Riki's So Me.

Riki's so me.

enhypen texts of them being down bad

pairing: enhypen x reader

synopsis: enhypen being down bad for you

warning: cursing, usage of ma'am in sunghoon's one, usage of girlfriend in both niki's and heeseung's

a/n: these are texts that I found from pinterest that I thought fit them. I added a little bit of my own stuff to them too.

© jebi-won ── all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or share without my permission and crediting me

CRYING.SOBBING.SCREAMING.

hi (i love you) | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you take a trip through random glimpses of your growing relationship with minghao. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader (ft. a mention of jihoon, and gyu and seokmin very briefly) GENRE. fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, established relationship, college au WARNINGS. hao is a year or two older than reader, drinking and reader getting drunk, kissing, terms of endearment at the end, the last scene is a lil suggestive WORD COUNT. 5.5k

notes: yes. this is literally just a compilation fic of them saying hi. ty zanna @slytherinshua for reading this over for me <3 there's like significant time skips between each section - just a lil sum to keep in mind cuz i dont wanna cause confusion or anything 😭😭😭 i find hao the hardest member to write for, so i hope i was able to characterize him well here!

i. "hi." (fallow is the colour of dryness to my mouth when your eyes met mine.)

There's no way in hell you're going to let yourself be lost on the first day of university.

It's embarrassing enough accidentally waking up past your alarm and having barely any time to freshen up as much as you would like, so right now, you couldn't afford another disaster.

Taking a deep breath, you double-check your schedule and the layout of the campus on your phone, trying to match it with the signs around you. The different buildings and hallways of the campus seem like a maze in of itself, and you can feel the slight panic course up your veins. A sea of students rush past you, seemingly confident in their strides towards their own classes. A defeated sigh leaves you.

All you had to do was find the stupid art hallway.

You clench your phone tighter, your iron grip practically burning a hole through the screen. The campus map app wasn't making any more sense now than it did a minute ago. Frustration stings painfully at your eyes, but begging the earth to swallow you whole wouldn't get you to class any faster, so you force yourself to scan the crowd. There's bound to be at least someone who knows where it is and is willing to help you.

And so, your eyes catch sight of the first figure appearing conveniently in your peripheral vision𑁋a boy, dressed in a casual fallow-coloured flannel with a backpack casually slung over one of his shoulders, earphones in his ears, and peering down at something on his phone just like you were doing minutes ago (though he seems to be having a much better time than you)𑁋which was somehow enough for your feet to bolt you towards as if it had a mind of its own.

You feel the root of your nerves creep up your legs and branch up to your neck as you approach him, realising at this point, there's no turning back now. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, bracing yourself for a possible eye roll or annoyed sigh.

His eyes widen in surprise before settling on you, and at that moment, something strikes hard at whatever rehearsed lines you had in your head. It was all gone in a simple snap, from a simple look from him𑁋soft yet sharp brown eyes framed by dark lashes peering at you with a hint of surprise, fluffy dark hair showering down his neck and forehead a little, a dainty pair of silver earrings glinting at his ears. His whole face seems to hold a warmth that somehow eases a bit of the knot in your chest, but certainly not the one in your throat.

You open your mouth, but all the words die on your tongue. The air hangs heavy with a sudden awkwardness, and you can practically feel your cheeks burning. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend this never happened.

But then, you notice the way his lips lift up just slightly, and it makes your stomach do a flip. He glances down at his phone for a second, takes off his earphones, then brings his attention back at you.

"Hi," is all he says, and maybe, just maybe, your heart stops a little bit. It's just a simple word, but the way he says it𑁋all soft, quiet, a tad bit hesitant𑁋makes the fabric of your shirt feel tight on your body.

You didn't notice you were clenching your fists until you force them to relax at your side, clearing your throat in the process.

"Hi," You manage back nervously, surprised at how breathless you sound. "Sorry, I-I don't mean to intrude. It's just... Do you happen to know where the art hallway is? I'm trying to find my photography class."

You watch the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, unveiling more of a view of his piercings. He gazes briefly behind you at the clusters of other students gradually spilling into different hallways, hushing the space where the two of you stood. Then he returns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

"You're not that far off," he comments, seemingly amused. "I was just heading there myself too."

"Really? That's a relief. The campus map is awful and confusing, and I swear this place was designed on purpose for you to get lost in, you know? And being lost on the first day is just..." You quickly shut your mouth up from your rambling, letting your voice fade into an embarrassed chuckle instead.

Your gaze falls to the ground for a moment, and when you pick your head back up to look at him, you catch a glimpse of the small curve that he has at his lips, barely a hint of a smile playing there. It's a small detail, but suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world, and it throws your train of thought completely off track. He doesn't seem bothered by your little habit of rambling (admittedly, because of nerves), thankfully. Instead, he lets out a soft laugh, the sound washing over you like a warm summer breeze.

You can't help but sheepishly grin back, feeling a certain lightness bloom within your chest that probably has nothing to do with the weight of your backpack suddenly seeming lighter as well.

"It's okay," he reassures, voice as quiet and gentle as his gaze. "Everyone gets lost here sometimes. I've been there."

He starts walking, and you hesitate for a second before falling into step beside him. There's a small part of you urging to get to know him, as if this was the only opportunity to do so, but all the words you want to say sound clumsy and loud compared to the easy peacefulness that surrounds him.

And honestly, it feels... nice.

The hallway he leads you in is perhaps more than just a simple art hallway, the intoxicating scent of oil paint and clay blend together in the air. Paintings by students and faculty of every style imaginable line the walls, some bursting with vibrant colours, others muted and contemplative. Sculptures poke out from odd corners, and bulletin boards are overflowed with announcements of upcoming exhibitions and workshops, even though the year just started.

"Welcome to the art hallway," he beckons you casually and welcomingly, as if only this portion of the campus was a separate entity than others.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding in. "Thank you so much. Wow, this place is, um..." You stop yourself from continuing on, zipping your mouth shut. "I owe you. Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way. If there's anything I can𑁋"

"There's no need." He waves a hand dismissively at your offer, and for a second you feel something inside you sink, but the small hint of a smile to his face chases that feeling away just a little. "And it's Minghao... yeah. I'll see you around."

Before you can say anything more, you watch as he turns himself around and swiftly enters inside the room standing right behind him. A painting class.

(You are eight minutes late to class when a near-clear picture on the wall catches your gaze. It looks like a picture of Minghao standing next to a particularly vibrant painting of abstract art, and your heart swells just a little bit more.)

ii. "hi." (laurel is the colour of the grass that you lay on with me, gazing up at the same sky together.)

There was a time during Minghao's first year of college where a friend of his𑁋Lee Jihoon is his name𑁋called him crazy and bonkers for spending majority of his day outdoors rather than inside. Obviously, Minghao didn't exactly care, nor was it insulting in the slightest knowing Jihoon's stubbornness and tendency to stay holed up in his room buried under piles of music textbooks.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the outdoors more than anything else, like from the way the sun kisses upon his skin, the gentle breeze that caresses his face, and the colours of nature that found him at his lowest times. Minghao thinks that's how he got into painting and art in the first place, though he didn't dwell on it too much. It all just came natural to him. He likes to think it that way𑁋that it found him instead.

The scenery of the campus is his oasis. He can do his own thing while others are walking through their own lives. He can sit outside for as long as he wants until dusk settles in and paints the sky with hues of orange and pink, or until the stars twinkle above and remind him that he's just an utter speck in the universe.

Today is no different.

Minghao finds himself sprawled out on the grass near the art building, sketchbook propped up against his bent knees, brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the way the afternoon sunlight filters through the leaves of a nearby tree in his line of sight.

A low breeze runs through the air, stirring a few strands of hair across his forehead. He brushes them back absentmindedly, just as a sound cracks into the quietness.

"Hi!"

Minghao shoots his eyes up, slightly startled from the unexpected greeting. He catches sight of you slowly approaching up to him, a hesitant smile gracing your lips as you stop a few feet away.

"Hi," he replies, voice soft as he notices the way you're fiddling with something behind your back. "Vending machine did its ol' thing again?"

"Can you always read my mind?" You murmur, teasing annoyance biting at your words, but you can't contain the smile to your face either way. Maybe he can read your mind, but he's just skimming over it instead. "I can take it if you prefer to die from dehydration."

Minghao chuckles lightly. He glances down at the water bottle in your hand, then back at you, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. There's a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, but also a hint of something𑁋maybe surprise, mischief, or perhaps a touch of shyness.

(You don't catch the way he subconsciously pushes the other water bottle he had stashed earlier deeper into his backpack.)

"Thanks." He accepts the water bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a second, and takes a quick sip to cool his slightly parched throat.

Then he sets the water bottle down beside him, patting the grass next to him invitingly.

Without a word, you take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto the grass next to him. You catch the scent of the fresh paint lingering on his clothes and blending with the earthy aroma of the grass beneath you. The sunlight catches on the side of his face, highlighting some strands of hair flying in the breeze and the silver earrings reflecting in his ears.

There's a small groan that leaves you when you get yourself to lay fully down on the grass, using your backpack as a makeshift pillow. Minghao just peers in your direction curiously, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you settle in.

"You know," You sigh, letting out a contented breath as you spread your arms out a little, fixing your eyes up towards the sky. "This is actually really nice, hanging outside and all, but I am so out of shape. You pick the worst spots."

Minghao's smile widens a fraction at your words. He shifts his own gaze to the sky, observing as the clouds drift lazily overhead, fingertips kneading at the laurel-coloured grass below. The soft yet vibrant green reminds him of a new set of paints he recently bought.

"I think you'll survive lying on a patch of grass, Y/N."

"Not if I get up and there's a goddamn earthworm crawling in my ear, Hao."

"Just don't fall asleep, and you'll live."

You let out a giggle, though you wouldn't be lying if you said that the warmth hitting your body was making you feel just the tiniest bit of drowsy. "No promises there."

The silence that lingers between you and Minghao isn't uncomfortable, but it's not exactly filled with chatter either. It's a comfortable silence, with the distant sounds of other students laughing like white noise and the occasional rustle of a breeze flying past your ears.

It's always like this when you're here together, a quiet that feels more familiar than the few months you've known him. Whether it's your little study sessions at the library, or when you hang out with him after hours in his painting class, it's familiar being around him. The thought settles around you like a well-worn blanket, a comfort you didn't know you craved until you found it here.

You glance over back at Minghao, who seems to be focused back on his sketchbook. He taps his pencil against his bottom lip in concentration. There's a small smudge of charcoal on his nose that you pinpoint, just hardly noticeable, but it makes you want to reach out and brush it away with your thumb.

The bold thought makes your stomach churn.

"Lay down with me, Hao."

The words leave you before you can stop them, surprising even yourself. A blush creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks as you continue watching Minghao. He's still focused on his sketchbook, but the tapping of his pencil against his lip has ceased. He looks down at you, eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening into a gentle smile.

"Lay down?" he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Y-Yeah," You stammer, suddenly wishing you'd phrased it differently. "I mean, if you want. The sky looks better from here, you know?"

Minghao just tilts his head to the side as if in contemplation, before closing his sketchbook and shifting his position. He tosses his backpack right next to yours, laying himself down on the grass and stretching his body in relief. The grass crinkles softly beneath him, his arm briefly brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he settles in, peering up at the sky with you.

He's painted the sky many times, but for some reason, it feels different looking at it right now, and he isn't entirely sure why.

"What's the weirdest colour you've painted with?"

The sudden question makes Minghao sit up slightly, leaning on his elbow to face you better. The corners of his lips are pulled up in the hint of a smirk.

"Goose turd green."

His eyes detail the way your face contorts in slight disgust, before nothing but laughter tumbles out of you, and Minghao thinks he'd never get tired of hearing that sound.

iii. "hi." (vermilion is the colour that seeps through my cheeks when the alcohol beats me and i think about you.)

"Y/N𑁋jeez, how much did they drink tonight?"

"I don't even know𑁋woah, hey! Hold them steady, wait..."

"I'll take them back to their place," Minghao tells the other two boys struggling to keep you from falling over in their hold.

Mingyu and Seokmin stare at him for a second, exchanging a glance with each other before guiding you into Minghao's hold carefully. Minghao secures an arm around your waist, loosely at first, before tightening instantly because you're just about to fall out of his grip. He bids the other guys goodbye, then sets off with you towards your dorm.

"Are you alright?" he asks, even though he knows the answer already. "I told you before that you should know your limits."

You giggle, a wobbly, off-key sound. "Oh, I feel peachy, thank you so much."

Minghao just sighs, shaking his head slightly as he adjusts his hold on you, making sure you're steady on your feet.

The walk back to your dorm is painfully slow. Streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, painting long shadows that seem to dance alongside you. You lean heavily against Minghao, head hanging down to the ground, your footsteps unsteady. The world seems to tilt and sway with every giggle that escapes you.

Your vision is a bit blurry when your dorm comes into sight. Relief washes over you, and you lean even heavier into Minghao, practically melting into him by the time you reach your door and it swings open.

He steps you inside, moving you past the shoe rack by the entrance and towards your bed, and you flop down on the plush mattress with a low groan, nearly dragging down Minghao on top of you.

He catches himself just in time, a hand landing on the mattress beside you with a soft thud, and suddenly he's hovering above you, his breath catching with the sudden closeness of his body pressed up against yours. However, it just makes a laugh bubble out of your throat from deep within your chest, and with half-lidded eyes, you find yourself staring dazedly up at him.

"Wow, hiiii, you're like..." You drawl your words and tap aimlessly at his shoulder. "You're like... so pretty, you know? Have I told you that before?"

Heat creeps up Minghao's neck. He blinks down at you, eyes trailing over your face and cheeks which were stained a soft shade of vermilion from all the alcohol earlier. A small, surprised airy laugh escapes his lips.

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And even after pulling away from you, you continue, voice thick with inebriation.

"And your smile? Oh, don't even get me started," You slur, a goofy grin plastered on your face. "Those big, cute eyes you have? They, like, make the whole world look... sparkly."

"Y/N, you need𑁋"

"And whenev... whenever you paint," You continue, voice trailing off away. The world seems to be spinning a little slower now, the grin to your face faltering for a moment, replaced by a furrowed brow as you try to focus on the thought. "Yeah, whenever you paint... you get this... this really focused look on your face. Like the world fades away and all that's left is the canvas. It's kind of... hot."

Minghao could simply only stare at you. He knows he should probably get you settled into bed and leave, but his feet seem rooted to the floor below. His gaze flickers up and down your face, then back up to your eyes, searching for any sign of what you just said being a joke. But all he sees is a genuine, albeit slightly hazy and inebriated, fondness.

"You think so?" he finally manages to ask.

"Yeah," You mumble knowingly as if instinctive, eyelids drooping closed a little further. "Makes you look, uh... determined. Like you could𑁋like you could paint the stars out of the sky or something."

Minghao cowers his head down for a second, before looking back up at you, crossing his arms together bemusedly. "Do you want me to paint the stars for you?"

You give a dreamy nod. In your cloudy mind, the idea sounds incredibly romantic, like something out of a dream.

"I think..." You start once again. "that would really make me like you even more."

Minghao feels his lips twitch, somewhat hopeful yet also reluctant, before letting out another sigh.

"You need to go to bed." He walks back over and helps pull the covers over you. "I'll leave you some water and meds to take in the morning, okay?"

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as he pulls away, a sleepy pout crossing over your features. You watch him with heavy eyelids, the room tilting ever so slightly with each passing beat of your heart.

"Wait," You murmur, grabbing weakly at his sleeve.

Minghao turns back around. You're looking at him, eyes a little more focused now, a hint of a playful smile on your lips, and shooting him a look that means business.

"Don't forget the stars, okay, mister?"

iv. "hi." (pewter is the colour of the clouds when the earth can't hold it in much longer, and the words burst all at once.)

It hits you on a random Wednesday near the end of the month during an exam on English Romanticism that you simply can't stand this anymore.

You're avoiding Minghao, purposely attending more study sessions that your classmates offer and taking up more shifts at the small café across from campus that you applied for a while ago to make some extra bucks. You know you're avoiding him, and he probably knows it too, and it's all your fault𑁋you're letting him get away and slip through the cracks between your fingers.

Minghao's art had been selected for a prestigious exhibition out of town, and he was set to leave at the end of the month for this internship just as summer is starting, and the thought of him being gone brings a hollow ache to your chest. It's becoming unbearable each passing day, each millisecond that passes knowing you've been so stupidly immature to push him away when he's quite literally been the best thing that has happened to you.

You may never understand how Xu Minghao𑁋this sophisticated, well-mannered, and endlessly talented artist𑁋had managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly, but there he was, occupying every crevice and corner with his gentle smiles and soft laughter that seem to flip the world over. He was just this sentient, living breathing form of peace that you can’t seem to let go of.

When another boom of thunder shatters outside, you think, screw this.

Screw avoiding him. This wasn't how this story was supposed to end.

You're quick to shove your belongings back in your bag the moment your class ends. The rain has calmed down a little when you step outside, which only seems to fuel the determination within you.

With a deep breath, you pull your jacket tighter against your body, and start to spring across campus. The rain might be getting heavier with each passing minute, but you don't care. All you care about is getting to Minghao before the storm within you bursts too.

Reaching his dorm building, you're merely a shivering mess, hair damp and plastered to your forehead and clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You barely have the breath to push open the heavy doors, collapsing against them for a moment to catch your breath.

But just as you're about to push open the door, a figure blocks your way, and you peer up to see Minghao standing in front of you. There's an umbrella clutched in his hand, and a puzzled look etches across his features when he takes sight of your disheveled appearance in front of him. You could only gaze at him.

"Hi," You say breathlessly, as if you've been holding on to the singular word for dear life.

Minghao just blinks a few times, unsure if he's looking at you as if you were crazy or if he's just imagining you.

"Hi," he finally responds, voice all gentle and slightly hesitant.

You glance down at the umbrella in his hand. "Are you going somewhere?"

Minghao opens his mouth to respond, also looking down at the umbrella in his hands as if magically appeared there out of thin air, then a bashful look crosses his face.

"I forgot some supplies back in class, so I thought I'd grab them before the storm gets any worse," he explains somewhat lamely, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I𑁋Are you... are you okay?"

You give a loose nod, then shake your head dismissively right afterwards. Gosh, you're losing it.

Minghao clears his throat. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're going to get sick𑁋"

"You know I-I like you, right?" The words stumble clumsily over your tongue, shattering whatever fragile tension was building up between you two. "And you probably knew that already, to be honest, because you always seem to know me better than I know myself. But the thought of you leaving just... scared me, and I panicked and pushed you away."

A lump forms in your throat. Minghao's expression is practically unreadable in front of you. There's a mix of surprise, a hint of something that could be hurt, and something else you can't exactly decipher.

You let out a dry chuckle, embarrassment crawling up your face but you try to ignore it as much as you can.

"I-I know I sound crazy right now," You say, forcing a smile that seems more like a grimace. "But I... I couldn't let you leave without knowing how I feel. So yeah. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than that. I don't know. It sort of scares me, honestly."

You wait a few moments, simply standing there in the falling rain while anticipating just anything from the boy standing in front of you as if the world had come to a pause. His silence stretches suffocatingly long, nothing but a cloud swirling in those beautiful eyes of his.

Then he looks down at the umbrella in his hand for a moment, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your soaked clothes and shivering form. And just before you can spiral into a wave of panic, Minghao steps forward close to you. Without a word, he unfurls the umbrella and holds it over your head, tilting it slightly to ensure you're fully covered from the rain.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he says finally, low and calm. "You're freezing."

"I..." You start, then stop, giving a muted nod. "Okay."

Minghao leads you back inside his dorm building and up to his room, the warmth seeping overwhelmingly into your bones. He ushers you into his space, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you.

You've been inside Minghao's room before, but it feels different now, more intimate somehow. The air hangs heavy as you awkwardly perch yourself on the edge of his bed, careful not to let the water dripping off you land on his sheets, and you watch as he quietly makes his way to his closet and disappears behind the hanging clothes. A moment later, he emerges with a soft, oversized hoodie and a towel in hand.

"Here." He holds out the towel and hoodie towards you. "Dry yourself off and change out of those clothes."

The softness of the towel against your skin is the equivalent to luxury as you meticulously pat down your hair and face. You shoot glances at Minghao across the room, seeing him busy himself at his desk, back turned to you, a low hum escaping his lips.

You slip on the oversized hoodie, the familiar scent of Minghao washing over you and instantly relaxing your jittery nerves. The sleeves hang past your fingertips, the material engulfing you in a comforting warmth.

"Feeling a little better?" Minghao asks, turning around to face you after a few minutes. You hardly notice the way his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on the way the hoodie basically swallows you.

A shy, self-conscious look crosses your features. "Yeah, um... Thanks."

Minghao returns the smile, though there's a hint of something else in his eyes𑁋perhaps relief or maybe even a touch of fondness. "Always."

That particular silence passes again as you both sit in his room, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the window. You fidget nervously with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Then, you let out a sigh. "Look, Hao𑁋"

"Do you want anything to drink?"

The offer zips your mouth back up, leaving your unfinished words hanging in the air. Is he... trying to brush away everything that has just happened in the last fifteen minutes? All just like that? You nearly want to scoff at the thought, but you bite at your bottom lip instead, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest.

"Honestly?" You lay your hands flat on your lap. "I'd kill for a hot chocolate right now."

Minghao just chuckles softly. "Okay," Then another long, considerable pause. "Are you working at the café later on?"

The thought of working right now makes you cringe internally. "No, thank goodness. My shift actually got swapped with someone else. Lucky break, I guess."

The corners of Minghao's mouth lift up subtly. He glances back out the window, seeing that the rain had become much lighter and cleared up significantly, revealing the sky in a palette of muted greys. His gaze returns to you, a thoughtful expression painting his features.

"Let's go then," he asserts firmly, rising up to his feet.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Right now? To the café?"

"Mhm."

"But you can't𑁋we can't just𑁋"

"It's a date," Minghao affirms, cutting your words off promptly. "My treat."

His words catch you off-guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. Your mouth hangs down to the ground, warmth crawling up the cheeks just like the hot chocolate you desperately crave right now. You can feel your heart pounding furiously out of your chest and whatever tension coiling in your stomach dissipating away.

"A... date?" You squeak out, voice coming out small and weak.

Minghao's lips purse together in a thin line. "Unless you have other plans𑁋"

"Oh no, no, no," You blurt out, finding yourself already breathless for no reason at all, struggling to keep the giddy grin forming on your face at bay. "A date sounds perfect, actually."

Relief floods over Minghao's features. He lets out a little giggle, the kind that always makes your insides do a little happy flip.

"Good," he responds simply. "I'm glad."

"Do I get to pay next time?" You ask teasingly as you stand up. "If there is a next time, at least."

Nothing but amusement dances in his eyes.

"We'll see about that."

v. "hi." (calamine is the colour staining your cheeks and your lips against my ear.)

Minghao's lips are on yours before you have the opportunity to breathe in the air of relief of the hotel room.

It's not hard for your body to melt into him instinctively, the kiss soft yet desperate, tender yet urgent. You find your fingers kneading at the silky material of the suit that he wore, and his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Both of your feet move in mere unison together before you feel the edge of the bed nudge the back of your knee.

When the two of you pull back for a minute to breathe, all you can do is faintly chuckle.

"You act like you haven't seen me in years," You tease, letting a hand come to toy with his tie. "Did you miss me that much?"

Minghao's gaze only flickers between your eyes, your lips, and down the outfit that seems to hug your body just perfectly, before settling back up to your face. His own face is close enough to yours that you swear you could pinpoint the flecks of stardust in his irises. He's simply staring at you with nothing but adoration, his gaze so intense like he's trying to memorise every little detail etched on your face, even if he's already done so many times. He's painted stars on your skin with his fingertips, lips, whispered words, and his heart.

And then he's kissing you again, more softly and slower this time, the weight of his body following your own as you fall back down on the bed behind.

Missing you is more than just an understatement. Being separated from you felt like this physical piece of him was missing from his chest. His art had been reaching the rightful hands of museums abroad just as he deserves, and you had gotten used to him travelling for days on end to attend exhibitions and workshops.

You jumped on the first opportunity to be able to visit him. And now, with you in his arms and your lips pressed against his, Minghao feels like he's finally whole again.

His mouth pulls away from the sweet spot to your neck, trailing a soft path back up to your lips, giving you a small kiss before pulling back to look at you. You hear the way his breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of his hand coming to interlock with yours at your side, the metal of the ring on his finger meeting your skin.

You peer up at him longingly, lovingly, a tiny smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Hi," You whisper, a breathless laugh escaping you.

Minghao's gaze softens even further, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand as he leans back down.

"Hi, dearest," he murmurs back affectionately, adjusting himself so that his mouth is near your ear, barely grazing against the shell as he whispers, "You're beautiful."

You could only giggle as he retreats himself away slightly, but you tug him by the tie again to bring him back down. "Yeah? What else?"

There's a thoughtful look that crosses over his features, his cheeks painted an ethereal shade of calamine pink, mirroring the flush of warmth that spreads across your own face. You've always grown accustomed to Minghao's fairly quiet nature, however it doesn't take much to read over even the most imperceptible shifts in his expressions. Whenever words seem to be too shy or hesitant to come out, the stars in his eyes speak for him.

Minghao just lowers himself even more, the ghost of his lips hardly brushing back against yours.

"I love you."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights

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GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. SCREAMING. GOING INSANE.

I'M SO DELULU IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE GUYS

❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo

wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love

warnings: none

notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!

“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 

“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”

You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 

“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”

“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”

You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”

“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”

“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”

The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”

“Yes.”

Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”

You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 

Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 

Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 

Maybe… a little too perfect. 

He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 

The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 

Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 

“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 

It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”

You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”

“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”

“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”

Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”

Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 

This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 

That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 

“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”

“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”

Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 

“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”

“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”

“Not yet.”

Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 

It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 

As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 

There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 

And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 

Junhui bites back a grin. 

Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 

“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 

“Where?” 

Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 

He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 

“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”

“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”

“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”

Junhui slurps his water loudly. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”

He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 

“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”

“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”

You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 

“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”

“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 

“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”

Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 

“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”

Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”

Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 

“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”

You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 

“I'll see you later?” he says. 

You nod. “I'll see you later.”

Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 

You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 

And how much he loves you, it seems. 

“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”

“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 

“So do you see it or do you not?”

You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 

“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.

“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”

“Hm?”

You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 

“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”

Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect

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MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS OH MY GOSH. I'M FR GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET 🙈🙈

lily of the valley | xu minghao

pairing: non-idol!minghao (svt) x fem!reader

notes: meet-cutes, preschool teacher!reader (sorta), grumpy x sunshine (sorta), tooth-aching fluff, crack, established relationships, a series of flashbacks, hao doesn’t like cliché things! yet he’s the most romantic cliché ? loosely based on the song 은방울 lily of the valley by DANIEL

word count: 3.7k

summary: hao thought the idea of a meet-cute was corny, impossible even. however, when he recalls the first time he met you, he knew he had to swallow a few choice of words and his pride.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

hao scoffs at the screen when the main lead from the movie that you two are watching meets for the first time, at the most ridiculous instance. the meet cute being: the guy practically throws himself to save the girl from a moving vehicle.

hao believes that is not cute.

his reaction caused you to look up at him with a glint in your eyes, ready to annoy your boyfriend even more.

“where is the hostility coming from, lovey?” you asked, sitting straight.

hao sighs, “i know that look.”

“what look?” you blinked innocently at him, knowing full well you’re going to pick on his hatred for romantic clichés.

minghao mutters a long string of words as he pulls you back in his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

you let out a chuckle, you knew what he was trying do. it’s cute, that your haohao would do anything to disassociate himself from romantic clichés, but the man was the most romantic person you’ve ever known. he was your romantic cliché.

“baby,” he practically whines “can we watch something else?”

“what do you mean? you promised you’d watch this with me,” you said as jennifer lopez’s the wedding planner played on the screen.

“you don’t even like this movie,” hao reasons out. “i don’t even know why you’re willing to sit through this.”

“it was included in the list of films that has the best meet cutes,” you said reading off your phone.

“are you still on that?” he dreads, you felt his chin rest on the top of your head.

“it’s because what we had was a meet cute!” you insisted. “don’t you remember?”

“oh, i remember alright,” hao mutters into your head.

it was a rainy friday afternoon, the sound of children were slowly starting to dissipate as the day goes longer.

“ms. ln,” min tugs on your skirt as you watched the rain pour harder than what was anticipated in the weather forecast. “do you have an umbrella?” her eyes practically sparkled as soon as the words left her mouth.

“why sweetie? do you need one?” you asked her, crouching down. “i don’t have one with me, but i can text miss lee if she has an extra one in her classroom that you can borrow.”

she shook her head no, her pigtails swinging along, making you smile. “my uncle is picking me up and i want to know if you’re getting home safely.” she says with a smile. liu xiaomin has always been looking out for her peers and it was no wonder that her warm-hearted nature reaches you. she is a bundle of sunshine and you're lucky enough to have her in your class.

“that’s so sweet of you min," you replied with a soft smile "but i think i'll just wait for the rain to stop."

"what if it doesn’t miss?” she asked with a pout.

“then i’ll just find a way to enjoy the rain,” you said, patting her head. or you can call a cab, but that doesn’t sound as romantic as enjoying the rain.

“okay,” she sighs, sitting at the front steps of the school. “i hope uncle haoi gets here soon.”

you glanced at your watch, it was 10 minutes past dismissal. although min’s uncle is not extremely late, she has been waiting for quite some time now. and with the non-stop pouring rain? it was bound that traffic is up on the horizons.

“do you want me to wait with you, min?” you asked her, feeling bad that she’s the only student left waiting for her ride. xiaomin nods eagerly as she scoots to the side, signalling you to sit next to her.

you two were quietly watching the rain hit the pavement when min asks suddenly, “miss ln, do you have a boyfriend?”

you practically choke on your spit at her question. how does a five-year old even know about that? “sweetie, how do you know about that?”

“i’m five years old, miss, i’m not a baby,” she said with a huff, making you laugh.

“of course,” you tried your best to rationalize, giving her a smile. “but no, i don’t have one.”

“oh, you should meet my uncle haoi then,” she smiles, satisfied with your answer.

you raised an eyebrow at her sudden interest. “and why’s that?”

“i keep hearing my mom tell uncle haoi to get a girlfriend.”

“okay…” you trailed off— you don’t really know how to respond. you barely know this uncle haoi that she keeps bringing up because you’ve only met min’s parents— both of whom usually take turns in picking and dropping her off.

“i think uncle haoi will like you because you’re pretty and you’re very kind and you like painting and you like painting your nails and you like clouds…”

as min went on an endless ramble about how her uncle haoi would like you immediately, you received a text from min’s mom, saying that min’s uncle will be a couple more minutes late.

you tried to suppress a sigh, knowing that you were going to stay a little longer. maybe it was the friday rush, but you were hoping to get home earlier so you can crash on your sofa, catch up on your shows, and be completely static for hours on end.

“miss ln?” min calls your name as you’ve spaced out for a bit. “i think that’s uncle haoi’s car,” min says as you two stared at the black suv that pulled up in front of the school.

“okay, sweetie, let’s just wait till your uncle introduces himself and picks you up personally from me, okay?”

min was more than happy to do so. “uncle haoi!” min calls his name as she waves her hand, practically jumping in excitement.

one look at min’s uncle and you knew exactly who he is. you’ve recognized that tall build that’s approaching you, especially with an umbrella in hand— umbrella man finally has a name.

‘uncle haoi’ looks to be in the same case as you. as soon as his eyes landed on you, he recognized who exactly you were— the girl in the rain.

min makes a run for it and greets her uncle with a hug, making sure to stay under the umbrella. this makes hao melt a bit, lowering his guard down. his features soften at the sweet gesture of his niece.

“it’s you again,” hao mutters as he reaches you, noticing the familiar glint in your eyes.

“uncle haoi, i presume?”

“xu minghao,” hao clarifies curtly, “or just hao.”

“well, okay, hao,” you forced a smile. “here are min’s things.” you said as you handed him her things.

hao puts on min’s backpack and picks his niece up, settling her in his left arm as min clings onto him with a smile on her face.

“miss ln, did you bring your umbrella?” min asks as she whips her head to face you.

hao looks at you for an answer, he had an inkling of what your answer is going to be.

you gave her a forced smile, avoiding eye contact with minghao— his piercing stare was practically boring a hole in your skin. “i’ll just call for a cab, sweetie, don't worry about me."

"uncle haoi," min pouts at her uncle.

"yes, honey?" hao's expression softens upon hearing the soft call from his niece.

"can miss ln come with us?" her eyes practically twinkled as she gave hao the cutest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

hao was caught off-guard, this was the first time min expressed this kind of closeness towards her teachers.

the truth was, you were min's favourite teacher— or in this case, substitute teacher. you were only filling in for the last three months of the school year due to a teacher's personal emergency. but within the short amount of time you had with the students, they found a surprising pull towards you— a bond so tight that even surprised yourself.

unbeknownst to everyone, including min herself, min was playing matchmaker. since uncle haoi and miss ln were her favourites, it would only make sense to combine them together. right?

"um," hao turns to you, but you had an unreadable expression on your face. "i can drop you off at your place, if you want? it'll save you time, and the faire."

"thank you, but it's fine, you two go on ahead." you said, trying your best not to sound dismissive. hao, however, picked up on your tone and gave you a curt nod. "maybe next time, okay?"

"you promise, miss ln?" min asked with a pout. you gave her a nod, making her smile again— satisfied with your answer. "okay, bye miss ln!!" min enthusiastically waved goodbye.

you watched hao skillfully settle min onto her car seat as he tried his best not to get her soaked from the rain. you were about to order yourself a cab when hao approached you with an undiscernible look on his face.

"yes, mr. xu?" you looked up from your phone and blinked at him innocently.

with no other words, hao hands you his umbrella— the exact same way he did the first time he met you.

you just stared at his hand that was firmly grasping the handle of the umbrella as the rain poured down on him, effectively soaking his hair and the white cardigan he was wearing.

"just take it,” was all he said as he forced the umbrella on your hand and ran back to his car.

“okay, but that was not the first time we’ve met, lovey,” you said as you looked up from his chest. the movie was now forgotten.

“i know, but that was the first time jiejie teased me about you,” hao practically grumbles upon memory, his cheeks were turning red.

your eyes sparkled as soon as the words left his mouth. “how did i not know about this?” you practically squealed at the information.

“oh shut it, yn,” hao playfully puts his hand over your mouth, prompting you to bite it. “ya!”

“well, i’m waiting, lovey,” you practically sang.

“why are you soaking wet, hao?” minghao’s older sister asks as soon as hao and min entered the house "did you forget to bring an umbrella? today of all days? is minnie okay?"

hao sighs at the instantaneous nagging of his older sister. "min's fine. she didn't get wet, don't worry about it." xiaomin makes a run towards her mom, giving her a giant hug as soon as her shoes were off.

"okay," his sister sighs and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head, before min runs to her playpen. "so why are you?"

"remember the girl i told you about before?" hao starts off, removing the soaked cardigan he was wearing. "the one from the heaven’s cloud café?"

"the one you practically bullied into accepting your umbrella because it was raining and she was just casually walking under the pouring rain?"

"yes..." hao frowned at his sister's overtly detailed description. "well, i met her again, jiejie. today. at minnie's school."

it took hao's sister a minute before she realized what minghao was implying. "you mean it was yn?!" a pleasant look of surprise takes over her face.

"that’s her name?" hao wonders out loud “you know, jiejie, minnie was surprisingly fond of her.”

“really?” hao’s sister almost looks relieved upon hearing hao say those words “she always had that charm, it’s no wonder that her students are enamoured by her.”

“you knew her?”

“yeah, university,” she smiles at hao.

“how come you’ve never mentioned her?” hao asks with a frown.

this piques her interest. “well, i haven’t talked to her in years since she moved away.” she says, watching her brother’s steady reaction “i only found out she’s back when word got out that min’s class were getting a sub. yn made sure to personally let the parents know about what’s going to happen.”

hao just hummed, taking all of the information in. hao’s sister uses this to her advantage. “you sure do ask a lot of questions about her.”

minghao scoffs at his sister’s implication. “i’m just making sure that minnie’s in good hands,” hao replies almost defensively.

“oh, she’s in great hands,” hao’s sister smirks “why, do you think yn’s pretty?”

“stop trying to play matchmaker, jiejie!” hao throws a pillow at his sister “it’s rubbing off on minnie!”

hao’s sister laughs “what do you mean?! i did not teach my daughter that!”

“well, she must have seen it somewhere! she asked me the if i thought ‘miss ln was pretty,’” hao pointed out, frustrated.

“uncle haoi?” minnie calls from the backseat.

“yes, honey?” he looks at the rearview mirror to check on his niece.

“do you think miss ln is pretty?” min asked innocently, making hao choke on his own spit.

“well,” hao’s sister grins “what did you say?”

hao’s silence and the fact that his face was turning red was enough of an answer for his jiejie.

“aw, lovey, you had a crush on me from the start?” you beamed at him, adjusting your position from the couch. you were still practically glued to his side, tucked under his arms, but now you were just looking at him— chin resting on his chest.

hao playfully scoffed at your implication “baby, i think it was the other way around.” his answer prompts you to smack his chest lightly. “i was always wondering why you kept taking my umbrellas.”

you gasped, appalled. “you wish, xu minghao!”

“i did,” hao smiles at you. “you know whenever it rained, i always wished that for some reason you would forget your umbrella— which i knew you would, i’ve come to learn that after the first 2 weeks of dating you.”

“i have like four umbrellas from you,” you muttered shyly. hao laughs at your timid confession, softly caressing your cheeks.

“i know, i kept buying new ones,” he replied with a soft smile. “and since i knew you were eventually going to forget to bring one with you, i started offering you a drive home.”

“aha! so that was your tactic of wooing me then,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“uh, no?!” hao was almost offended, making you laugh. “it was the lilies, remember?”

“uncle haoi,” min calls for her uncle’s name excitedly “look what i’m giving miss ln!”

hao looks back at the driver’s seat to find min waving a pink ‘happy birthday’ card. he smiles at his niece’s sweet gesture.

ever since hao’s jiejie started working back in the office, he’s been frequently dropping off and picking up his niece. his work schedule conveniently fits min’s school schedule so this means more encounters with yn.

it’s funny, hao thinks. he’s somehow formed an indescribable bond with you. the fifth time that hao was actively aware that you forgot your umbrella (again), he insisted that he can drive you home.

“what kind of teacher am i if my students knew that i willingly went inside a stranger’s car?!” you argued.

“the kind of teacher that accepts help from those who are willing to give it,” hao argues back. this was your what— fifth meeting? it was refreshing for hao to see this side of you. “and i’m not a stranger! you know my jiejie.”

“yes, but i don’t know you,” you crossed your arms, childishly.

this makes hao crack a smile. this was the first time you saw hao smile— or rather, the first time hao smiled because of you.

“xu minghao,” hao extends his hand “you can call me haohao.”

hao checks the time on his car’s dashboard, it was still quite early since they beat the morning traffic. “should we buy flowers to go with that card, minnie?” he asks his niece who nodded excitedly.

“okay, why did you get me lilies though?” you asked him.

“heaven’s cloud café,” hao answered simply. “you were carrying a bouquet of white lilies.”

“and you presumed i just liked them?” you were teasing, of course. you liked white lilies. after receiving the bouquet of white lilies from hao for the first time, you’ve come to love them. you even kept some of the dried lilies on a frame— something to remember by.

“well, i made sure that i asked the right source.”

“still don’t know how you’ve managed to know him.” you grumbled “i feel betrayed.”

“i keep telling you that i met them during our university days!” hao laughs.

“how come he’s never mentioned you?!”

“jun never mentioned you either!”

“what about that one,” you asked jun, pointing at the red velvet cake “oh no, but that bear-shaped tiramisu looks adorable.” you pouted as you continued to browse the dessert section of the café.

“yn, seriously, just pick one,” jun groans as he watched you struggle. “wonwoo’s going to bite our head off.”

“i heard that,” a deep voice appears behind you two.

“i heard that” you mocked your friend, earning a smack in the head from wonu. “ya! i’m telling!”

jun laughs at you two. you, jun, and wonu grew up together. for three people who spent most of their lives intertwined, it’s amazing how you three are not still sick of each other.

you three even made a pact to have a mandatory weekly meeting. if one person can’t make it, they have to pay for the next meeting. since you’re all stingy, you three have done your own ways of going through hell and back just so you couldn’t miss a meeting.

“just pick the red velvet, ynnie,” jun says without even looking up at you, totally engrossed on his phone. “ynnie, you still like lilies, right?”

“yeah…” you said, watching jun type furiously on his phone. “who are you texting?”

“no one,” jun says not-so-innocently. “so what are we doing today aside from giving our hard-earned money towards cheol & han?” jun’s sentiment makes you three laugh.

“you know i keep hearing good reviews from this place from my co-workers,” you said as you eyed the chocolate cake.

“seriously! have these two never heard of a friends and family discount?” jun wails even more, obviously not done.

“what’s all this yapping about?” someone emerges from the backroom, carrying a fresh case of cupcakes.

“jeonghannie!” jun greets him with a smile. “if we buy three slices of cakes, do we get the next one free?”

“no, you get it for an additional 20% of the price,” jeonghan says making you laugh. jeonghan spots you— a new, yet oddly, familiar face. “you must be yn!”

“hi hi, yes!” you smiled at him. you’ve only heard jeonghan through stories from your friends— wonu and junnie. as a matter of fact, you’ve yet to meet their gigantic friend group. “i’ve heard lovely things about your place!”

jeonghan smiles, pleased. “and because of that your entire order will be on the house today!” he beams, before he turns to wonu and jun “you two have to pay full price.”

“that’s not fair, we’ve been friends for years!” jun whines, making jeonghan laugh.

“oh, it’s fine, i’ll be happy to pay— no worries!” you say with a kind smile.

“okay, fine all of your orders are on the house,” jeonghan rolls his eyes playfully. “only because you’re sweet and hao just can’t get enough of you.”

you were about to say something when jun places his hand over your mouth. “thank you so much jeonghannie! i’ll make sure to put in a good word to my co-workers!” jun says in one breath, pushing you towards one of the empty booths.

“junnie,” you eyed him warily “what was jeonghan talking about?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“well, it’s a long story actually…” jun trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

“how does he know about minghao?”

jun was about to answer when wonu interrupts him as soon as he finished ordering for the rest of you. “we’re all friends, yn,” wonu starts off “it’s quite impossible for our circles not to cross.”

“okay, but that doesn’t explain what’s going on,” you said, confused. “and how come i’ve never heard of hao when i know literally everyone else.”

“yes, you do!” jun counters “it’s just sometimes we’re used to calling him his korean name.”

“he’s myungho?” you were flabbergasted, somehow the dots never aligned. “god, that man has so many names,” you muttered to yourself “then how—“

“university days,” wonu answers for you “you went to a different school, you even met hao’s sister.”

“you even moved out of town,” jun added, practically resting their case. besides, it’s not like you always kept tabs on who their friends were. however, the latter part of jeonghan’s sentence got you intrigued.

“okay…” you were unconvinced “but what about the other thing that jeonghan said?”

this makes jun smirk, using it to his advantage. “about what you being sweet?” jun asks innocently, making wonwoo laugh.

“wen junhui!” you smacked his arm playfully “i’m being serious here!”

“i’m serious too! i’m not too sure about you being sweet though,” jun says teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him “hao, however…”

wonu watches your reaction, he noticed your attention perked up— eyes practically dancing in anticipation. “aw, our little yn has a crush,” wonu says with a teasing smile.

“psh, me? having a crush? what am i, 5?” you were getting defensive, which means they were correct with their assumptions.

“aha, so you did have a crush on me!” hao exclaimed, pulling you closer to him— as if you could get any closer.

“yes,” you muttered through your teeth “however, you liked me first! you kept bringing me coffee every time you dropped off min at school.”

hao didn’t want to argue so he nodded, smiling softly at you. “yeah, i sure did.” his comment makes you melt into a puddle. one year of dating and he still manages to make your heart burst. “and i think if i had the chance to do it again, i wouldn’t change a thing.”

“you’d still give me your umbrella?”

“i’d still give you my umbrella,” hao murmurs before giving you a kiss on the lips.

hiyaa friends! we're almost halfway through the series and i alr want to start a new mini series 😭

---

I'M SCREAMING???? OH MY GOSH 😭

heads up! food mentions + mentions of being engaged/marriage in future

when mingyu's name pops up on your phone, you aren't surprised int he slightest. you know your fiance well enough to know that he's about to complain, too: its your day off. you shouldn't be getting up early to dote on him, even though its his day. so you swipe a finger across the screen and continue to cook your own lunch.

"happy birthday--"

"you peeled the eggs..." oh, how you can hear how hard he's pouting at you right now. "honey, you didn't have to..."

you snort, not even bothering to fight back a smile. you're alone (save for the puppy that keeps pressing her little cold nose against your ankles every so often), you don't have to hide how amused your pouty boyfriend makes you. "it's your birthday," you say, "i had to."

"the entire lunch is cute, though!" you have to wonder if he's complaining at his desk or if he stepped out. it's not like his coworkers don't know how pouty he gets when it comes to you spoiling him (the same way they know you're the same way when he spoils you). he sighs a moment later, settling into a comfortable sense of bliss. "you're too sweet to me..."

"mingyu, you literally whipped up something far fancier for my birthday." you catch yourself pouting. "did you see my note?"

"of course i saw your note!" you nearly laugh this time. this man is definitely pouting still, and you think you heard wonwoo's deep chuckle. "it was cute, too..."

you hear him moving, though, and the sound of a door opening and closing a moment later.

"i'm still going out with the guys after work, but..."

"but?" you're smiling.

a quiet groan. "do i have to say it? it feels mean to say it." when you don't respond, he sighs. "i wish i was coming home to you."

all you can do is snort in laughter. how cute. tall and handsome as he is, he's still the sweetest man you've ever been with. "i'll still be here later," you say. "happy birthday, my mingyu."

he's quiet for a minute. "can you say what you wrote down?" you can only imagine how those pretty eyes would be twinkling at you right now, that handsome smile... "please?"

you smile to yourself, and straighten up. "happy birthday, my soon-to-be husband. i can't wait to marry you."

he lets out this blissful sigh, and you hear the sound of him hitting the wall with his back or shoulder--nothing too hard, but enough to tell you that you've made him weak in the knees. "i love you," he says after a moment. "i can't wait to marry you, too."

---

YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD, I CAN'T EXPRESS IT IN WORDS OMGGG. I LITERALLY CAN'T BRING JUSTICE TO JUST HOW GOOD YOUR WORKS ARE

ateez as mafia members who fall for you

genre: mafia!ateez x gn!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, an absolute brainrot-fest of every mafia trope to exist

length: 14.7k

c/w: illegal acts (abduction, murder, physical/sexual abuse, trafficking, financial crimes, underage working, underground casinos/boxing rings), suggestive/nsfw scenes, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, smoking, drugs, alcohol, backgrounds of trauma (death of parents), pet names (kitten, babe, love, sweetheart)

a/n: scenarios involve lots of heavy and mature themes - please read through the tags carefully and mdni! if i disappear from tumblr after this, it’s probably safe to say that i got arrested for my search history. couldn’t have written this without @sorryimananti-romantic, so i guess i’ll be seeing you in jail soon yumi 😘🫶

hongjoong

pov: you're dating a mafia leader

dating a mafia boss has its perks, you suppose

for one, there’s the money

“you like that, kitten?” hongjoong asks when he notices your gaze flitter over the blue diamond pendant for a brief second longer than usual

“no, babe. just thought it might look pretty with those earrings you gave me the other day”

he steals a kiss from you before he hands his card over to seonghwa. “buy one in every design”

then there’s the power

you smile smugly as you feel hongjoong’s arm snake around your waist, hand bringing you a little closer into his side as if to gloat at the meeting that you are his and his only

you know better though. behind closed doors, he’s your trophy

and then there’s the love

“let me hear you, kitten. loud enough that everyone can hear you,” hongjoong pants against your neck

“guess you’re just not fucking me hard enough,” you tease

that night, he makes you orgasm eight times - once for every word in that sentence

but as with anything, dating a mafia boss also has its downsides

like the ignorant and simple-minded gangsters who catch a whiff of the ‘mob boss’ lover’ and immediately think that you are the weak link in the chain - that if you are in their hands, hongjoong will promptly come crawling

so really, it comes to no surprise when you wake up to a throbbing head, with your hands bound behind your back and feet tied to the legs of the chair you’re sitting on

you roll your shoulders back a little, stretching the ache in your neck 

from the way your muscles tense and cramp, you must have been out for a couple hours by now

hm, shouldn’t be long now.

“looks like the bitch is awake”

ten.

your eyes lazily look over to your right, towards the source of the sound, raising an unimpressed eyebrow when you lock eyes with the leader of the bluebirds, kyungtae, surrounded by several of his men

the bluebirds are a small mafia gang who have tried several times to stir up trouble in the neighbouring territories

what gives them the confidence to provoke ateez this time, you’re not quite sure, but you know that they have just voluntarily placed their heads under the guillotine

giving kyungtae a once-over from where you’re seated, you spare him no further interest and look away, which does not stroke the man’s ego in the way that he is coveting you to

kyungtae stalks over to you, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force your head up

“look at me when i’m talking to you”

you grace him with no response, merely blinking once, twice

eight.

obviously having expected you to whimper and weep and beg for mercy, your passiveness to the situation, to his presence, to him, has kyungtae’s ears burning red

it doesn’t help when one of the men behind him, with a leg propped up onto the table nearby, lets out a poorly-disguised snicker

it’s quite pathetic, really, how you feel kyungtae’s grip in your hair immediately tighten in response to the sound, and you can’t quite help but let out a snicker of your own

kyungtae’s eyes widen with fury as he spits out curses in your face

five.

he releases his hold of your hair, only to roughly grasp the front of your shirt. “you little fucker, you’re lucky i haven’t killed you yet. just you wait until your little boyfriend arrives, and then i’ll put on a good show for him.”

kyungtae gives you a greasy look, running a finger along your jaw

“and maybe if you beg prettily enough, i’ll think about sparing your life and making you my whore”

three.

he laughs as he steps back, pleased with his threats, too caught up in his own fantasy to notice the quirk of your lip

walking back over to the table, he picks up a bottle of hennessy and takes a swig straight from the neck

two.

you watch with amused interest as one of his lackeys suddenly bursts through the doors of the warehouse, giving you a quick glance before hurrying over to kyungtae’s side and bringing a hand up to hide their whispered conversation

you catch the brief flash of shock across kyungtae’s face, before he’s attempting to school his face back into a neutral expression

one.

sinking back a little further in your chair, you run your tongue over your teeth as you cock your head and smirk at him, declaring your first words of the night-

“time’s up.”

and right on cue, a loud bang fires off, everyone flinching save for you

the underling who had delivered the news just seconds ago crumples to the floor, blood beginning to seep out from the clean hole that goes right through their forehead

another three shots ring out in rapid succession, bluebird members dropping to the ground one after the other like a sick, synchronised dance

the warehouse doors behind you and on the far right cave in on themselves as you hear the hoots and hollers of ateez making an entrance

you watch leisurely as your men easily pick off the bluebird members, who begin to litter the floor of the warehouse like dead flies

the bluebirds never stood a chance - not against your gang, and definitely not against hongjoong

speak of the devil

you sense him before you hear him, his strong, dark, yet comforting aura approaching you from behind as he brings his mouth down to nip at your ear lightly

“sorry i’m a little late, kitten”

you sink into the chaste kisses he presses against the nape of your neck and just between the junction of your ear and shoulder as he loosens the ropes around your hands

when hongjoong comes around to crouch in front of you, working to untie your feet as well, you run your fingers through his blonde mullet appreciatively

“i knew you’d come,” you hum nonchalantly

hongjoong removes the last of the ropes from around your legs, standing up to tower over you as he places a hand on the back of your chair and leans his face down closer to yours

“oh? cocky, are we?”

you smile coyly at him. “my boyfriend is a mafia boss, i think i’m allowed to be a little cocky”

hongjoong’s eyes darken with lust, and whilst his hands are gentle in capturing your jaw, his lips crashing against yours are anything but

the sound of a body being dragged across the ground has you sighing into the kiss, breaking it so that you can let hongjoong deal with the interruption

san releases his grip on the scruff of kyungtae’s shirt none too gently, dropping the man to the floor, before scoffing briefly at the sight of the man below him

out of the corner of your eye, you spot wooyoung and yeosang leaning casually against the wooden crates bordering the sides of the warehouse as they watch the moment unfold

you can hear the slow, arrogant footsteps of jongho and seonghwa as they come up to stand behind you and hongjoong, steadfast additions to the threatening ambience that is now thickening and settling around the warehouse

you can’t see him, but you know that yunho is also here, somewhere with a high vantage point, crosshairs of his sniper trained on kyungtae’s forehead, ready to end his life if need be

kyungtae scrambles to his knees in front of hongjoong, rubbing his open hands together as he looks up pathetically, then presses his face against the floor and grasps at hongjoong’s polished dress shoes, repeating the two motions like a bowing wind-up toy 

“fuck, i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry. please, have mercy on me. fuck, i’ll do anything. please don’t kill me,” kyungtae cries in desperation as he grovels

you look at your fingernails, noting how the polish is starting to chip away

you idly wonder what colour you want hongjoong to paint your nails this weekend

hongjoong snarls dangerously, “that’s not what you were saying when you called my kitten a whore.” and then he drops the bomb-

“i don’t know what made you think you were worthy to touch, much less even look at our boss.”

kyungtae’s eyes widen at that, flickering between you and hongjoong as he stutters, “w-what? but you- you’re…the boss is-”

you finally take pity on him, uncrossing your legs daintily only to inch forward in your seat and plant both feet down firmly, right on top of his hands

you run a hand through kyungtae’s hair with mock tenderness, giving him a saccharine smile. “i don’t think anyone has ever discovered how hongjoong and i met…i think it’s only fitting that you’re the first to find out, since, you know, you wanted to put on a good show for him”

and so you tell kyungtae.

you’re a famous grey hat - you infiltrate security systems regardless of permission and whether your methods violate the laws or not, and have earned yourself the nickname of ‘the greyhound’

in some instances, you offer to disclose the security vulnerability and its solutions for a…small price

in other instances, you use the breach to take down organisations, operation rings, and dark web websites that exploit others in ways that don’t sit right with you

and then there’s the instances where you hack for neither of those reasons - such as the one where you discover ateez

or more specifically - hongjoong

the mafia boss has an irritatingly handsome face, and you want to see what it would look like marred with anger

so you infiltrate ateez’s cyber system, just to show that you can, redirecting all of their security feed and replacing it with a live stream of your beloved pot plant

when hongjoong discovers that you are the infamous greyhound, and has quite literally messed with his gang’s cybersecurity just for the shits and giggles, he finds his interest piqued

you accept his proposal to take over ateez’s data, information and communication security - a role that puts you almost on par with hongjoong in terms of importance

and just a month later, he accepts your proposal to be your boyfriend - a decision that solidifies your presence at the top of the hierarchy in terms of authority

if hongjoong is the mob boss operating as the face of ateez, then you are the mob boss operating as the shadow of ateez

you finally rise.

standing up from your chair, you knock kyungtae over onto his back and place a foot on his chest

“so when you thought that i would be an easy target, that i could be used as bait, it was really me that you should have been scared of, all along.”

you slowly curl your fingers around the handle of the gun that hongjoong has held out for you, index finger finding its familiar position on the trigger

as you level the barrel of the gun with kyungtae’s head, his mouth opening and closing with words that don’t reach your ears, hongjoong pressing his face into your neck so that he can suckle blossoms onto your skin, you think to yourself that when it’s a mafia boss dating a mafia boss, there are no downsides

you pull the trigger

seonghwa

pov: you're discovered captive during one of his missions

ateez had recently been tipped off about a ledger, with countless records of illegal transactions that would be able to implicate several officials and ministers in high positions of tax fraud, embezzlement and in some cases, prostitution

which is why seonghwa is currently creeping through the house of minister seo - the alleged location of the ledger - wooyoung having disabled the house’s security system and created a commotion distracting enough for seonghwa and a few other members of ateez to comb through the rooms for the ledger

they make quick and efficient work, a feat considering wooyoung’s last words of advice were to ‘get the fuck in, get the fucking documents, then get the fuck out’

it has probably only been twenty minutes before seonghwa’s earpiece sputters to life with hongjoong’s voice alerting him that the others have found the ledger already

“have a quick scan for anything else that might be important, and then haul ass out of there. you guys don’t have much longer”

there doesn’t seem to be much apart from the usual things he would expect to find in a house, until a door strategically placed in the far corner of the room, partially tucked behind a shelf of abstract sculptures, catches his eye

there’s a thick slide lock that keeps it shut from the outside, and he grips his glock a little tighter as he treads closer

he can see the wear on the lock’s metal surface now that he’s right at the door, indicating that it must be opened and closed quite frequently

slowly easing the lock open, he swings the door open with his gun positioned in front of his body

for a brief moment he’s not sure what his eyes are seeing - the room is dim, illuminated only by a small window on the left wall and the light now coming from the open door

as his eyes adjust, trepidation turns to confusion as he spots a few stray items scattered on the ground of the small room. a tattered piece of cloth. a metal bowl. a rusted chain

there’s a musty smell that hints to seonghwa the room is not well-cared for, if at all

and that’s when he takes an involuntary breath

because at the end of the chain, connected to a ring screwed into the wall itself, is-

your eyes focus on the sight of an unfamiliar man

it’s hard to make out the details of his face, but you’ve seen your captor enough times to be able to tell him apart from his stature and build alone

you wonder if you’re being sold to this man, having been reminded repeatedly by minister seo that he can do as he wishes to you

approaching you with slow, deliberate movements, seonghwa can now see the grime across your face and clothes, the way your hair is matted together, the scarred redness of your ankle rubbed raw from the shackle around it

“i’m not going to hurt you. i’m just going to see if i can get this off you, okay?”

seeing as you don’t make a move or noise of protest, seonghwa crouches down in front of you, where you have drawn your legs towards your body, hugging them towards your chest

the chains could probably be broken off with the right tools - tools that were back at base and not on him right now

unless

“i can’t break the shackle right now, but i can shoot through the chain first so we can escape”

he sees you perk up almost immediately at his last word, and he thinks that if you were an animal, your tail would be wagging by now

almost as fast as it came over you, however, you deflate with a perplexed, “why are you helping me?”

he looks at you with kind eyes, eyes so round and large you think you can see the twinkle of galaxies within them

“if i am able to help, what further reason do i need?”

hongjoong’s voice suddenly interrupts, a little frantic

“change of plans, you guys need to get out now. they have reinforcement coming soon”

seonghwa addresses hongjoong, “two minutes. wait for me”

“park fucking seonghwa if you don’t get out of there right now-”

he tugs the earpiece out of his ear

hongjoong can shoot him later if he wants to, except he won’t because seonghwa is his right-hand man

looking at you again, voice significantly gentler, he tells you to cover your ears

even though you’re expecting it, you still flinch at the sound of the gun going off as the chain breaks into two

“you did well, love. now let’s go”

if the pet name doesn’t send your stomach into somersaults, the encouraging smile that he gives you afterwards certainly does

he makes his way back to their assigned meeting point, with you cradled protectively in his arms against his chest, after you both quickly discover that you walking out of there is not going to be a feasible option

wooyoung does a triple-take from the driver’s seat when he sees seonghwa appear, but there is no time for questions, his foot revving the engine as soon as seonghwa has carefully lowered you onto the backseat of the car

you shrink back a little in your seat and closer towards seonghwa, who has kept one of his arms around you, when you meet wooyoung’s eyes in the rearview mirror

“boss ain’t going to be happy”

which is the understatement of the century - hongjoong is furious

but he understands seonghwa, because should it have been him in the situation, the outcome would also have been the same

you stay in seonghwa’s apartment, and although he isn’t home a lot of the times, the times that he is makes up indefinitely for the times that he isn’t

you find yourself looking forward to when he comes home, sometimes falling asleep on the couch before you can wait it out, yet still smiling in the morning despite waking up to an empty apartment, because you find yourself in his bed, warmly tucked into a cocoon of blankets

seonghwa finds himself looking forward to going home. where his apartment before seemed cold and lonely, void of the laughter and warmth he feels around ateez, he is now becoming accustomed to hearing the light pitter patter of your socked feet against the ground as you run to shyly peer out at him from around the corner of his hallway, waiting to welcome him home

you find that cooking together becomes one of your favourite pastimes. you pelter him with questions, like what do you call this, hwa? and how do you use this, hwa? just because you enjoy spending time with him and listening to the deep timbre of his voice that sends pleasant shivers throughout your body

seonghwa finds himself cooking more. where he would usually order takeout or forego a meal altogether, he now tries new recipes with you just so he can see the innocence and curiosity your eyes hold as you sing out hwa? after hwa? after hwa?. he loves the way you fit against his chest as he holds your hands to show you how to slice vegetables, or to roll out a ball of dough, and he thinks that he wants this forever

there is a growing desire inside of him to keep the light in you burning alive, to teach you things that will only make you smile, and to keep you under his watchful protection

his feelings intensify in moments like these, when a nightmare has led you to slip out from under your blankets to crawl into the comforting solace of seonghwa’s sturdy arms

he gently nuzzles his nose against yours

“considering you spend more time in my bed than your own, maybe i should swap this one out for a bigger bed”

despite his words of defeat, his tone is endearing

you look up at him with doe eyes, lips slightly pouted in determination. “my favourite place would still be in your arms”

seonghwa can feel his resolve breaking down

that seems to be the effect you have had on him since the day he found you

breaking protocols, breaking habits, breaking walls

seonghwa does not fear many things, and yet, tonight he is scared that he will confess his innermost desire to call you his

“i’m a dangerous man, love,” he whispers

you place a hand softly on his cheek as you reply with a whisper of your own

“a man who claims he is dangerous, and yet has shown me more care, love and happiness than i have known my entire life”

his tongue darts out over his dry lips, and your eyes involuntarily flick down to catch the movement

it doesn’t go unnoticed, and seonghwa is leaning in closer, slow enough for you to lean back should you wish

“i want to continue showing you that for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me”

you close the gap between the two of you in the form of your answer, pressing your lips gently against his

he chases after your lips until the both of you are rosy-cheeked and breathless, pressing his forehead against yours as he runs his thumb over your cheekbone, thinking that there is nothing more perfect than this moment with you

and this time, he is not scared of the sweet confession that comes tumbling out of him

“if your favourite place is in my arms, then i think my favourite place is on your lips”

yunho

pov: you're his literal partner-in-crime

you and yunho have been mission partners since the moment you two met

ateez’s deadly duo

like peanut butter and jelly, macaroni and cheese, you and yunho are a combination that make more sense together than alone

it’s what leads to yunho affectionately calling you ‘J’, claiming you as the J to his PB

and if both of you know that there is more to that claim - that you’re his other half - than just a working relationship, neither of you bring it up, even if your interactions involve flirtatious comments and touches

the two of you are usually assigned the more covert missions, like assassination, as yunho is the gang’s best sniper, and you have an aptitude for luring the target into an ideal position 

it’s your ‘natural charm’, as yunho likes to put it

working together, basically every mission is a guaranteed success

so despite you being the only one exposed out on the field, you trust yunho with your life, quite literally, to take out the targets in due time and to get you both back to base safely

hence it’s a completely new and utterly terrifying experience for you to find yourself held at gunpoint by the very same man you guys have been assigned to kill, the mission having taken a very wrong turn

an anomaly, but not uncommon, you, yunho and jongho had been briefed the week before of the mission that would take place tonight, a job that would require the three of you to work together

you were to find out whether the target, kwan, knew any information about the death of a mob boss in a bordering territory, suspicions raised after phone logs showed that kwan kept in frequent contact with the mobster, and jongho was there to help with the more physical aspect of persuasion. yunho, as usual, was to be stationed on the rooftop of a building nearby

and that was the plan that the three of you had been following, up until moments ago when you and jongho triggered a silent alarm, allowing kwan enough time to ambush you

jongho had been fast enough to land a punch, but wasn’t able to stop kwan from snaking his arm around your neck and bringing his other hand up to press a gun against your temple in one fluid motion

which is where you find yourself now

yunho is relaying the situation back to base, having started reporting into his earpiece the moment he spotted kwan - there was not enough time to adjust his sniper to take out the moving target, much less when no one had expected kwan to make the first move

“forget about the interrogation. yunho, can you get a clear shot now?”

“negative,” he replies

yunho bites back a curse of frustration, struggling to keep his cool. he has had years upon years of experience and training, and he knows that he needs to approach this situation calmly

but it is you down there right now who is in danger, and yunho has to fight all of his primal instincts not to run down there and rip you from kwan’s grasp

kwan has taken several steps back with you in his hold, his head now out of sight as it becomes covered by the scaffolding around the building

and no matter which angle yunho adjusts his scope from, the only face that he can clearly see is yours, pupils dilated with fear and skin flushing from the strain

he sees the way your hands are grasping at the muscular forearm slowly choking your neck, the way your shoulder is pushing back against kwan’s chest in an attempt to loosen his hold…

you hear yunho’s voice in your earpiece

“J, there might be a way to save you, but for that, i’ll have to hurt you,” yunho starts. “touch your forearm if you trust me”

you bring your right hand to your left forearm, leaving it there for a second before removing it

“what are you planning on doing?” hongjoong questions

yunho swallows, finding it hard to say his next sentence

“i’m going to shoot his heart through J’s shoulder”

you know that it’s a difficult and risky shot - several variables could turn this into a fatal shot not just for the man behind you, but you also - but if anyone could pull it off, it would be yunho

and if things were to go south, dying by the hands of the man you have loved for half your life doesn’t seem so bad either

yunho knows you can hear him clearly through your earpiece, having only just followed his request moments ago, and it is the fact that your frightened gaze is suddenly replaced by a hard determination and newfound hope at his words alone, so ready and easily entrusting your life in his hands, that hurts him the most

because the last thing he ever wants to do is to hurt you, because he loves you too much to cause you any pain, even if it is the only way to save you

at hongjoong’s confirmation of the go ahead, albeit voice strained, yunho lets out a long exhale before bringing his right eye to the scope of his sniper, shutting his left eye with a sense of finality

he reminds himself, like a mantra, that he only has one shot at this, when your tight voice filters into his ear

you struggle to take a breath as you pretend to speak to jongho, when really, your mind is only filled with yunho and your words are only for yunho and you pray to god that he knows

“if i don’t make it, just know that i love you”

yunho’s heart comes to a stuttering pause as tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes. he rapidly blinks them away to clear his vision, because if he wants to hear those sweet confessions from your lips, and return the same of his own, face to face, then he has to take down kwan now

adjusting the angle of his sniper so that the crosshairs have aligned with your right shoulder, he waits for the perfect window of opportunity-

“i love you too, J”

and then he pulls the trigger.

your shoulder bursts into a pain so blinding you wonder if it is really just one bullet that has gone through your body

it feels like you are simultaneously being burned and stabbed, over and over again, the sensation rapidly travelling across your chest and upper body as you start to collapse, the man behind you no longer holding you up as he instantly slumps to the ground dead

you faintly register the sight of jongho sprinting towards you, arms outstretched and mouth forming the first syllable of your real name, before you hit the ground and you black out from the second eruption of pain upon impact

yunho’s days blur together, a fever dream of red rivulets, echoing screams and phantom recoils

every time he closes his eyes, he sees that one moment replaying over and over again

like a taunting five-second film strip that has been repeatedly duped and taped together to replay an endless movie

he sees your body jerk grotesquely as the bullet - his bullet - rips through you. he sees your face twisting into searing, raw agony. he sees you fall heavily to the ground, just like kwan.

he sees you die, die, die

if only he had been the one on the field

if only he had been the one held at gunpoint

if only he had been able to shoot kwan a little faster

if only-

“...y-yun?”

the film stops.

you blearily blink as your eyes struggle to adjust to the lighting of the medical wing, voice dry and scratchy from disuse

suddenly there’s a hand caressing your cheek, a nest of brown curls, a choked sob, another hand brushing your hair, a whimper of your name, a pair of bloodshot eyes, and it’s all a bit too much all at once but it fills you with a sudden rush of air because it’s yunho, crowding your vision and personal space and heart and-

“you’re alive.” yunho can’t quite believe the words falling from his lips

“i’d hope so. unless you also somehow died and we’re in hell right now”

he lets out a shaky exhale at your joke

“fuck, J, i thought i was going to lose you forever”

you try to reach out for him in reassurance, until a sharp stab in your right shoulder reminds you of your injury and you cease your movements, squeezing your eyes and biting your bottom lip until the pain dulls to a tolerable throb

yunho’s hands hover over you frantically but he’s not quite sure where to place them or what to do or how to comfort you

“shit, does it hurt? yes, of course it hurts. fuck, how bad? really bad? do i need to get you painkillers? probably, yes, let me just, um, find them. shit, okay, don’t move, okay”

you don’t think you’ve ever heard such a colourful string of words leave his mouth before, nor have you ever seen him this flustered and uncertain and worried about you

“if this is how you treat me when i’m hurt, maybe i should get shot more often”

yunho freezes guiltily, then shoots you a scandalous look, before his face morphs into an expression more serious

“seeing you get shot was the worst moment of my life, especially when i was the one who hurt you. it felt like i was the one who was dying, and- and when i thought that i would never be able to tell you just how much i actually love you, i-”

“but you did tell me, and you saved me…just like you said you would. and i’m here now, to tell you that i love you, too, so so much…”

yunho slowly lifts up a corner of your blanket so that he can ease himself into bed next to you, propping himself up onto one elbow and angling himself towards you so that he can carefully place his other arm over your waist, like a sweet claim that you are alive and real and his now

you settle a little more comfortably into the broadness of his chest, before he asks, “can i see?”

you nod, then you’re shivering slightly from the stroke of cool air as yunho slowly lowers the top of the sheets to reveal your bandaged shoulder

you’re not wearing much underneath for ease of changing your dressing, yet you don’t feel shy under his gaze - in the silence of the small infirmary, where it is just you and yunho, a pair who makes more sense together than alone

he presses butterfly kisses just around your wound, fluttering over the gentle dip of your sternum and along your collarbone and down the smooth slope of your upper arm

“i heard voices, is J awake- woah, okay, nevermind!!”

just as quickly as wooyoung opens the door to the med wing, he slaps a hand over his eyes as he hollers and swivels on the ball of his foot to step back out and announce with a shout,

“PB&J are fucking in the ward, nobody disturb them!”

“no we’re n- oh my god, whatever, i’m not even going to try,” yunho slumps back against the bed in defeat from where he had jerked up the moment wooyoung interrupted

he looks at you - face flushed, lips curled into a bashful smile, one hand softly fisting the front of his shirt, and he thinks that you look so, so pretty

“well, since woo’s already guaranteed us some privacy, how about we take advantage of it, hm?”

you can literally see the moment your words bring the cogs in yunho’s brain to a screeching halt

and then all of a sudden, they come spluttering back to life

his eyes glint with mischief

a breathless “okay, yeah”

and then he’s pulling the sheets back completely

and he thinks to himself once again that oh, you really do look so, so pretty

yeosang

pov: you're friends and he's your bodyguard

for as long as you can remember, it has always been you and hongjoong

he tells you that your parents disappeared from the picture almost as soon as you were born - why, you never care to ask, as you have no memories of them anyway - so hongjoong is simultaneously a friend, a brother and a father to you

a few years later, your little pair suddenly doubles in number with the addition of yeosang and seonghwa - two boys who have fled from an abusive orphanage

the four of you form an unlikely group of ragtag misfits; children trying to exist in a world for adults

you learn the ways of survival through street smarts and petty crime

and you develop a soft spot for yeosang - with his big, round eyes - just like hongjoong does for seonghwa

your gang of found family continues to grow. systems, roles and hierarchy become implemented as you all dip your toes into increasingly dangerous and illegal activities, eventually becoming the mafia gang ‘ateez’ and hongjoong naturally taking on the leadership role

one thing that stays constant, no matter how old you are, is hongjoong’s protectiveness over you

and when you nearly get kidnapped one time on your way to the shops, hongjoong doesn’t let you out of his sight for three days straight, until you finally snap in frustration and threaten to shave his mullet off if he doesn’t stop breathing down your neck

eventually you two come to a compromise - more like hongjoong threatens you back, but he says otherwise - that you’ll have a bodyguard to keep you safe

and hongjoong thinks there is no better candidate than the very man he has known for over a decade, and is arguably one of the best fighters in ateez

“yeosang? i literally grew up wiping his nose for him as a kid, but okay”

so at first it’s a little funny, having your roles reverse - someone who you dote on, despite being similar ages, now doing the doting

but then it starts to become endearing, yeosang’s little antics and unwavering determination to be ‘the best bodyguard ever’ causing laughter to bubble from your lips whenever you two are together

like the way he steals takes your first bite of food, insisting he’s checking to make sure no one is attempting to poison you

or when he runs ahead to open the door for you, declaring that if there is someone behind it waiting with a gun, he’ll get shot for you

and when he naturally places himself between you and the road, claiming that his buff muscles with stop any swerving cars from hitting you

it’s the way that in whatever he does, he’s always looking out for you

but it’s really the less common moments, when his more guarded, brooding and protective side makes an appearance, yeosang immediately stepping forward to place his larger frame in front of yours whenever he perceives danger in a situation, one hand reaching behind him to carefully press you closer into his back, that makes your heart flutter and stomach flip uncontrollably

as you sit behind yeosang now, the familiar feeling of his steadfast back and your arms wrapped around his waist whilst he accelerates the motorbike, you wonder how it would feel to be pressed up against his chest instead, melting into the sturdy embrace of his arms as the steady beat of his heart sounds in your ear

you’re meeting an informant who has picked up on the tail of a child trafficking ring, running under the guise of an orphanage

they have been a reliable source for several years now and you trust them enough that most contact you have with them is done one on one

still, yeosang (and hongjoong) insists that he accompanies you, which is why you have to force yourself to focus back on the task at hand, not yeosang’s arms or chest, as his motorbike pulls into the abandoned junkyard

“uhh,” yeosang looks around as he helps you off the motorbike, “do your meeting spots usually entail an unlimited number of blind spots that can allow someone to attack you?”

the scattered cars around the junkyard form a labyrinth of, you do admit, potential danger

“just making sure you don’t become jobless”

“yeah but if your brother finds out, i’m going to become jobless and headless”

“you don’t tell, i don’t tell. deal?”

“okay, deal”

he’s about to link pinkies with you, a habit neither of you have outgrown, when a bullet shatters the window of the car to your right, passing straight between the two of you as it ricochets off a surface you never get to find out what

yeosang makes an immediate dive for you, knocking the breath out of you from the force with which he collides into you

he wraps his arms around you tightly, curling you into his chest as he presses you against the floor, shielding your body with his own

“fuck!” he growls, “it’s a trap”

and in any other situation, the huskiness of his harsh curse and the proximity of his muscles rippling around you would have you sweaty and weak in the knees

just not when you’re in a life or death situation

yeosang tugs a smoke grenade off his tactical belt, ripping the ring off with his teeth before sending it flying over the car you two are taking cover behind

as the smoke starts to cloud the vision of what yeosang hopes is only a handful of enemies, he leans down to look at you with burning intensity

“when i give you the signal, run to the bike and don’t look back. i’ll cover you”

you slip out a pistol from your own belt, “and i’ll cover you once i’m there”

yeosang nods grimly, straightening slightly to fire off several shots into the general direction of where gunfire is generating from

he ducks back down, only to grab a grenade this time

“go!”

you hear the sound of more bullets as you frantically sprint to the bike, swinging a leg over the body to seat yourself on top

“yeosang! covering you now!”

swiftly glancing at you to confirm your safety, yeosang pulls the pin and hurls the grenade as far as he can before turning and racing towards you

he nearly knocks you right off with his long leg in his haste to mount his motorbike, twisting the throttle to send dirt flying as the wheels jerk forward

as yeosang starts to pull you both away from the junkyard, you’re hit by a shock wave and burst of heat when the grenade detonates

the explosion seems to have taken out most of the attackers, if the dwindling of gunfire is any indication, but there are still a few, intermittent shots, likely from someone who has been staking out further away from the eruption

with the junkyard behind you erupting into flames and the adrenaline from your close shave with death coursing through your veins, you raise a middle finger into the air and holler, “you fuckers can’t aim for shit!”-

just as a bullet opens up a gash on the side of yeosang’s arm

to his credit, he barely flinches apart from the hiss that escapes his gritted teeth, but your heart still clenches and throbs at the sound

as the distance between the pair of you and the junkyard increases, a terrifying thought suddenly dawns on you

“do you think we can hide this from hongjoong?”

unfortunately, the answer is no.

the guilty look in your eyes is an immediate giveaway

hongjoong nearly faints as he pulls you into a crushing hug, pulling back for brief moments only to fret over you and make sure you’re unscathed

when you finally calm him down enough to assure him that no, joong, i’m not hurt, yeosang saved me and that said man is actually the one who is hurt, your brother finally seems to remember the presence of the other

yeosang laughs and shakes off hongjoong’s belated concern to get his wound attended to, claiming that it is just a scratch, even swinging his arm around for good measure

you frown, giving your brother one last, reassuring hug before you tug on yeosang’s hand with a quiet, “come with me,” before you head towards your room

you close the door and lead him by the hand to sit on the edge of your bed

now that you two are alone, yeosang suddenly juts his bottom lip out, declaring that his arm is actually in great pain and it’s going to fall off if you don’t do something about it soon

“fix my booboo for me” :(((

you chuckle as you lightly nudge him with your hip, pointing out how different he is whenever he’s with you, “all soft and caring and squishy”

“you still don’t get why, do you?” he looks up at you with fondness in his eyes from his seated position on your bed, eyes flickering back and forth between your own as if he is looking for something

your lips are slightly parted, breath hitching as you try to control the thumping of your heart that you are almost certain he can hear

finally breaking eye contact, yeosang shrugs off his red and black leather jacket, leaving him in a fitted, black tank top that accentuates the sculpted swell of his chest and reveals the toned muscles of his arms

you drag your eyes away from him before he can catch you staring, moving away to fill a bowl with water and wetting a towel

as you settle down next to him on the bed, gently wiping away the dried blood on his arm, guilt starts to seep into you

“i wish i was the one who got hurt…” you whisper

a warm, larger hand over the top of yours brings your gaze up to look at him

“i would rather die before letting you lose even so much as a hair on your head. your life is worth so much”

yeosang - a boy you grew up protecting from the monsters in the dark with a candle, now a man protecting you from the monsters of the world with his life

in that moment, you decide to take a leap of faith

“but what is my life worth, if it is not with you?”

and yeosang catches you

he cups your face with his hands to brush a sweet kiss against your forehead, pulling back to capture your blissful expression, before leaning back in to press his lips against your own

breathless from the kiss and from the swirl of emotions inside of you, you nuzzle your foreheads together as you let out a small giggle

"just wait until my brother finds out about this"

san

pov: you're part of a rival mafia gang

you used to work for an underground casino

considering the business itself was formed around illegal gambling, drug dealing and money laundering, they turned a blind eye to the fact that you were still underage at the time of your hire

you never really noticed a pattern in the repeated appearance of certain men until you were approached by one yourself, his teeth yellowed and stained from countless smokes, tip of a blackwork tattoo peeking out from under his collar and extending behind his ear, one hand adorned with an assortment of gold and silver that was probably worth more than your life

you had no family, no real plan, no real future, so when you were offered the prospect of a better life, with money and protection, you agreed to become an associate of the crescent clan

a stupid decision in hindsight, but one made out of desperation and vulnerability

just a few years shy of a decade later, you’ve risen up the ranks and now you serve directly under the capo of your territory

you usually accompany your capo to negotiations and deals that occur between different organisations, which are generally civil and fair to keep relations pleasant, even if just on a surface level

negotiations happen much smoother when both parties have familiar - and thus trusted - faces present

which is the exact reason why you’re present at most meetings your capo is involved in, and the reason why you become familiar with certain faces who, like you, help represent their own respective clan

you’re reminded of that fact as your eyes briefly flick up from the meeting in present time, a trade request for a shipment of weapons, only to find his dark eyes already trained on you

san of ateez.

crescent and ateez have made several negotiations over the years. the two groups are not exactly on the terms where they would be in the same room for a reason other than business. but they are not exactly on the terms to want the blood of the other spilled, either

when san realises you’ve returned his gaze, the right side of his mouth rises into a smirk that has you looking away with a subtle eye-roll

because that’s how it has always been between the two of you

smirks, amiable quips, sarcastic ‘sweetheart’s from his end

scoffs, humouring his antics, biteless ‘fuck off’s from your end

an acquaintanceship that is built upon nothing more than brief run-ins and business deals. if there is an underlying interest, or daresay, desire for the other, it is buried deep within the bottom of your hearts

and that is how you both go about - a duet of dances but never touching, a game of gazes but never lasting

until one day, everything you’ve ever known goes to shit

it’s a deal gone wrong. you are all already on high alert, this only being the second time negotiating with this particular organisation

there must be a rat or traitor in crescent, and you just happen to be the scapegoat, or there is a member who holds a personal vendetta against you

regardless, all it takes is an incriminating note and an altered photo for years of trust - or as close to trust as you can develop in the mafia world - to erupt into flames, and for the deal to fall through. whether or not there actually was a deal to be made, or whether it was all a set-up to begin with, you’re unsure

amidst the chaos of guns and knives from both sides, you incapacitate enough of your own to sprint away, but not without injuries of your own

carefully nursing your ribs as you ignore the sticky sensation of blood trailing down your forehead, you manage to stumble your way through the dark alleys

why your feet take you there you’re not sure

but you find yourself staring at the rusted peephole and spiderwebbed paint of san’s apartment door

he had slipped you a piece of paper with the messy scrawl of his address as a joke months ago, quote unquote if you ever wanted to have a good night

before you can reason with yourself to turn away, you rap your knuckles against the door

a few seconds of nothing but your quick, shallow breaths fill the hallway

until the door is ripped open and you’re met with san’s murderous gaze

and at first you think that he’s going to finish off what the dirty traitor first started - kill you right there and then at the threshold of his door for disturbing him at this ungodly hour - when his eyes flick over your forehead and back to your eyes so quickly you almost think you imagine it

"who hurt you"

if you aren’t so delirious from the pain starting to seep into your body now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, you would notice the tremble in san’s voice as it drops an octave lower than usual

or the way his chin lowers slightly, eyes narrowing as the veins on his neck become more prominent

or the way his fingers whiten from his grip on the door handle

“san-” you breathe out

“who.”

you’re conscious of the possibility of the eyes and ears of anybody catching the both of you right now

because in the end, he’s part of ateez, and you’re part of crescent, even if your very own clan has painted a giant red target on your back now

and honestly, you just want to sit the fuck down

so you shove him aside as you force yourself in

or more like he lets you shove him aside. because he’s built like a brick wall and you, well, are not.

you hear a click from behind and you realise that perhaps, your interest in san is not buried as deeply as you believed it to be, when your first thought is that you’re now safe within his locked apartment, as opposed to whipping around out of gut instinct expecting to face the barrel of a gun

you let out an involuntary grunt of discomfort as you lower yourself onto his couch, and almost immediately san enters your field of vision again

kneeling in front of you, san’s eyes soften as he attempts to quell the flames inside of him so that he can focus on you in the present

“where are you hurt?”

he goes to grab his first aid kit after you begrudgingly answer

he squeezes an instant ice pack, holding it in his right hand as it starts to rapidly cool. with his other hand, san reaches towards your ribs where your own hand is still cradling your injury

“let me have a look”

he hovers his hand over yours whilst searching your eyes, waiting for confirmation that it’s okay

when you swallow and nod your head, he gently moves your hand aside and lifts up the bottom edge of your shirt to reveal a mottle of angry marks around your left ribcage, like a bucket of spilled paint splattered across a surface

san clenches and unclenches his jaw before letting out a long exhale, then places the ice pack gently over the area

you hold it in place as he rises to take a seat on the couch next to you, resting one of his knees on the couch too so that he can angle himself towards the gash on your forehead

you try to ignore the pressure of his knee against your thigh and the heat that radiates off it, because despite the numerous run-ins you’ve had with him, you two have never been this close within each other’s proximities before

he works in silence, wiping the crusted blood off your face and out of your hairline, pouring alcohol onto a cotton bud so that he can disinfect your wound

you feel the warmth of his exhales and the dancing of his deft fingers as he whispers soft apologies and ‘just a little longer’s whenever you wince

when he finally gets a good look at the cut extending from your hairline to the corner of your brow, narrowly sparing your eye, still a raw red around the area, his hands slow to a stop as if afraid to touch you any further

it’s your turn to murmur a reassurance, that “it’s not as bad as it looks, san”, turning your body towards him and ducking your head down to try and catch his gaze from under his fringe

“who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks again

he meets your eyes with an intensity that almost has you pulling back, but instead it does the opposite - the gentle furrow of his brows knitting together, the concern laced in his deep voice so contrasting to the usual teasing lilt of his voice he uses with you, the faint sensation of his fingertips brushing against your cheek - all pulling you in like quicksand that you can’t escape from, except you wonder to yourself whether you even want to escape or whether it wouldn’t be so bad to let yourself become consumed and engulfed by this. by him.

as you explain how the betrayal of your own unfolded, how you fought for your life and managed to flee, how before you knew it you were at san's door, his gaze never wavers from yours

you've started to dissociate yourself from the events of the last two hours, but san's constant touches keep you grounded

a stroke of his thumb across your jawline, a caress of your temple as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gentle squeeze of the nape of your neck

as your words come to a finish, your heart rate picks up at the silence that settles over san's apartment, a silence whose meaning you cannot decipher, clouding you with uncertainty

uncertainty of your future, now that you don't have the protection of your clan

and uncertainty regarding the man before you, now that you've bared yourself to him in one of your most vulnerable states, both physically and emotionally

then your heart comes to a stuttering pause at his response

“join me”

because despite you belonging to a different mafia, despite the teasing comments thrown at you, despite never having had the luxury to hold a conversation longer than five minutes with you, san's gaze has always been on you

"let me protect you, sweetheart"

and perhaps yours has always been on him too

so as you take a deep breath, you nod and let go, allowing yourself to be pulled in completely, with the comforting knowledge that san will be there to hold you from now on

mingi

pov: you're a citizen in the wrong place at the wrong time

you’re the owner of a small bar, the mist

it’s a modest little place, with a singular countertop spanning almost the full length of the bar from the entrance towards the back wall. there are a couple of low-backed stools along the counter, allowing customers to engage in idle conversation as they watch you make and serve up different drinks, and two smaller tables are placed in the far corners, should anyone desire a little more solitude

right across the street from yours, there’s a larger bar, the chilli peppers, that attracts most of the individuals seeking a little buzz for their body, a quick stringless night of passionate touches, or an opportunity to forget and drown out unwanted realities 

the few who venture away, stumble across your bar by accident, or have grown a strange fondness strong enough to pull them back to the mist again, are enough to keep your business going

barely. but you haven’t had to close your bar yet so it’s something

plus, you were able to lease the little room right above it as well, and you can call it your home

so really, you don’t have anything to complain about

except maybe those nights when the air is tenser than usual

nights where the distant drumming of heavy bass and droning of conversation is disrupted by escalating voices, thrown fists, shattering glass, and on some rarer occasions, the resounding authority of a single gunshot

and it seems like tonight is one of those nights

mingi knows something is off the moment he steps through the saloon doors into the chilli peppers, the accelerating creaks of the panels swinging back and forth reflective of the way his heart rate starts to pick up

he keeps his gaze covered underneath the wide brim of his hat, noting the way the eyes of the men scattered around the bar are trained on him

and under usual circumstances, being surrounded by members of the xikers clan wouldn’t make the weight of the automatic rifle slung across his back seem heavier than usual, considering they all believed him to be one of their own - also a loyal associate, rather than the spy for ateez that he actually was

but as mingi’s eyes catch sight of his portrait roughly sketched onto a ‘wanted’ poster behind the bartender, he realises that they might not quite believe him anymore

the sudden hellfire of gunshots startles the glass cup out of your hand, sending it shattering across your tiled floor like an omen of what’s to come

frazzled and unnerved, the reasonable part of your brain telling you to flee upstairs to safety shuts down and you squat behind your countertop to, instead, clear up the mess of broken glass

it doesn’t dawn on you the fact that amongst the chaos of sound outside, one particular set of footsteps have halted for a split second in front of your door

a quick scan inside of what looks like a small bar appears to show no signs of people, and mingi doesn’t have time to second-guess his observation before he’s pushing the door open in an attempt to seek refuge from the few men who have managed to stumble their way out in pursuit of him

mingi spots a countertop running parallel to the wall, a place that can easily cover him from the vantage point outside

so he places a hand on the table, jumping up and shifting his weight onto his hand to bring his legs and body nimbly over to the other side of the countertop

only to very nearly land on a small mountain of glass pieces

and a person.

you.

for a few seconds, you and mingi just stare at each other from your crouched positions, shock reflected in the both of you but for completely different reasons

you, because who is this man how did he suddenly appear in front of you what is he doing here

and him, because-

“shit, i thought there was no one in here”

a small part of you that is still somehow functioning thinks that now is probably not the time to point out that, in fact, the lights of your bar were on so yes, of course there would be someone in here

but then he’s shuffling a little closer to you, the sound of glass crunching under his feet as he extends an arm to gently press the both of you flush against the drawers of the counter

you realise he’s trying to keep the both of you out of sight - from who exactly you’re not sure - when a harsh voice, startling close to the outside of your bar, shouts “find that fucker right now”

you think to yourself that this is it

this is how you’re going to die

all you can do is bite back the whimpers that are threatening to escape your mouth as you tremble

he takes a quick glance at you, noting the way you have hunched in on yourself in an attempt to appear smaller, eyes rounded with apprehension, fingernails digging into your own palms

the least he can do right now is offer you some semblance of comfort, even if he is the very reason you had been dragged into this mess in the first place

so he lowers his arm that has been stretched across your front, and places his hand over your smaller, shaking ones

he’s able to engulf both of your curled fists with just his one hand

he feels one of your hands slowly open, only to reach out and encase two of his fingers in a firm grasp, much like a child would their security blanket

you both stay like that until your muscles start to ache and the pounding of shoes against pavement have long gone, and when mingi is sure that the men won’t backtrack, he gently eases his hand out of your grasp, but only so that he can remove his long, leather jacket and place it on the ground for you to sit on without hurting yourself on the glass shards

he apologises, explaining that there was a bit of a ‘scuffle’ - you nearly snort at this - and he had to find a quick place to hide from the men

he really didn’t mean to involve you

somehow, during the conversation, his hand has made his way on top of yours again, your own fingers grasping a couple of his, just like earlier

you’re not sure who initiated it

but you do know that it feels comforting, safe, warm

feeling a burst of courage, you ask the question that’s burning at the forefront of your mind

“are you running away from bad guys? or are you the…”

the remainder of your question goes unfinished, but mingi understands nevertheless

working as a spy, he has been trying to uncover information about county lines - drug trafficking between areas by coercing vulnerable populations to do the dirty work - so that ateez can terminate the operation ring. and xikers has been suspected to be the key reason behind the recent disappearance of children and elderly

is what he is doing considered illegal? yes

but can you say that it is wrong? debatable

“what makes a person bad?” he asks

“i’m not sure…someone who does the wrong things, i guess?”

as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realise how sheltered and privileged you sound

mingi hums

“sometimes people have to do the wrong things to make things right”

a moment of silence. a peer of curiosity

“are you trying to make things right?”

an upturn of the corner of a mouth

“i’d like to think that i am. or trying to, at least”

it’s a strange feeling, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as you make soft-spoken conversation with a man whose name you still don’t know, a man who is a blur of black and white, bad and good, dangerous and safe

when he sees you suppress your third yawn in the last five minutes, mingi realises he’s overstayed and he probably should have reported back to his boss, hongjoong, ages ago, and it was probably way past your shop’s closing time too

“i should go”

“oh, okay, um, yeah”

your face grows hot as you fumble over your words, suddenly wide awake

you’re curious about this handsome stranger, yearning to unravel the secrets that he is harbouring, to learn about the good bad things he is doing to make wrong things right

and then mingi is standing, and it hits you that you’re not quite ready for this night to end

mingi decides to leave his leather jacket behind, which you are still prettily perched on top of, and he’s just about to round the end of the countertop, when your shy, hesitant tug on the back of his waistcoat pauses him in his tracks

“...will i see you again?” you question softly

he knows. he knows that the answer should be no. that someone whose canvas as white as yours should not be mixing with someone like himself, who will only ever be able to work with dark colours

and yet, he finds himself saying

“yeah, i think you will.” he slowly removes your hand from his waistcoat, brushing his thumb softly over your knuckles as he nods towards the floor. “that leather coat is designer, so i’ll be back for it”

and if that coat was really just passed-on to him from someone else because it was simply a size too large, then that would just have to be another secret for you to discover in the future

wooyoung

pov: you're a worker at the store he frequents

over your three years of working the night shift at the convenience store, you can say that you’ve seen it all

from the piss-drunk people (pun intended) having pissing contests to see how far they can shoot their stream along the pavement

to the breakups in the frozen foods section because a couple can’t see eye to eye on their opinions regarding mint chocolate as a flavour

but as a bloodied and beat-up man comes quite literally crawling to the glass doors of your store front, halfway through your thursday shift, you’re not so sure anymore

a quick glance at the aisles confirms that there are currently no customers inside - not that there usually are at four am - so you round the register counter and walk to the doors with your eyes narrowed

you briefly eye the plastic umbrellas displayed near the entrance, wondering if you should grab one for self-defence, but eventually decide against it since the man outside already looks like roadkill without your additional contribution

the door chimes when you nudge it open, and you raise an eyebrow as you scan the man’s busted lip and swollen left eye, fresh bruises and cuts littering the rest of his face and knuckles

you had just mopped the white floor an hour ago, and quite frankly, you’re not interested in doing that again

wooyoung finally gathers enough strength to raise his head to look up at you, the doorbell alerting him of your presence, and between the lights of the store creating a backlight around your figure and a very likely case of concussion, he thinks that he’s being visited by an angel-

“if you can crawl yourself here, you can crawl yourself to the nearest hospital”

you squat down next to him, pulling your phone out of your back pocket with the full intention of bringing up google maps to start him off in the right direction

flustered, he tells you, “i can’t go to the hospital. it’ll only bring me more trouble”

“oh, yeah? and why exactly would you get into trouble”

“because i’m part of the mafia”

you have to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes

why does this guy think that exaggerating his story will make him sound more masculine?

chances are he picked a fight with the wrong guy, got his ass handed back to him, and doesn’t want to embarrass himself further by going to the hospital

pinching the bridge of your nose, you resign yourself to having to clean the floor again after this problem is taken care of

“if you don’t stop squirming i’ll give you a black eye to match your left one”

“but it huuuurts”

as you both sit in the back room - a ‘be back in 10 minutes’ sign stuck on the store’s front door - you’re discovering that this guy is not only a grand storyteller, but is also a vocal whiner

holding back the urge to use the gauze tape in your hands to seal his lips closed, you rip a strip off instead so that you can secure the dressing pad against his cheek

“so how did you get hurt, exactly?” you decide to ask him, in hopes that it will distract him from the pain and actually let you dress his wounds properly

he tells you that he manages several underground fight clubs, usually remotely through his own lackeys, but it occasionally requires him to make rounds in person to keep them smooth-running

except, tonight there had been a disagreement over the bidding wins at one particular venue

which, combined with the hyped atmosphere of the crowd, had quickly escalated into a full-blown brawl

and wooyoung discovers that he is apparently a crowd favourite when it comes to getting pummelled

again with the lies.

“yeah, and i belong to the royal family but look where we are now.” you give the bandaid you have just placed over a cut on his forearm a final pat. “there, you’re all patched up”

he utters a thanks as he helps you clear away the packages of gauze, bandages and bottle of saline you have taken from the small first aid section of your store

when you outstretch a hand towards him, your palm facing upwards, he looks at you almost bashfully

you can’t quite understand why…until he places his hand into yours

“ow!” he cradles his hand that you have just slapped away against his chest, infatuated expression quickly withering under the dirty glare you shoot at him

once it’s clear that he won’t try to hold your hand again, you extend your arm once more

“cough up.” you gesture at his face, “those things cost money”

he winces, “i uh…i don’t have any money on me right now…can’t you just be a good samaritan and help a poor guy out?”

“yeah well this good samaritan also happens to be poor, so, no.”

he has the audacity to look like a kicked puppy, which, no, absolutely does not weaken your resolve. at all.

with the promise of returning soon with the money he owed you, and the new, yet not necessarily unwelcome, name of wooyoung falling from your lips, he bids you farewell as the first streaks of dawn start to paint the night sky

and indeed, wooyoung comes back the following night to hand over some crumpled notes and loose change, face still looking a little worse for wear, but at least he is not crawling anymore

you think that that is the end of this acquaintance - a favour given, a debt paid off, a brief crossing of fates

but unbeknownst to you, an extension of the accepted promise includes wooyoung’s recurring presence in your store on random nights

at first, it is just once a fortnight that you will find wooyoung peeking in through the windows, eyes lighting up in recognition as he spots you at the register, before he is walking in through the doors

then, it becomes one to two times a week that wooyoung will already be waving at you from outside as he skips his way to the doors of the convenience store

soon, wooyoung is keeping you company almost every other shift that you work, having spent enough time watching you work that he could do your job for you

he’ll snack during your shifts (you find that he has an intense sweet tooth and can down three share packs of lollies in one hour alone)

or he’ll share his mafia stories (you let him keep this running theme going - perhaps he is part of a silly street gang, so you don’t bother to correct him)

or he’ll arrive a little roughed up (you patch him up and tell him that he must be a pretty crappy fighter if he gets hurt this much)

and during those moments, when you carefully dab at the grazes on his face, when you are close enough to feel the soft exhales coming from his slightly pursed lips, when you see all the little embellishments adorning his face such as the spot under his left eye or on his bottom lip, you come to realise that wooyoung is, in fact, actually quite good looking

an understatement, but you’re not about to confess that either

the clock has just ticked past midnight - wooyoung isn’t around and you are rearranging the packets of gum on display at your counter for the third time in a row to keep yourself busy and from admitting that, perhaps, you are waiting for him

your slight frown turns into carefully feigned nonchalance when you think you can see his familiar mop of two-toned hair appear from across the road, your heart involuntarily skipping a beat

except your face contorts back into an even deeper frown upon spotting the frenzied look in his eyes and his flailing limbs as he comes closer and closer, until he barrels right through the doors

he forgoes a greeting, instead whizzing past you like a mini tornado, beelining for the back room of the store as he yelps, “pretend i’m not in here!”

blinking back the dazed fog in your brain, you suppose he is being chased by another bunch of street hooligans and has decided to hide in your store during your shift

just excellent.

honestly, you should probably have a chat with wooyoung after all this and talk to him about his little gang antics because just what sort of people is he hanging out with and what kind of gang chases after other people like children and- oh.

this kind of gang.

it would have been quite funny, really, how they resemble a scene straight out of a mafia movie or drama - five big, burly men in dress shirts and slacks, chains and sunglasses adorning their chests, scars and tattoos littered across their skin, cigarettes and guns held casually in their hands - if it is not for the fact that you are currently the main character of this confrontation, and there is no script writer to ensure that you make it out of this scene alive

you gulp as your brain screams at you to act natural, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind-

“hey fellas, how can i help you this fine evening?”

if wooyoung brings this up with you days later, you deny it and say that he was hiding too far away to catch the conversation properly

“have you seen a guy, mid-twenties, come in here? hair’s half black, half white. pretty hard to miss”

“uhh, no. i haven’t had a customer come in for a while now”

you have to stuff your hands into your pockets to hide their shakiness when you spot a couple of the men start to stalk through the aisles

“i can, uhh, show you the surveillance footage if you guys want? it just might take a while to get the data from the cameras?” you pray to whatever gods are above that they don’t take on your offer

you physically clench to stop yourself from pissing your pants when one of the men try to open the door to the back room - wooyoung, thank fuck, has locked it

the man who you have been addressing appears to be the boss, as he lets out a grunt and signals to the others, “nothing here. let’s go”

with one last rattle of the doorknob, the men lumber their way back out

you stand there frozen, looking at the doors that have just swung closed in dumbfound silence

wooyoung slowly unlocks the back room, wringing his hands together as he steps out and approaches you

you turn to give him a blank stare

“that was the mafia”

“yes”

“you are part of the mafia”

“yes”

“you could’ve put me in danger”

at the rise in your pitch and volume, wooyoung winces with regret, because you sort of have a point - that could have gone down a lot worse than it did

but also he just really, really likes having you as a friend, and he also maybe really, really likes you as more than a friend, and whenever he’s in trouble, the first person to pop up in his head is just always you

plus

“i told you i was in the mafia…” his voice trails off as a lightbulb goes off, “...but you didn’t believe me,” he concludes.

“of course i didn’t believe you! who just casually admits that they’re part of an illegal crime organisation?” you throw your hands up in the air, “and what is someone from the mafia even doing here chatting? or eating snacks? in a convenience store?”

“well even the mafia need to get their snacks from somewhere,” he mumbles

you can see him chew the inside of his cheek as he apologises, before he meekly looks up and asks, “can i…still come by during your shifts?”

you huff, and wooyoung thinks that he has royally fucked up, that you’re going to ban him from the store and from ever seeing you again

but, like always, not dissimilar to the way a maths formula stays constant despite the question it is used to solve, wooyoung’s damned kicked-puppy look has your prickly defences crumbling

you don’t find it very hard to tell him that yes, he still can, because after all,

“where else would you get your snacks from, mafia boy?”

he shrugs, before breaking out into an impish grin. “good, because it just so happens that my favourite snack is only available at this store”

“yeah? and what is that?”

“you”

jongho

pov: you're his childhood sweetheart

hwang, your superintendent, motions silently for the two of you to move in, the coast seemingly clear

you nod as you step into the empty corridor, the gun in your hands trained vigilantly for any signs of danger

just days ago, your police unit had received an anonymous tip about a certain mafia group’s drug trade that would be taking place in an abandoned building

whether or not the information is reliable, you’re uncertain, but both hwang and yourself have been tracking them for years now, the two of you spurred on by the same reason, so you both bite

and as you approach the room at the end of the corridor, you vow to yourself that no matter what it takes, you’re going to bring ateez burning to the ground today

some people are lucky to grow up with a childhood friend, and some even luckier to have a childhood sweetheart

choi jongho is both of those to you

your early memories with him are filled with shared packets of gummy bears on the park swings, games of hide and seek at your dad’s police station, and hushed giggles under the covers during sleepovers

as you both grow older, your memories become ones of cheap diner burgers at your favourite date spot by the river, the smell of home when you’re engulfed in his hoodies, and stolen kisses behind locked bedroom doors

and life is perfect, until your luck runs out

it all comes crashing down the week you start college

your father is killed on the field, his superintendent - hwang seongmin - tells you that he was shot during a confrontation with a young, emerging gang

ateez

and as if that isn’t enough, the world takes away jongho from you too

he doesn’t give you a reason why, only presses fervoured kisses against the salty trails running down your cheeks as tears of his own fall, murmuring desperate promises of “i’ll come back to you. i’ll find you, i promise. but first you have to let me go”

and then he disappears without a trace

channelling your grief into anger, you drop out of college and join the police force, vowing to take down ateez with your bare hands

your thirst for vengeance spurs you to graduate at the top of your unit and rise rapidly through the ranks until you make it into the very same team your father used to serve

here, you are able to dig up old files on your father’s closed case, as well as information on ateez, who have evaded the police all these years

and all the while, you hold onto the hope that someday, jongho will return to mend the broken pieces of your heart back together, just as he had promised

"put your hands in the air where we can see them"

except it’s not hwang’s voice, nor your own, that is making the demand

teeth gritted together, you slowly raise your arms, dominant hand unfurling from your gun as best as you can without dropping it, hwang mirroring your actions to your side

the members of ateez, you realise, emerge from the shadows to slowly encircle you both

you’ve only ever seen photos of hongjoong and seonghwa, the two eldest who are rumoured to have been part of the original few who started ateez

and if you were paying more attention to the dire situation, you would realise that none of their guns are actually pointed at you

except your attention isn't on the guns at all, or the fact that the anonymous lead had been part of ateez’s plan to be discovered in the first place

because stepping forward, right into your line of vision, is jongho

you know that your face must be a sight to see, anger quenched in a millisecond as it turns into bewilderment instead, questions flooding through your mind

you know that he recognises you, and yet, he doesn’t seem surprised or even fazed to see you 

before you’re given the chance to step forward and grab him by his collar, guns be damned, hongjoong is breaking the stillness of the room

he holds up a photo - it appears to be a screen capture from a grainy security feed of…a police station?

more specifically…hwang’s office?

as you squint to make sense of what you’re seeing, the leader addresses you both, “february the 3rd, 2018”

you can’t help the animalistic snarl that leaves your lips as you make a step towards him

how dare he rub it in your face. how dare he bring up the very day he murdered your father in cold blood

jongho calls out your name - acknowledging you for the first time - and he has the gall to look apologetic as he pleads softly, “just listen first. you deserve to hear this”

and if his words don’t give you whiplash, then the way his eyes suddenly become murderous as he turns to look at hwang certainly does

it’s jongho’s turn to step forward, taking the photo and shoving it right in hwang’s face

“i think you remember this night very clearly, hwang. seong. min.”

you don’t miss the way hwang’s eyes widen at his own name, confusion constricting your throat in a chokehold

“h-how do you know my name?”

“it would be hard to forget the name of the person who murdered my lover’s father.”

you feel like your head has been plunged underwater, struggling to breathe in the wave of information that has just crashed over you

hwang seems to connect the dots much faster - the wrong dots, but a conclusion nonetheless

“you fucking rat! you were working for them all along-” he screams and makes a lunge for you

jongho intercepts easily, stepping in front of you and pinning hwang to the ground

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you, unless you want to lose your hand,” jongho growls with controlled rage. “now are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

hwang stops struggling once he realises there is no way he can overpower jongho

“yeah, fine, it was me,” hwang spits out angrily, “i shot him dead by accident and it fucking ruined my life. we were trying to arrest you fuckers, and look what it cost me”

hongjoong squats down, using the tip of his gun to force hwang’s chin up. “instead of owning up to your wrongdoings, you framed us for murder and kept the man’s own child hidden in the dark all these years”

jongho stands to carefully gather your hands in his; hands that seem so unfamiliar yet are simultaneously all that you have ever known

voice filled with comfort that he wishes he could kiss into you, jongho murmurs, “it’s your decision now. we’ll do whatever you choose.”

you stand at a crossroad

they’ll either hand over all of the evidence and hwang will be convicted for his past actions

or they can take away what hwang stole from your father - a life for a life

it’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with.

the feeling of something dying inside of you.

you make your choice and then walk out of the room without looking back

not even as the sound of a gunshot resounds behind you.

it takes everything in you not to break down in the corridor, and you barely register jongho’s voice catching up to you as he desperately calls out your name

when he catches you by the wrist and whips you around to face him, all it takes is one look from him to tip you right over the edge, all the suppressed emotions from the last half an hour and past five years pouring out in primal wails and hyperventilating gasps

jongho brings you into him, one hand cradling your face into the nook of his neck, other arm wrapped tightly around your body like it’s your lifeline

he holds you through it all, even as your bodies sink to the ground; a parallel universe of that very night years ago when your fairytale ended

you let yourself sink into the feeling of jongho’s long fingers running through your hair in gentle caresses and his lips kissing away the last of your tears

sensing that you have calmed down, jongho tilts his head down to nudge your nose delicately, and you see your very own sorrow and pain reflected in his eyes

“long time no see,” he jokes softly, and as much as you want to be angry with him, your mouth curves into a small smile

of all the things that you want to say, of all the questions and confessions swirling inside of you, enough to fill a library’s worth of novels, all that escapes your lips in a whisper is, “why?”

jongho doesn’t really know where or how to begin, so he decides to tell the story from the day it all started

the day your father was killed

he explains that that very same night, he had gone to the police station after you had cried yourself to sleep, in a futile attempt to see if they had made any progress on your dad’s case

only to overhear hwang talking on the phone in feverish hushes that he had accidentally killed your father and was going to pin the blame on a fledgling gang

“and don’t say that i should’ve told you, because we both know you would have gone straight to hwang after finding out”

you close your mouth that you had started opening to protest, because jongho’s right

he always did know you better than you did so yourself

you very well would have gotten yourself killed in the crossfire trying to bring justice to your father’s death

he grows sombre, eyes dropping down to your intertwined hands in acknowledgement, “i know it was wrong to keep it from you, but i was so, so afraid of losing you. i didn’t have any other choice”

without the evidence, connections or power to do anything about it, jongho made the decision by himself to join the very gang that was being framed, until he did have the evidence, connections and power to do something about it

a selfish decision, but a decision made out of love

he hopes you forgive him as he looks at you with tears welling in his eyes, “i promised you, remember? that i would be back for you”

your own vision blurs as you hope your next words convey that you understand, “i never forgot. not for a single day. not for a single moment” 

as you he captures your lips with his, desperate and yearning, you recall how five years ago your fairytale ended

it’s not perfect - it’s far from perfect - but tonight, your nightmare ends

and perhaps, it is the beginning of a new fairytale; one where you finally get a happily ever after with your childhood friend and sweetheart, choi jongho

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