Friends To Lovers To Strangers [trope Hongjoong]

friends to lovers to strangers [trope — hongjoong]

inspired by: periwinkle — short story + genesis — smau by @songmingisthighs

word count: 3.3k

content: angst, smut, kitchen sex, gradual heartbreak, ofc joong chooses his career over you, completely consensual (sex)!

author's note: periwinkle was a short story i wrote for my ex-best friend many years ago... i have no idea if this is just as devastating, but i tried my best to make it as heartbreaking as periwinkle. if you ever wanna read periwinkle, lmk and i might just post it here

trope masterlist | part one | part two

It wasn’t romantic at first. It was very friendly. You met Hongjoong at one of your friend’s parties— Mingi loved celebrating the randomest things, and you usually avoided his parties due to said randomness, but you finally went, and that was when you met Hongjoong.

He was very different from what you were expecting. Well, you didn’t know that you were going to meet him that day, but based off Mingi’s personality (and the personalities of a lot of his friends), Hongjoong was the oddest one out. He was calm, collected, watched his limits while drinking instead of downing everything in sight, and he was a lot of fun to talk to.

The first night you met him, you spent a lot of time just trash-talking Mingi and his friends. You didn’t hate them, per se, but it was so easy to make fun of their dumbass decisions, and just reminiscing and sharing stories about them was a lot of fun. Honestly, if it weren’t for Hongjoong, you probably would have never gone to another one of Mingi’s parties.

You and Hongjoong bonded fast. Granted, you only ever talked to him when you met him at parties, but you spent a lot of the time at those parties together. You would drink, share stories about your childhood, and he would drink and tell you thing about his brother, who you grew to like just by hearing those stories of his.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” you prodded Hongjoong’s shoulder one night when you were particularly tipsy. “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, I do. What about it?”

“Why don’t you ever text me to hang out? I feel like it’d be fun to talk during the day, too,” you pouted.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I was waiting for you to text first,” Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s easier to work around your schedule since you work that nine to five as an HR associate—”

“HR director now, actually! I got promoted.”

“Wow! Congratulations,” Hongjoong beamed at you, his gummy smile more of a compliment than his words. “But, see, you’re super dedicated to your job, and my sleep schedule is usually fucked since I spend so much time at the studio—”

“Right! Because you’re a composer,” you said a little too loudly. “Right.”

“But I promise,” Hongjoong took your hand. “Text me, and we’ll make plans during the day.”

“You promise? You promise to actually make plans with me instead of sleep through them like some people?” you asked while nodding your head over to Mingi who was busy doing shots out of the bartender’s belly button.

“I promise.”

Hongjoong stuck to his promise. It was honestly really fucking difficult to make plans with him, but he said he would make it for coffee at least once a week, and that he did. Talking to him during the daytime was a lot more pleasant than you expected. You were a little worried that you enjoyed his company only while you were drunk because you only ever talked to him when you had a couple shots in you, but he proved to be great conversation outside of the party scene as well.

You texted him frequently, asking him if he wanted to go for coffee or watch a movie— anything just to spend time with him. You truly loved spending time with him, and he, you. You had never felt so comfortable with another human being in your entire life before, and every single time you met with him, he just exceeded your expectations further.

“Okay, tell me,” you were on the phone with him trying to make plans. “What movie do you want to see?”

“Sleepless in Seattle,” he responded.

You blinked and frowned. There were many things about his response that threw you for a curve. For one thing, you thought you were going to go to a movie theater; another was that Sleepless in Seattle was an old movie, so the only way you were going to be able to watch that is if you went to his apartment or he came to yours; and the last thing was that Sleepless in Seattle was a romantic comedy, and Hongjoong definitely did not seem to be the type to enjoy movies like that.

“I… Uh,” you cleared your throat. “I have many questions.”

“I’ll be happy to answer them, but it’ll have to be later. I gotta finish this up real quick. Just come to my place by seven, okay?”

You could barely accept his conditions before he hung up abruptly. Sleepless in Seattle in Hongjoong’s apartment it was.

Honestly, his choice of movie was enough for you to get a hint of what he was trying to say to you, but you doubted it slightly when you saw him paying so much attention to the soundtrack, only for those doubts to vanish when he silently moved closer to you, his shoulder pressing against yours as you both pretended to focus on the movie.

“Hey, Y/N, I was curious…” Hongjoong whispered. “Have you ever thought about... You know… How comfortable our friendship is?”

“I mean, I do sometimes,” you admitted.

“And… Do you ever wonder…”

You turned your head and made eye contact with him. Honestly, you never really got a good look at Hongjoong’s face until right then and there. His eyes were slightly widened as he looked at you, and his lips were parted ever-so-slightly to the point where you could catch a brief glimpse of his beautiful teeth— and, God, his perfectly shaped nose. You felt your chest tighten the longer you looked at him, all of the words in your vocabulary getting caught up in the traffic jam in your chest.

Neither of you uttered a word. The credits rolled in the background as your lips pressed against Hongjoong’s gently, his hand slowly reaching up to brush your hair away from your face and tuck the strays behind your ear. He kissed you slowly but sensually, the feeling of his lips encompassing yours making your entire body warm up with what you could only describe as affection.

It was safe to say that your friendship was pretty much shot to hell after that kiss, but it didn’t matter since you found a lover in your friend. People always said to find a friend in your lover, but the other way around was just as good from what you could tell.

“Okay, so for dinner,” you started explaining as you stood in Hongjoong’s kitchen. “I was thinking either pasta or chicken.”

“What about chicken pasta?” Hongjoong asked as he entered his kitchen and stood alongside you, the two of you staring into the refrigerator at the groceries he had left.

“Sure, we can do that,” you mused out loud as you thought about different ways you could pair the two.

“Yay,” Hongjoong cheered quietly before hugging you from behind. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

Hongjoong rocked you back and forth as he continued to embrace you before swaying side to side. You held onto Hongjoong’s arms and closed your eyes as you let him guide this music-less dance. He spun you around and held you as he continued to move around the kitchen and hum a pretty little melody.

He stopped hugging you, his hands immediately searching for yours. He held your hands and began dancing properly with you, the melody from his soul getting louder. He didn’t sing any lyrics, just the tune of the song— a song he was most likely composing. The smile on your face only got wider as you looked at Hongjoong and his cheesy, beautiful grin, little giggles and sighs dissipating in the romantic atmosphere in the kitchen.

Spontaneity was Hongjoong’s favorite thing, which was something you noticed in your friendship with him that only got more intense when you started dating. He loved to whisk you away for romantic date nights, trips to the movies— once, you were craving deep-fried Oreos and mentioned it passively, but he went all the way to your favorite candy shop and got it for you without even batting an eyelash.

And of course, his favorite thing was spontaneous sex.

“Sweetheart,” Hongjoong whispered when the two of you gradually stopped dancing. “Do you want to maybe make dinner later…?”

“Won’t you be hungry after, though?”

“I’m hungry right now,” Hongjoong was quick to answer, his eyes narrowing and his skin slowly reddening.

He grabbed your waist and kept you close to him, his actions still soft, but the intensity in his eyes getting stronger the closer you pressed against him. There was no stopping Hongjoong now. The second you gave Hongjoong a tiny nod, he grabbed your waist and sat you down on the marble dining table.

“Strip, but keep the apron on,” he told you before heading into his bedroom to grab a condom.

You didn’t think Hongjoong had a kitchen sex fantasy, but you weren’t questioning— the look on his face got you all sorts of hot and bothered; so much so that you definitely wanted him more than he wanted you.

Hongjoong returned with the condom on, and the second he stood in front of you, he pushed your shoulder down so that you were laying down on the the surface, your legs dangling off the edge. Hongjoong hovered above you and lifted your apron slightly, his cock barely grazing your clit as he rubbed against the outside of your cunt. Your knees trembled with the feeling, making you hold onto his forearms, your grip on him getting more intense with his every movement.

“Joong,” you sighed out. “I just want you in me already.”

“You and me both, sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you,” Hongjoong said, the tip rubbing against your folds a little more vigorously.

Once Hongjoong deemed you wet enough, he pushed into you slowly, your walls stretching slowly, sensually. A pleasureful sigh danced on your lips as Hongjoong’s cock started to give you the relief you needed.

Hongjoong moved his arm out of your grasp so that he could stand upright grab the fabric of your apron and bunch it in his clutches, leaving your breasts exposed as he did so. His hands played with your breasts as he started moving, his waist rolling into yours. He either rubbed circles on your nipples with his thumbs or held your breasts tightly as he kept a steady pace with his thrusts.

You were biting your lower lip and letting out little gasps and sighs the more he explored your body with his hands. The marble of the countertop was starting to heat up under your flaming hot body, sweat starting to cover your forehead and arms. A single drop of sweat rolled down Hongjoong’s temple, and it dropped onto your cheek when he bent over you again, his face near yours as he leaned in close. He had let go of your breasts at that point and held your thighs to push them closer to you, your lower back starting to lift off the countertop and change the angle at which he was thrusting into you.

“Shit, J-Joong,” you stuttered when you felt his cock rub inside you just right, the heat within you starting to build. “Just like that…”

“Yeah?”

You nodded and licked your lips as you looked into his eyes, your lips craving his. Apparently, he read your look correctly because he was kissing you seconds later, a slight smile appearing on his face the more desperate your kisses became. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and unconsciously began to roll your hips into his, the increased friction bringing you closer to your impending high.

It was when Hongjoong slammed his hips into yours with a force you weren’t anticipating did your body tingle all over. You broke off the kiss and moaned loudly as you came, your legs wrapping around his waist and pressing into him as your pussy convulse and get tighter.

“Sweetheart— Shit— So tight,” Hongjoong hissed.

You for sure thought Hongjoong was going to cum, but instead, he pulled you off the table and spun you around so that your torso was pressed into the cool marble and your legs were barely supporting you as he fucked you from behind.

The feeling of your nipples rubbing against the cool surface and the hot friction inside you made sparks appear every time you blinked, waves of pleasure threatening to swallow you. Hongjoong was holding your ass tightly as he thrust exponentially faster while grunting, his breathing getting shallower.

Without warning, Hongjoong wrapped his arm around you and started circling your clit, overstimulating you like crazy. You flung your head back and cried as you came for the second time, this time Hongjoong coming with you, his own groan overpowering your voice.

You whimpered slightly when you felt Hongjoong pull out, the warmth within you dissipating quickly. You slowly pushed yourself up and watched as Hongjoong took the condom off and threw it away. He returned to you and trapped you against the table, his hands on either side of you and a smile spreading on his face.

“Now, how about dinner?” he asked.

You couldn’t think about dinner— all you could think about was how sexy Hongjoong looked in that moment. His eyes were still filled with lust, and you could see out of the corner of your own eye that his cock was twitching. You kissed him and brought your hand to his dick, your fingers lightly rubbing along his length and making him rock hard all over again.

“Let’s just get food delivered,” you whispered.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hongjoong smiled and kissed you back.

His hands ran through your hair and gripped the roots of your hair as his kiss went from gentle to intense with half a second. The string of intense kisses continued as you wrapped your arms around him, your body pressing into his.

He led you to his bedroom, and the two of you laid on his bed as you continued to kiss, your limbs entangling with each other and the sheets below. A small, happy sigh left the man as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his smile blissful.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Hongjoong.”

Love doesn’t last. Love isn’t strong enough to keep everything from falling apart, and it’s always the little flaws you come to love at first that end up being the reason you can’t do it anymore.

Except, in the case of Hongjoong, it wasn’t a little flaw— it was a huge, glaring one. You’d know about it since the very beginning because he said it himself: his career was everything to him.

Now that the two of you were older, he was putting more time and energy into his music, which meant he was definitely phoning the relationship in. And you wanted to be understanding of him. His career was truly everything to him, but you should be too. After all, the two of you had been dating for a couple years by that point.

“I know that you were in the studio all day, but send a text wouldn’t kill you!” you said loudly, your frustration start to rise to the surface.

“I told you I get no reception in this new studio, Y/N!”

“You could’ve texted me after you got out!”

“I was driving! You want me to text and drive?!”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.”

You huffed and ran your fingers through your hair, your hands starting to tremble with emotion. You tried your best to rationalize your thoughts, but when you were angry, there was no stopping revealing how you actually felt.

“Do you even care for me, Hongjoong? It seems like all you care about is sitting in the studio and rotting away.”

“Hey, you knew this about me. My career is everything,” Hongjoong’s voice got harder, and you could sense a little resentment in his voice.

“What about me, then? What am I to you?”

“You’re someone I love.”

“Love isn’t enough sometimes, Hongjoong. I don’t just need a bread winner. I need a companion or a friend or literally anything else to keep me company. I’m tired of waking up in an empty bed and going to sleep in an empty bed!”

Hongjoong went silent, and you continued.

“I’m tired of being lonely, Hongjoong. I’m tired of waiting for a text back from you. I’m tired of being neglected… Tell me honestly. Are you even in the studio, or are you out with someone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you if there’s someone else in your life, Hongjoong.”

“That is beyond the line, Y/N. Being upset with me for dedicating my life to my career is one thing, but insinuating that I’m not actually working and spending time with another person is too far.”

“You seem to be defending yourself pretty hard there.”

“How fucking hard should I be defending myself then?! If I don’t say enough, then you accuse me, and if I say too much, then you still accuse me! This mentality— This is toxic.”

“What?!”

“This is toxic! You’re accusing me of cheating on you just because I’ve been acting the same way I’ve been acting since we first met!”

“You used to text me way more back in the past because if you were texting me the in the past the same way you’re texting me now, then this would’ve never happened.”

Then, you stopped. You changed. You changed. You lost sight of yourself in this relationship, and you forgot that you, too, were a career person, but you put your own life on the back burner for a man. You were a stranger to yourself.

“Y/N?”

“I… I need some time to myself. Just… Leave me alone for a bit, okay?”

Those were the last words you ever said to him. You texted him occasionally to check in on him, but he was still horrible at responding, and after some time, you dropped it. It was over. Neither of you had to officially declare it, but you both knew that it was over.

You focused on your career. While you were dating Hongjoong, you were kind of standing still in your career as an HR coordinator, not really looking to move up the ladder. After you broke up, though, you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into your job, and after about five years, you were up for a VP position. You had bounced between different companies over those years, and finally, you landed that position at a talent agency.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Hongjoong was signed under that talent agency, and you didn’t know that until you started working there.

You were walking through the halls when you saw him standing and chatting to one of the singers under your agency. Your heart sank upon seeing him, and it only got worse from there when you saw their fingers intertwined. His gummy smile which was once yours was now dedicated to the singer in front of him, and eyes sparkled. Your heart officially hit the ground when you saw him glance in your direction, that sparkle immediately vanishing.

Neither of you uttered a word. You cleared your throat and walked past with your head held high, and right before you rounded the corner, you looked behind you to see if he was looking at you, but no. He was in his own world with his new girl.

You were not only a stranger to yourself, but you had become one to him as well.

trope masterlist

trope taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @hyukssunflower @yunhogrippers @oreoqueen @xhexy

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apply for the taglist here!

[ 💿 ] . . . TAPE 10

夏にも耐えて小雨に濡れて / 誰かのために散りたいなんて / 刹那に生きてたけど君と会い / そう全てには意味があることを知ったんだ

☁️ fallin' flower by seventeen

being loved by xu minghao means having someone that will always look out for you in his own, quiet way. hao is not the biggest romantic known to mankind, nor is he the biggest on physical affection, which is why a lot perceive him as unkind, uncaring, cold, and they could not be more wrong. minghao falls in love slowly, cautiously, but when he falls - he falls. his actions, albeit quiet, and almost unnoticeable are his declarations of love, of care, of the neverending urge to make you happy. he’d rather slip on his jacket over your shoulders without anyone noticing than making a whole deal out of it.  

being loved by xu minghao means having someone who will always tell you the truth. to some, it may seem a bit harsh to have a significant other that’ll be so honest with you, as the truth usually is not as promising as we would like. we all know this - truth can hurt. but hao, he would never lie to you. as ugly as the truth may be, he’d rather be honest with you, and face the obstacle with you, than give you false hope. the important thing, though - he’d never leave you alone, that would make him cruel. he stays by your side, and holds your hand as you go through whatever you’re struggling with together. 

being loved by xu minghao means having someone that will make every touch meaningful. as mentioned before, physical touch is not one of the main love languages of minghao’s, and that’s partially why his every touch is so meaningful - every time his hand brushes against yours, every time he runs his thumb over your cheeks, every time he pulls you closer to protect you from the wind - his touch is never unintentional, there’s a reason for his touch, always a story that comes with it. because he doesn’t kiss you every five minutes, every touch of your lips is therefore so much more special. because you don’t hold hands 24/7, whenever he grabs your hand when you’re out you feel extra safe.

being loved by xu minghao feels like the smell of freshly poured tea, like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, like a gentle smile, and even gentler eyes, like a love poem forgotten at the bottom of the drawer, like security and trust.

"you don't love because, you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults" - william faulkner, “mississippi”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot 

miscommunication [trope — yeosang]

inspired by: friends — sitcom

word count: 2.1k

content: angst, smut, miscommunication, bedroom sex, (unintentional) infidelity, unprotected sex (pls remember to wrap up irl!), completely consensual (sex)!

trope masterlist | part one | part two

You were waiting for Yeosang at the restaurant. You both agreed on the time and the place earlier in the week, and yet, he was still late. He was always late. The only time you ever saw him on time was the very first date you went on with him, and he was early for that because he was nervous. Now? Now he was late.

If it was only by ten or fifteen minutes, you would’ve been okay with it. However, it was never just ten or fifteen minutes. It was hours. Once, he kept you waiting at home with a home-cooked meal you put your back into for three hours. The worst part was that he always had an excuse, and his excuses were legitimate. Honestly, you wondered why you were still torturing yourself with the guy, but then the second you saw his face, the second he showed you the love that you oh so desired, you forgave him. Just like that.

This time, however, you were not going to do that. You were going to let him have it, and you were going to end it.

“Yeosang… You did it again," you uttered the second Yeosang arrived wheezing and panting.

“I’m sorry, baby. I really am,” Yeosang apologized earnestly. “I just forgot that we switched the location, and then time got away from me—”

“How many times will you use that excuse?! This is the third time this month! And I even texted you this morning to confirm, and you replied saying that you got it, so what the fuck?!”

You slammed your hand down on the table and got up. Yeosang grabbed your arm, but you snatched it away immediately and stormed out of the restaurant. He followed behind you shortly, and he walked behind you as you continued to walk away. Unfortunately for you, the light turned red, and you were stuck at the intersection, allowing him to catch up and pull you into a tight hug.

“Yeosang, let go of me,” you said as you fought to get out of his ridiculously strong arms.

“No, I’m not going to,” Yeosang responded, his embrace tightening. “Baby, I’m seriously sorry. You know I’m just really bad with these things—”

“You say that all the time, and nothing’s ever changed!”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How are you going to do that this time?”

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes widened. You leaned away from him and looked into his eyes, yours darting back and forth as you tried to make sense of the situation. He seemed to be very serious about his proposition, and the thought of moving in with a boyfriend, not going to lie, scared the complete shit out of you.

“Or, if that’s too daunting,” Yeosang quickly added. “I want you to have a key to my place, and you can stay whenever, sleepover whenever— I just want you to know how serious I am about you. Please, baby.”

“Yeosang, one of these days, you either need to get it together, or this isn’t going to last,” you warned him.

“I know. I will. I’m sorry. Please.”

You knew that it wasn’t going to be so simple, that Kang Yeosang was incapable of changing so easily, but you loved him. You were going to make it work, right?

“Alright.”

The two of you went back to his place so he could give you the set of spare keys, but that never happened. Instead, the second you got there, Yeosang pinned you against the front door and kissed you passionately. Both of his hands cupped your cheeks, his palms resting on your cheeks while his fingers supported your neck. He was kissing you earnestly, as if he was trying to prove his love.

His hands worked on getting your clothes off as the two of you remained in the foyer, his impatience getting the better of him. He traced his hands over your bare shoulders and down your arms, the feeling of his hands alone enough to cover your entire body in goosebumps, the sound of your mingled gasps and breaths adding to the effect.

You were completely stripped down to nothing when Yeosang turned you around and pressed you against the door, his hand tracing the curve of your waist before grabbing your ass cheek tightly and pulling up on it, the intensity turning you on quickly. He continued to grope your ass and used his other hand to play with your breast while his mouth planted on your neck and left little marks scattered along the side of your neck and on your shoulder.

When he turned your face, he kissed you passionately again, completely distracting you as he, too, stripped down. He slipped his hand down to your neck, and his other hand began stroking your cunt, the tips of his fingers teasing you by scratching in lightly. You shared soft, breathless moans that melted into your endless kisses, the sound enough to turn you on so much that the second Yeosang’s finger brushed past your clit, you felt your insides clench, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came.

Without giving you so much as a moment to prepare, Yeosang slid his cock into you, making you moan so loudly that it echoed in the foyer hall, overpowering the loud smack of his waist against your ass.

“Yeo—” you calling his name got cut short when he rutted into you suddenly, his thrusts short and sporadic. “Yeosang… N-Not here…”

You were honestly waiting for a verbal confirmation from the man. Instead, he quietly pulled out and turned you so that your back was pressing against the door. He stuffed you full with his cock again, a muffled cry leaving your pressed lips. You were honestly so worried that he was going to fuck you into the door, letting his neighbors hear every single thing the two of you were doing, but instead, he cupped the underside of your thighs and lifted you.

Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he walked you into his bedroom, his cock still deep inside you. He brought his head up and connected your lips with his again, his tongue teasing yours. When he got to his room, you thought he was going to drop you on the bed. Instead, he remained carrying you, his ridiculously strong arms lifting you and dropping you quickly on his cock, the sheer speed and impact making stars appear in your eyes.

“Ah— Yeosang! P-Please don’t drop me,” you begged as you clung to him tightly, your nails digging into his back muscles as you pressed your head into the his collarbone.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you,” Yeosang uttered, his lips by your ear.

You continued to moan as Yeosang moved you even more forcefully, the slapping of his waist to your ass reverberating in the room. You felt like you were starting to slip, making you hug the man tighter. Not only did your arms get tighter, but so did your walls, his dick feeling the intensity of your clench. Yeosang’s breathing hitched, and he let out a low groan as he came. He held you in place and let his cock twitch inside you, his cum just filling up to the point where it was leaking out of your cunt and onto the area rug in his room.

After he had cum completely and started going soft in you, Yeosang moved you to the bed. He pinned you down and gazed at your face with love and affection as you blinked the tears away from your eyes. He tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and kissed your temple softly, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and tickling you.

“I promise, baby,” he whispered, his low voice making your knees tremble. “I’m going to make it up to you all night tonight.

“I cannot fucking believe this, Kang Yeosang!”

You were screaming at the top of your lungs as you stormed around your apartment, your boyfriend’s eyes following your every movement.

“Y/N, I said I was sorry—”

“You keep fucking saying you’re sorry, and I keep fucking falling for it! Just stop apologizing, and just say that you don’t love me anymore, Yeosang!”

“You know that’s not it—”

“No, but it is because you do this to me every single time without fail!” You slammed your hands down on the kitchen countertop and kept your head down, tears threatening to slip out of your eyes. You sniffled and wiped your tears before yelling with a wavering voice, “How can you fucking forget Valentine’s Day of all days?!”

“It just… It just slipped my mind.”

“Right. Because the day that is literally the national sex day is something that can slip out of your goddamn head.”

“Well, yeah!”

“Yeosang, there are hearts and flowers and reds and pinks in every single fucking store, every single street and alley, and I even asked you about it yesterday!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, okay! But what should I do about it now? Also,” Yeosang shoved his arm forward, revealing the big bouquet of flowers he got you for the holiday. “I did get you flowers! All I did was forget to book a table at the restaurant, and I definitely did not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day— I’m saying that the reservation slipped my mind!”

“I asked you about it yesterday. You didn’t think to tell me yester-fucking-day?!”

“I am sorry! What more do you want from me! I can’t undo the entire day and restart! We’ll just do it properly next year!”

“Next year?” your heart sank, and your tone dropped. “You seriously… You seriously think there will be a next year, Yeosang?”

Yeosang’s mouth was open, but not a sound came out. He wanted to say something. He really wanted to say yes, that there would be a next year, but based off the way you said it, he wasn’t sure.

“I think… We need a break.”

“A… Break?”

“Let’s take a break,” you said. Let’s take a break— as if you were Ross and Rachel. “Let’s take a break.”

How long are breaks supposed to last, anyway? It had been weeks since you spoke to him. You wondered if he expected you to reach to him, but there was no way you were going to because it was his fault. He should apologize to you and come crawling back to you, right?

So then why the fuck was he sitting in a café across from another girl who was clearly laughing and flirting with him? What was supposed to be a detoxing shopping trip quickly turned into high anxiety and stress the second you saw him sitting there, the biggest smile on his face as he let that girl touch him so familiarly, and it took everything in you to keep from storming in and grabbing that bitch by her hair.

Well, you stormed in, but you didn’t grab her by her hair. Instead, you stood right before him, your eyebrows knitted together as you stared at the situation in complete confusion.

“Y/N?” Yeosang sounded surprised to see you— not shocked or worried; simply surprised.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“This!” you pointed at the girl. “Who the fuck is this?!”

“A girl I’ve been seeing—”

“What do you mean a girl you’ve been seeing?! Why have you been seeing someone?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Patrons of the café were definitely staring, and while you would’ve been embarrassed normally, you were too fucking pissed to give a shit about who saw your dirty laundry.

“What do you mean?” Yeosang stood up, the two of you locking eyes. Without so much as even a stutter, Yeosang continued, “Because we broke up, remember?!”

“What the fuck?! I said let’s take a break, Yeosang! I just needed time for myself!” You were damn near tears and were barely able to choke out, “I never wanted to break up with you!”

That was the thing. You never wanted to break up with him; but, seeing him in the café with another girl just a mere couple of weeks after declaring you needed a break, seeing him move on so fast without even bothering to check on you, without even thinking he should clarify what the status of your relationship with him was, was enough to show you how he really cared. You weren’t going to fight for him, you weren’t going to beg for him to come back, and you certainly were not going to just let him be without a final confirmation. You grabbed one of the drinks from his table and poured it on his head, the man gasping and hunching his shoulders in shock as the coffee trickled down his face and absorbed into his clothes.

“Consider yourself dumped, Kang Yeosang,” you bit out. “We’re definitely broken up now.”

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𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

☆ Genre: Angst, fluff (friends to lovers?)

☆ Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 2.5k

When a sleepy Chris opened his door to find a shivering and sodden version of his best friend looking up at him with bleak eyes on his doorstep, his heart dropped and sank all the way down to the depths of his slippers.

“Y/N?” Chris’ voice was soft despite the surprise he felt on the inside as he stepped towards her. His brows furrowed with worry, Chris extended his arms and gently reached for Y/N's hands. “Come inside … honestly, Y/N, you're soaked. What were you thinking? You could have texted me … you know I'd have picked you up … ”

Y/N's eyes stung with the telltale prickle of unshed tears at the sound of the man's authoritative yet gentle voice as he pulled her inside.

“What happened?” Chris murmured, one of his hands travelling to the side of her damp face, his fingers caressing her head. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Because honestly, if anyone's hurt you I'll - ”

Y/N clenched her eyes shut, her mind travelling back to the previous hour that had caused her to break.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Y/N flinched, her entire body jerking at the clatter of something dropping onto the table beside her. She swallowed thickly, closing her body in on herself further and further as if to deflect the prickles of overstimulation that was floating towards her. Every tiny sound from the people beside her had begun to irritate her; she felt jittery and incredibly restless as the infuriating clock on the wall ticked loudly, the strokes turning into long minutes.

The room was suddenly too small, too enclosed, and too hot. The walls closed in on her and the voices of the people around her grated on her mind, their shrieks of laughter uncomfortable as they drilled into her bones. She wanted to get out of here, away from the people who cared for nothing other than controlling her. Away from the people who she had come to realise from early on that she had nothing in common with.

Their voices became louder as Y/N's words retreated further into her body, seeking refuge from the tumultuous atmosphere buzzing around her. She curled her fingers into each other, gripping onto them tightly until the whites of her bones could be visible beneath her thin stretch of skin. She could feel that she was burning up; her skin blazed with prickly heat, and the thud of her rapid heartbeat echoed in her ears as her leg began to discreetly bounce up and down. Nausea permeated her insides, her head spinning and her chest tightening substantially. Pain and discomfort flooded through Y/N's body, and she shut her eyes briefly as she silently willed herself to calm down.

She couldn't stay here any longer. She hated these people. She wanted to be alone. She wanted -

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

She ignored the vague, disinterested question swimming in her direction as she slipped off of the sofa. As expected, the people inside the room went back to their conversation a mere second later, barely paying attention to Y/N as she stumbled out of the room just as tears pooled at the bottom of her eyes for the third time that evening.

Gulping heavily, Y/N was relieved when the night air filled her lungs with a momentary sense of calm. She was so focused on trying to diminish the anxiety inside of her that she barely noticed the weather; her clothes were soaked in an instant, heavy sheets of rain spilling over her trembling frame and plastering her hair to the sides of her face. Her fingers were cold when she brushed them over her eyes, smoothing away the mingled tears and raindrops nestled in her eyelashes. She then began to make her way down the street, shattered sobs escaping her slowly the further she got away from her neighbourhood, away from the last place she wanted to spend another night in.

“I'm so tired,” Y/N whispered to Chris. She looked up at him with sore eyes; in the dim lighting of the hallway that they were standing in, Chris’ eyes were the colour of rich cacao, and the very depths of them twinkled with familiar golden pinpricks as he searched her face. Even just taking in the sight of him was beginning to ease her mind … his lightly freckled skin, the unruly coils of hair that spilled over his forehead and temples like ocean waves, the velvety black t-shirt that hugged his muscular build; there was an ever present softness to Chris, and it radiated off of him in the form of heat and spicy vanilla as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone.

“Let's get you into some dry clothes, hmm?” Chris hummed. He waited for Y/N to nod against his hand before his touch trailed down her arm and to her fingers. Folding his grip around hers, Chris led her through the hallway.

Having no energy to do anything other than listen to the simple instructions Chris was giving her as he laid out a fresh set of clothes on his bed, Y/N soon found herself under his shower. Hot water flooded down her frozen skin, the contrast in temperature making her hiss under her breath at the initial burning sensation over her body. She leaned her forehead against the steamed walls of the shower, her eyes falling shut for a long moment. It took her all the energy she had left to reach to the side for the bottle of her friend's body wash, and an even longer time to smooth the suds over her aching limbs.

By the time she had draped Chris’ clothes onto her frame and stumbled into his living room, Chris had managed to laden the small coffee table with a surprisingly large array of comforting snacks. Beside it all sat two mugs of something hot and fragrant, wisps of steam rising from the porcelain and dissipating in the warm air.

“Ah, you're here,” Chris said cheerfully. He blinked, his gaze briefly scanning Y/N from head to toe. “I like your clothes.”

“Don't be mean,” Y/N huffed as she trudged towards the sofa. Chris moved towards the seat beside her at the same time, and she looked up at him with round eyes when he reached out to place his hands at the side of her face.

“I'm not,” Chris said softly. “You look adorable.”

At that, Y/N felt her eyes brim with tears. She looked down at the floor in an attempt to hide her expression, but Chris’ index finger found its way to the underside of her chin, and he gently lifted her face up towards him.

“I'm not lying to you.”

The downturned slopes of his eyes gave him such an innocent air in that moment that Y/N found all of her cloudy thoughts dissipating from her mind before she had the chance to grasp onto them. She blinked up at him, and she watched as he dropped his hand slowly before sitting down on his sofa.

He patted the free seat beside him with placid fingers. “Sit down?”

Y/N did as he said. His sofa was as comfortable as it always was; not too hard, and not too soft, it seemed to tuck itself around her in a welcoming manner, cushioning all of her aches and pains in a way that made her exhale minutely under her breath.

She was unsure as to whether it was actually the sofa that appeared so comforting to her, or if it was the presence of the calming man beside her.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked suddenly in a tender tone.

Y/N looked up at him. “I'm fine. Why?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he cocked his head to the side. “It's just … you look like you're in pain.”

She looked away for a moment. Now that she was paying attention to herself … her head was pounding.

“I'm fine,” She repeated in a wavering breath. And then, ”Head hurts a little bit.”

Chris smiled softly. He then extended one of his arms and gently cupped his hand around Y/N's shoulder.

Y/N let him ease her into him. His hand travelled from her shoulder to the side of her head, his fingers like a cradle as he guided her down to the side of his chest. Y/N shifted a little; she curled her legs up on the sofa and twisted her body slightly so she wasn't in an awkward position, though she kept her hands bundled stiffly in her lap as Chris started to thread his fingers through her vaguely damp hair.

“It was probably all that rain,” Chris’ voice vibrated through his chest; it was a low sound, one that made Y/N automatically lose a miniscule amount of rigidity from her shoulders. “It's gone to your head.”

He stopped running his fingers through her hair after a few moments. Instead, he used his hand to repeatedly cup Y/N's head with light pressure in multiple different areas in the form of a soft massage.

“Maybe,” Y/N whispered against his t-shirt.

“Definitely,” Chris hummed as he used his hand to send waves of comfort through Y/N's scalp. “Hope you don't catch a cold.”

Y/N didn't reply. Now that the overwhelming sense of anxiety and nausea had finished weaving its way through her body, Y/N was beginning to feel a little drowsy. Or maybe it was due to the way Chris’ touch was lingering on her skin the way it always did, in the form of light, healing kisses.

“What happened back there?” He asked in a delicate tone a moment later.

His words pulled Y/N out of her mild daydream. The girl shrugged against him, her eyes dropping as she stared at the steaming mugs in front of her.

“Same old,” she whispered, curling her knees further in on herself. “I hate being around everyone. Wanted to be on my own.”

At that, Chris started to chuckle. His fingers slipped through her hair as he shifted a little closer to her. “You wanted to be on your own so you came to me?”

Y/N flushed. She didn't want to tell him that she felt safer with him than she did on her own. That he calmed her down in a way nothing - or no one - else could.

“Yeah,” she said instead.

Her simple reply made the man's body shake with silent laughter against hers. A second later he moved again; this time he slid his arms around Y/N's body in a hug, and Y/N's eyes widened when she felt her cheek land against his chest.

“Just relax,” Chris crooned, his hand gentle in patting her back. “You feel like a statue.”

“I can't help it … “ Y/N whispered. Though in the next few seconds her body melted drastically against Chris’, and Chris smiled against the top of her head. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Chris frowned, peering down at her.

Y/N swallowed slowly. The warmth from his body was calming her so much that she felt her eyes sting with the familiar sign of tears once again.

“For disturbing you … “ she sniffed, blinking hard. “For always bothering you when you're busy.”

At that, Chris furrowed his brows. “Hey, look at me.”

Y/N shook her head against his chest, her eyes burning.

“Look at me,” Chris repeated gently, his hand soft as it rubbed circles over her back. “Y/N.”

Gulping, Y/N slowly raised her head until she was met with the heartwrenching tenderness of Chris’ gaze.

“You never bother me,” Chris murmured, his fingers going to delicately trace the side of Y/N's face as he searched her eyes in earnest. “Ever. You know I'm always going to be here for you, yeah? No matter what, I'm always here for you. Always.”

His words were as soothing as they were powerful; Y/N's face crumpled for the umpteenth time, and she dropped her head just as Chris tucked his arms around her.

She didn't have the time to object before she found herself planted on the man's lap, her cheek pressed once more to his chest. Her eyes widened mid-sob, and her breath hitched when she felt Chris pull her even closer to him.

It only made her cry harder.

“It's okay baby,” Chris murmured, hand running down her back as Y/N's body shook in his hands. “I've got you now, yeah? You're safe with me.”

He let her cry for as long as she needed to. Y/N's fingers were tentative at the sides of Chris’ waste, and his chest was soon hot from the tear soaked material of his t-shirt sticking to his skin. But he didn't mind. He couldn't focus on anything other than the evident misery that was flowing off of Y/N's body like smoke, and he wished with all of his might that he could put an end to it.

“I love you,” he blurted out against the top of Y/N's head. Whether he had meant to declare his feelings in such a manner or not, Chris’ eyes widened all the same just as Y/N slowly looked up at him with a matching expression.

He had never said that to her before.

“What did you say?” Y/N asked him quietly, her crying coming to a halt.

Chris blinked at her, suddenly very embarrassed. His entire face slowly dropped from the colour of milk to the colour of pulverised cherries, and Y/N watched in fascination as he covered his burning face with his fingers.

“I love you,” Chris repeated, though his voice was muffled against his hands. “I love you, I like you, and I'm in love with you.”

It was Y/N's turn to take on a reddish hue. She sat in the man's lap, staring at him with surprise just as he dropped his hands again and started to chuckle.

“You didn't know … ?” Chris asked in wonder.

Y/N shook her head. “No … ?”

“Y/N … “ Laughing with embarrassment, Chris pulled Y/N into him again and he hid his face by hiding it in her hair. “I was being so obvious.”

“No you weren't,” Y/N squeaked, though she unclenched her hands and slowly slid her arms around the man's waist. “Iloveyoutoo.”

“Huh?” Chris chuckled, squeezing her tightly. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Y/N grumbled.

“Tell me,” Chris grinned, and he cupped his hands around her face until she was looking into his eyes again. “What did you say, baby?”

The name was making her skin heat up. She cleared her throat, though she couldn't keep the smile from spreading across her face. “I … love you too.”

Y/N immediately buried her face into Chris’ chest, unable to look into his adoring face any longer. She smiled secretly when he scooped her up even more into his arms, his hug engulfing every part of her in his delicious heat.

“You're so cute,” Chris hummed as he nuzzled his cheek against her head. “I'm glad you're not crying anymore. It makes me sad when you cry.”

“Maybe you should tell me you love me more often then,” Y/N mumbled.

It made Chris chuckle. He pulled away slightly once more, and he leaned his forehead against hers before dropping a soft kiss to the tip of her red nose.

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Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

it's okay.

group: stray kids !

pairing: nonidol!hyunjin x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, insecurities, usage of grounding methods, beginning of an anxiety attack, hyunjin tries his best, y/n has image issues, hyunjin comforts her, y/n is a chronic overthinker, they both struggle with communication, kind of sappy.

authors note: happy bday hyunjin… oops :3 this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1963

the tears run down your face like two turbid rivers, your mascara running down with them. the lightning-like streaks do nothing to ease your pain, as you stare into the mirror and look at yourself. 

normally, others would be admiring themselves in a place like this, all dolled up with a pretty dress on, but it’s not the same for you. you’re not marveling at yourself, no, you’re disgusted. 

the more you look, the more flaws you find. your eyes don’t look the same anymore, they’re tired and red. your nose is crooked, it looks weird from the front. your lips are chapped and bitten, your lipstick looks weird on it now. your face is chubby and swollen, and you blame it all on yourself.

this should be easy to handle. everyone goes through these rough patches, so why can’t you handle it? why is it so hard to be alone now, when you‘ve been independent all your life?

maybe you’ve gotten too attached to him, or maybe it’s the way he makes you feel. you’re not sure you believe a single thing he says about you when he admires you, but it’s enough to melt away all of the voices in your head telling you that you’re not enough. 

you quickly unzip the dress, climbing out of the itchy fabric. it hardly fits you anymore, another flaw you’ve found. you slip on your silk pajamas, the ones hyunjin bought you. they used to make you feel slim and beautiful.

you’re not sure you like them much anymore.

you wash your face, trying your best to remove the eyeshadow stains. your makeup has long expired, it’s been a while since the last time you’ve even tried to look pretty. the pink hues don’t come off your face though, so you choose to leave them there, instead drying your face and tying up your hair.

you open the door finally, only to see hyunjin already in bed. he’s scrolling through his phone, smiling at something, but you don’t question it. you wouldn’t be surprised if it was someone else, he’s probably bored of you by now anyways.

you slowly climb into bed, careful not to bother him too much, but quickly face away from him. 

he doesn’t seem to notice.

you start feeling self conscious. he always helps you. he always pulls you out of his headspace. he always knows what’s wrong.

why doesn’t he know something’s wrong?

are you acting different? are you too much for him? does he not care anymore? did he really get bored of you?

why doesn’t he know something’s wrong?

you stay facing the window, afraid of what he could say if he saw your condition right now. you hear him put down his phone onto the nightstand, and he finally turns towards your back. maybe he’ll realize that something’s wrong now.

but he doesn’t.

you feel a chill go down your spine as you feel his breath brush your neck, but you don’t dare turn around. you feel another tear slipping from your eye, and quickly wipe it away. your nose is stuffy, but you can’t make a sound.

he’ll hear you.

you can feel him inching closer towards you, and then you finally feel his cold fingertips on your neck. his heartbeat drums lightly against your back, comforting you a bit. that is of course, until you lose your focus and accidentally sniffle too loudly.

“baby?”

you can’t bring yourself to turn around. “baby, are you crying?”

you shake your head, “no, my nose is just stuffy”.

“will you turn around for me, love?”

you know you can’t listen to him, it’ll only make everything worse, but you still bring yourself to turn around. the look on his face once he sees your bloodshot eyes has your heart twisting and turning inside your chest.

“i’m sorry hyune…”

he slowly reaches a hand up to touch your face, but you move away. you wish he could just read your mind.

he takes a quick mental note to ask next time before touching you. “what’s wrong dear?”

“nothings wrong, i’m okay hyunjin”

he lets out a soft sigh and closes his eyes, contemplating what to say next. meanwhile, the tears have started to flow nonstop. the ache in your chest has only gotten worse.

maybe you’re really too much for him now…

before you let you thoughts ruin you again, hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of it. “is it okay if i come a little closer sweetheart?”

you can only bring yourself to nod as he scoots himself towards you. he’s still careful to keep a small space between you two, too afraid to push any boundaries. 

“can i hold your hand?”, his voice is shaking, scared he’s done something to hurt you. 

“yeah…”, he reaches down under the blanket, grabbing your hands and bringing them up to his lips. they feel soft, like you’ve always remembered them. it’s been a while since you’ve felt them on your hands like this.

carefully, he plants small kisses on your knuckles. your breath gets caught in your throat every time he looks up at you with those teary eyes. “what’s got my pretty girl so upset?”

the sentence alone is enough to force the tears out of you freely, and you can’t stop yourself from falling apart. 

“can i hold you, y/n?”

you nod, moving closer towards him and hugging him around the waist. the second you two make contact, he quickly pulls you closer and carefully lowers your head onto his shoulder.

“i’m here, okay? what’s wrong my love?”

you cry even louder now, your body shaking with your sobs. you try to get some words out, but only soft whimpers can be heard throughout the room. “calm down, you’re okay…”

“i… i c-can’t—“, your breaths become heavily labored, but hyunjin quickly catches on. you trust him with your heart, he always knows what to do.

he runs his fingers through your hair slowly, careful not to startle you. “can you breathe with me darling?”

you nod, taking a deep breath. you can feel him shudder against you, and it only causes you to cling on tighter. his warm breath hits your neck, and it sends shivers down your spine. 

“just a couple more, hm?”

“o-okay…”

his heartbeat is the only thing you can hear aside from your sniffles. it’s grounding, in a sense. before you can catch yourself, he tilts your head up so that you’re looking right at him.

“hey pretty girl… are you with me?”

you shake your head. “don’t call me that.”

he smiles, pushing the hair out of your face so that he can get a proper look at you. “no? you’re not my pretty girl?”

“n-no… hyune… not pretty.”, you sob. his expression shifts almost instantly, as he stares at you with a dumbfounded expression. “where is this coming from?”

“hyunjin… i’ve never been pretty.”

“says who?”, his voice begins to get a little heavier with every word, and you can see his face slowly getting redder in the darkness.

“no one said anything… just please don’t be mad at me…”

“i could never be mad at you over that, hm? what’s wrong lovey?”, he smiles, regardless of the pain he feels in his chest. it’s something he’s always done for you, he hates leaving you to rot in your own thoughts.

“i look… different. i know it’s been a while since we went on a date but… i don’t look good anymore, even with makeup on. my dresses hardly fit me and i’ve just been gaining so much weight and im ugly… im so—“

before you can get the apology out, he quickly shuts you up with a kiss. you want to pull away, you know he doesn’t deserve to be with someone like you, but you can’t help it. he kisses you so softly, as if you’re the most fragile thing in the world. his now warm hands cup your face and his thumbs stroke your cheeks. it’s like he’s pouring his entire heart out with one action.

he finally pulls away from you, but stays close, your noses still touching. “don’t say that… please. you are my pretty girl, and you mean a lot to me. it’s not just about your looks, you know”

“you don’t always have to baby me, you know…”, you whisper.

you hear his breath hitch in his throat, but he decides on not saying anything, instead pulling away slowly to give you space. “tell me what you need, i want to help. you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

“i’m not sure. sometimes i don’t feel appreciated enough. i know you already do a lot for me, but sometimes i just want to be told that i’m loved directly…”

he smiles at you again, but you can see the pain in his eyes. you knew he would never take these things lightly, but it makes you want to take every single thing that you’ve said back.

“i love you. i mean it. i wish i would have said it more, and i want you to love yourself too. please don’t set standards for yourself just because of me…”

this time around, you grab his hand, and move closer to wrap your arms around his torso. “don’t beat yourself up about it. i know you do. it’s just my stupid overthinking.”

“don’t call it stupid, my love. i understand. but i do think you’re beautiful. i love your personality more than anything, and i can’t imagine myself with anyone other than you. do you understand that? i may deserve better, but i want you”. he sniffles lightly, too scared to let you see him in such a weak place.

“it’s okay to cry, hyunjin.”

and so he does. he cries and cries and holds onto you like you’re his lifeline. you can hear the small apologies slip past his lips as he whimpers into your chest.

you’ve never seen him like this. it’s never been this bad. you’re starting to wonder if it was you who broke him like this…

“we can work on all this, okay? would you like that, y/n?”

you nod in response, but you can’t help the last question from slipping out. “do you still care about me the way you used to?”. you don’t realize that you’ve even said it until he lifts his head up to look at you. slowly pushing himself off of you, he clears his throat.

“my feelings for you haven’t changed, but the way that i express them has. i’ll try to be better with these things, y/n. i promise.”

before you can tell him that it’s okay, he turns around and faces the window, opposite from you. you don’t want to bother him anymore tonight, and you figure you’ll talk about this the next morning, so you leave him be.

you turn around to face the wall instead of his back. it feels weird sleeping like this. it feels weird to not feel his warmth against you.

sleep doesn’t find you for a while. maybe it’s because hyunjin isn’t holding you this time. that is, of course, until you feel him turn around and hug you from behind.

his hands fix themselves around your waist, and you reach your hands down to hold his. you need to understand that this is just as hard for him too. “angel?”

“mmm?”, you mumble tiredly. “can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“of course, whenever you’d like, hyunjin.”

he kisses over your neck in response, eliciting small giggles from you. they make his heart flutter again, something he hasn’t felt properly in a long time. “tickles…”, you smile.

“y/n?”

“yes?”

“i love you.”