Reading between the lines isn't hard. Kento might as well have said 'I'm going to fuck her and I cannot wait one moment for it' cause that's what his words seemed to imply.

“Why am I even surprised?" Gojo sighs.

Shoko punches his arm, "I'm pretty sure they couldn't care less about those drinks."

"Righttt," Satoru grins at you and says, "Have fun! Kenny has a really big penny. Saw it in the gym locker room once."

"SATORU!", you scold him.

"Hey dumbass, maintain some decorum." Suguru cringes.

"It's okay, she's about to find out anyway." Kento says coolly as he intertwines his fingers with yours and starts marching towards the gates.

You stare back to see you can't find Choso anywhere. Makes sense, you note to yourself. Then your eyes land on your friends and you grin with all your teeth. You turn your head to the front again as you look up at your man.

Up close, you notice the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead from all the exertion at the pull up bar. Holy shit, you wonder, everything about this night couldn't have gone any better... but you have a hunch, he's about to prove you wrong all night long.

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanamikento x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami smut

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multifandomslxt · 1 year

Text

WELCOME TO 🥀Slxt's Masterlist ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Note: DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. All Works are fiction. Do not take them seriously. Minors DNI.

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

Boba’s terms for Slxtty Entrance

NEO CULTURE TECHNOLOGY

FICS

Black Roses Mafia Romance (WIP) (Jeno x reader)

Jealousy (bf!Yuta x gf!reader)

Play too much (plug!Taeyong x Chubby!reader)

I hope we'll meet again (Nct member x reader)

Liar (bsfbrother!Yuta x chubbyblack!reader)

Tramp-Stamp (bf!Yuta x chubby!reader)

Anything for my good boy (sub!Mark x Femdom!Reader)

King's Command (Hendery x fem!reader)

Fun Games (Haechan x Reader x YangYang)

Quiet Rage (bsf!Johnny x Reader)

SCENARIOS

Nct members who would win in a fight

Nct members who I know would love a thick bixch

Nct members who would spoil tf out of their s/o

Nct members who would mark you in hard-to-hide places

My top five Nct 127 members with a high s3x drive

Nct members I think would be scary when angry..and why

Nct127 members who would love it if you sat on their face

Nct127 members who have pain k!nks

Nct127 members who are sadists

The ass smackers in Nct

Four NCT members who would get turned on at the most inconvenient moments

NCT127 members and their favorite things during s3x

How NCT 127 members tell you they’re horny

Which NCT 127 members are rough during s3x and which ones aren't

Nct 127 members who would be able to handle you throwing it back

NCT127 Sugar Daddy Ratings

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The type to (Series)

Taeyong

Doyoung

Most possessive members of NCT

NCT127 Members who like it RAW

NCT127 Members and places they would f4ck you

NCT127 MEMBERS AND ROUGH S3X

MTL

NCT127 kinkiest members

CALLING YOU MOMMY (ALL UNITS)

REACTIONS

How Jaehyun would be with an inexperienced lover

First time with Yuta

How I think NCT127 would act if somebody was badmouthing their s/o

NCT 127 F*CKABILITY SCALE

NCT DREAM F*CKABILITY SCALE

WAYV KUN HARD THOUGHTS

HARD and SOFT THOUGHTS

1 Doyoung (soft)

2 Yuta (hard)

3 Mark (hard)

4 Jaemin (soft)

5 Yuta (hard)

6 Taeyong (hard)

7 Doyoung (Hard)

SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN members who are praisers, beggers or pleasers

Insecurities (Vernon x Chubby!reader)

STRAY KIDS

Insecurities (Bang Chan x chubby!reader)

538 notes · View notes

avianyuh · 6 months

Text

masterlist

***this masterlist took forever because I had to scroll through SIX YEARS worth of work. this is the most updated masterlist on my page so use this one if you need navigation :) ***

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Who I write for:

-BTS💣

-NCT🟢 (mainly anyone that was apart of NCT 2018, but if you want WayV, I can do that!)

-Seventeen💎

-EXO❌⭕️

-Monsta X 🫡 (but I'm emotionally scarred from Wonho so idk...)

& sometimes SHINee

UPDATE 02/28/2024: girlies i have nothing to say about ATEEZ anymore, it's just not gonna happen so I took them out of the ML😥sorry. BUT, I will now be adding *some* second gen groups because the fics are LACKING. I already said in the past I would write for SHINee and I stand by that! I just don't have much to write for them atm. Does anyone want a BF!Minho? idk...Who wants SUJU? Well, it doesn't matter cuz I do😁 I will also add Jaejoong from TVXQ/JYJ, not the whole group for TVXQ cuz I'm really only familiar with him and Junsu. I will also start up again with EXO so keep a look out if you like those fics. Anyways, this was just a PSA I wanted to make.

🔍navigation help + notes🔎

-If a group is crossed out it means I no longer write for them

-Please don't be afraid to request something. idc if it's anon or not. if you want something written, just send in a request :) it will encourage me to get to whatever group someone requested faster. as long as they're mentioned above, I'll write for them (only because I like to be familiar with the members so I can write accurate depictions of them)

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*upcoming works*

-NCT something with Johnny *um idk, if not by the end of march then probs early april*

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BTS:

BTS reactions:

requested; bts reaction to you having diabetes and not taking care of yourself

requested; namjoon taking care of his chronically ill girlfriend

requested;BTS getting jealous over crush giving more attention to Yeontan or Bam

requested; Giving BTS flower crowns

requested: BTS accusing reader of leaking sensitive info

BTS HEADCANONS

requested; BTS helping S/O with finals

requested;BTS misses crush on tour but is too shy to confess

request; BTS gets jealous and confesses to crush

request; BTS comforts S/O who starts flunking exams

request: BTS Suga, Taehyung, Jungkook and their pets

BTS AS BOYFRIENDS:

Hoseok/JHope

Yoongi/Suga

Namjoon/RM

One Shots;

Dinner Date, Jeon Jungkook

Time Off; Jung Hoseok

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NCT:

*I know this isn't all of nct in the pic, I just like it and it's hard to find unofficial photos of ALL of them, plus Yuta looks hawttt*

*edit:::changed photo in Feb.2024, still can't find a good photo with all of the members, plus some people have left, BUT I will always include Lucas if I find a good one because he was done so dirty by the f-ing saesangs. ANYWAYS...

I will always choose a pic where Yuta looks hot, so you have been blessed by this pic, ur welcome*

NCT headcanons;

a soft day with nct part one (taeil through jungwoo)

a soft day with nct part two (lucas through jisung)

nct as boyfriends (taeil through jungwoo)

nct as boyfriens (lucas through jisung)

christmas with nct (taeil through ten)

requested; how nct would confess to their crush (taeil through jungwoo)

NCT reactions:

nct u reaction to meeting your parents

requested; nct reaction to someone touching you inappropriately (taeil through mark)

nct reaction to you thinking you're fat: -yuta -jaehyun -mark

-taeyong -johnny

Individual member posts;

dating jaehyun

requested; dating mark

requested; dating haechan

requested; dating johnny

dating lucas

dating taeyong

dating yuta

requested; soft dom! winwin

One Shots;

making time;mark lee

tattoos; Yuta Nakamoto

'I'll Call You; Jaehyun' [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

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SEVENTEEN:

SEVENTEEN AS BOYFRIENDS:

-The8/Minghao

-Hoshi/Soonyoung

-Jeonghan

-S.Coups/Seungcheol

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EXO:

EXO headcanons;

Oh Sehun as a boyfriend

Baekhyun as a boyfriend

a soft day with EXO (hyung line)

a soft day with EXO (maknae line)

One Shots;

insecure; Kai

baekhyun request

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MONSTA X:

MONSTA X AS BOYFRIENDS:

-Changkyun/I.M

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*PAST WORKS/GROUPS I DON'T WRITE FOR ANYMORE*

DAY6:

Day6 headcanons;

day6 as boyfriends

One Shots;

'I Love You'-Jae Version

'I Love You'- Young K

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GOT7

GOT7 as boyfriends

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TWICE:

TWICE one shots

Requested: A Trip With Jeongyeon

BLACKPINK:

BlackPink headcanons;

Jennie As Your Best Friend

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*NON KPOP RELATED/MY OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS;

Root Beer Float

66 notes · View notes

noisyquokka · 6 months

Note

GIRL!! I just read your Lino fic and 🧎🏻‍♀️

I see your rqs are about to close so I was hoping maybe you could do a little sumthn sumthn angsty for my boy YangYang? I'd prefer F!reader and sumthn like you broke up and get kinda really jealous seeing him at a party with some girl and maybe you get back together maybe ya don't I'll leave that up to your creative mind? Could you also add Renjun and Xiaojun in as well, like a friend group type thing? I know this is a lot and maybe too detailed but like I NEED more angst from you plz and thank you 😩

Take care and stay hydrated 🤍

Scorched Auroras

PAIRING - YangYang x F!Reader (ft. Renjun & Xiaojun)

SYNOPSIS - You've had your regrets over the years, it's a part of the human experience. But nothing will ever compare to the pain of Him walking out of your life.

WORDCOUNT - 4.4k

WARNINGS - All around Angst, Cheating, Lies, Descriptions of Anxiety Attack, Heated Arguments, Exes to ???, Mentions of Alcohol, Reader wears feminine clothes (dress, heels, etc.), Renjun's kind of a dick in this... he's just trying to help, YangYang is also a dick but it's well-deserved || Let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N - The way I've been wanting to write more angst after that Minho fic, but I've just not gotten around to it... 😔 Thanks for the request, Darling! ngl I spent more time rereading this than I did writing this to the point that I have no idea if this is as good as I originally thought it was, (we love inconvenient writers block) so feedback would be greatly appreciated. And to all you YangYang girlies 👋🏻 I'm sorry for this.

“Huang Renjun, when I find your sorry ass…”

Your heels reverberate against the floors of the house, quick and staccato as you seek out the host of the party. This was supposed to be a chill little get together with mutual friends; all put together by Renjun. Same people. Same place. But when you walked through the front door, you’d been paralyzed.

Through the hall - between the mass of bodies that danced and conversed with each other - you had spotted Liu YangYang sitting pretty on the leather sofa, strumming away on his six-string. His eyes had found yours, and that genuine smile on his face had faded, his brows knitting as he blinked and looked away. He was surrounded by mutual friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the group of girls that sat like a pride of lions around him.

Funny enough, looking around the house… this party? Not so little or so mutual. In fact, you’re almost certain there’s friends of friends here, migrating up the stairs that you’ve just traversed. And the majority of them have been gathered around your ex-boyfriend for the past hour like he was the main entertainment of the evening.

So here you are, with a handful of drinks in you and your patience dwindling. You huff, sparing glances through open doors and knocking on others down the hall until you’re finally directed to Renjun’s bedroom by a random party-goer.

“Renjun!” your knuckles rap on the door, calling over the back beat of the blaring music. “I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”

When there’s no answer, you grunt and knock louder. There’s no doubt he can hear you, your fist aching with every hit to the wood grain. The door opens, a very buzzed Renjun appearing before you.

“Fuck, where’s the fire!?”

You shoot him a glare, leaning against the door frame.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. It’s now that you notice the wrinkles in his clothes, his dark hair an unruly mess that he attempts to fix by carding his fingers through the tresses. The smear of red at the corner of his mouth has you narrowing your eyes. You scoff.

“Yeah… busy.”

Renjun stumbles, your hand darting out to snatch at the collar of his white tee. His protests fall on deaf ears as you pull him down the hall towards his makeshift studio. He knows he’s not going anywhere, even as he attempts to wretch your fingers from the fabric.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” The heavy bass drums steady in your chest as you yank Renjun into the room. The moment your past the threshold, you let him go, slamming the door behind you.

“Hey, easy!”

“You lied to me.”

Renjun lets loose an exasperated chuckle, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt.

“I wish I knew what you were talking about.” he says, raising his brow. There’s a ghost of amusement playing on his face. He knows. It only fuels your aggravation.

“Oh, YangYang won’t be there, I promise.” You mock the words he’d told you over a FaceTime call just a few days ago. Renjun meets your glare evenly, seemingly unimpressed. He rolls his eyes when you cross your arms.

“I didn’t know he’d come. He told me he had something planned tonight.”

“Right, fucking fat chance that he’s sitting right where I’d catch him cozied up around a bonfire of girls.”

“The perfect place to play a guitar.” he quips. Your eyes narrow, following his movements as he turns toward the random clutter in the studio.

“You know how much I hate this version of Renjun.”

“Which one?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. He stops at his desk, rearranging strewn journals and crumpled pages that have nearly landed in the bin beside the workspace.

“The one that plays dumb just to get out of answering me.”

“I do not-”

“You do!” you bite, feet situating themselves under your weight. You level the brunette with a pointed look.

“You’re holding out on me, I can tell. So, are you gonna spill or what?”

You watch the cogs turn behind his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his brow, clearly frustrated with the way this conversation is going. Brown eyes shift from the far wall, dropping the journals on the desk. He turns to you, a look crossing his face that you can’t pinpoint.

“I already told you, I had no idea he was gonna be here, okay? I asked him if he was coming and he said no.” Renjun glances to your form and the way you’re seemingly guarding the door like a well-trained hound. “I didn’t openly invite him. He showed up on his own. Any reason you’re so pissed about that?”

The question catches you off guard. Any reason you’re so pissed about that? What, with the way things ended, you certainly have no right to be. Ignoring the stabbing in your chest, you lick your lips, nails digging into your forearm. He catches the way you shift, spine straightening against the wall.

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, voice clipped.

“A valid one.” Renjun replies, leaning against his desk. There’s that casual air that he exudes as his eyes rake down your body. Observing. Your choice in outfit; that little black dress, the time you put into your hair and makeup, those stilettos. Renjun knows you don’t put that amount of time into going out unless it means something.

He clicks his tongue, blinks. Bourbon swirls with some kind of intent.

“You’re the one who broke up with him, remember? Although I’ve gotta say, if looks could kill, those girls fawning over him would be dead at his feet.”

“Watch your words, Huang.” you warn, a sharpness to your tone that leaves the guy unbothered.

“I haven’t said a thing… it’s called observing.” His voice is cool as ice, arms coming to cross over his chest.

“You’re implying.”

He laughs, snake eyes pinning him where he stands.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“You want facts?” You close the distance between you and Renjun so quickly, he doesn’t have time to react before you’re right in his face, “You know exactly what the hell you did. You knew how much I didn’t want him here, it’s why I asked you when you invited me. You made a promise that you blew to the wind.”

Your voice is calm but tight - like a rubber band pulled to its limits. You can’t bring yourself to care about how you come across at this point. Not when there’s seven vodka shots warming your veins, clouding all rationality. Your patience is gone as you glare up at the man, watching as a dark brow twitches behind stray tresses. You’re done playing his stupid little game.

The tink of plastic against metal hits your ears as Renjun swipes a broken guitar pick off the desk into the trash bin, eyes deadlocked on the sneer that’s prying at your lips. For a second, he mulls over his actions that led up to this point. Perhaps he’s being a bit of an ass, but you’ve put off talking things out with YangYang for months. He's felt the strain it's put on the group dynamic, and he’s sick of hearing you both say everything is fine. How can two people be fine when they can’t tolerate being in the same room together? And now you come to him like he’s done you wrong, like what he’s done is unforgivable… Renjun doesn’t get it.

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Renjun, you in here? Some jackass is-”

The door opens, Xiaojun stopping short at the sight before him. The tense charge in the room hits him like a tidal wave, and the scowl that etches your face doesn’t give him much room to speculate.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” he says, looking between you two. Renjun scratches at his neck, clearing his throat.

“What is it, man?”

“There’s some guy starting shit by the pool. Thought it’d be a job for the host.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Xiaojun nods, giving you both one last fleeting glance before the door closes. When the footsteps fade into nothing but reverberating bass, Renjun slips out of the space between you and the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of damage control, as you just heard.” He turns toward the door with a finality that says this conversation is well over. If you weren’t buzzing, were in your right state of mind, you would have let him go. But the addition of alcohol only egged on your unbridled emotions.

“No, we’re not done talking.” You hiss, a hand darting out to catch his wrist. Renjun groans, and you hear your name slip off his tongue like a bad omen as he aggressively shrugs you off him.

“Stop! Just-” He turns his back to the door, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You look on with wide eyes as he takes a deep breath, brows twitching. “You both said that you broke up because things weren’t working out. Something about schedules and other conflicting shit…”

He shakes his head, optics flickering over your face, searching for some sort of answer as to why you're reacting this way. When your shoulders sag, he knows enough. You’re closing off, and as much as Renjun wants to be the friend that mothers you back to good spirits with a gentle hand, it seems that isn’t gonna work. The way you approached this tonight has him clutching at his last straw.

“It’s not my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not your business-”

“But you decided to make it my business when you pulled me in here and fucking interrogated me! That alone tells me there’s more to the story than you two have let on.” You press you lips together, optics locking onto the far wall. You hear the steady release of a sigh, the rattling of the door knob under his palm. “You’ve been friends for years. You never let the simple things interfere back then.”

“Romantic relationships are different, Renjun.” You don’t need to meet those eyes to know he’s unconvinced.

“You’re impossible…” He mutters. The floorboards groan under his feet as he turns back toward the door, shoulders tight under the fabric of his shirt.

“This conversation is going nowhere. I don’t know why you dragged me in here and grilled me about the one person you don’t want to talk about, but I have a party to host.” His fingers grip the door knob and twist, amber eyes meeting yours over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but you need to talk to him. Before the fallout ruins this friend group.”

The door slams shut, and you blink as Renjun’s heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His words sink in. He’s right. You sag against the wall, letting your head fall against the drywall, trying to process everything that just happened. Releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as the liquor takes another round through your hazy mind. The threat of tears infect your vision, burning even as you attempt to blink them away.

“Fuck.” you hiss, fingers coming to press against the junction of your nose bridge and the corners of your eyes until the pressure conjures rainbow static behind your lids. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You’re ready to leave. Ready to leave this party, block phone numbers and move out of the country if it means you don’t have to face the one person you regret hurting. Selfish, really, but in your current state of mind, it sounds like heaven. You’ve let this situation hang over your head for the past eight months, praying it would go away on it’s own. It’s obvious no God will let you off that easily.

God damn…

Your feet are moving before you can think any further, the studio door left ajar as your figure strides down the hall and descends the stairs. You need a glass of water to clear your head, something to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen. Optics dart to the sofa, where YangYang has been most of the evening, but he’s no longer there. The guitar leans against the wall, propped up with the help of the sofa's armrest. You bee-line for the kitchen.

The main space between the living room and kitchen has significantly dwindled to a small group of people, and you remember what Xiaojun had said about the shit starter by the pool. A simple glance to the back patio tells you that’s where everyone has gone. Empty cups and snack trays are left behind, alongside a few couples making out in the corner, and the few people conversing near the kitchen island, including Xiaojun. He greets you with a soft smile, offering you another drink that you graciously decline.

“You good?” he asks, smile fading into furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I think I’m over the alcohol for tonight.” you mutter, taking an chilled water bottle from the cooler. “Do you know where YangYang ran off to?”

“Last I saw him, he looked like he was leaving for the night.” he replies, taking another swig of his beverage. You blink, cracking the cap on the bottle and bringing it to your lips in one swift motion. Despite the amount of alcohol you’ve had in such a short amount of time, the water you take down washes away your brain fog, and you turn toward the front door with a newfound clarity.

YangYang isn’t gone. You know him well enough. And you’re ready to face him. You have to be. Because you aren’t leaving here until you set things right.

You pat Xiaojun on the shoulder as you leave, a quiet thanks uttered as you force yourself to move toward the exit, fingers latching on the handle.

The cool night air washes over your skin, but you welcome the instantaneous sobering up it provides. It’s quiet out here, as quiet as a house party can get for the chatter and music, crickets chirping in the protection of well-manicured shrubs. With a quick scan of your surroundings, you find who you’re looking for.

Liu YangYang stands at the far corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with his back to you. He’d be unnoticeable by most people, shrouded in October shadows.

You’re not most people.

It’s as if the world falls still in the time it takes you to walk over, your stomach swirling like a blender on full power. He’s by himself out here. That makes it easier, right? You let out a shaky breath, the sudden urge to bolt over the railing and disappear into the woods like a spooked fawn flooding your veins. But you don’t. You can’t.

“We need to talk.” you pipe up, clearing your throat in an attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. Black hair falls into brown eyes, a grunt of your name passing his lips at the sound of your voice. You never want to hear him say your name like that again. Like you're the scum of the earth.

“Heard you were pretty pissed about my being here.” he says. Even under his sweater, you can see how taught his back muscles are, how he's trying to hold himself back. Your eyes slip shut.

Renjun… He must have caught up with YangYang before you could make it downstairs. You let the curses slip to the back of your mind, focusing on the matter at hand. You know this doesn’t have to be hard. Just a short, civil conversation between you and your ex. With a lick of your lips, you try again.

“YangYang, I’m-”

“You know, it’s really fucking insulting to hear that.” He brings the half-full solo cup in his hand to his lips, taking the rest of his drink down in one go. Dark optics stare blankly toward the dimly lit street. “Especially when you’ve avoided me for the past eight months. When no one else knows the truth about you.”

You swallow hard at his comment, staring at the foot that he can't stop tapping against the porch.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, YangYang.” you say, taking a step toward him, “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you.”

You hear the huff of a scoff, and he turns just enough to lock eyes with you from over his shoulder, pupils digging into you from the corners.

“Better eight months late than never.”

“YangYang-”

“What?” he interjects, snapping like a cornered fox, “Too busy with them to come to me sooner with your bullshit excuses?”

YangYang doesn’t need to face you to get his emotions across. You’ve never had trouble deciphering whether he was emotionally six feet under or floating on cloud nine. But now, you feel like you’re Gaia up against the raw power of Helios; a violent storm of solar particles slamming against you in his attempts to protect his heart from freezing over.

The auroras of scorched and unspoken truths. Your magnetic field is battered and bruised too significantly to sustain such a blow.

That’s on you, you know. You’d come to the realization eight months ago when you took that sledgehammer to a decade of friendship. A decade of trust that transformed into so much more. An angel of a boy that you threw away - tore his wings from his back for good measure.

You shake your head, that fire burning behind your eyes.

“You’re not being fair, here.” You whisper, and as much as you don’t want this conversation to escalate, you know there’s no stopping it. You flinch when he whips around, wild eyes boring into yours, a snarl threatening to break the crease of his lips. He points a finger at you.

“You cheated, Love! You!” The term of endearment is anything but; poison on the tongue that used to serenade you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He is the ferocity of a rabid dog in the form of gnashing teeth and beady eyes, panting and growling in warning when you try to console it.

“Two years together! Thirteen years of friendship and trust that you so easily struck a match to like that?! Fucking treated me like I was an afterthought in your daily schedule while we were still together! The nights you came home and lied through your teeth, telling me you were working late… that you were out with friends… Fuck, I even felt you pulling away and I still tried telling myself that I was crazy. No, no, you wouldn’t do that to me. We’ve been through so much together. Fucking fool, I am!”

You watch him through the glaze of tears as he stalks toward you. The hurt in his eyes burns like a serrated knife, slicing away at the worn and ruptured threads of your relationship that scream with every threat of the blade.

“So, no, you don't get to tell me I'm being unfair! I saw the way you watched me tonight. You probably don't realize how many drinks you had because you were too busy raising your hackles at the girls that I was talking to. Ran off to light a fire under Renjun's ass because things didn't go your way.”

Your heart pounds against your breast, your pulse violent in your fingertips. In your head, this conversation played out with less hostility. You expected some anger - it’s only fair with the pain you put him through - but this was another level entirely. In all your years of knowing YangYang, he’d never blown up like this.

Never at you.

Never because of you.

This isn’t the boy that you would race to school every morning, who dried your tears and rubbed the rocks from your knees when you tripped yourself. The one who would send you dumb memes in the middle of class, and took accountability so you weren't sitting in detention alone. Who bought you a promise ring for your ten years of being friends, and another when you celebrated two years of dating.

Your rock in the toughest situations and you threw him into the ocean with little thought. Didn't even watch as he sank to the depths.

You blink, feeling the tears track down you cheeks as you speak.

“I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I should’ve talked to you about this months ago. I’ve…” You hesitate, “I’ve been think about that night a lot.”

“Good.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“It was a mistake, and I can’t even give you a good reason for it.” you whimper, breath catching in your throat, “I’m so sorry, YangYang. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. I never should’ve-”

Words fail you, your composure breaking with a burst of tears that hits so suddenly, it's impossible to breathe. You hug yourself with trembling arms, nails digging into your palms.

“I don’t want this to be it for us,” you say, your words strangled as you try to wrangle in your tears, “there has to be a way to fix this!”

He’s close enough to touch, and you reach out with little thought, pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his torso. Your fingers grip into the back of his sweater as you sob into his shoulder, your body shaking with every strangled hiccup.

YangYang doesn’t move, doesn't push you off. He just stands here. There’s no warm embrace enveloping your frame, no tears to share with you. It’s like you’re hugging a stone statue, the body heat that he exudes being some sort of sick joke when all you feel is the chill of a vacant shell.

“Please, tell me what I can do to fix it!” The plea hangs over you like a specter, ghastly fingers wrapping tight around your throat. The silence grows long, nothing more than faint strains of music drifting through the cracks of the windows and doors of the house, carrying some hint of life beyond the two of you. You almost wish he’d begin to yell again, growl about the extent of which you’ve hurt him. Anything but this indifference, this apathy towards the one girl he’s given everything to. But this… this feels like him finally giving up. Like he’s finally decided that you aren’t worth the trouble anymore. You don’t want to accept it, but every second that ticks by is like another nail in the coffin.

You pull away, fingers twitching as they come up to cradle his jaw. The muscles under the flesh tenses, and he recoils from your touch like it’s physically hurting him, looking off across the street with a hollow gaze. It’s a tortuously long moment before he levels you with those brown eyes. They’re dull when they look at you now; worlds away. A fresh grave, its soil rejecting any and all growth, no flowers, no grass. Seeds greedily plucked from the ground by songbirds and rodents. No one to care for the plot when the soul’s story is made up of little white lies. He watches from the corner of his eye as the tears collect on mascara-laden lashes, the makeup mixing with the liquid as it trickles down and off your chin.

“I don’t want it to be over either,” he admits. A stray tear falls from his lash line, but there’s a void of emotion in his tone. “But…”

There’s that pause again, and you can’t handle it this time. The knot in your chest tightens like a vice, brows pulling inward when he goes to take a step backward. You shake your head, his name sputtering from your lips like it’s the only thing that could offer a modicum of comfort.

“I love you, YangYang,” you say the words quickly, desperately, clinging to his arms as he spares you nothing more than a glance. “I still do, please, please don’t- don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

“That’s the same dress.”

You look up with wide eyes, jaw slack as you sniffle.

“What?”

“You wore that dress the night you came home drunk with them.” he says.

You glance down at the fabric hugging your figure, the memories from that night coming back to you in what little fragments you can remember. Clinging to their shirt as you both laughed between kisses, the clumsy fumble of your key in the lock. You had woke up to them in your bed, a raging hangover, and your boyfriend sitting on the couch in silence when you went searching for a glass of water and an Aspirin. You don't remember doing anything more than kissing, but cheating was cheating. And YangYang had been livid.

He shakes his head, laughs incredulously. “You’re insane. You're dead to me.”

“YangYang, I-” is all you can get out before he’s pulling away again, shoving you off him with enough force to send you staggering to your knees. For a moment you sit there in a stunned stupor, your hands splayed over the wood grain of the porch, gasping for breath as you openly sob. Composing yourself at this point is impossible, anxiety clutching at your lungs like a serpent’s stranglehold. Your legs tremble, eyes burning with unspent tears. He hasn’t walked away yet, and for a moment you think maybe there’s some semblance of salvaging this until-

“Don’t come crawling back to me when they put you through the same shit you put me through. Fucking cry yourself to sleep.”

It’s the last thing he says, storming off as he passes your heaving frame with little more than a glance. Down the front steps. Down the path to the side walk. It’s over. You choke back sobs as you fight for oxygen, numb to the feeling of warm hands on your back. Through the onslaught of tears, you recognize the shoe beside your knee as Xiaojun’s.

You try to focus on his voice, listening to each syllable as he murmurs your name in your ear and his attempts to guide you out of this frantic head space, but all you can focus on is the black hole manifesting within your chest. Your heart is like lead at your feet, your lungs burn, and your ears ring to a fever pitch.

YangYang’s words ring in your head like a death knell. The bell’s final toll signaling the end as the shadow of the man you knew disappears down the street.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv x reader #wayv x you #liu yangyang x reader #yangyang x reader #nct wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv angst #wayv x f!reader #yangyang x f!reader #yangyang imagines #liu yangyang x f!reader #wayv drabbles #x f!reader #x female reader #quokkawritings🌻

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planetkiimchi · 3 months

Text

过年｜肖德俊

英文标题: celebrating lunar new year. 在这里读英文版!

特色：肖德俊（小时候的朋友）和读者（冠亨的妹妹）。全部的角色都用广东话来沟通

简介 — 当他出国去韩国当一名练习生时，肖德俊完全和他的初恋，就是说你，失去联系了。今年，他回到中国领奖，顺手写了一封信，请你的哥哥冠亨传递个你。当你去见德俊，你发现一切都变了，同时什么也没变。

作者注：农历新年快乐！这是我第一次试着写一篇中文的写作（除了学校里写的作文之外）。如果我的用词不太准确，请原谅我，并告诉我怎样改正它。祝大家身体健��，一帆顺风！🧧

注2: 我一开始以为冠亨又去腾讯企业举办的奖励会，但是后来才发现是思成，德俊和锟一起去了。请你想象一下是冠亨去了，而不是思成。多谢！

如果你喜欢，请转发。

门吱吱作响，你听到某个人小心翼翼地把它锁上，听到鞋子的拖拽。你心想：现在已经是三更半夜，怎么可能会有客人来我们的家呢？你立刻走出房间，一看就发现那个“客人”竟然是你亲爱的哥哥。

“哥，你回来了！”你扑进哥哥的怀抱，开心的不得了。冠亨出国已经有大概8年多，除了农历新年，他平常会因为自己太忙，没有空回家。由于冠状疫情，他已经有三年没有回家了。

冠亨安慰地抚摸你的背，并弄乱你的头发。“没想到吧？”

你点了点头。“你是否没告诉爸妈你今天要回来？他们要是知道，一定会坚持着说要去机场接你。”

冠亨微微一笑。“是啊，我就是因为知道他们会这样，所以没有告诉他们。我这次回来，想给他们一个惊喜。”

看到那副熟悉的表情，你发现你非常想念你的哥哥。好想念他调皮、搞笑的样子，也想念他对你好的时刻。你真希望他能待更久。

“其实…” 冠亨犹豫了一下。你的心仿佛从第九十九楼落到地上，紧张的看着他。到底有什么事让他这么晚才回来？

“其实，我明天一大早就要出去了，根本没办法陪你们一起去拜年。我最近工作很忙，这次回国是为了领奖，不是放假。你帮我祝爸妈新年快乐，好吗？” 你无法隐藏自己的失落，眼泪默默的流了下来。

“嗯。”你坚定地点了点头。你对自己说：哥哥回来了，这就是一件好事。不准哭！冠亨抱了抱你一下。

“今晚我在客厅里睡，明天如果我不在了，你就知道我上班去了。”

“那… 你什么时候会回来呢？”

“暂时不知道。但我保证一旦有时间，我会第一时间回来见你，好吗？”

你举起小指。“确定吗？”

他勾着你的小指，自信地点了点头。“确定。”

—

第二天，你故意很早起床。上午三点半你就睁开眼睛，慢吞吞地坐了起来。你的房间像墨一样黑，连一丝光都没有。门外传来一阵声音，通知你你的哥哥也刚起床。你快速地换了衣服，走出房间。

冠亨不敢再用他手机的手电筒照亮他的行李，好像在找什么东西。看着他翻行李，你好奇地走过去问：“哥，你到底在找什么？”

“牙刷呀！不如呢？”

你叹了一口气。“男人真是的。这样吧，你先去一趟厕所，顺便换衣服，我帮你找牙刷，好吗？你可以用我们家的牙膏。”

“哦。”说完这一句，冠亨就带着自己的衣服走到厕所去。

你翻了白眼，很快就找到了冠亨的牙刷。他刷完牙后，整理了一下头发，收起东西准备离开。他眼睛睁得好大，仿佛刚记起一件重要的是似的。

“对了，德俊说他要给你这个。”冠亨把一份红包递给你，说：“我告诉他不用送你红包，但是他非要送，所以我也没办法，只好也送你一份。”

“嗯，请帮我跟他说声谢谢。”

“身体健康，步步高升。好好照顾自己，你听见了吗？”

“你也是，”你告诉他。明明是他经常不睡够，但他每次见到你还是会提醒你照顾好自己。冠亨一点以不知道怎么关心自己，可是他很会关心别人。

他走了之后，你迫不及待地拆开红包。但是让你好奇的并不是那笔钱，而是红包里留给你的便条。看见那既谨慎又平衡的字迹，你立刻知道边条是德俊写的那张纸上一面写着你的名字，一面写了几句话。

我终于回到中国了，想我了吧？冠亨说他会把这个红包给你，所以我相信今天应该是我们领奖的那一天。我想请你来观看颁奖仪式。请尽快去在以下的地址，看到我们的经纪人就告诉他是我邀请你来，好吗？待会儿见！

你犹豫了一会儿，但还是决定去一趟。你心想：去了也不会有什么不堪设想的后果吧？

—

你从来不知道后悔是什么。你的一生都有你自己作出来的选择，而你的哥哥经常劝你不要因为自己的选择而后悔。如果你觉得自己做了一件事后会感到后悔，那你不应该去做那件事。从此以后，你一直恪守这句座右铭。

但是当你再次见到肖德俊，你的词典好像多了 ”后悔“ 这个词语。

他的个子比你高，身材变得强壮多了。尽管如此，他灿烂的笑容和悦耳的嗓音一点也i没变。你的名字从他的嘴里落了下来，隐藏着他的害怕，有包含着一个又一个的问题。

你愣在那里，痴痴地看着他。当你回过神来，你微微一笑，想消散你和他的紧张。“德俊哥。”

“新年快乐。”

“你也是。”

“好久没见，你的变化蛮多。”

“好久没见。你… 一点也没变。” 他的脸刷红，眼睛里闪着光，一步并作两步的走向你，紧紧地拥抱着你。

这时，你突然看见哥哥的身影，立刻把德俊推开，似乎被他的触摸给烫了。

“小傻子！你怎么来了？” 你紧张地看着德俊，最像一条鱼在呼吸，一时张开，一时闭上，任何声音也没有出来。应该怎么解释呢？

“是我叫她来的。” 冠亨的眼神从你的身上换到德俊的身上，脸色突然变得非常难看。

他粗暴地抓住了德俊的衣领。“你在干嘛？”德俊把冠亨的手拉开，说：“不是那样的！我只是邀请她来看我们领奖而已。我没动她！”

冠亨火冒三丈，脸色发青，但他还是把德俊放开。“他说的是事实嘛？”

“是。哥，你别在这儿闹事，这里有太多人了。不如你们好好说出来，别打架，好吗？”

冠亨深深地吸了一口气，顶着德俊，说：“好吧。说，你在干嘛？”

“我只是要看她一眼而已。她可能是你的妹妹，但她也是我的朋友。我们都不能和家人一起过年，我请他来看我们领奖有什么错吗？”

冠亨又不是一个不讲道理的人。他知道德俊说的对，只好生气地离开。德俊不好意思地转身看你，正想道歉，但是你比他快。你拍了拍他的肩，安慰她。

“不是你的错。我哥就是那样的人。” 看见锟对你伸出来的手，你马上和他握手，介绍一下自己。

他说：“抱歉，我们现在要赶时间，一下子就轮到我们上台了，再见！”你对着他们的背后挥手。

—

当你起来，你没想到今天会变成这样的。能遇到德俊和锟，你很高兴，不要说能和他们一起吃团圆饭。但是当你坐在那圆形的桌子前，看着他们讲笑话，快乐地用餐，你发现你真的好喜欢这种场景。

锟是第一个站起来跟你告别，然后是你的哥哥。最后一个是德俊，在你的耳边轻轻地说：“当我看到你来了，我心里感到说不出来的兴奋。有时间，真希望再次和你一次过年。”

他的话让你惊讶的手足无措，只能紧紧的抱着她，一次又一次地说“谢谢”。

如果你喜欢，请转发。

#Spotify #k-labels #xiaojun #hendery #kun #wayv #nct #🪁 — my works #kpop fic #nct fic #wayv fic #xiaojun x fem!reader #xiaojun x f!reader #xiaojun x reader #wayv x fem!reader #wayv x reader #wayv x f!reader #🧧 — 过年

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starlightkun · 4 months

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❧ word count: 7.6k ❧ warnings: cursing, mm and that’s really it! i mean like they fight and stuff but just read the genre tags lmao ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ author’s note: a starlightkun fic under 10k! it’s a christmas miracle!

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

“Any big holiday plans, Y/N?” Your boss asked as you handed her some documents to sign.

“Oh, staying in town,” you answered nonchalantly. “What about you, ma’am?”

She told you about her own Christmas and New Year plans with her wife, kids, and parents with a bright smile on her face as she flipped through the pages. After giving you the signatures you needed, she handed the papers back to you.

“Can you run those over to Dr. Oh’s office for me? The undergrads all went back home for break.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“After that, you can head out for the day. My Christmas present to you.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am.”

“That, and also this.” She handed you a red envelope before standing up from her desk and closing her laptop. “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Thank you, you too,” you flashed her a genuine smile. “Happy Holidays to your family as well. See you in a week.”

“See you.”

Tucking the envelope into your bag, you quickly tidied up your workstation before heading out of the research lab to do your final task. You were a research fellow at a rather prestigious university, and while running papers would typically be asked of the interns and undergraduate students who helped out in the lab, as your boss—the head of the lab—had already pointed out, classes let out for their Winter Break two weeks ago, so you were fresh out of fresh meat.

You pulled your scarf tight around your nose and lower half of your face as you stepped out into the chilly winter air. Dr. Oh was the Dean of Graduate Studies at the university, and you’d been to his office a couple of times before, so your feet followed a familiar path as you hurried through the cold and into the building. The air was almost oppressively hot inside, and you tore off your scarf as you ran up the stairs.

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

He grabbed a pen and pad of sticky notes off the desk, scribbling something down. “Here’s… my address. Let’s say six?”

You plucked the yellow square from his fingers delicately. “Six.”

“See you then.”

You reached into your bag to affix the sticky note to the red envelope from your research head, then pulled your scarf back out. “See you then, Kun.”

For the next three days, that sticky note sat on your coffee table and stared at you. Even as you went about your day trying not to think about it, busying yourself with jigsaw puzzles, books, and whatever cheesy Christmas movie was on at the time. That yellow square was stuck to your forebrain, plaguing your every waking moment.

Every night you were kept up with memories. You hadn’t seen Kun in three years, since you’d picked up the last of your possessions from your old apartment. The apartment the two of you had lived in together. A brief flash of picking up your things, cut by the first time you’d opened the door to your new place together, hand-in-hand, absolutely bursting with excitement and hope for the future.

As you started getting ready to go over to Kun’s place, your body moved by itself, despite the sinking pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

Rooting through your spare closet, you finally got a small blue box out of the back. You opened it up, a bittersweet sigh leaving your mouth. Nestled in among some tissue and spare ornament hooks was a three-dimensional figure of a sea turtle, covered in glitter and with a navy blue loop of string for hanging coming from its back, but otherwise pretty realistic. You placed it in your bag, carefully cushioned by a scarf.

Before you left, you finally opened your card from your boss. She had written you a very nice note about how much she appreciated your work at the lab, and wishing you all the best in your future endeavors. There was also a gift card loaded up with a considerable amount of money, which you pocketed for later.

Kun’s place wasn’t terribly far from yours, about a fifteen-minute walk, but the heavy snow that was starting to fall slowed you down a bit more. You’d probably have to get a taxi on your way back at this rate. Hopefully your awkward, polite Christmas dinner would be very short.

Knocking on the evergreen-painted door, which sported an elegantly beautiful wreath, you checked the time on your phone. So you were a few minutes late. Oh well.

Kun opened the door with a bright smile, dressed nicely but casual enough in a dark brown knitted sweater, loose-fitting dark pants, and socks with cartoon reindeer on them. “Hey, you made it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped into the warmth of the apartment, and he closed the door behind you.

“When I saw how hard it was snowing out there, I started getting worried.” He helped you out of your thick overcoat, hanging it up on a hook by the front door for you. “I hope you didn’t walk.”

“I did. It wasn’t too bad.” You peeled off your gloves, moving to put them in your purse at the same time that you grabbed something from the bag.

“Did you see they’re forecasting 30 to 90 cm of snow by tomorrow morning? We’ll have to get you a cab home tonight before it gets too bad.” He was still talking as he started leading the way from the narrow hallway entry into the rest of the apartment.

His living room was cozy, especially with the crackling fireplace, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, and festive decorations put up everywhere. One corner was taken up by a modest-sized Christmas tree, covered in colorful lights and an eclectic mix of ornaments.

“Is that a real tree?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Your uh—your Christmas tree purism rubbed off on me... Doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m sweeping up pine needles.”

You chuckled lightly at that, remembering that your first fight as a couple was around your first Christmas together, specifically about whether to get a plastic tree or a real one for his apartment, which you were practically living in at that point. Your family had always gotten real ones when you were growing up, and you could never get behind the fake ones. Kun, on the other hand, didn’t really care either way, but got frustrated when he couldn’t convince you on the cost-saving aspect of being able to reuse your tree every year. The spat fizzled out the very same day, and you ended up having a very cute date when you went to go pick out your first (real) tree together.

“I know I said no gifts, but I don’t think this really counts, since I’m just giving you something back that was yours in the first place.” You brought the sea turtle ornament out, holding it out to him by the loop of string. “It ended up in my stuff and I couldn’t... see you again. Sorry for holding onto it for so long.”

Kun accepted the glittery marine creature in his hand, a fond smile coming to his features. “I thought I’d lost it. Thank you for not uh, throwing it out or something.”

“I paid good money for that, I wasn’t going to be the one to put it in the trash,” you joked half-heartedly, watching as he turned to hang it up on the tree. In the branches among his other ornaments, it looked at home.

Your first date had been to the aquarium, and your first kiss that same day by the sea turtle exhibit, which was why you had picked that specific ornament to give him for your second Christmas together. It was actually from the very same aquarium’s gift shop— meaning that it was wildly overpriced, but cute nevertheless.

“You have a working fireplace, too?” You gestured to the very real fire nearby.

“I do!” He beamed proudly, going to readjust some of the logs, the flames growing to a steadier burn. “I got really lucky with this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you nodded in agreement.

A couple of beats of silence passed, then Kun gestured towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where there was a small square table with four chairs around it, and two places already set across from each other. A few full dishes were already on the table as well, and you wondered how much more food he could be making, as it looked like there was already enough to feed a family of eight at least.

“Smells good,” you commented.

Kun gave you another small smile, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the closed oven. “Thanks. I uh—got excited to cook for someone else again, and sort of went overboard. So you’re welcome to take a bunch of leftovers, too.”

“Cool, thanks.” No fucking way would you be doing that. Taking leftovers home in one of his containers, that you would then have to wash and bring back to him? Absolutely not.

The beeping of a timer went off then, and he spun around to turn off the numbers flashing at him from the stovetop. He opened the oven, putting on oven mitts before taking out the last dish.

After putting it down at the table, he announced, “Alright, dinner’s served!”

You took a seat, watching as Kun continued to bustle around the kitchen. Putting the oven mitts away, turning the oven off, grabbing a wine bottle, corkscrew, and two wine glasses from the cabinets.

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore,” you informed him casually.

“Oh, sorry.” As he went to go put everything away again, you interrupted him.

“You can drink around me, it’s not... anything like that. I’ll be fine. Just sort of lost the taste for it.”

Kun poured a glass for himself over at the counter before putting the bottle away. “So, what can I get you? I have some sparkling water, sodas, eggnog...”

“Just regular water is fine.”

He rushed to do that, and as he set your glass down in front of you, you noted, “You remembered how much ice...”

“You did give me a ten-minute lecture on the proper ratio of ice to water, if you’ll recall.” He took his seat across from you.

“Alright, lecture is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I was simply explaining myself thoroughly so as to not be misunderstood.”

“I understood you crystal clear afterwards,” Kun chuckled, lifting his glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for agreeing to do this kind of weird thing I asked you.”

“Merry Christmas, Kun,” you clinked your glass to his in a toast. “That’s what I do, remember?”

Dinner continued with civil, even sometimes amicable conversation. Mostly catching up on what had happened in both your lives in the past three years, how your families were, your jobs, fairly neutral topics.

Kun had just finished his doctorate program in the spring, and had taken the position with Dr. Oh at your university while he looked for something more aligned with his studies. You wanted to do some research before possibly going back to pursue a doctorate in your own field.

Kun’s family was doing well, his baby brother Chenle was graduating high school in the spring, his middle brother Dejun was now in his fourth year of undergrad at your own alma mater back home, and his parents were going to be celebrating their 30th anniversary next year on a cruise— which they were both very excited about, as it would be their first one.

You had to belatedly break the news to him that your grandmother passed two years ago— she had always loved Kun and you never did have the heart to tell her that the two of you broke up when she would ask where he was on your visits, since her dementia just meant that you would’ve had to re-explain it to her again the next time you saw her. You elected not to mention any of that to Kun in the moment. Other than her passing, your family was alright. Your parents had just gotten a new old cat from the shelter a few months ago, your older sister welcomed her second child, a baby girl, and you happily showed off pictures of your niece, and now five-year-old nephew to Kun.

“Wow... I can’t believe Little Bear is so big,” he gushed at the photo of your nephew on your shoulders.

“Oh, he’s an absolute menace now,” you laughed and shook your head. “That little docile baby you knew who would just fall asleep in anybody’s arms is nowhere to be found.”

“And his sister?”

“Oh, she’s going to be even worse than her brother, I just know it.” You swiped to another photo of the baby, fond grin on your lips.

Kun’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah,” you looked down at your empty plate, having completely forgotten about it in the moment. “It was all really delicious, thanks, Kun.”

“Better than the instant ramen you had planned?”

“By far. You’re a great cook, as always.”

He stood up to grab your plates. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Realizing that this was the end of dinner, of your commitment for the night, you felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. On one hand, it was kind of nice seeing Kun again and being able to catch up—you especially loved hearing about how his little brothers were doing, you had adored doting on them while you were dating, since you were the youngest sibling yourself. But on the other hand, it was all a façade. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room, and it was getting exhausting trying to keep up the friendly chatter and not veer into anything serious, to only put your best foot forward in representing yourself and your life.

“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t think I said that before,” you said indicatively, standing from your seat. “You were right, it was nice being with someone you know, someone who’s from the same place as you, on Christmas.”

Kun gave a half-smile, taking his phone from the table. “We should order you that taxi, huh?”

“Right.”

As you started putting all your layers back on in the hallway, you could hear Kun’s end of the phone call with the cab company.

“What do you mean you’re not dispatching? I know it’s Christmas but— How much?! Seriously?!”

You poked your head out to look at him with concern, but he wasn’t facing you. Instead, he was at the window of the living room, throwing the curtains aside to look out.

“Alright, well, you can’t help that, no, sir. Thank you. Yep, Merry Christmas.”

After he’d hung up without giving his address, you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” You asked cautiously, still slowly pulling on your gloves one finger at a time.

He looked at you over his shoulder, now leaning one forearm against the window. He jerked his head for you to come over. “Come see for yourself.”

You walked over hesitantly, and saw nothing but white. “Oh my God.”

“Forecasts were off a bit. Apparently there’s already been 100cm of snow, and they’re projecting at least another 50 before tomorrow.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Your jaw dropped. “So we’re...”

“Snowed in. Yeah,” he confirmed bluntly. “Guy at the taxi company says they’re not expecting the roads to start being cleared until New Year’s, and they’ll start with businesses and shopping districts first.”

You continued staring at the snow piling up against the window in shock, and Kun took a step back.

“So, you want some eggnog?”

After you had once more removed your coats, scarf, gloves, and boots, you sat down on Kun’s couch, fervently texting all your family. They had apparently seen on the news about the crazy snowstorm hitting your area, and were checking in on you. You reassured them that you were just fine, and were staying at a friend’s place until the storm blew over and the roads cleared. You deigned not to tell them who exactly this ‘friend’ was. You hadn’t told anybody who knew Kun that you were going to his place today, actually. While your family and friends had been supportive of you during the breakup, you could tell how disappointed they were that you two hadn’t worked out—and a couple outright said so. You knew it was in the ‘we’ve never seen you so happy’ sort of way, but that didn’t make it feel any better at the time.

A mug dipped into the top of your vision, accompanied by Kun’s voice. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” you flashed him a smile as you accepted it, and set your phone down on his coffee table. “Just letting the brigade back home know I’m not dead under a hundred meters of snow.”

He sat down in the armchair caddy corner to the end of the couch you were at. “My family has been blowing up my phone, too. For some reason my parents aren’t very amused about Chenle and Dejun daring me to go build the world’s largest snowman right now.”

“Probably have enough snow for it,” you mused. “What is the record for the biggest snowman, do you think?”

“Got to be at least ten meters, right?”

“Oh, definitely way more than that.”

“Really? You think?”

“For sure,” you snorted, picking your phone back up and quickly searching online. “It looks like the official Guinness World Record is 37.21 meters, in Bethel, Maine. But Donnersbachwald, Austria made a snowman that was reportedly 38.04 meters, named Riesi.”

Kun whistled lowly. “Well goddamn.”

“And look!” You turned your phone to show Kun the photo of Riesi. “It’s so cute!”

“Is that a top hat?”

“I think?”

As you looked at the picture one more time and put your phone to the side, you reclined back in your seat, lifting your mug up to your lips to take your first sip of the eggnog. The fire continued crackling in the background, and you hummed a Christmas carol to yourself. So you couldn’t make your great escape exactly how you’d planned. But you and Kun had tolerated each other pretty well so far, you could probably make it out of here in a few days relatively unscathed.

“Hey, uhm, what did you mean earlier?” Kun quietly shattered all of your hopes and dreams for peace with just one vague question.

“Huh? When?”

“When I thanked you for going along with my weird idea to get together for Christmas despite… everything. And you said: ‘It’s what I do, remember?’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh… just… you know— You’d have some weird, or crazy, or slightly irresponsible, or fun idea and I always said yes,” you kept your tone conversational and nostalgic. “Blowing your whole paycheck on a LEGO set that you’d always wanted but your parents would never buy you as a kid, skipping classes in undergrad to laze about your apartment, taking the long way back to your car after Sicheng’s film festival even though it was pouring rain because you remembered I had said on our first date that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain, submitting my paper to the undergraduate research panel…”

“Moving out here,” he filled in for you flatly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before nodding. “Moving here…”

“Is that really how you feel? That I was always dragging you around places, making you do stuff that you didn’t want to do?”

“Kun, we’re going to be stuck in here together for who knows how long, can we not do this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, I knew you were bitter about coming here, but apparently I was holding you hostage the entire four years before that too and had no idea.”

“That is not what I said,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What else am I supposed to think about what you said?”

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You don’t think about it, you don’t read into it, they’re just words! Not everything has a deeper meaning, sometimes people just say stuff, you know.”

“Well you never actually say what you mean, so I have to try to read between the lines.”

“Or maybe I’m saying plenty, and you’re too far up your own ass trying to decipher me like some cosmic puzzle instead of listening to the actual words I’m saying!”

“So I don’t have to ask if you’re still bitter about it, then,” he scoffed.

The final shred of decency and civility left in you burned up right then, and you got to your feet as you exploded, “You convinced me to leave my family, my friends, my home, everything and everyone I knew, to come here for your dreams! And then you told me you didn’t love me anymore! Of course I’m fucking bitter!”

Kun got to his feet too, staring you down intensely. “Then why didn’t you go back home? After you graduated, you stuck around. Why?”

“I was offered the position at the lab—”

“There’s other labs.”

“The studies we’re doing—”

“There’s other studies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you hated it here so much and hated me for dragging you here, why didn’t you take the first chance you had to leave?”

His features turned apologetic for a moment. “Y/N—”

“You knew how much I loved you, that I’d follow you anywhere. I chose to study here even though it was my second choice because your top pick had already accepted you. I thought we were planning our life together, but then you dropped me like it was nothing. So why? Why did you stop loving me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Just answer the question, Kun,” you demanded. “Why? You had to have an inkling before you took me from everyone I loved—”

“I didn’t take you anywhere, you’re not some helpless waif! We were grown-ups and we made grown-up decisions!” He raised his voice again, face red with anger and veins bulging in his neck and forehead. “If I remember correctly, I suggested being long-distance while we did our graduate studies.”

“I loved you, Kun! I loved you, and I wanted to see you thriving and to support you from right next to you, not be in the sidelines of your life.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“What?”

“The answer to your question is that I never stopped loving you, actually. I just told you I did.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, slack-jawed, before you were filled with even more white-hot rage than ever, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Y/N, we were fighting every other day, we never saw each other because we were working so much and when we did we just fought—Like this!” He gestured between the two of you zealously as he defended himself. “—about the stupidest stuff. I could see how much you hated being here, and I knew you resented me for bringing you here, but you wouldn’t ever talk to me about it. I thought that if I was the only thing keeping you here, then I needed to stop being so selfish and let you go back home where you would actually be happy again.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me on any of that?”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep inhale through his nose before answering, voice absolutely incensed, “I couldn’t get you to talk about it! Whenever I tried to ask you how you were doing settling in here, how you liked your program, anything, you just gave me these- these hollow smiles and placated me with the same ‘oh, it’s great, I really like it’ over and over again! It was like being in love with a brick wall!”

“Because I didn’t want youto blame yourself! Because it wasn’t your fault!” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from so much shouting. The white-hot anger was gone, leaving only a cold sorrow inside you as you were confronted with your own admission. You hugged yourself as you followed it up with a much quieter, “It wasn’t your fault, Kun… It’s just been so much easier to blame you this whole time.”

“Y/N…” Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair as his tone changed from anger to remorse, his face softening. “I should’ve made sure our focus was on your career as much as it was on mine. I let my ambitions become the priority for both of us instead of seriously considering yours as well. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for blaming you the whole time. You’re right, I was a grown-up, and I made a grown-up decision.” You shook your head at yourself, staring into the dynamic flames of the fireplace. “It was so much easier to hate you for dragging me here than to hate myself for following you here.”

“I’m sorry for lying, too. When I told you I stopped loving you. I really thought that would get you to leave, to go back home where you could be happy again. But it was just needlessly cruel. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was shaking, and when you looked back at him again, you could see that the whites of his eyes were pink.

“I didn’t go back home because it wouldn’t have meant anything to go back without you,” you finally answered his question, swallowing the lump in your throat. “When we first moved here, and I’d imagine going back home, I would always imagine us going back together. Because it wouldn’t have been home without you, for me. That’s why I stayed. Not because you were here—I really never wanted to see you again. But because you—the you that I wanted, that still loved me—weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry…” He blinked and the first of his tears slipped slowly down his cheek. “I know I said that a lot the first time we did this but… I wasn’t apologizing for the right thing.”

The corners of your lips twitched with a bittersweet, cynical smile. “You didn’t know any of this stuff the first go around.”

“I did know that you loved me. And I really thought that if you could just get over that one little thing then you could be happy again. I underestimated you and what it meant for you to love me.”

“It wasn’t that simple…” You repeated feebly. “You made me happy too, Kun. I should’ve told you that, all of this, everything, instead of pushing it down and letting myself resent you just because that’s what seemed easier at the time. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“None of this was fair on either of us.”

“But saving our relationship wasn’t your sole responsibility, Kun. We were partners, it was on both of us, and I didn’t try.”

“It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault,” Kun declared with another sigh, dropping his body back down in the armchair.

“Yeah…” You sat down in the corner of the couch. “It was…”

The apartment was silent as you took another sip of your eggnog, and Kun wiped his damp cheeks.

“So… now what?” You prompted as you met his gaze.

“You still like jigsaw puzzles?”

Kun and you worked together on a puzzle on the floor of his living room. Once put together, it would show a full Winter Wonderland scene. He had put on Christmas music in the background, and your assembly was interspersed with sing-alongs, easygoing conversation, and long, comfortable stretches of silence.

When the puzzle was about halfway done, you let out a big yawn, briefly checking the time on your phone. “Oh, jeez, it’s after midnight already.”

“I think that’s plenty for tonight,” Kun declared, slowly getting to his feet. “We can finish up the rest tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You twisted around in place to crack your back.

“I’ll go get you some pajamas.” He gave your head a gentle pat before walking off, taking both of your now-empty eggnog mugs with him.

He returned just a couple minutes later in a pair of lounge pants and simple longsleeve shirt, holding out a stack of clothes to you. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kun,” you accepted them gratefully. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Y/N, were you seriously going to wear the same clothes for like a week straight?” He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I mean, you have a washing machine, presumably.”

“And you would’ve… stood by the washing machine naked? Until they were done?”

You covered your face with one hand as you laughed. “Good point, good point.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you fully appraised the clothes as you changed, a funny sort of tug in your chest when you recognized the sweatshirt he’d given you. It was a plain black crewneck sweatshirt, save for a small rose embroidered on the left wrist, just above the cuff. It had always been your favorite of his to take and wear for yourself before.

The sweatshirt was as soft as you’d remembered, and when you put it on, you were awash not only in Kun’s scent, but warm, happy memories of being held, loved, treasured, safe. You folded up your clothes and left them on the bathroom countertop.

The fire had been put out when you returned to the living room, and the lights on the tree unplugged.

“I uhm, I’m not sure where you wanted me to put my clothes, so they’re on the—” You cut yourself off when you looked up from where you’d been fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt to see Kun looking at you with an off-putting, oddly mournful look of tenderness. “What? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your concerns, his voice tight. “That’s fine, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine tomorrow.”

“Do you have some extra bedding I can use out here?”

“What?”

“I mean, your couch already looks super comfy, but a real pillow would sort of be nice…”

“No, no, you can take my bed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Kun, I’ll be fine out here for a few nights,” you pushed back. With humor in your tone, you added, “You’ve done enough sleeping on the couch to last the rest of your life, okay? I think it’s my turn.”

He seemed to understand your joke, but also the sincere intent behind it, and held up his hands in surrender as a smile cracked across his face. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets.”

Kun set up your makeshift bed on the couch for you, with a couple of real pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and heavy quilt to go over that. He refilled your water glass from dinner, and set that down on the coffee table for you.

“Oh, phone charger—”

“I have one.” You stopped him with a hand on his arm, going to grab your purse and root through it. “I keep an extra on me. Never know when your phone is going to die reviewing notes in a random café.”

“Right. Cool.” He watched you plug it into the outlet closest to the pillow end of the couch, then stand back up.

“Well, goodnight, Kun. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks again for coming, and uh, sorry for getting you stuck out here…”

You sat down on the couch, smiling up at him. “Hasn’t been all bad.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a chuckle.

When he still hadn’t moved, you realized the both of you must have been debating the same thing. Should you hug goodnight?

To save yourselves, you opened your arms in a half-invitation, and Kun bent over to give you a one-armed hug, briefly rubbing your back before standing back up. He gave you a final hesitant smile and nod. “Night.”

“Night.”

As you laid down, you could hear him walking across the room, and pause at the threshold. Just as you’d finished readjusting your covers and getting cozy with your head on the pillow, the lights were turned off, and you listened to Kun walk all the way into his room and the door creak closed behind him.

You watched the last of the dying embers in the fireplace as you started trying to sort through your muddied thoughts. You and Kun no longer had the awkwardness of bitter exes, but it had just been replaced with a new kind of awkwardness. Now that you didn’t hate each other, what was left? How did you feel about each other?

You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you fell asleep.

Full-body shivers woke you up, and you blinked rapidly trying to readjust to your surroundings. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, but that did practically nothing. Every inch of you from your fingers to your toes felt like a block of ice, and your muscles were shaking to try to generate some kind of heat. Your teeth even chattered a couple of times.

A hasty look at your phone showed you that it was only two and a half hours after you’d fallen asleep. You turned on your phone flashlight, looking around the walls for the thermostat. Having spotted it at the start of the hallway, you made the hasty decision to throw your blankets off you and run over to it as quick as possible, fumbling to look at the controls. But as best you could tell, the heat was definitely turned on, and it was set to a perfectly comfortable temperature.

You felt terrible for what you were about to do, but you were going to get hypothermia sooner than you would get back to sleep at this rate. Lightly knocking on Kun’s bedroom door, you paid attention for any signs of life. After a moment of no response, you knocked again, a bit louder.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a half-intelligible, confused mumble of your name.

“Yeah, Kun, it’s me,” you responded through the wood.

You heard the sounds of him rolling out of bed, then lumbering over to the door. He opened it, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Y/N, what are you— Shit, it’s a fucking meatlocker out there!” He exclaimed, grabbing at his own arms.

“Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I can’t seem to figure out your thermostat and it’s freezing out here.”

Kun pushed past you, shutting his door tight behind him before going to inspect the thermostat himself. “Doesn’t make sense… The heat should be working fine…”

“Oh.”

“God, of course it’s fucking broken,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N. I’ll go call the maintenance line right now.”

Just a moment later, and you heard more swearing from his room. He came back out with his phone in hand. “Got a text from the management company… Heat in the whole complex is busted, but they can’t get anybody out here until the roads are clear.”

“Shit…”

He spun on his heel back towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s at least a little warmer in my room. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

You followed him in without complaint, and he shut the door firmly behind you. He grabbed a towel from his attached bathroom and stuffed it under the crack of the door.

You couldn’t see much about his bedroom in the dark except for a few vague shapes, but the air felt noticeably warmer in here than it had been in the living room. Kun opened up a couple of drawers on what you were now realizing was a dresser, and grabbed a hoodie for himself, then handed you a zip-up hoodie. It was big enough to fit the sleeves of your sweatshirt through, and you could feel the chattering of your teeth dying down.

Kun sat down on one side of the bed, and indicated to the other side for you. You obliged, following his lead to slip under the covers. The sheet, blankets, and heavy quilt were still pleasantly warm, and you rubbed your frozen feet together in contentment. You accidentally bumped Kun’s leg, a flash of accidental heat.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” You jerked your limbs as far back as you dared without leaving the security of the blankets.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re an icicle,” Kun said disapprovingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he sighed and lifted the blankets in between you two.

“Wh—”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death literally right next to me. Either you come here or I go over there.”

You shuffled a couple inches closer to him, but either he was impatient, or wasn’t sure that you’d follow through, because he moved to close the gap himself, meeting you in the middle and wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

You gulped, and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “That’s a lot better, actually.”

“I was always much warmer than you,” he pointed out.

Readjusting to lay on your side facing the same direction as him, your hand brushed against his that was slung over your middle.

“God, you feel like you’re about to lose your fingers to frostbite, too.” He covered your hand with his.

You instinctively spread your fingers so his would slot together with them, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that you almost burst into tears again on the spot.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You tried and failed to keep your voice casual.

“I think you’re cutting off my circulation now.”

“Oh God, sorry!” You loosened the death grip you didn’t even realized you’d had on his appendages.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you. “Are you warming up?”

You nodded hastily. “For sure. Thank you, again.”

“I was thinking… about earlier.”

“Kun, for real, if there was ever a time not to fight.”

“No, it’s not— Well it is about that, but I’m not looking for a round two, promise.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking… about how I didn’t really accept your apologies, and you didn’t accept mine.”

“That’s fine, Kun. Not every apology is made to be accepted.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not fishing for your forgiveness right now. I was just thinking, about how I’m kind of relieved, that we still haven’t you know, finally gotten our closure or whatever.” His breath was getting quicker. “Because I don’t want this to be over, actually. And closure feels like it’d really be the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and opened them back up again, staring into the inky darkness. “What do you mean by that, Kun?”

“I mean… When I said I never stopped loving you, I didn’t just mean when we broke up. I still do.”

“So you… What? Want to get back together?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“At least talk about it,” he confirmed. “I’ll do anything you want, lovey. Complete restart, take you on a new first date, or we can even just try to be friends first. I’m not saying we have to jump right back in where we left off. I think we need to leave space for the people we’ve become since then but… I know I want to try again.”

You swallowed down your sniffles as you turned over to finally face him. Despite the lack of light, you could find every feature on Kun’s face, holding a caged hopefulness in them. You gently caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Okay…” You murmured. “We can try again. I-I want that too.”

You caught just a flicker of Kun’s bright grin before you were tangling your fingers in his shaggy locks and pulling his mouth to yours. It was somehow even better than you remembered, than you had imagined, because it felt like coming home all at once. Like all of you, body, mind, soul, heart, had come home.

Kun kissed you back just as ardently, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you even closer—if it were even possible. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist, bunching in the fabric at the small of your back.

When your lungs were screaming for air and you were light-headed for more than one reason, you broke away, resting your forehead against his.

“Looks like neither of us followed the no gift rule,” Kun said in the negligible space between your mouths, the tip of his nose bumping yours for a moment. “I think I had my heart gift-wrapped for you from the moment I saw you again.”

You chuckled as you stole one, two more kisses from him. “You’re as cheesy as ever, pooks.”

“I have three years’ worth of lines like that stocked up,” he teased, giving you another peck. “And you’re stuck in here with me until next year, lovey.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

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